The Outskirts of Tingen City
The morning sun spilled over the house with the dark red chimney. The lawn before it gleamed lush and green, full of vitality. On the second floor, the bedroom window was ajar, letting golden light pour across the desk. A notebook lay open beneath the sun, its words clearly visible.
The notebook read:
"Siris Arepis and Haynes Vanster, members of the Aurora Order in Tingen City, following the command of Ms. M, a high-ranking member of the Order, successfully located a semi-Lunatic young man named Galad Rondell. He carried the aura of the True Creator. The two lured him and his sister into temporary captivity, awaiting further instructions from Ms. M."
"However, Ms. M underestimated Galad's danger. Day and night in Siris's company, the aura on Galad quickly polluted him. As a Secrets Supplicant, Siris's perception twisted, until he fell fully into madness. He sought to kill Galad, using him as a blood sacrifice to summon the True Creator. Deranged but logical."
"Siris succeeded in killing Lu Ze, but the ritual failed. He lost control, only to be slain by Dunn Smith and his Nighthawks. Yet Dunn himself was subtly polluted by Siris's final state."
(The next several lines were crossed out. New words, written hastily, replaced them.)
"Absurd! Impossible! Galad did not die. He killed Siris instead and consumed the precipitated Beyonder characteristic, becoming a Sequence 9 Secrets Supplicant."
"But the situation is not beyond repair! Siris's letter, exposing Galad's secret, was accidentally destroyed. Dunn knows nothing of Galad's danger. Yet the Aurora Order's informants in the police station quickly learned of Siris's death, and one of them passed the news to Haynes that very night."
"Cornered, Haynes chose desperation. He performed a forbidden blood sacrifice ritual once gifted to him by Ms. M as a reward. Though its success rate was abysmally low, fortune favored him that night."
"With the ritual complete, Haynes headed toward Blackthorn Security Company on information from the mole. By sheer chance, he avoided the Nighthawks en route to his home their paths never crossed, a coincidence most reasonable."
"Haynes struck when Blackthorn's defenses were weakest. He would devour Lu Ze, plunging everything into chaos "
(Large sections were scribbled out again. A quill pen floated above the page, writing of its own accord without ink.)
"That abominable Galad! He has survived once more, defying all logic! The ravings of an evil god cannot touch him. He hides a deeper secret."
"Just like that wretched Klein Moretti always unraveling Ince Zangwill's plans…"
Then, a pale hand gripped the quill and, with solemn strokes, wrote anew:
"But it does not matter. Ince Zangwill still has many opportunities."
The Next Morning, Blackthorn Security Company
The rustle of luggage woke Galad. He sat up to see his sister, Cecilia, crouched with her back to him, carefully organizing a battered suitcase. Beyond the door, the hall echoed with voices and the scrape of furniture being moved.
Right… last night.
As clarity returned, so too did the memories death, transmigration, his sister, cultists, evil gods, the Nighthawks, and the Lunatic ritual. When Haynes died, a small black sphere had condensed from his remains. Galad had now recognized it as a Beyonder characteristic the same type Siris had once forced him to swallow. This time, it was the Secrets Supplicant's Sequence 9 potion. Afterward, Dunn had arranged for him to rest while the captain continued investigating.
I killed two people last night.
He lowered his gaze to his palms slender, pale, spotless. No trace remained of the blood that had soaked them. Even the injuries from Haynes's roar his nose and ears had healed overnight, leaving not the slightest discomfort.
Instead of guilt, a strange calm filled him. Was it the potion twisting his perception?
No. He knew himself. He'd always been petty and vengeful. And those men had tried to kill him their deaths were nothing but deserved. Better to worry about his sister than waste pity on cultists.
He turned toward Cecilia.
She hadn't noticed he was awake. She busied herself with the suitcase, neatly arranging their few possessions: simple clothes, socks, scraps of cloth and needles, clay bowls, wooden spoons, a few pence, some paper-wrapped pills… everything they owned in this world.
The suitcase had been seized with Siris's home. Cecilia had thrown a tantrum when they weren't allowed to take it, and only after Haynes was defeated had Galad asked Dunn to recover it. The police officer who brought it back was clearly irritated it contained nothing of value, yet Cecilia had insisted. He'd dropped it with a scowl and stormed off.
The police couldn't understand, but Galad did.
It was the desperation of the poor. To them, a lost shirt or a missed meal could mean death. They clung to everything they owned.
"It's still here, thank goodness!"
Cecilia's joyful voice broke his thoughts. She pulled a small brush from a crack in the suitcase.
Ah, I remember that.
The memory surfaced: Cecilia working late into the night, gluing matchboxes with that little brush. Their parents dead, the pension barely enough to survive, and her frail body forced to shoulder the burden. Day after day she worked for a match factory, gluing two or three baskets of boxes to earn just enough pence to keep them alive—while also caring for a half-Lunatic brother.
Whenever he'd woken from his madness, he'd always seen her there by his bed, her small face tense with focus, hands working skillfully. And when she noticed he was awake, she'd beam at him and set everything aside, rushing to his side.
"Galad, you're awake!"
Drawn from his thoughts, he saw that same smile now brilliant and pure.
A warmth, almost painful, surged in his chest. In that moment, he understood why the old Galad had clung to life despite endless years in an evil god's illusions. Perhaps it was just to wake again… to return to this world… to see that smile waiting for him.