Across the continent known as Disboard, sixteen chess pieces stand like colossal towers. These pillars, situated within the territories of the sixteen races, are known as Race Pieces. They serve as the totems—and the sovereign rights—of their respective peoples. If one were to overlook the continent from a dizzying height, the land itself would appear partitioned by lines like a grand chessboard.
Tet home was perched high above this board, overlooking the entirety of Disboard. Well, calling it a "home" was a stretch; it was more of a resting spot for the One True God. If a certain man were here to comment, he would likely scoff: "You don't even have a house—how can you call this a home?"
There was little to be done about it; the One True God possessed a flighty nature, driven by a boundless love for play and games. It was simply too difficult for Him to remain in one place for long. More often than not, He was off wandering and playing among the various races.
Yet, hearing Tet use a word like "impolite" came as a surprise to Jibril. Like many of the theories whispered among the races of the continent, she had assumed the Palace of Flowers in the sky was the residence of the One True God. In fact, until she personally set foot here for the first time in three thousand years, she had held that same belief—that after that man left, Tet had taken up residence within these walls.
"I didn't think you knew the meaning of the word 'impolite,'" Jibril mused aloud, her thoughts slipping past her lips.
"What's that supposed to mean? I was born from the fantasies of humanity—of course I know such things~," Tet protested, puffing out his cheeks. He felt no need to keep secrets from the Flügel standing before him.
"Is that so?" Jibril remarked with calculated nonchalance. "If you know it's impolite, then why have you come here today?"
"What do you think? If it's impolite to sneak into a home while the master is away, then there's only one possible reason to knock on the door now, isn't there?" Tet said with a mischievous grin. "Naturally, it's because the master is home~."
Jibril spun around abruptly, her eyes widening as she locked gazes with Tet. The One True God seemed startled by the Flügel violent reaction and leaned back slightly.
"W-what is it?"
"He's back?"
Surprisingly, she didn't mock Tet for his undignified reaction. Jibril simply pressed him, her voice rising in pitch.
"Eh? Back? Him? Ohhhh—I see, I see." After a confused stammer, Tet realized his words had caused a misunderstanding. He quickly raised his hands in a defensive gesture before the closing Jibril. "No, no! What I meant was... you're here, aren't you? Even if it's your first time."
"..."
Setting aside the disappointment that flickered briefly in her star-pupiled amber eyes, Tet only saw himself being fixed with a glare—or rather, a dismissive roll of the eyes—before the pink-haired Flügel turned her back and walked toward the palace gates.
Watching her silhouette and the wings tucked tightly at her waist, a sudden realization hit Tet. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted: "Hey! You count as a master too!"
"Shut up."
And just like that, he was scolded.
Pressing her palm against one side of the door, Jibril traced the gaps between the petals of the gate with her gaze, as if trying to peer through them to see everything inside. But her eyes met only darkness.
Taking a deep breath, the Flügel applied a gentle pressure. She had expected the gates to be incredibly heavy, but the moment she leaned forward, the two doors swung inward with surprising ease.
Naturally, there was no rain of dust from the ceiling—the kind one would expect from a building uninhabited for centuries. There were no cobwebs in the corners, nor any insects. Jibril stared at the world behind the doors.
"See? What did I tell you?" Tet voice echoed softly from behind her. "You are a master here as well."
"If it were anyone else—even another Old Zeus—they wouldn't be able to push these doors open even if they reached the palace. The fact that you did it so easily proves—"
"Be quiet for a moment, One True God."
Tet incessant chatter was cut short by Jibril icy tone as they stepped into the palace. The youth of ambiguous gender merely shrugged and obediently fell silent.
He had been born in this palace—specifically, in one of its rooms. After that man left, Tet had departed as well, using the power of the One True God to establish the Pledges that had endured for three millennia. Since then, He had never returned, nor had He ever peeked inside.
Thus, as Tet followed Jibril into the palace, He was genuinely curious, glancing around with interest.
It was much smaller than He had imagined. But make no mistake: it wasn't the palace itself that was small, but the size of the rooms and the layout. Compared to a standard palace, the rooms were almost cramped. Even the palaces of human kings looked more grand and imposing than this.
There were no massive pillars, no vaulted domes ten meters high. Instead, the ceilings were only about twice the height of a man. The walls were a simple, cozy pale yellow. From the inside, one would never guess this was the interior of the legendary Palace of Flowers; it felt like a mundane cottage, with each room being quite modest in size.
"This is the dining room."
"Eh?"
Jibril stopped abruptly and spoke without warning. Tet stared blankly at a white dining table covered with a willow-patterned tablecloth—a design unlike any style found among the current races of Disboard.
"This is the kitchen."
Behind the opened door was a bright room with white tiles and a metal stovetop. Through the window directly across, the sea of clouds was visible. White dishes were stacked on a rack over the sink, and a refrigerator in the corner was emitting the faint hum of an electric current.
Opening the refrigerator revealed fruits, vegetables, and meats. Jibril was certain Tet hadn't replenished these supplies, yet these ingredients—placed here three thousand years ago—remained as if they had just been harvested, perfectly fresh.
Jibril took out a sausage and bit into it. The taste was exactly as she remembered: the savory aroma of fat and protein, slightly salty.
"This is the hallway."
"This is the magic workshop."
"..."
"This is my room."
"This is that Weed's room."
"And this... is his room."