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January 18, 1096
9:48 a.m.
Outskirts beyond an unnamed city in Ursus
"What a bunch of disgusting savages."
Staring at the infected not far away—hunched over, clustered together like ants—Taren poked at the fire in front of her with open irritation.
Even though she was infected too, the pride of a Victorian noble ran too deep for her to tolerate sharing space with these repulsive barbarians. More than once, she had wanted to volunteer to guide Talulah from the front—anything to put distance between herself and them.
But Talulah had clearly never intended to indulge her. Not only did Talulah refuse, she forced Taren to stay among the crowd.
Naturally, Taren's attempts to stand out did not go unnoticed.
"They're not disgusting savages," a voice said, cold as steel. "They are part of Reunion—just like you."
A biting frost spread through the air—nothing like Talulah's heat.
Taren looked up at the newcomer's expressionless face and let out a contemptuous laugh.
"Reunion? Ignorant Cautus. You have no idea what sort of person you're following… or what kind of mission she will bear in the future."
"I don't know Talulah well," the Cautus girl replied evenly. "But I do know one thing."
Ice crept across the ground, freezing and hardening in an instant. The cold between them thickened into a tangible pressure.
The young girl had come alone. Her face was blank as she looked down at Taren seated in the snow, Originium Arts gathered in her hands, ready to surge at any moment.
"Ever since Talulah brought you back," she said, voice as frigid as her Arts, "something has been wrong with her."
"She changed out of that old uniform she always wore. She started dressing in clothes that are far more lavish and refined. She's been paying more attention to manners, to appearances… and sometimes, I've even seen her smile."
Her breath fogged in the air. Pain lanced through her body from the sustained Arts, but she didn't stop.
"That isn't like her."
Then the question came—sharp and unyielding.
"What did you do to her, Victorian?"
Taren stood, not a trace of fear on her face. The stolen longsword at her waist slid free with a cold scrape.
"You foolish rabbit," she sneered. "Do you enjoy blaming others for everything that troubles you?"
"You're confused about Her Highness's current state. All that proves is that you don't understand her at all."
"And now you come here to vent your feelings at me. The only thing you'll gain from this is my hostility."
The blade, gleaming with a cold edge, pointed straight at the center of FrostNova's brow. Taren's mocking smile never faded.
"And you were wrong about one thing," she added. "I'm not 'part of Reunion.' I follow only Her Highness."
"Now get out of my way. You have no right to question me."
What was wrong with Talulah as she was now? This rabbit truly did not know her place.
FrostNova still didn't yield.
Taren's expression hardened.
"Or are you saying you want to—"
Thud.
A heavy footstep sounded behind them.
A vast, suffocating weight rolled across the snow. The air turned dense, as if death itself had settled around Taren's throat.
Her pupils contracted. She threw herself backward with all her strength, springing away in a desperate leap—then landed hard, breath ragged, staring at the towering figure who had appeared behind the Cautus girl.
"…Patriot."
So the rumors hadn't exaggerated.
Patriot—Buldrokkas'tee, the last pureblood Wendigo.
His strength was immeasurable. He didn't need to move; merely standing there crushed the will of those who faced him.
Yet he did not strike. From behind FrostNova, he spoke in a hoarse, grinding voice—slow and deliberate.
"You are not… a member of Reunion, last blood of Victoria's nobility."
"But you were brought… by Talulah. Therefore I will not… question your past, nor strike you… without cause."
"On the condition… that you do not obstruct our march. Otherwise the consequence… you understand."
This time, Taren didn't dare spit sarcasm the way she had at FrostNova.
She could mock FrostNova because she believed she could escape.
Against something like this, she had no such confidence.
With genuine respect, Taren bent at the waist and performed a traditional Victorian salute. The battered sword slid back into its sheath.
"If that is your request," she said, carefully composed, "then I accept it gladly."
Then she turned and walked away at once, merging into the crowd she despised—until she vanished from sight.
FrostNova clicked her tongue, unimpressed.
"And she keeps talking about 'Victoria's honor.' Disgusting."
She glanced toward Patriot, irritation flickering across her cold face.
"Hey, old fossil—how much longer are we going to keep marching like this? Is Talulah seriously planning to drag a bunch of hungry, exhausted people to go pick a fight with Ursus?"
Patriot pulled his halberd from where it had been planted in the snow and started forward.
"And… time."
FrostNova's eyes narrowed in annoyance, but she had no choice but to follow.
"Tch. I don't know what Talulah is thinking… or why she insists on keeping someone like that at her side."
Lungmen
8:48 p.m.
"Hah… Ch'en didn't even chew me out today. That's a first."
Back from his shift, Chen Mo sprawled on the couch and yawned. He scratched at his dragon horns and glanced at the news playing on the television.
As expected, the broadcasts were still fixated on one thing: the recent surge of people pouring into Lungmen.
This wave didn't look as catastrophic as the last disaster in District 18—at least not yet.
But Chen Mo suspected that was only temporary.
"Maybe she's just too busy to bother with me," he muttered. "If so, good. Instead of policing me, she should put that energy into actually clearing her workload."
He switched off the boring news and put on his favorite program—an idol concert. Watching Sora bouncing and dancing with crisp, confident energy, he nodded with satisfaction.
"Even Sora's sexier than Exusiai."
His phone rang again.
Chen Mo glanced at the screen. As expected, it was Exusiai—once more waging her little "green-screen warrior" campaign. He replied with a couple of casual lines, purely as a courtesy.
Apparently, even if Ch'en Hui-chieh hadn't truly crushed Exusiai's spirit, the encounter had definitely cranked up her sense of urgency.
At the very least, the frequency of her long, heartfelt messages had skyrocketed. At first, Chen Mo would read a few lines patiently. Lately, he'd moved straight to perfunctory replies.
Exusiai, however, clearly didn't care. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying herself.
After answering, Chen Mo powered the phone off and tossed it aside. He stood, went to the kitchen, and pulled out a cup of instant rice—planning to bring food to Ch'en Hui-chieh at the office.
"Hmph. With a thoughtful, considerate big brother like me," he said smugly, "she probably won't scold me as hard as before."
He had no intention of staying up late. He'd heard that not sleeping at night could make the scales on your tail lose their shine.
And besides—he wanted to use the delivery as an excuse to take a look at the files in Ch'en Hui-chieh's office.
He needed to see what they planned to do about this growing mess.
After all… Talulah was involved. Whether he liked it or not, he had to pay attention.
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