Dewlight Pavilion — Dewlight Hour
—Caw.
A pitch-black crow appeared silently in the air.
Sunday had just finished his discussion with Aventurine. His expression was still grim—
But the moment he saw the crow, his face returned to calm.
"Mr. Gopher Wood."
"Your aura… seems unstable."
"Has something happened?"
Sunday spoke politely, his tone as composed as ever.
"Hmph."
"That damned Mikhail… somehow summoned the afterglow of Trailblaze."
"There's a pest crawling around that place of exile."
"It nearly disrupted our plans."
The crow's voice carried unmistakable irritation.
"…A pest?"
Sunday frowned slightly, confused.
"Pay it no mind."
"Focus on your responsibilities."
"As long as the Harmony Festival proceeds as planned—everything will fall into place."
"When the time comes, even that forsaken land will be swallowed by Order."
"A mere afterglow of Trailblaze… is nothing."
"Yes, Mr. Gopher Wood."
—Caw.
The crow vanished.
To Gopher Wood, the Trailblaze itself wasn't the real concern.
It was that presence.
The one who had interfered with his consciousness.
A being capable of influencing the entire dreamscape of Penacony—
Could only be one thing.
A messenger of Remembrance.
And not just any—
An Emanator.
Only an Emanator could make him feel fear.
What unsettled him most—
Was how effortlessly his consciousness had been severed.
And yet—
The other party didn't pursue him.
Why?
Because Penacony's twelve dreamscapes were labyrinthine.
Even an Emanator could lose their way within them.
And beyond that—
There existed strange entities within the dream—
Memetic constructs.
"…An Emanator of Remembrance…"
There was another reason Gopher Wood didn't tell Sunday the truth.
That person—
Had identified him.
"Discord within Harmony."
"Remnant of Order."
They knew everything.
And yet—
They said nothing.
Were they… holding back?
Regardless—
Gopher Wood knew one thing clearly.
He could no longer summon the Infinite Choir.
Because—
He was no longer pure.
He had already betrayed his faith.
Within Harmony—
His voice had become something else.
Even the Aeon Xipe, who embraced all—
Would never tolerate a true traitor.
"…Sunday."
"Let's see what you and Robin can achieve."
"As long as your plan succeeds…"
"My plan will be halfway complete."
The Oak Family—
Would become the foundation of the Choral Choir.
For Order.
For Order.
After the crow left—
Sunday stood alone, looking out over the miniature city before him.
His thoughts drifted back to his earlier conversation with the IPC representative.
Something felt… off.
As if he had been played.
"…No."
"That's impossible."
Within Harmony—
Everything should be perfectly aligned.
So why—
Did this feel wrong?
His fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Everything seemed normal.
Perfectly harmonious.
And yet—
His wings trembled faintly behind him.
Something was definitely wrong.
Meanwhile — Golden Hour
"Tsk tsk…"
"If those IPC folks and all those factions across the universe found out…"
"That the infamous Sam is working in a shop like this…"
"They'd laugh themselves to death."
A silver-haired girl with a single ponytail leaned casually against the counter, blowing bubble gum while holding a game console.
She smiled mischievously.
"Silver Wolf?"
"When did you get here?"
"Where are Kafka and Blade? You didn't run into trouble on the Xianzhou, did you?"
Firefly looked surprised.
"Heh, those two are fine."
"But Elio's script… something's off."
Silver Wolf lowered her console and looked at her seriously.
"There's this guy—Evan."
"He's messing with the script."
"Kafka almost got caught off guard because of him."
"So I came."
She smirked.
"Firefly… no, that still feels weird."
"I'll just call you Sam."
"Sam."
"Kafka asked me to pass this along—"
"Be careful of someone named Evan."
"His presence makes the future… unstable."
"But Elio also said—"
"The ending was never fixed to begin with."
"Any variable can create an IF route."
"You know what that is, right?"
"Like in games—alternate endings."
"Usually the good ones."
She shrugged.
"But the script can't read him."
"That makes him an anomaly."
"And if someone like that shows up in Penacony…"
"You need to be careful."
She paused.
Then added with a grin—
"Though Kafka also said…"
"Maybe a miracle like that appearing near you…"
"Is part of your story too."
"That's all."
"Take care of yourself."
Silver Wolf blew a large pink bubble—
Pop.
It stuck to her lips.
She spent a moment peeling it off, slightly annoyed.
Meanwhile—
Her eyes flickered with interest.
Firefly fell silent.
Deep in thought.
Silver Wolf wasn't worried.
After all—
Her "friend" had already promised—
Three deaths.
Safe.
Controlled.
Perfectly executed.
Still—
Even Silver Wolf found it strange.
This fragile-looking girl—
Working quietly as a Family employee—
Was actually—
Sam.
A Stellaron Hunter—
Worth 9.7 billion credits on the IPC's wanted list.
The contrast was absurd.
Who would believe—
That this soft, harmless-looking girl—
Was a walking weapon?
And more importantly—
Firefly wasn't even invited here.
She had hacked her way in.
A stowaway.
"…Hmm?"
"Why are you still here?"
Firefly looked at Silver Wolf.
She had already gotten what she needed.
Silver Wolf was just a projection—
But still valuable.
Staying here too long wasn't safe.
"Geez~"
"Some people forget others the moment they get what they want."
Silver Wolf stretched lazily.
"I'm curious too."
"This Evan guy—sounds interesting."
"He's like… Herta."
"A genius."
"…A genius?"
That caught Firefly off guard.
She knew nothing about Evan.
If he was truly a genius—
Then…
Could he cure her?
Entropy Loss Syndrome.
A genetic curse engraved into the Iron Cavalry of Glamoth.
Originally—
A control mechanism.
But after the fall of the empire—
Only she remained.
The empire was gone.
The queen's promise—
A lie.
And she—
Had been pulled from the battlefield's graveyard—
By a woman holding a script.
But the illness remained.
Her body—
Slowly disintegrating.
Her existence—
Fading.
Until one day—
She would disappear completely.
And so—
She searched.
For a way to live.
That was why she joined the Stellaron Hunters.
Why she came to Penacony.
Because in Elio's script—
Aside from her three deaths—
There was one more prediction.
The IPC would arrive.
And among them—
The one she was truly watching—
Was not Aventurine.
Not Topaz.
But—
One of the Ten Stonehearts.
Jade.
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