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“Ah, you’re awake?”
“……”

Sufi sat beside me, hugging her knees, peering down at my face. I wanted to ask a lot of things, but my whole body felt unbearably heavy—my voice wouldn’t come out.

…No good. I couldn’t even lift my arms. I met her eyes and asked for an explanation with just my gaze.

“Um, so, we walked quite a bit away from the town. It got dark, so we decided to rest somewhere with a lot of rocks. Can you eat anything?”
“……”

I shake my head weakly. The backlash from all the strain and exhaustion has hit me at once—I can barely move my mouth.

…Can I even make it to the next town like this? I can feel the flame of my life flickering.

“Wait a sec, okay? At least drink some water?”

Sufi gets up and walks toward the fire, bringing something back. A leaf touches my lips, and lukewarm water moistens them—she must have used the leaf as a makeshift cup.

Apparently, I was thirstier than I thought. I somehow manage to move my tongue and swallow.

“There, that’s it. Slowly now. Good girl.”
“…………”

Even through the exhaustion and pain, the gentle touch of Sufi’s hand rubbing my back gives me a sense of comfort. It takes a long time to drink just a little.

“We’re taking turns keeping watch, so don’t worry, okay?”
“…………”

She gently places my head on her lap. The feeling of her fingers stroking my hair lulls me, and before I know it, I drift off again.

When I next wake, it’s night once more. The spot has changed—another campsite.

My fever hasn’t gone down. My body feels just as heavy. Of course it does—I haven’t truly rested.

After dragging everyone down so much, dying on them would be a terrible joke. I can tell what’s happening to my body: a cold from lowered body temperature, severe fatigue, calorie deficit, and malnutrition.

It’s a losing battle. My condition’s worse than when we fled the village.

At this rate, I’m done for—there’s no way I’ll recover.

So—

“Fnya!?”
“Alice!?”
“Feh?”

The lantern suddenly flares to life in the middle of the night, making Sufi and the others yelp in surprise. I can’t afford to waste what little consciousness I have left. I have to act, no matter how reckless.

Right now, I have only one option: the master key to Apartment 404. …Some *Unknowns* have the peculiarity that just learning their true names activates their effect, so they’re instead given codenames or aliases for safety.

A disc cylinder—its keyhole shaped like an upside-down “V.”

I don’t know its internal structure, but to access that room, I only need to open the corresponding keyhole with this key.

From experiments, I know that as long as I can insert the key, it works—even if the lock itself doesn’t match perfectly. In other words… maybe I can just *fake* the shape?

“Hff… ngh…”

I force my limp hands to move and reach into my pocket. When I focus on the shape of what I’m trying to find, my fingers somehow touch the right object.

I pull out a key with a crystal attached and thrust it into a mound of dirt raised by an alchemy circle drawn in shadow.

“W-what’re you doing, nya?”
“Alice, don’t push yourself!”

Ignoring their worried voices, I use transmutation to lightly compact the soil, then pull the key out and harden the dirt with the Harden circle, turning it into stone.

Wood… “living material” resists alchemy. Alchemy manipulates matter by channeling one’s mana through it using intricate circles, but living things have their own fluid mana and resistance, making it nearly impossible to affect them.

Cut, dried wood might still work, but with my weak mana, I can’t force it on living plants.

So for now, two or three uses will be enough. I shape the dirt on the ground into a door, solidify it, embed its base into the earth for support, and create crude hinges through transmutation.

I cling desperately to my fading consciousness and focus. The shape matters more than strength right now.

Once the keyhole—barely able to rotate—is formed, I use shadow magic to push it into the door handle and embed it.

The inside of the lock is a mess, just a hole that turns if a bar of the right size is inserted, but it’s enough to unhook the latch. Barely conscious, I finish a child-sized dirt door.

“…………”
“Uh, huh? Okay…”

I look at Sufi and silently plead for her to lift me. Still dazed by the sudden appearance of the door, she hesitantly moves to support me. Once she props me up, I fit the key into the newly made lock… get in, almost—there!

On the fifth try, it finally slides in. I twist it sideways and, with a creak, a groan, and a crack, the door unlocks and swings open.

Please, let this work. I stare into the space beyond the door. And there it is! Just as I hoped.

A familiar entrance. Wooden flooring. The faint scent of air freshener. I prick up my ears—no human presence inside. Everything matches my memory. Nothing feels wrong.

I lift a trembling hand to point inside the doorway, and that’s as far as I get.

I want to do a safety check, but I don’t have the strength. I’m sick of taking desperate gambles like this since yesterday.

Please… let Sufi and the others trust me.