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“I have nothing to say to traitors like you! You’re a disgrace to the empire!”

The brown-haired knight thrashed against his restraints, but Lancelot’s unyielding grip held his hands firmly behind his back. His shattered spear lay scattered on the fur carpet—a pitiful remnant of his defiance. Forced to his knees, his blazing eyes radiated fury, drowning out any hint of fear or concern. Nearby, his wife and daughter stood frozen, their faces pale with horror, powerless to intervene.

“Funny that you call us that, Sir Reuben,” Hildara sneered, her voice a tantalizing mix of mockery and charm. “When, in fact, it’s you who has been stuffing his pockets with embezzled money.”

From one of her many pockets, Hildara pulled a stack of papers, tossing them lazily into the air. They fluttered downward, some landing on the bloodied corpses of Reuben’s loyal serfs.

“The Mutual Care Charity Foundation,” she began, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Our citizens, out of the goodness of their hearts, pooled their hard-earned money to aid the victims of war. And yet, barely a fraction of it ever reached them. Curious, isn’t it?” She crouched slightly, her piercing gaze boring into Reuben. “We followed the paper trail—simple math, really—and what do we find but the involvement of Libra’s Scale, an accounting firm conveniently owned by your lovely wife, Madam Adelle.” Hildara’s lips curled into a sharp grin. “That pearl necklace she’s wearing must’ve cost quite a fortune.”

Adelle’s hand reflexively moved to cover the necklace, her eyes swimming with anger and shame.

“And yet,” Hildara continued, rising gracefully, “despite your little scheme, the stolen funds barely managed to cover the supposed expenses. Almost as if there’s… a discrepancy in the number of immigrants we’ve taken in. Tell me, Sir Reuben—” she leaned closer, her voice as sharp as a blade—“do you happen to know where these ‘missing’ people are?”

“…So that’s it?” Reuben’s voice laced with exasperation, his chest heaving as he glared at Hildara. “You break into my mansion, slaughter my men, and humiliate me in front of my wife and daughter—all over some petty scraps for those barbarians? Do you even know who I am?! I am Reuben Bromberger, the Emperor’s closest aide!”

“Exactly,” Hildara coldly interjected, clamping her hand over his jaw, forcing his mouth shut. Her piercing eyes locked onto his. “This is all but a ruse to get you, Sir Reuben. As you said, there is no man closer to the Emperor more than you, which is precisely why you must know his True Name—and you will tell me it.”

Reuben grunted, trying to speak, but Hildara’s grip was unyielding.

“No need to bother,” she said smoothly, her tone almost soothing but laced with menace. “The eyes are the window to the soul, Sir Reuben. And you’d do well to remember—if you’re not careful, demons can crawl through those windows and take up residence in your head.”

Her words sent a chill through him, but before he could react, he felt it—her pupils, dark as midnight, began to swirl, pulling him in like the maw of an endless abyss. He fought to avert his gaze, to look anywhere else, but it was futile. The longer he stared, the deeper he fell, his resistance eroding with every passing second.

But suddenly—

“F*ck!”

Hildara shut her eyes and stepped back, clutching her chest as her heart raced wildly. Once she was certain she was still alive, she looked at Reuben, who was vomiting an enormous amount of blood.

Lancelot released his grip, and Reuben collapsed to the floor, his body inexplicably torn in half.

“What happened?” Lancelot asked.

“A bear killed him—an enormous, silver bear.” Hildara began pacing in frustration. “His life was connected to something else, like a doll or a totem, I don’t know! And we were this close to getting that pig’s name, too! God damn it!”

Seeing her in a frenzy, Lancelot spoke calmly. “The timing of his death—it’s too perfect.”

“…What do you mean?”
“Think about it, Hilda. It could have been a coincidence, sure, but for him to die right before we could learn the Emperor’s name? That’s far too convenient. Something with immense mythical power must be working against us.”

Hildara paused, Lancelot’s words sinking in. Then, her expression shifted as realization dawned.

“Fae Magic!” She pointed at him, as though solving a great mystery. “Those crafty bast*rds always tamper with fate and whatnot from beyond the Great Veil. They must’ve ensured Reuben died protecting a secret.”

“And for it to happen today… it’s probably not just him.” Lancelot gazed out the window. “If our other ‘informants’ are under the same spell, then Miss Meruru and Lady Yamato might be hitting the same dead end as we are.”

“Just perfect,” Hildara muttered, throwing her hands in the air. She spun around, only to notice something she’d overlooked. “Right. What do we do about these two?”

She gestured toward Adelle, who had fainted after witnessing her husband’s gruesome death, and their daughter, frozen in silent shock.

♢♦♢♦♢

The room, bathed in red light, bore no resemblance to a barrack. Gone was the dull grey floor; in its place stretched a pristine expanse of polished marble, gleaming under the crimson glow. The ceiling soared high above, adorned with an opulent crystal chandelier that sparkled like a crown jewel. What should have been a modest, functional space for guards had inexplicably transformed into the grandeur of a high-class mansion.

The incessant whispers of a young girl echoed off the lavishly decorated walls. Priest Yayoi tried covering his ears, but the words now resounded inside his head, relentless and unavoidable.

“This is a bad idea, doctor. Let’s find another way out.”
“No. We need to find His Majesty. His safety is paramount.”

The doctor stepped further into the crimson-lit corridor, keeping his gaze fixed downward. Watching him, the priest sighed, his breath visible in the unnaturally cold air. Muttering a mantra under his breath, Yayoi reluctantly followed.

Behind them, the heavy door creaked shut on its own, sealing their way back.

“What is it that we’re facing now, Haumann?” The priest’s question came from behind him.

“A demon,” the doctor replied, his eyes still averted. “It managed to fully breach into our mortal plane somehow. Don’t look at any eyes—not directly, not even an image of an eye. If you see it, it sees you back. And once it does, it’ll take over your mind and harvest your soul.”

“Fufufu,” a frivolous laugh echoed from behind. “Always one adventure after another with you, isn’t it, Haumann?”

Peter Haumann spun around, half-panicked. It took him far too late to realize that it wasn’t Priest Yayoi who had spoken—and, sure enough, the priest was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a girl with flowing blonde hair stood before him, smiling softly.

“It must be tiring,” the girl said, her voice both alluring and hauntingly familiar. “After all these years, you’ve finally found me. It’s okay. You can rest now.”

Haumann froze, his body rigid as disbelief warred with longing. He knew it was an illusion, a cruel trick—but a part of him couldn’t help yearning to see her again. The girl took a step closer, her arms outstretched, and Haumann braced himself, waiting for her embrace—

Then Haumann’s vision flickered. The girl’s delicate form dissolved, replaced by a guard with a blank, lifeless stare.

“Evil begone!”

Priest Yayoi’s voice rang out as he slapped a talisman onto the guard’s chest. The guard immediately collapsed, limp like a puppet with its strings severed. But the moment he fell, the other guards in the barrack turned their hollow, soulless eyes toward the priest. Though their expressions were void, the seething fury of the demon possessing them was unmistakable.

“…I don’t have many talismans left,” the priest said grimly. From his sleeve, he pulled out a paper inscribed with the character 目 and thrust it into Haumann’s hand. “Put this on your face and run.”

Haumann quickly pressed the paper to his face, and the crimson mansion melted away, revealing the barrack as it truly was. The previously invisible guards now appeared, swarming him and the priest with mindless rage.

“Run!” barked the priest, and the two bolted toward the other end of the barrack.

“Where’s His Majesty?!”

“There!” The priest pointed ahead.

Haumann’s eyes widened as he saw the Emperor suspended in midair, a small girl clad in red latched onto him, her mouth aglow as she drained his energy.

“He’s too far gone!” the priest shouted. “Forget about him!”

Ignoring the warning, the doctor clenched his teeth and forced his way through the throng of guards, leaving the priest to retreat toward the door. He reached within meters of the Emperor but was overwhelmed as the guards seized and dragged him down. One tore the paper from his face, and the crimson mansion reappeared, its oppressive atmosphere bearing down on him.

As the vision of the Emperor and the possessed child blurred into the surreal landscape, Haumann wrenched his arm free, revealing a flintlock pistol he’d managed to grab. He leveled it toward an empty patch of air, eyes sharp with determination, and pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, the bullet piercing through the unseen tether, striking the back of the Emperor’s head. Blood spattered, and the monarch crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

“AAAaaEEEaaoOOAAeaeaAAOOoEEaoaa!!!!!!”

The demon’s anguished screech ripped through the air as it writhed in shared agony, its connection with the Emperor let it experience a death as vivid as they come. The guards collapsed, lifeless puppets cut free from their strings, and the crimson mansion dissolved into the plain reality of the barrack once more.

Amid the stillness, the Emperor gasped and staggered to his feet. No wound remained, as though death itself had been undone.

“Did you just… shoot me, Haumann?”

“…We need to move, Your Majesty. The demon isn’t dead yet; we don’t have time to waste.” The doctor avoided the Emperor’s accusatory glare and extended his hand. But just as he feared, the possessed child floated back into the air, her wrath almost tangible. Around them, the crimson mansion began bleeding back into reality. “Now, let’s go!”

“Damn it, damn it!!”

Freshly revived for the second time that day, the Emperor broke into a sprint. He and the doctor raced toward the priest, who was frantically gesturing for them to hurry. Behind them, the guards began to stir, rising with blank stares to block their escape, and the crimson mansion’s creeping edges chased them relentlessly.

They reached the door just in time, slipping through as the demon’s grasp threatened to engulf them. The moment the door slammed shut, the five talismans affixed by the priest activated, forming a glowing blue pentagram that sealed the barrier tight.

“That’s the last of my talismans,” the priest declared grimly. “I have nothing left if something comes at us.”

The Emperor, still catching his breath, discreetly glanced at the Sacrificial Totems hidden beneath his robe. Of the three wooden dolls, two had already lost their heads. Quietly, he resolved that he would rather sacrifice these two buffoons if it meant preserving his last lifeline.

That was when—

Thud!

Something was moving toward them. The dull, heavy thuds grew louder with each step, and the dim light along the corridor ahead began extinguishing one by one. Darkness crept closer, swallowing the path in its wake.

The priest, the doctor, and the Emperor stood frozen, their breaths shallow as they awaited the next horror. When the darkness was no more than a stone’s throw away, the creature finally emerged—a child, though half of his face had grotesquely morphed into that of a wild boar.

“Hrrum… gii gii gii…!”

Thud!

The creature charged at the wall beneath a light crystal, smashing into it with brutal force and shattering the circuit that fed it energy. The crystal went dark. Unbothered by the blood streaming down its head, the child moved to the next light, repeating the same destructive act.

“…What is that?” the priest asked at last, his initial tension giving way to a creeping unease.

The doctor, as always, gave a succinct reply. “A failed changeling. It likely attacks anything that agitates it. We should avoid using any light.”

“Hmph, wasting my time.”

The Emperor scoffed and walked past the changeling child into the dark corridor, with the priest and doctor following closely behind.

Navigating the maze-like corridors was challenging enough on its own; the oppressive darkness made it nearly impossible. They relied on the faint, residual glow from the crystals embedded in the walls, but even that light grew dimmer the further they went. The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly off the walls, yet it felt as if the darkness itself muffled and consumed every noise.

“Hey, Haumann,” the Emperor growled, his irritation growing. “We’re far enough from that changeling, right? Can’t you cast a light spell or something?”

“…as you wish.”

The doctor raised his hand, and from his palm, a small orb of light flickered into existence. The three of them moved forward, the glowing orb hovering above them like an ethereal umbrella.

However, before long—

“Mama… mama, I’m cold…”

A soft, childlike sob echoed from around the next corner. The corridor ahead was shrouded in impenetrable blackness, but the three had already guessed it was another child that had escaped the quarantine cells.

“Mama… mama…”

The further they advanced, the clearer the crying became. Yet none of them stopped; the exit was only a few turns away.

“Mama…”

At the next intersection, the source of the sound became apparent.

“Mama… you’re warm…”

The sobbing ceased, and so did the three. Ahead, emerging from the oppressive darkness, the silver silhouette of a bear glinted ominously.

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