Welt Yang closed the door behind them with a soft click. The room was larger than Sunny expected — tastefully furnished, quiet, insulated from the bustle of Starskiff Haven outside. Lantern light filtered through patterned screens, casting slow-moving shadows along the walls. It felt… safe. Which was suspicious in its own right.
Welt gestured for them to sit.
March immediately flopped onto the nearest couch, legs dangling over the armrest.
"So, bad news first or really bad news first?"
Welt allowed himself a small smile before turning serious. He folded his hands behind his back and began pacing slowly.
"Kafka explained that Himeko was being held to ensure cooperation — not obedience, but alignment. The Astral Express was always going to be involved in the Luofu's Stellaron crisis. The Stellaron Hunters simply… narrowed the margin of error."
March scoffed.
"So they kidnapped our navigator to make sure we stayed on-script."
"Yes. She even apologized for the inconvenience."
March made a face.
"I hate her."
'Woah. That's a strong word. We don't use strong words around here.'
Welt continued.
"The Stellaron Hunters appear to be acting under orders from a man known as Elio. According to Kafka, he can see the outcomes of every choice."
'…Huh?'
Sunny remembered the battle against Cocolia, who had been consumed by the Stellaron on Jarilo-VI. He had been impaled straight through the chest, destroying his lungs, major arteries, spine, ribcage, sternum… and yet, he lived.
All because being revived by the Preservation was a reasonable development.
An uncanny ability that was wielded by an unnamed figure. An ability so absurdly powerful that Sunny couldn't perceive a way to get around it.
And, considering the note he had recieved earlier that day, as well as the supposed ability to effectively see the future by perceiving the choices of others, Sunny wondered:
Was the mysterious figure, who was likely this Elio fellow, a person with an Aspect associated with… plays? Books? Or just scripts?
Welt stopped pacing.
"Regardless, I would have assisted the Xianzhou Luofu with their Stellaron crisis even without Kafka's interference. However, their heavy-handed approach suggests they require a very specific resolution."
Sunny nodded.
"Which means we're being watched."
"Almost certainly."
Mr. Yang exhaled.
"Unfortunately, my ability to act has been restricted. Upon my arrival, the Luofu's docks were compromised — hacked to allow entry for myself and Dan Heng, who was in a comatose state at the time."
March straightened.
"So they think you worked with the Stellaron Hunters."
Welt nodded.
"They cannot dismiss the possibility. As such, I, as well as the two of you, are under scrutiny. Any overt action on our part could be interpreted as collusion."
Sunny pushed off the wall.
"And you don't want to start a war with the Luofu while Himeko's still a hostage."
"Correct."
March sighed.
"This is really complicated."
Sunny frowned. He supposed it was, but for entirely different reasons.
Welt smiled faintly.
"That is… an efficient summary."
He gestured toward the door.
"I've reserved two additional rooms for you. Kafka informed me — quite confidently —that you would arrive at this hotel at the precise time you did."
March shivered.
"She really said that like it was obvious."
Sunny snorted quietly. Welt nudged his glasses.
"I recommend you both rest. Tomorrow will be… a day, I suppose. Best to be ready fo anything, however."
March hopped to her feet.
"I'm gonna go take pictures. If this all goes wrong, I want proof I was here."
"Don't photograph anything classified."
"No promises!"
She waved and headed out.
Sunny nodded and turned to leave.
The moment he stepped into the hallway, the door behind him sealed — not locking, not vanishing, but isolating itself from the surrounding space. Sound dampened. The air shifted.
He glanced back once.
'Might not be an Awakened, but I know superpowers when I see them.'
How did that work? Was there a secret society of superheroes he didn't know about? Why wasn't he invited? He may not be a hero, but he felt pretty super…
As an ace detective, their were other things he couldn't take his mind off of. Why had Noctis told him to not trust the Gods? What have they done? What did Hope mean when she said that Sunny and the Daemons were their Flaws?
Too many questions were circling in his head, all of which were leading to one answer.
'When digging for trash metaphorically, you have to dig for trash literally!'
So, he went out, and looked for those metal cans!
***
Sunny walked into his reserved room with a downcast expression.
The trash cans of the Luofu… were nothing like the glorious bins that most people know, and that he loved. He couldn't just dive into a dumpster and fish for any sweet treasures…
…If he tried that, he'd be incinerated. The Luofu had designated garbage disposal areas, which was a chute that eventually led to… something. Something very hot.
Not hot enough to hurt Sunny, but hot enough to burn any trash that gets close.
The worst part, of course, is the lack of aesthetic appeal! The classical trash cans in the Underworld of Belobog were leagues above this!
With a sigh, he sat down on the bed and held out his hands. Staring at the black threads of Shadow Essence, he summoned a few Memories in order to understand the meaning behind the patterns etched in their Spellweave.
…Which was much more difficult than one would think. He didn't have a manual, and he was most likely the only person in the Waking World, and possibly in the combined history of both worlds, to ever undergo the process of learning this sorcery.
Knowing what patterns did what was easy. Creating completely new enchantments from scratch was insanity. He'd need to constantly compare hundreds of Memories in order to find common connections between them, and even that may not work.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
Eventually, the lantern light outside dimmed. Night settled over Starskiff Haven — soft, artificial, distant.
Sunny lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.
His soul did not move to another plane.
For the first time in half-a-decade, Sunny dreamt a real dream.