'Should I intervene?' From her vantage point, the cold beauty and loyal bodyguard — Sanhua — watched intently, weighing the decision to assist Rover.
Her orders had been clear: observe and assess the situation, nothing more. But now that the one-on-one duel had shifted into a two-versus-one, she found herself hesitating.
'For now... I'll just keep watching,' she decided reluctantly, reminding herself of the Magistrate's instructions.
Her gaze shifted toward Yangyang and Kyorin, her expression thoughtful. 'Perhaps... it would be wise to report that man to Madam Magistrate.'
***
Rover stood firm — blade drawn, eyes sharp and focused — more than ready to take on the two before her. But... was it necessary?
There was no doubt they were enemies. But nowhere was it written that encountering the enemy always meant a fight.
'Wait...' Rover's thoughts turned inward as she tried to reanalyze everything.
Her friends had been kidnapped during an investigation. Then that maniac Scar appeared.
Kyorin broke free from his domain, wounded himself in the process, and even managed to free Yangyang.
And right after that, he had said to Scar: "I won't let you have any bargaining chip."
'Bargaining chips?' Rover blinked, the words settling in her mind like scattered pieces of a puzzle. Then she remembered what Kyorin had told her moments ago: "If you must… fight without concern."
"If you must."
That phrasing stuck with her—it wasn't a command, but a conditional. A choice. And it made her realize something crucial.
'I should have guessed better,' Rover thought with a trace of helplessness.
'Classic Kyorin.' she mused, the sides of her lips curling up slightly.
This was his very nature. He always gave just enough of a hint... enough for someone to make their own decision and act freely.
Shifting her attention toward the two, her cold gaze gradually softened — just slightly — but retained enough steel to make it clear she was still on guard.
These two hadn't come to fight. Not really. They wanted something from her.
Eyes narrowing, Rover lowered her blade ever so slightly and asked, "Exactly what is it that the Fractsidus want from me, to go this far?"
Scar's eyes lit up as he quickly said, "We just want you on our side—nothing more."
Then, almost as if sweetening the offer, he added, "We can even give you information about your past."
"And what makes your words credible?" Rover challenged, her tone sharp and unmoved.
Scar's expression remained steady as he replied, "We're the first ones offering you the truth — unlike the others, who've kept you in the dark."
Then, slowly, he extended his hand toward her in a handshake gesture.
"All you have to do," he said, voice calm yet resolute, "is become one of us."
Yangyang's brows knit into a slight frown at those words. "Rover…" she called out softly, concern lacing her voice.
But before she could say more, she felt Kyorin's hand tighten gently around hers.
She looked down to see him shaking his head ever so slightly, his eyes meeting hers with quiet resolve.
The message behind that gesture was clear: "Don't intervene. Let her choose for herself."
"But—" Yangyang began to protest, but Kyorin cut her off with a faint whisper, voice weak but steady, "Rover is anything but foolish."
"Still, she might be swayed… even deceived," Yangyang argued, her voice tinged with unease.
Kyorin looked at her steadily and asked, "Don't you want to help her recover her memories?"
"I do," Yangyang replied solemnly. "But right now, she might be taken advantage of."
Kyorin's gaze sharpened as he responded, "Isn't that exactly what Jinzhou is doing too?" His voice, once faint, began to gain strength.
The miraculous Slaughter Heart was at work — now that his body had endured sufficient breakdown, its regenerative properties were beginning to heal him.
At this rate, once fully recovered, there would be little stopping him from using Bloom Break again.
"No, Jinzhou would never—" Yangyang protested, a hint of anger rising in her voice.
But Kyorin's next words cut through her defense like a blade. "For the welfare of her people, 'the Magistrate' would."
"—!!?" Yangyang's eyes widened in shock at the remark.
Kyorin met her gaze firmly and said, "Remember, a land is ruled by its people — not the other way around."
"And..." he added, clarifying his stance, "I'm not slandering your Magistrate. But if she's truly a capable leader, then without question, she would place the well-being of her people above Rover, even herself."
"But…" Yangyang's voice wavered with emotion, unwilling to back down. "Rover is amnesiac, and the Fractsidus will exploit that."
Her gaze became resolute. "I don't want her to be swayed by them."
"That's why..." she began, her eyes hardening with newfound resolve. She looked straight at Kyorin, ready to declare that she would never allow such a thing. "I—!!?"
But the moment her eyes met his, her words faltered, caught in her throat.
There was something in his expression — his eyes or perhaps the lines of his face — a depth of sorrow, quiet pity... or was it disappointment?
Whatever it was, it stopped her cold.
A crystal-clear tear clung to the corner of his eye, catching the light as it slowly trailed down his cheek.
A faint, almost imperceptible sniffle accompanied each syllable he spoke, his voice trembling under the weight of emotion. "Am I… wrong?"
A peculiar sensation began to stir within him — subtle, yet impossible to ignore.
It was a kind of pain that didn't come from any wound or blow, but from somewhere deeper… the heart.
'It hurts…' he admitted inwardly. The pain struck like a stinging slap, sharp and sudden — but not physical.
No, this was something else entirely. An ache from within, raw and unfamiliar, as if something unseen had fractured inside him.
Tears welled down his eyes as Kyorin himself could not figure out why he was crying. Yangyang, too, was puzzled by him as she tried to console him — but it was futile.
While Kyorin shed silent tears and she consoled him, Rover and the Fractsidus were engaged in their own quiet conversation, audible to all nearby.
Despite Scar's efforts to sway her, Rover remained firm. Rather, her tone became sharp as she demanded, "What did the Fractsidus do to this village?"
Scar sighed in mock disappointment. "Aww, why jump to that conclusion? Why assume we're the culprits?"
Then, changing his tone with a glint of mischief in his eyes, he said, "Maybe you should be asking what really happened here."
"But I won't spoil everything just yet. That would be too dull. As I said — why not look around for yourself?" He stepped aside like unveiling a stage, his smile widening.
Rover's eyes swept the surroundings as Scar's voice cut through the air. "So. Go on. Tell me — what do you see?"
Rover's voice was steady. "A large-scale ritual. Injured civilians. And… a strange Tacet Discord."
Scar beamed. "Bravo! Didn't think you'd catch on to that so quickly."
"Now — what's the conclusion you've drawn?" Scar asked eagerly.
Rover hesitated, then spoke firmly. "The Fractsidus manipulated the villagers."
Scar sighed. "Ah, the classic tale: savage wolves versus helpless lambs. Good and evil as clear as day."
He shook his head, his voice dropping lower. "It's a tired little story people cling to. Helps them sleep at night. Keeps their fragile lives in order."
"But let me ask you..." Scar stepped closer to Rover, lowering his voice to a whisper, "do you really believe the real world is that simple?"
Rover's expression was guarded. "I don't trust Fractsidus. But… it's also possible the villagers killed each other."
Scar tilted his head, amused. "So you don't trust them either. Interesting."
He grinned. "Ah… so they were right about you. You really are exceptional."
"I like it. That keen eye, sharp judgment, and unsettling grasp of human nature…" He leaned in slightly. "Let me offer a few more hints."
"The truth?" Scar said. "It's far messier than you think."
"First — who are our players?" He began to count on his fingers. "An innocent girl. A revered leader. And a flock of simple villagers."
"Now, what makes up our plot?" He smiled wider. "False devotion. Fleeting kindness. Collective deceit. Senseless killings. And, at the center of it all—one fragile soul, driven down a path of ruin by the crowd."
Scar's voice dipped lower, a sly smile playing at his lips. "Do you wish to hear the story of the lamb and the shepherd?"
Without waiting for consent, he began — a tale old as time, yet unsettling.
He spoke of a peaceful village, home to carefree lambs who toiled by day and sought shelter by night, ever wary of lurking wolves.
A shepherd arrived, promising abundance and protection, and soon the lambs basked in comfort, worshipping him like a god.
But the shepherd's gifts came with a price. The lambs, tempted and compliant, traded freedom for fleeting security. Among them was a solitary black lamb — the only one to see the cracks beneath the veneer of prosperity.
When the shepherd demanded a sacrifice for every wish granted, the black lamb refused and was cast out. One by one, lambs disappeared, and the flock turned on the outcast.
Scar's tale revealed a world where fairness was an illusion, and every desire extracted its toll — often paid by another.
Fear and greed intertwined as the lambs continued their doomed dance, until the brave black lamb's defiance shattered their fragile peace, exposing the bloodied cost of their obedience.
"How do you like my story?" Scar asked Rover, but only silence met his words — no one spoke.
Clap — Clap — Clap —
A slow, singular applause echoed through the air as a battered Kyorin began clapping for Scar. The gesture earned him a wave of confused and incredulous stares — none more piercing than the sharp frown he received from Rover.
In a voice as cold as ice, she asked, "What are you doing?"
"Umm…" Kyorin hesitated, confused by the sudden tension. "Isn't it common to applaud when someone finishes telling a story?"
He recalled yesterday, when he and Calcharo had told a group of curious children some tale related to them.
He remembered telling them a spooky story of his own — about a mysterious man who offered him something utterly terrifying.
At that time, he'd even delivered the punchline with dramatic flair: "A JOB!!!"
The kids had shrieked and laughed, and though some were thoroughly spooked, they all clapped at the end. After all, they'd been taught it was good manners.
So naturally, Kyorin thought it was only courteous to applaud Scar's tale. Twisted and disturbing as it was — it was still a story.
"Keh, looks like you at least have manners," Scar sneered, though his voice still carried a trace of bitterness — he hadn't quite forgiven Kyorin for tarnishing part of his domain.
Beside him, Phrolova cast Kyorin a flat, unimpressed look. Her eyes, however, were searching — trying to discern whether his gesture stemmed from genuine naïveté or was simply a calculated act.
Meanwhile, Rover, visibly taken aback by his demeanor, addressed him curtly, "Don't waste your applause on a twisted story," her tone firm, cold, and disapproving.
"..."
Kyorin's expression shifted, however, this time, it wasn't his usual sheepish "Ah, okay."
Instead, his face contorted into something more bitter, a quiet, brooding sulk settling over him. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes suggested he felt more misunderstood than scolded.
A feeling of indignation began to rise within him, and its cause was becoming clearer and clearer as his mind adjusted to the emotions stirring inside him.
As he struggled with those feelings, Scar called out to Rover, his gaze sharp and probing. "How do you like my story, Rover?" he asked, voice low and deliberate. "What really happened here? I suppose you've already pieced it together."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "The black lamb who defied the rules, and the white lambs who gave in to their own greed.
"The innocent maiden sacrificed," Scar's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper.
"And the villagers turning on one another in a ruthless frenzy…"
"They had it coming." His eyes darkened, shadowed with cold certainty. "All the shepherd had to do was eliminate the rebel. That's how he kept the flock in line, preserving the status quo."
Scar's eyes gleamed as he faced Rover. "Now that I have you here, standing before me, I want to hear your answer."
He leaned in slightly, voice low but charged. "Tell me — do you want to be the rule-setting shepherd, or the rebellious black lamb?"
"If a sane soul survives in a realm of lunatics," Scar continued, "would you call her the last beacon of reason… or the sole apostle?"
He paused, letting the question hang in the air. "Think on this: the shepherd isn't some preordained embodiment of truth. Once he's gone for good, the black lamb can reclaim the trust of its herd."
"Then… maybe, just maybe, there won't be any more 'victims' or 'oppressors,'" Scar concluded, his voice heavy with meaning.
"Rover," he called out to her once again, extending his hand. "Join us."
"Rover, don't!" Yangyang tried to persuade her not to join them—when suddenly, Kyorin began to laugh hysterically.
"Haa... hahaha..."
"—!!?"
His laughter drew everyone's attention, earning him frowns from nearly all around.
'This is the second time he's interrupted me,' Scar thought, an irk mark twitching on his forehead.
Meanwhile, Phrolova stared at Kyorin's laughing visage, her heart trembling slightly. That look of deep pain — she recognized it instantly.
He was laughing not out of joy or mockery... but from pure sorrow and helplessness.
'Exactly what has he realized?' Her eyes, which until moments ago had only searched for amusement, were now filled with sharp interest.
She recognized that he'd made an observation — one not yet visible to the naked eye.
"Hahahaha... haah... hahaha."
Kyorin's laughter continued—loud, cracked, bitter.
Not because anything was funny… But because, suddenly, everything was clear.
He had been a fool.
All this time, he had truly believed they were his friends.
Yangyang — a kindred spirit. Rover — one whose gaze left him undone. He genuinely believed there was meaning and importance in the bond they shared — friendship.
But now... Now he saw the truth.
They had never truly known him — only the parts of him they liked. The version of him that fit neatly into their expectations.
Yangyang claimed to protect Rover…
Yet wasn't this exactly what the Fractsidus were doing? Steering her choices. Guiding her fate. Only difference was — the Fractsidus offered knowledge in return for loyalty.
And Rover…
Even she had scolded him. Not because he had done wrong, but because he had acted from sincerity. And that sincerity was inconvenient.
It dawned on him — they hadn't accepted him... Only the roles he played. The image that matched their vision.
But the moment he acted on his own — even something as small as a clap — he stopped being a friend in their eyes. He became a stranger.
A weight settled in his chest. Sharp. Cold. Final.
'So this is friendship to them,' he thought bitterly. 'A transaction masked as affection. A play of convenience.'
Not understanding. Not trust.
Just... consideration. Convenient affection. Masked civility.
"Haa... haha..."
His laughter faded, its rhythm broken — trembling with grief beneath the hollow mockery.
"K—Kyorin?" Yangyang called out, worried. "Is something wrong?"
Instead of answering, he asked her, "Say, why are you so concerned about me all of a sudden?"
"W—what?" Yangyang blinked, taken aback by his sudden question. "Hey, why are you asking that?"
"Yangyang..." Kyorin called her name softly before asking, "Do you consider Rover your friend?"
"Yes, of course," Yangyang answered solemnly. Then she turned to Rover and asked, "Rover, do you consider Yangyang and me your friends?"
"Yes," Rover replied without hesitation.
Kyorin then suddenly turned to Scar and Phrolova. "What about the Fractsidus? Do you want to be friends with Rover?"
"That's what I've been saying all along," Scar smirked. "We are your friends, Rover. You're one of us — the black lambs."
Kyorin looked at Phrolova and asked, "And what does the lady over there have to say?"
Phrolova responded coolly, "I genuinely don't care about that, but I will admit, I am interested in her."
Kyorin's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.
"Then..." he began, voice turning cold as he declared, "... apart from that lady in bandage and crimson, all of you are fucking liars."
"W—What?" Rover and Yangyang stammered, taken aback by Kyorin's sudden shift, while Scar let out an offended, "Huh?"
He was tempted to grill Kyorin alive on the spot, but Phrolova held him back. Her eyes, now gleaming with interest, were clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.
"Kyorin, what are you—?" Yangyang began, but before she could finish, Kyorin cut in with a question. "What's the difference between Jinzhou and the Fractsidus?"
"That Fractsidus is evil?" Yangyang answered uncertainly.
Scar clicked his tongue, amused, while Kyorin nodded slowly. "That's it, isn't it?"
He then stated plainly, "Good and evil, that's the only difference right? But... apart from that, both are equally detestable — equally foul."
A wave of shock crashed through Yangyang's heart as Kyorin turned toward Rover. His gaze locked onto hers, eyes unwavering despite the tremble in his body.
"Rover..." he said, voice heavy with pain, "it seems we're not friends after all."
"What are you—?" Rover tried to argue, but Kyorin pressed on, unflinching. "It was just circumstance that made us 'friends.' And simply put, you never truly cared about me."
"No, I—" Rover hesitated. To her, this almost sounded like some twisted form of confession — but Kyorin had already seen and heard enough.
"If you ask me," he said coldly, "you're not even friends with anyone in Jinzhou."
Rover's eyes widened, then narrowed — his words were cutting deep.
'Stop,' she thought, but he didn't.
"You've never truly liked a person in your life." Kyorin continued. "You only liked what they had."
Then, he turned his gaze toward everyone present and asked, his voice echoing: "Isn't this the reason why you don't possess friendship — only fawning, decorated as friendship?"
Paa —
The sharp sound of a slap rang out.
"What's gotten into you?!" Rover shouted, her eyes reddened with emotion as her hand lingered in the air.
Kyorin staggered slightly from the force of the slap. He felt the sting bloom across the side of his face — and strangely, it hurt more than it should have. His eyes widened for a brief second.
'I see,' he thought.
"Do you want to know the reason for my frustration?" he asked, voice low but steady.
Rover looked away. "... I do not."
"Then cover your ears," Kyorin said flatly, before continuing without the slightest regard for her refusal.
"I'm frustrated… because I deceived myself too much." His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, not from fear, but from the weight of clarity settling in his chest.
He went on — rambling, venting — saying how Jinzhou was no better than Fractsidus. Both were equally corrupt. They only differed in method.
Jinzhou wore masks of performative care, but beneath that, they showed no real empathy toward an amnesiac girl who had lost all her memories and was lost.
"To them," he said bitterly, "Rover is nothing more than a marvel — a curiosity to be studied. Just another fascinating subject which they can benefit form."
They knew her history. They knew her capabilities — perhaps through some unknown means — yet they still refused to be sincere.
All they offered were loose threads, vague gestures, and empty offerings… a bait.
It wasn't much, but was enough to keep her engaged, only to later make her act on their behalf. That was their plan all along.
They don't actually care about her.
They only care about what she can bring to the table — not who she is.
To them, she's not a person. She's a tool.
He dared to go even further. "In fact… Fractsidus is more honest than Jinzhou," he said. "At least they don't pretend. Their methods are twisted, unacceptable even, but they don't lie about what they are."
As for Yangyang and the others?
Kyorin didn't even raise his voice — it was the calmness in his tone that made it hit harder. "All of you... you're just looking for a kind of validation. That's all."
There was no trust from the start. Not in the person they called a friend — not even in themselves.
He then turned his attention to the Fractsidus. First, he commended their twisted honesty — at least they wore their intentions openly.
But soon after, he made it clear: "Don't mistake business courtesy and obligative gestures for love and empathy," he said firmly.
Then his tone shifted into something darker, colder. "One thing I hate the most…"
His eyes grew sharp, their calm gleam replaced with something far more chilling. The very air around Qichi Village seemed to shimmer faintly.
From the ground, delicate lotus buds began to bloom — hundreds of them, silently emerging in a surreal display of power.
His hair, darker than midnight, now shimmered faintly under the light, and his pupils seemed to glow with a renewed intensity.
All four others present recognized this shift immediately.
He was starting to Overclock.
Despite his report mentioning that he lived in a state of passive Overclocking, it never stated that he couldn't Overclock like a normal Resonator.
The realization, the frustration — all of it had brought this moment to life.
And as he stood there, surrounded by quiet blooming lotuses, Kyorin stared at them all — his gaze icy and distant — and declared: "I hate performative care."
To be continued...
***
A/N: Alright, finally some character development! I did want to portray a selfless Kyorin, but the problem with selfless people is often a lack of self-respect. This moment should take care of that for me. Okay, the path of lone wolf is also now ready.
To be honest, I didn't enjoy 1.0 that much. While Rover is shown to be smart and actively making decisions, with Jinzhou and its casts being the helper, and the Fractsidus are portrayed in a justifiably negative light.
I still disliked the actions of both factions, as I couldn't see much difference between them — aside from how the world views them.