Elsewhere, someone was staring out the window at the full moon. The glittering stars above made him reflect deeply, as if seeking forgiveness for the deeds he had committed.
If he had done anything at all. Perhaps just intending was enough. Intentions could be considered actions, too.
At least in his mind—if you intended to hurt someone, you might as well have done it. He stared at the sky as if trying to erase certain memories from his head. Things he didn't want to remember.
It was as though the sky had turned against him too, veiling its beauty with black clouds that obscured the enchanting view. Accompanying this came a series of sounds—cries of pain.
They came from the room next to his. From someone who might've been looking up at that same sky moments ago, enchanted by its beauty before the clouds rolled in.
Maybe the screams were his way of expressing the grief and anger caused by the clouds covering the starry night that soothed his mind and eased his pain.
The painful cries began to fade. That sound—so piercing to the ears, yet even more so to the heart—was nearly gone.
It disappeared forever in the neighboring room. Nurses—or something like nurses—rushed through the halls. Whispers hinted that someone had died.
Holdime Gottez was dead.
Faradice began screaming too—perhaps in mourning. A cry that said he didn't want to end up like his friend.
The two had shared many painful nights in that infirmary. They had listened to each other's screams. They shared the same groans, the same suffering. They understood one another. They shared the same thoughts.
They both had the same image burned into their minds.
They were both staring at the same demon. A smile devoid of emotion. A demonic grin. A grin that stole what they cherished most.
A grin that slowly ate away at their memories.
_______________________________________
Two days had passed since that day.
Clem had managed to use Arsene's card and bought them both some items—medical ointments, a few healing potions, and painkillers. Their effects were nothing short of miraculous.
The burns on Arsene's palms had fully healed, and even his fractured ankle was now in much better shape. He still felt minor discomfort, but it was so faint he could brush it off as a simple scratch.
His pinkish-red skin had returned to its normal pale tone—everywhere except for his stomach. A red ring had formed around his navel, lingering stubbornly, slow to heal. But the real issue was inside. His stomach and internal organs were far from okay.
Eating and even drinking water had become a challenge. It felt like the lining of his insides had been scraped away. His tissues needed regeneration. Clem had secured some strong sedatives to numb the internal pain, but their relief was temporary. Arsene was constantly haunted by the sensation of bees stinging him from the inside out.
And, of course, there was that looming dread—the fear that death could strike at any moment.
Sarl, on the other hand, had recovered quickly. He'd already resumed training and attending his core classes. But Arsene had decided to stay in his apartment for a few more days.
Dressed in matching black wool pants and a shirt, Arsene kept himself warm. The chill of the air was too much for his weakened body. He only breathed through his nose—air entering his mouth made his lungs sting, as if icy razors were carving out his insides.
It felt like his inner skin was being peeled away.
He lay bored on the couch—until someone knocked on the door.
It couldn't be Clem or Sarl; they had classes. They wouldn't show up at this hour unless they skipped, which was unlikely.
Maybe Klause? Maybe he'd come to drag him out, motivate him to attend his lessons again.
But as Arsene opened the door, he was struck by shock.
He wanted to run—but he couldn't. He was frozen. Not because the man in front of him was holding him back, but because Arsene knew there was nothing he could do.
That cold expression. The long black hair. The black robe, and that same black coat...
It was him—the man he'd seen that day. The one who'd obliterated that monster like a dream.
It was Erebus Solaris.
His eyes could make your skin crawl. Erebus grabbed Arsene by the wrist and started dragging him out of his apartment.
Arsene struggled, but it was useless. He knew he couldn't escape this man—he was stronger, smarter, more experienced.
Was he here to punish him? He had been the only witness after all...
Erebus didn't speak. He simply walked through the corridors, dragging Arsene along.
Arsene's mind raced, his heart trembled. He gasped for breath, and suddenly collapsed, coughing violently—red drops splattering onto the floor.
Erebus stopped in his tracks, startled. He couldn't afford another dead Singular on his watch.
"What's wrong with you, Singular? Are you injured? Sick?"
Arsene kept coughing. But that voice—it sparked something in him. He remembered it.
How could he forget that voice?
Were they the same person?
Arsene forced out words. He had to understand.
"Who are you? Why are you dragging me with you? I'm sick!"
Erebus smirked. "Trying to deny it? Even though I was there, watching what you did?"
He placed a hand over Arsene's chest, inspecting him. His eyes widened.
He needed immediate care—he was hanging by a thread.
Arsene was in shock. He'd been found out. His expression gave everything away.
Or... was it a trap? Was he pretending—trying to get Erebus to reveal more?
He had to speak as little as possible and let Erebus talk more. There might still be another path out of this mess.
He was tense, hurting, unsure—afraid of the man before him, or perhaps just of the words leaving his mouth.
Arsene's look made Erebus speak more. Not to throw him into despair, but because he needed answers before things escalated.
"You really don't know? Don't remember what you did? You intrude, kill, and unleash your Singularity on anyone you want. If it wasn't intentional, maybe there's room for leniency. But if it was on purpose, you've only got yourself to blame."
"Unlucky for you that I was there. Otherwise, you'd have gotten away with it... and killed others too."
Arsene's breath caught in his throat.
So Erebus was referring to that day... the intrusion into the Academy's mine, the monster, the theft maybe.
But not everything made sense.
"There was no intention," Arsene snapped, hoarse and wounded. "I killed it in self-defense. I didn't even know it was—"
Erebus interrupted him coldly. "What the hell are you talking about? A monster? Self-defense? Are you making up stories now? Get real—Holdime Gottez is dead. You're the prime suspect. Who else do you think I was talking about?"
Arsene froze again.
This wasn't despair—it was revival. His face went blank, but his mind spun at a million miles per hour.
He smiled.
A strange, twisted smile. One Erebus couldn't comprehend.
Why was he smiling like that—moments after breaking down?
It was the smile of someone cursing Holdime's soul. The smile of someone glad he was dead.
Arsene spoke softly, "I thought you were talking about the other one... the genius of the Franschyz Empire—Faradice Forbes."
That shift—the tone, the look, the sudden surge of confidence—Erebus couldn't believe how someone could flip like that in mere seconds.
It was unsettling.
Terrifying.
Arsene stood up, pulled out a white handkerchief, and wiped the blood off his lips. Then he took some of the meds Clem had left him.
He walked beside Erebus now—willingly.
Everything around them faded in his mind, replaced by a stage. A stage for what was coming.
The man who'd been behind the wall during the Holdime incident—it had to be him.
Erebus Solaris.
Of course, Arsene didn't know his name back then. But from the way he spoke, he knew he was a professor.
And now Erebus wasn't dragging him anymore. Arsene followed him voluntarily.
Erebus said, coldly, "Faradice isn't dead yet. That's why I'm dragging you out—so you can save your own skin. If he dies, the Franschyz Empire will demand blood. An eye for an eye. Whatever trick you used—undo it. Unless you want to die."
Arsene walked with steady steps. He still had doubts.
This man beside him... he'd seen him before—in the dream. In the beast's memory.
But if Erebus didn't recognize him... did that mean only Arsene could see him? Was that memory one-sided?
Arsene cursed Holdime in his thoughts: Damn you. If you were still alive, I'd rip you apart. You're causing me trouble even after death, you trash bag.
Arsene and Erebus headed toward the infirmary.
Inside, their other "friend," Faradice, was battling the rot in his mind, his memories rotting away with every tortured scream from his throat.