The door clicked softly as Ramona stepped out of the room, leaving Oswald behind in a silence so dense it could be sliced.
She didn't look back.
She didn't need to — Oswald hadn't moved.
Down the narrow stairs of Hamburg's Inn, the scent of roasted barley and firewood filled the air. It was almost morning. The quiet bustle of travelers, the clink of a plate in the kitchen, all so mundane compared to the storm she left behind in that second-floor room.
Waiting near the carriage outside were Arthur Adlerthorn and Cynthia, who'd been pacing with anxious little steps under the wooden eaves. Dew clung to her bangs.
Arthur leaned against the carriage frame, arms crossed in a posture that spoke of both patience and boredom. His red eyes scanned Ramona briefly, then flicked upward behind her — toward the window where a shadow moved. Oswald.
"Finished?" Arthur asked simply.
Ramona gave a faint nod, her voice barely above a breath."Yeah... kind of."
She walked ahead without waiting, her steps a little too fast to be casual.
Arthur blinked, puzzled. "Why? Is there something else?"
She paused only for a second. Her reply came without turning back—"I'll tell you why later."
It wasn't the right time. And she knew, deep down, he wouldn't accept her favor this time.
Oswald came down a second later.
Still wearing that same brave, blank expression, as if nothing hurt. As if everything was fine.
Arthur and Cynthia were standing near the outer building — just the stopping point before departure. The sky had begun to lighten, clouds painted with faint gold, but Oswald's chest still felt like dusk.
When he approached, Arthur turned to greet him with a small nod. Elegant and poised, the prince looked as if he were stepping out of a painting — confident, composed, and irritatingly unshaken.
Oswald hated how cool he looked. Hated that he had nothing to hate about him.
Ramona had chosen this stranger over the one who bled beside her.
He cleared his throat, straightened his coat, and stood tall.
With a voice that was far too formal for two men standing in the wind outside a creaky old inn, he said:
"Forgive me for not properly introducing myself, Your Highness. I am Oswald Crimsongarde, son of Duke Andrew Crimsongarde. It is an honor to meet you. I trust that you will be able to take good care of my good friend. And congratulations on your soon-to-be engagement with Miss Ramona Ellett Rhostein."
Cynthia glanced at Oswald, surprised — that was the voice of a noble at a royal banquet, not the boy who once cried holding a bloody sword.
Arthur, unreadable as ever, gave a soft smile.
"Thank you," Arthur replied.
Then, after a quiet pause — with words gentle but blade-sharp —"My deep condolences for your loss. And now it seems I must take your loved one too. I too hope for you to find your happiness."
Oswald didn't flinch.
But his heart skipped. Hard. Fast. Uneasy.
As if this man had struck a chord he hadn't let anyone hear — a note still ringing inside him, because he hadn't told Arthur yet. And maybe never would. Because maybe it didn't matter. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
Still… he asked."How'd you know that?"
Arthur tilted his head, his tone dry but not unkind."Everyone talks about it. Your father's being called a hero. There's noise all around — can't you hear it?"
He sighed."I know it's a lot. It's easy to miss things when grief fogs everything. But try to stay present... so Ramona won't carry it alone."
The words struck deeper than Oswald expected. He swallowed down the sharpness in his throat, unsure if it was pride or pain. But one thing he knew for sure: he is a good guy, Ramona would be fine if ended with him.
"Anyway..." Ramona continued, her voice steady but not without weight."I know I said I'd marry you, Your Highness. But… there's something I need to do by myself before that."
Arthur didn't miss a beat."I'll go with you."
She held up a hand gently."Please — let me finish."
A breath. A pause. Then she spoke, eyes not meeting his.
"After I escaped the execution… something happened. Something bad. It's not dangerous, not really — at least, not right now. But I have to go back. I need to recheck everything. Make sure there's no risk. No trail. No flaws."
She glanced at him, voice quieter now.
"I can't leave even a whisper behind for my enemies to follow."
Arthur folded his arms, gaze resting on her profile.
Arthur folded his arms, eyes locked on her."And how do I know you'll come back to me?"His tone wasn't cold — just too honest for comfort."You're strong, Ramona. But strength doesn't make you untouchable. I can't just believe in a promise."
Ramona stepped forward, calm and unflinching.
"Then believe in me. I only need five days. I'll find what I'm looking for, tie off the loose ends, and return."She smiled faintly, with a quiet self-assurance."Besides... if I don't return, you have every right to kill me, remember?"
Oswald flinched."Ramona—!"
But she didn't turn to him. Her eyes were only on Arthur.
Arthur's lips curved into something between a smirk and a challenge."Fine." He leaned back slightly."I'll wait here in Hamburg for a week. Just seven days. After that..."His voice dropped into a colder register."...If I have to find you, I won't be so merciful."
"Fair enough," she replied without hesitation."Then we're even."
Oswald stood up suddenly, voice shaking."Are you two hearing yourselves? Do you think this is normal? You're casually talking about hunting her down like a fugitive—!"
Ramona turned to him at last, her gaze sharp."Oswald. Please."Her tone had no anger — just finality."Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
He stared at her, throat dry, fists clenched. But he didn't speak again.
Ramona glanced out the window, thoughtful.
"It's strange, though," she murmured."I've been trying to look flashy. Careless. Easy to find. But no one's chasing me."
She looked back at Arthur and Oswald."I need to know why. And... there's something else. Something I can't explain just yet. But it's important."
A tense silence hung for a moment — until Oswald spoke again, voice quiet but razor-sharp:
"Isn't this going to be a diplomatic disaster?"He looked directly at Arthur."If you take Hamburg's wanted criminal as your future queen — what do you think the city will do? What if they demand her return?"
Arthur didn't blink.
"If negotiation fails," he said coolly,"I'll declare war."
That single sentence cracked the room.
Ramona's breath caught. Even she hadn't expected that answer.
Oswald slammed a hand on the table."Are you insane?! I won't let that happen—!"
Arthur's gaze didn't waver."Then make sure she comes back on time."
The early dawn mist lingered around the Hamburg Inn, curling like smoke against the stone walls. Ramona stood by the steps, her cloak draped over her disguised frame — Ellijah once more. The sky behind her was pale, just beginning to hint at warmth. Cynthia lingered near the door, eyes downcast but alert, while Arthur and Oswald stood a few paces apart, each carved in a different kind of silence.
Ramona adjusted the strap on her satchel and gave a soft sigh. "I won't take long. Five days."
Arthur crossed his arms, his voice calm but lined with ice. "I'll give you seven. If you're not back by then—"
"Then you can kill me," she finished flatly, almost with a hint of humor, like it wasn't a death sentence. "A promise is a promise."
Oswald flinched. "You two can't be serious—"
"We are," she cut in sharply, her gaze flicking to him for only a second before returning to Arthur. "It'll gain your trust, won't it? If I come back on my own, unchased, clean."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "It will. But don't expect me to enjoy the wait."
"I wouldn't want you to," she replied.
Oswald stepped forward, trying to steady his breath. "And what if something happens? What if this leaves a scar between Hamburg and Golden Adler? What would you do, Your Highness—if they take your promised bride as a criminal again?"
Arthur didn't blink. "Then I'll negotiate."He paused."If that fails, I'll declare war."
Both Oswald and Ramona turned to him — one horrified, the other unreadable.
"You're insane," Oswald muttered.
"And yet, I have excellent instincts." Arthur said it plainly, then glanced at Ramona. "Don't make me test how far I'll go."
Ramona gave a small smile, not of fondness, but of sharp understanding. "Don't worry. I'm not the type to disappear without burning the map first."
She took a step back. The wind tugged at her cloak. "Well then... this is the part where I leave."
Oswald looked at her, his mouth parted like there were still things he wanted to say — but none of them could make it out. Not now.
"Don't be late," Arthur said quietly.
Ramona turned, her voice the last thing they heard before she disappeared down the path:
"Every journey has its own meaning, doesn't it?"
And just like that, she was gone — swallowed by the mist, the silence, and her own promise.
oh c'mon! you're not traveler! This is too exhausting to Oswald he barely can yell, he only yelled in his head.
— in Hamburg's Palace
Ramona's heels clicked sharply against the cobblestone as she approached the grand gates of the Hamburg Palace. Clad in her scandalous red dress, she was a striking figure against the grey morning mist. The guards at the entrance barely had time to react before she incapacitated them with swift, non-lethal blows, her movements a blur of precision and grace.
Inside, the palace corridors echoed with the sounds of alarmed footsteps and clashing steel. Ramona moved with purpose, subduing each guard she encountered without taking a life. Her path led her to the royal gardens, where she found Crown Prince Ian enjoying tea with his fiancée amidst blooming roses.
Ian's cup shattered against the marble table as he stood abruptly, his face contorted in shock and rage.
"What the hell are you doing here? Dressed like that? How dare you!" he bellowed. "Guards! The criminal is here!"
Ramona remained composed, her voice calm yet firm. "I came to ask you a question, Your Highness. Who reported me as a criminal? I deserve to know."
Before Ian could respond, a new wave of soldiers stormed into the garden, attacking Ramona without hesitation. Despite her earlier efforts to neutralize the palace guards, these attackers were relentless. She fought back fiercely, but the sheer number began to overwhelm her.
Amidst the chaos, Ramona's vision blurred. She closed her eyes, focusing on Ian's aura to track his movements. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her lower right chest, dangerously close to her heart. Her left arm went limp as the muscle was severed. Now fighting one-handed, she struggled to maintain her defense.
But then, the attacks ceased. Confused, Ramona opened her right eye slowly. The palace garden had vanished. She stood in a nightmarish landscape—fiery mountains erupted in the distance, and a lake of molten lava bubbled below. Charred trees with claw-like branches reached out, binding her limbs. Beneath her feet lay a field of bones, the remains of countless unknown souls.
In the distance, she saw Ian and his fiancée, locked in combat with a monstrous figure. The air was thick with the stench of sulfur and death, yet Ramona felt no heat, only a chilling sense of dread.
The landscape before Ramona was a nightmarish tableau of fire and despair. She stood amidst a sea of bones, the remnants of countless souls lost to time. Charred trees, their branches twisted into grotesque shapes, reached out like skeletal hands, attempting to ensnare her. The sky above was an unnatural shade of crimson, casting an eerie glow over the desolate terrain.
Despite the overwhelming sense of dread, Ramona felt an unsettling calm. The heat from the surrounding infernos did not scorch her; instead, it seemed to emanate from within. Her body ached from the battle, but her spirit remained unbroken.
As she surveyed the hellish expanse, her gaze fell upon Ian and his fiancée, locked in combat with a monstrous entity. The sight was both surreal and haunting. She had known Ian as a prince, a symbol of authority and power. Now, he appeared as a mere mortal, struggling against forces beyond comprehension.
Ramona's heart wavered. She had come seeking answers, but what she found was a reflection of her own inner turmoil. This realm, this manifestation of hell, was not just a physical place—it was a mirror of her fears, her regrets, and her unresolved conflicts.
With a deep breath, Ramona steadied herself. She was no stranger to darkness. She had faced it countless times before. And she would face it again now.
Drawing upon her inner strength, she began to move toward Ian and the fiancée, her steps purposeful and unwavering. The path was treacherous, the ground shifting beneath her feet, but she pressed on.
As she neared the combatants, the monstrous entity turned its gaze upon her. Its eyes were voids, sucking in all light and hope. But Ramona did not flinch. She had faced worse.
With a swift motion, she drew her weapon and engaged the creature. The battle was fierce, each strike resonating with the weight of her past. But she fought not just for survival, but for redemption.
As the creature fell, dissipating into the fiery abyss, Ramona stood victorious. But the victory was bittersweet. She had confronted the darkness, but the journey was far from over.
Turning to Ian, she offered a silent nod. He met her gaze, his expression a mix of gratitude and confusion. Without a word, she turned and began her ascent back to the realm she had come from.
The hellish landscape faded behind her, but its lessons remained etched in her soul. She had faced her inner demons and emerged stronger. But the true battle was yet to come.
The infernal landscape around Ramona began to distort, the fiery mountains and molten lakes warping as if reality itself was unraveling. She stood amidst the chaos, her breath shallow, heart pounding. The battle had ended, but the questions remained, gnawing at her.
As the dust settled, her gaze fell upon the figures before her: Ian and his fiancée. But something was amiss. Ian's once familiar features were now obscured by dark grey hair and piercing red eyes. The woman beside him bore an unsettling resemblance to him, yet her presence felt alien.
A chill ran down Ramona's spine. Her instincts screamed that these were not the people she thought they were. But who were they?
Determined to uncover the truth, Ramona stepped forward, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Who are you?" she demanded.
The man—no, the creature—smiled, a twisted expression that sent a shiver through her. "I am Davian," he declared, his voice like gravel scraping against stone. "And this is Venata." The woman nodded, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling light.
"We are part of the Hollenzirkle," Davian continued, his words dripping with malevolence. "A circle of devils who have escaped the abyss."
Ramona's mind raced. The abyss—the very place she had been cast into before. Had these beings been the ones to pull her out? Had they orchestrated her fall?
Before she could voice her questions, Davian raised a hand, silencing her. "You seek answers," he said, his tone mocking. "But some truths are better left unknown."
With a flick of his wrist, he and Venata erupted into flames, their forms disintegrating into ash before Ramona's eyes. The acrid scent of burning lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the encounter.
Ramona stood alone, the weight of the revelations pressing down on her. The truth was more twisted than she had imagined. Ian—her Ian—had been a mere illusion, a puppet in the hands of these devils.
But why? Why had they chosen her? What was their endgame? And what role did she play in their dark designs?
As the hellish landscape began to fade, Ramona clenched her fists, resolve hardening within her. She would find the answers. She would uncover the truth behind the Hollenzirkle and their twisted machinations. And she would make them pay for the lies they had woven.
Ramona stood still, her breath caught as the figure emerged from the shadows. It was him—the devil from the abyss, the one who had once watched her fall.
He stepped forward, his voice smooth and resonant:
"We meet again, Your Highness. Once, you spoke of me joining you in the upper world—but I have yet to reach its threshold.
We now stand in the Infinity Realm, a place suspended between life and death. Here, souls linger—not in the afterlife, but in a state of passage. The virtuous journey toward light; the wicked, toward shadow. Devils like myself traverse this path, seeking ascent to the upper world.
I've shared my truth. Now, tell me, my lady—what name will you grant me?"
Ramona's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity dancing within them. "Before I grant you a name," she began, her voice steady, "why do you address me as 'Your Highness'?"
The devil inclined his head, a shadow of reverence in his posture. "Because," he replied, "a clear voice echoes within our minds—a voice we believe to be divine. It speaks of you as a pivotal figure in the times to come. I apologize for my inability to elaborate further."
Ramona considered his words, the weight of destiny pressing upon her. Yet, she chose not to press for more. Instead, she offered a gentle smile. "Then, I shall call you Noctis Void." She extended her hand, a gesture of camaraderie. "And please, call me Ramona. No titles, no formalities."
Noctis Void accepted her hand, a silent pact forming between them in the liminal space of the Infinity Realm.
The Infinity Realm stretched endlessly before Ramona, a vast expanse where time and direction held no meaning. Beside her, Noctis Void stood silently, his presence both comforting and enigmatic.
"The journey to the Upper World is neither swift nor straightforward," Noctis murmured, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "But do not despair. Even aimless steps are guided by destiny. The God of Destiny weaves every path, ensuring each soul reaches its intended end."
Ramona nodded, absorbing his words. The concept of a predetermined path resonated deeply, offering a semblance of solace amidst the uncertainty.
With the weigh in her heart, she must accept and live the story that— this god willing to, that she had a promise with Arthur that they will meet in a short time.
As they began their journey, a faint, ethereal melody drifted through the air—a haunting tune that seemed to beckon them forward.
"Follow the voice," Noctis advised, his tone gentle yet insistent. "It may lead us closer to the Upper World."
They walked in silence, the melody growing louder with each step. Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath them, and the sky darkened ominously.
A colossal shadow emerged on the horizon, its form indistinct yet undeniably menacing. The air grew thick with anticipation, every instinct urging caution.
Ramona's heart pounded as she turned to Noctis. "What is that?"
He narrowed his eyes, his expression grave. "A guardian of the threshold," he replied. "Our first true test."
As the shadow loomed closer, the melody transformed into a cacophony of whispers—voices of the past, present, and future intertwining in a symphony of fate.
Ramona clenched her fists, determination surging within her. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but she was ready to face them.
The shadow halted, its form becoming clearer—a towering figure cloaked in darkness, eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.
"Who dares seek passage to the Upper World?" it intoned, its voice echoing across the realm.
Ramona stepped forward, her voice unwavering. "I am Ramona, and I seek my destiny."
The guardian's eyes narrowed, and a deafening silence enveloped the realm. Then, with a sudden surge of energy, it lunged forward.
To be continued in Volume 2: The Linger Effect