Taking a seat by the fire, Lucas let the warmth creep into his bones.
He leaned back, pondering Adolf's words.
'The System will remember what you were… hmmm. And since the System is mental, that means it's built from what's already in my mind. So… I already know who I am. I just don't remember.'
Lucas stared into the flames, their flickering light warping his thoughts. Another thread surfaced—one he couldn't quite ignore.
'And then there's General Winthorn. I feel like he was important. Not necessarily to me... but maybe to my survival. Or an idol of some kind.'
His mind spun, thoughts tangled in half-formed meanings. Trying to sort them only made it worse. They wisped away like smoke, slipping between his fingers, carried off by invisible winds.
Why was it so hard to hold on?
'Maybe Lira knows more about him… She was wearing that military-style uniform when we woke up. And he was—or is—a general.'
The conclusion settled heavily in his chest. If he couldn't get into the library, he'd need another way to dig through this manor's secrets.
From his seat in the living room, Lucas spots three doors other than the library. One is where Barrik came from, carrying all the blankets and food, while the others remain a mystery.
Thinking on what the other rooms could have Lucas sits there pondering why waiting for Lira.
'And if there are more runes, we might be able to figure out more about what they're doing to us,' Lucas notes, spotting someone entering the living room from the corner of his eye — Lira.
Lira entered the living room, moving with the same worn-out heaviness she had carried earlier. She looked tired—but alert. Pretending not to expect her, Lucas quickly schooled his expression into one of mild surprise, as if stumbling upon another restless Waker by chance.
"Wasn't expecting anyone else to be awake," he said, keeping his tone light, casual. "Figured everyone would be asleep by now."
Lira rubbed the side of her neck, her fingers working at a knot of tension. "Yeah, well... I always have a hard time sleeping in places I'm not used to," she said, her voice touched with an apologetic lilt. "Not sure why. Just feels... wrong somehow. I'm guessing you couldn't sleep either?"
Lucas lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Caught me red-handed."
As Lira took a seat opposite him on the couch, Lucas leaned back slightly, studying her through the flickering firelight.
"Say," he began, careful to keep his voice easy, "you wouldn't happen to remember your name, would you?"
Lira blinked, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "No... not exactly. Why?"
Lucas shrugged, giving a rueful smile. "Just a shame, really. I can't remember mine either. But earlier... I stumbled across a name. One that felt familiar."
He watched her closely, weighing every flicker of her expression.
"Ever heard of General Winthorn?"
It was like Lira had been struck by lightning.
Her posture stiffened sharply. Her eyes lost focus, hollowed, as if seeing something far beyond the room—caught in a vision only she could perceive, just like Lucas had with the harp in the tower.
Her breath hitched.
And just as quickly as it came, the moment shattered. She shuddered, her shoulders drawing tight, her face folding inward—grief etched across it. A single tear slipped down her cheek, catching the firelight as it fell.
Lucas's heart lurched. "Hey—hey, you okay?" he said, reaching across the gap to grab her shoulders, panic flashing across his face.
Lira blinked rapidly, seeming to wrestle her way back into the present. She wiped the tear hastily, offering a shaky, brittle smile.
"Huh? Oh—yeah. I'm fine," she said, voice thin. "It's just... yes. I know General Winthorn. Or... I did."
She shook her head as if trying to clear smoke from her mind, her hand still trembling slightly as she brushed away the last trace of the vision.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to—" Lucas started, the words tumbling out.
But Lira cut him off, shaking her head. "No. You're fine. Actually..." She exhaled shakily, forcing a small, half-true smile. "Thank you. It hurts... but I'm glad. Even if it's just a tiny piece."
Lucas hesitated, then slowly withdrew his hand, letting it fall back to his lap. A soft sigh escaped him, barely louder than the crackle of the fire.
"Well... as long as you say you're good," he said quietly.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The room stretched around them, heavy with unspoken thoughts—the kind of silence that didn't feel empty, but full. Burdened.
Lucas leaned back slightly, studying the way Lira's hands still trembled faintly in her lap.
'She reacted just like I did back in the tower,' Lucas thought, the realization striking him hard. 'And Adolf said the System will help us remember... which means the memories are still there. Just hidden. Blocked behind the fog.'
If they could uncover those memories—pull them back from wherever they were trapped—maybe they could finally understand what was happening.
'But how?'
Even strong reactions only brought fleeting glimpses—fading emotions, the hollow ache of something important just out of reach.
He knew the woman with the harp mattered to him—deeply. But he couldn't remember her face. Her name. Only the way the memory had felt.
It wasn't enough.
Lucas sank deeper into thought, the fire crackling low in the hearth, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on him.
But something—something from the corner of his vision—pulled him back.
Movement.
From the darkness beyond the sitting room, framed in the yawning mouth of one of the hallways, a figure emerged. Slow. Heavy.
Lucas turned his head, gaze locking onto it instinctively.
Lira noticed his shift and followed his line of sight.
Together, they watched as the figure drew closer, the firelight catching on rough, weathered features.
Barrik.
Barrik stepped into the firelight, the shadows peeling away from his form.
Tonight, he wore simpler clothes—an old wool tunic, loose at the sleeves, and worn boots that scuffed quietly against the stone floor. Gone was the heavy cloak, the layers of authority. He looked more like a farmer now, or a man who had simply grown tired of pretending to be anything else.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Most Wakers are dead asleep by now," Barrik said, his voice rough with a dry sort of amusement. "But no, not this time. Looks like I got myself a pair of troublemakers instead."
He scratched at the side of his jaw, where a day's worth of stubble caught the firelight.
"Can't give an old man a little peace and quiet, huh?"
His words weren't angry—but they weren't exactly kind either. They carried that edge—the kind of tone used by someone who expected disappointment and found it easier to laugh than to show it hurt.
Lucas sat a little straighter, instinctively guarded, but forced a small, sheepish grin onto his face.
"Sorry, sir," he said, aiming for something between respectful and harmless. "Guess we're just... having trouble settling in."
Barrik snorted, low and dry, and moved closer to the hearth. The fire threw long shadows across his face, deepening the lines carved by years—or lifetimes—of hard living.
"You and half the sorry fools who ever climbed down from that cursed Tower," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
"Sorry, what did you say?" Lira asked, tilting her head just slightly, her voice casual.
"Oh, nothing," Barrik replied with a grunt. "Just an old man rambling. Anyway—" he took a seat in a worn but comfortable looking chair. While leaning backward, resting his elbows on his hip. "I'm assuming you both enjoyed the baths?"
The shift in conversation was clumsy enough to be obvious, but neither Lucas nor Lira called him on it. Instead, they followed his lead—on the surface.
"Yeah," Lucas said with a small, tired laugh. "The heat was... something else. Didn't expect it to be carved right into the mountain like that."
"Feels like magic," Lira added, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "The way the stone stays warm... the way the steam rises even this late."
Barrik shrugged, feigning indifference. "Old tricks. Rune work mostly. Been there longer than the manor itself."
Lucas caught the phrasing—been there longer than the manor—and filed it away.
"So the bathhouse is older than Hollowrest?" Lucas asked, keeping his voice loose, almost curious.
Barrik tapped a finger against the side of his mug. "Older than the town you see now. The original settlement's gone. Was wiped clean in the early days—monsters, war, bad winter—take your pick. What's left is layered. Like bones under new flesh."
He sipped from his cup, the firelight glinting off his weathered face.
Lira leaned forward slightly, playing her part. "Must be strange... living with all that history under your feet. Knowing parts of the past are just... buried."
Barrik's lips twisted into a half-smile, half-grimace. "Strange? Maybe. But you get used to it. You learn real quick not to poke where you don't belong."
'I should poke and figure out how much he is willing to go on about.' Lucas thinks as he makes a gamble on what he is about to say.
Lucas let a beat of silence stretch out before answering.
"Suppose that's why the library's off-limits too, huh?"
The words came easy, offhanded—but they carried weight beneath them, a quiet test.
Barrik's smile thinned.
"Suppose it is," he said. "Knowledge is a dangerous thing for those who don't know how to carry it."
For the first time, the firelight seemed colder somehow, as if the hearth itself had lost some of its warmth.
Lucas and Lira shared another quick glance.
There were answers here.
Hidden in the bones of this place.
And Barrik, whether he meant to or not, was guarding them.
"Sorry, what I meant was... I didn't mean to go through your stuff," Lucas said, lifting a hand in apology. "It's just—the door was open, and I couldn't help myself. You know, not knowing what's out there isn't exactly great for the mind."
He gave a small, strained laugh, hoping to smooth over the tension.
Barrik let the words hang for a moment longer than was comfortable.
Then he waved a hand dismissively, leaning back into his chair with a slow exhale.
"No, you're fine," he said. "Should've shut the door to begin with. My mistake."
He shifted, stretching his legs out in front of the fire.
"Besides," he added, voice rumbling low, "I don't even use that library much anymore. Mostly just my personal collection these days. Old habits, I guess."
His tone was casual—but there was a thread beneath it. A warning without the teeth showing.
Lucas nodded, letting the conversation drift into a quieter current, while Lira settled back into her seat as if the conversation no longer mattered.
But both of them knew better.
They had learned something tonight. Not much—but enough.
Enough to know there were doors in this place that Barrik would rather keep shut.
And that, more than anything else, meant they had to find a way to open them.