Toki's eyes moved slowly along the towering shelves, scanning the spines for something that would suit the moment. The library of the Maho estate was an old, majestic thing—oak shelves climbing toward the ceiling like the pillars of a cathedral, each one lined with volumes in every size and color imaginable. The golden lamplight brought out the richness of the wood, and the faint smell of paper and ink hung in the air like a perfume from another age.
The triplets had already scrambled to their favorite reading nook near the tall windows, a cushioned alcove half-hidden by thick velvet curtains. They whispered excitedly to each other, shooting impatient glances toward him.
He still hadn't picked a book.
The truth was, the choice mattered more than usual tonight. He could already feel the weight of eyes on his back—not just the girls, but the rest of the household. It had started with the triplets following him, but one by one, everyone from the dining hall had drifted in after them. Kandaki leaned against a nearby table, Hana now curled up asleep in a blanket on an armchair. Ozvold sat with his usual calm detachment in the corner, legs crossed, watching quietly. Even Leonard had wandered in, leaning one arm on the doorframe, curiosity plain in his eyes.
It was… unexpected.
And now, with the entire room waiting, the simple act of choosing a bedtime story had turned into a performance.
Toki felt his lips press into a thin line. He couldn't choose just anything.
As if sensing his hesitation, Utsuki stepped forward from where she'd been standing near the back. Her footsteps were soft against the carpet, but her presence was immediate, and when she stopped beside him, her voice was pitched low, for his ears alone.
"Choose your favorite from childhood," she suggested.
He glanced at her, the faintest smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "That's the problem. I didn't exactly have the kind of childhood where someone read to me."
Utsuki tilted her head slightly, her silver hair falling like a curtain over one shoulder. Her brow furrowed.
"I read them all myself," he continued quietly, his voice carrying a strange mixture of nostalgia and bitterness. "In the Hall of Winds—an old, crumbling wing of the library that nobody else bothered with. I used to sneak there after the others were asleep. Every night, a candle in one hand, a book in the other."
Utsuki's gaze softened.
"Each story taught me something. Not just about the plots or the heroes, but about the people who wrote them—their fears, their hopes, the world they lived in. A writer can't hide himself completely. The blood and the tears they're not allowed to show anywhere else… they end up in their books."
She stayed silent, letting him speak.
"I read the Brothers Grimm until the paper threatened to crumble in my hands," Toki said. "I devoured Andersen's fairy tales—though some of them were so cruel they stuck in my head for days. Shakespeare… I didn't understand all of it at first, but the rhythm of his words stayed with me. Every page was a doorway to somewhere else, and for a while, that was enough."
Utsuki studied him, her expression unreadable but her eyes intent. "So… if you had to choose one story. Just one. A story that speaks for your life—and for everyone you care about—what would it be?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze moved across the shelves again, slower this time, until it settled on a worn spine near the top. Without a word, he reached up and pulled it free.
The book was small enough to hold in one hand. Its once-bright cover had faded with age, and a fine layer of dust coated the surface. But the edges of the pages still caught the lamplight in a faint golden shimmer.
"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," Utsuki read aloud, her lips curling around the unfamiliar name. "By… Carll Lwes?"
Toki nodded. "Carll Lwes. Most know him as Lewis Carroll. A mathematics professor from Forseford University."
Her eyes flicked to his. "Why this one?"
He settled into a deep armchair opposite the rest of the group, holding the book in his lap. His fingers brushed over the cover like he was touching something far more fragile than paper.
"Because it's not just a children's story," he said. "It's a puzzle—one that plays with logic and reality until you start to question the ground under your feet. The deeper you go, the less certain you are of what's real… and the more you realize that maybe that's the point."
Utsuki sat down in the armchair nearest him, leaning forward slightly. "And Alice? Who does she remind you of?"
Toki's mouth curved into a faint smile. "You."
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "Me?"
"Think about it," he said, leaning back. "The royal selection, the palace, the rules that don't make sense, the people who speak in riddles and expect you to know the answers. You stepped into a world that wasn't yours, filled with dangers you couldn't see, and somehow you've kept walking forward. Through all the madness, you've managed to stay… you."
For a moment, the room was quiet. Utsuki looked away, just slightly, as if the compliment had caught her off guard.
The triplets, impatient as always, broke the silence.
"Are you going to start or not?" Haru demanded, bouncing on her seat.
"Yeah!" Natsu added. "I don't care who Alice reminds you of, I just want to hear the story!"
Aki crossed her arms. "It's bedtime. This is taking forever."
Toki exhaled a slow laugh. "Alright, alright. Let's see if I still remember the opening…" He flipped open the cover, the golden-edged pages whispering softly as they turned.
Utsuki stayed quiet, though her eyes never left him.
He began to read.
His voice was steady, low enough to make the triplets lean in, but warm enough to hold the whole room in its rhythm. The first lines rolled out like something he had carried inside for years, waiting for the right moment.
As he spoke, the others settled in—Leonard moving to one of the leather armchairs, Kandaki easing into a seat near Hana, Ozvold resting his chin on his hand, listening without comment. The world outside the library seemed to fade away, replaced by the absurd riverbanks and talking rabbits of Wonderland.
Every so often, he'd pause to add his own dry commentary, earning a laugh from the triplets or a quiet, amused glance from Utsuki.
"See, that right there," he said at one point, tapping the page. "That's exactly how nobles talk. Too many words, not enough sense."
"You're not wrong," Leonard murmured from his chair, hiding a smile behind his hand.
Halfway through, the triplets had stopped fidgeting entirely. Even Ozvold, who had been pretending to only half-listen, seemed to be following every word.
When Toki finally closed the book, the room felt… still.
"That's it?" Haru blurted.
"That's the first chapter," Toki said. "You'll get more tomorrow. Maybe."
They groaned in protest, but their eyes were still bright, their earlier restlessness replaced by something quieter—like they were carrying a little piece of Wonderland with them.
Utsuki rose first, brushing an imaginary crease from her skirt. "I think you chose well," she said simply.
Toki gave her a small, knowing smile. "I usually do."
Her lips curved, just slightly, before she turned toward the door. The others followed her lead, the spell of the library hour gradually giving way to the quiet routines of the night.
The library had nearly emptied, leaving behind only the faint warmth of the lamplight and the whispering shadows between the shelves. Toki still sat in the same armchair, the small golden-edged book resting in his hands. His eyes lingered on its cover, though his thoughts had long since drifted beyond its pages.
He heard the soft click of the library door opening. Footsteps—quiet, deliberate—crossed the thick carpet.
He didn't look up until Utsuki's shadow fell across the arm of his chair.
"I thought you'd gone to bed," he said.
"I did," she replied, her tone almost casual, though her gaze told a different story. "Or rather… I pretended to. It was just a way to get the others to leave us alone."
Toki raised a brow but said nothing, waiting.
"Do you have a moment to talk?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
He gave a slow nod. "I do."
For a second, she stood there in silence, as if measuring her words. Then she stepped closer, lowering herself into the armchair opposite his.
"I wanted to thank you," she began.
His brows knit faintly. "For what?"
"For… everything you've done for me," she said, meeting his eyes without flinching. "The path to becoming captain of the Fourth Division wasn't easy. In fact, it was harder—much harder—than my first appearance at the Royal Selection."
Her voice was calm, but there was a weight under the words, a quiet acknowledgment of the trials she had faced and the toll they had taken.
Toki leaned back slightly, studying her. "Helping you helped me too. My goal's always been to protect the people around me. Every step you took forward meant fewer people I'd have to worry about falling behind."
A faint smile ghosted across her lips. "Even so, you should learn to relax now and then."
His answer was immediate. "I'll keep training. I have to become stronger. That's the only way forward."
Her smile turned just a little sad. "And is there no room in that 'only way' for anything else?"
"There is," he said after a pause. "I'll make time for… some enjoyment. I promise."
The way he said it made it sound like a promise forged in the same fire as his vows to protect and fight—a solemn thing, not casual.
She gave a small nod, apparently satisfied. "Good. Because you're no use to anyone if you burn yourself down before the real battle comes."
Silence settled again, softer this time.
"I should go," she said, rising from her chair. "It's late, and tomorrow will come quickly enough. Sleep well, Toki."
"Goodnight, Utsuki."
"Sweet dreams," she added, a fleeting warmth in her voice, before she turned and walked toward the door.
The click of the latch echoed quietly when she was gone.
For a while, Toki remained where he was, staring at the space she had just left. Then he looked down at the book in his lap, running his fingers once more along its golden edges. Slowly, he stood and crossed to the nearest shelf, sliding the volume back into its place.
As his hand left the spine, a thought drifted unbidden into his mind.
There are so many dangers in this world. You can't even tell anymore if you're sane or mad.
His gaze swept across the silent rows of books, their spines like unblinking eyes in the dim light.
We're all mad in our own way, he thought. Mad, and trying to survive. Mad, and trying to protect the things we love.In this crazy world where the gods decide fate, I decide to fight this madness even if it consumes me.
He turned toward the darkened windows, where his reflection stared back faintly. The flicker of the lamplight caught in his eyes, giving them a sharp glint.
If I am the master of the Castle of Mirrors… and the heir of the Red Priest… then there must be other dangers out there. Things even I haven't seen yet.
He closed his eyes briefly, letting the thought settle like a stone sinking into deep water.
But for now… all I can say is this: I will write a story where everyone can be happy. A kingdom where the sun endures above the clouds. Even if I have to write it in blood.
His hands curled slowly into fists.
Because this is my only way of expression. I will fight. And I will win.
The lamp flickered once, as though agreeing with him, before settling into a steady glow.
He took one last look at the shelves, the golden-edged book now hidden among them, and turned toward the door. Somewhere beyond these walls, the night was deep and silent, holding its breath for what was to come.