Ten days. That's how long Riku Shinsora was confined to this new world—and to the soft duress of his bed.
In that time, Renjirō and Sayaka had continued to monitor his condition. Checking for physical injuries, bleeding, any change in mannerisms and psychology, including memory.
Renjiro stood before Riku's bed. "Let's go through this again, Riku. What's your name?"
"Riku Shinsora."
"Your age?"
"Eighteen."
Renjirō nodded, jotting it down on the pad resting against his knee. "Family?"
"... My parents. They abandoned me years ago. Don't know when."
Renjirō looked at him for a moment, their eyes meeting. It almost looked like he wanted to change the topic. He cleared his throat. "And before all this—before the Shrine, before the incident—you were doing what?"
Riku hesitated. "Walking home from school. Just a normal day."
Renjirō's pen paused. His eyes studied Riku carefully, searching for cracks. "Good. You remember clearly." He flipped a page, his voice steady. "Do you recall where you are now?"
"You told me. The... Sastra Palimpsest? It... still doesn't make sense."
"I'd be surprised if it did," Renjirō murmured, making another note. "No need to understand it so soon. You're recovering well." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "What about dreams? Hallucinations? Strange voices, symbols you can't explain?"
Riku looked away, silent for a long moment before shaking his head. "…Nothing. Not since I woke."
Renjirō leaned back, satisfied but grim. "Then you're stable. For now."
As he said so, Riku then remembered something. He gazed at his palm, wondering if that mark from earlier had vanished. He had been so fixated on the shrine and Tetsuya; he completely forgot of the lotus symbol that was etched into his skin.
Just as he thought, it was still there. But something was different. It was almost completely gone. He could still see the traces of the shapes, the curve of the petals were still visible, but its clarity was far less than what it was.
Renjirō peered over. "Ah, your gate. It seems that it's taken a while, but it seems your body has fully assimilated its signature into itself."
Riku quirked an eyebrow. "Akio said something about a gate. But again, I still don't follow. Hell, I know nothing!"
Renjirō placed a hand on Riku's shoulder. "I know. I can understand your frustration. Believe me, I felt the same way when I first came here. It all gets easier with time. It all seems so different at first, but trust me, this world is not as different from Earth."
Riku's eyes widened. "Wait... we're not on Earth?!"
Riku's heart thundered as if the walls of the room were caving in. His words echoed in his skull.
Not Earth. Not Earth.
His hands trembled. "Where—where the hell are we then?"
Renjirō didn't flinch. He closed his notes, set them aside, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was low, steady, carrying none of the weight that Riku felt crushing his own chest.
"This place," he began, "is called the Sastra Palimpsest. It isn't Earth. But it isn't some unrecognizable nightmare either. Think of it as… a world within Earth. The only reason people on Earth haven't seen it is because it vibrates at a much different frequency. Not in a way that can alter your life if you come here, but just enough."
Riku's eyes were still wide. "That… doesn't explain anything. I'M IN A DIFFERENT WORLD!"
Renjirō nodded slowly, his face exuding nothing but pure patience. "Cities, districts, cultures, all intersecting under one roof that no one truly sees. It's strange, yes. Confusing, even. But it has people, lives, struggles—all not so different from what you know. The buildings, the lives, the day-to-day hustle and bustle of this place is the very same you've seen your entire life."
Riku shook his head. "No. No, that doesn't make sense. How—how can I just wake up here? I didn't ask for this! I didn't—" His voice broke, the air around him tightening like a noose. "I was just walking home."
Renjirō let the silence breathe. He didn't interrupt, didn't dismiss. Instead, he let Riku's panic exhaust itself until the boy's breaths grew shallow, ragged. Then he spoke.
"You feel powerless. Like you've been stolen from your own life. That's natural. Anyone would panic when the ground they knew gets pulled away." His words were calm, but there was something practiced in them—as if he had said them to another once, long ago. "But listen to me, Riku: you are not powerless. You're alive. You've survived something others wouldn't. That alone means you're stronger than you think."
The steadiness in Renjirō's tone worked like an anchor. Riku's trembling slowed, his breaths dragging into steadier rhythm. Still, his eyes flickered, uncertain.
Renjirō pressed gently. "Look around you. The air, the light, the warmth of this room—does it feel alien? No. It's real. Tangible. You can touch it. Breathe it. The people here may fight with supernatural powers, wield things you never imagined, but at their core, they live, laugh, and struggle just like you did on Earth. That doesn't change."
Something in those words cut through Riku's fear. It was too rational, too human, to dismiss. He found himself staring at Renjirō—not just at his composed expression, but at the quiet sincerity behind it.
Renjirō chuckled. "I remember what it's like to be in your shoes. To wake up one day and realize the world isn't what you thought it was. I didn't have someone to talk me through it. So, I'll make sure you don't go through the same."
The words struck deeper than Riku expected. For the first time in ten days, the terror dulled, replaced with a fragile, almost guilty comfort.
"But... what about my responsibilities back home? My rent's due in two weeks… school's gonna realize I've been missing for so long... what if my landlord throws my stuff out? I'll get expelled, they'll think I disappeared—dammit, how am I supposed to just stay here!?"
"Riku. Breathe." Renjirō said.
He gave Riku a moment, waiting for the panic and anxiety to subside even further.
"You're not the first to stumble into the Palimpsest with ties back on Earth. The Mantrik Order has an entire division—Veilkeepers, we call them—who handle this exact problem. They weave your absence into the world you left behind. To your teachers, you'll be on medical leave. To your landlord, your rent will arrive on time—covered by some stipends until you're earning your own. Digital records, IDs, bank accounts… all adjusted, all made seamless. No suspicion, no investigation."
Renjirō leaned back, slightly, meeting Riku's uneasy stare with steady resolve.
"In short... the life you're afraid of losing will keep breathing without you. Not forever, but long enough for you to stand on your own feet here. When the time comes, you'll choose whether to return to it… or build something greater in this world."
Riku slowly exhaled, the remnants of his stress and fear slowly dwindling from his body. He couldn't help but feel a sense of ease, but also a sense of guilt. Other people were covering for him.
Like always.
Renjirō let the silence sit, then shifted the conversation gently. "Your gate is stabilizing. That mark on your palm? It means your body has accepted the foundation of this world's power. It's why you're still alive."
Riku raised his hand again, staring at the fading symbol. His voice was softer now. "…So, this… ties me to this place?"
"In a way. It doesn't mean you're trapped. It means you've been given a tool. One day, you'll decide how to use it. But for now, focus on something simpler." Renjirō leaned back, his expression lightening. "Standing."
Riku blinked. "…What?"
"You've been lying down for ten days. Your body's healed, but you won't know your strength until you test it. Come."
He stood, extending his hand. For a moment, Riku stared at it, hesitation pooling in his chest. Then, with a shaky breath, he grasped Renjirō's palm and pulled himself upright.
His legs wobbled immediately, muscles screaming in protest. He staggered, nearly collapsing, but Renjirō's grip tightened, steadying him.
"Easy. Feel your balance. Don't force it."
Riku gritted his teeth, sweat forming at his brow as he fought to keep himself upright. His knees buckled once, twice, but each time Renjirō's hand guided him back into place.
Finally, after what felt like hours compressed into minutes, Riku managed to take a single step. Then another. The floor was cold under his bare feet, the air biting against his skin, but he was standing.
A shaky laugh escaped him. "I... I can walk. I didn't think I'd be able to... Not for a while."
Renjirō smiled. The warmth from it made it look like he was genuinely proud. "Of course you can. If you're able to do what you did ten days ago, then walking is no trouble. You're strong, Riku. You just don't realize your strength until a moment forces you to."
Riku looked up at him, chest heaving, and felt the words etch themselves into his memory.
"Now, I'm sure you wish to see Akio and Mei now that you're up and about, no?" Renjirō asked.
"Yeah. And... will I be able to see Tetsuya?" Riku asked.
Renjirō shifted his gaze to the ground, wondering what to say next. "Are you sure? I understand you wish to see your friend, but he still hasn't woken up."
"I'm sure. I just... need to see that he's alive. For my own eyes." Riku replied.
Renjirō smiled. "Okay, I'll let you see him. Just... prepare yourself. Okay?"
Riku nodded. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't call me sir. I'm no commander, and you're no soldier. Dr. Tsukimura is just fine."
-------
They made their way to the adjacent room, the cold floor filling Riku's body with goosebumps. As they opened the door, the sight before him had given him a great joy and formed a pit in his stomach at the same time.
Akio and Mei were up. More than that, they looked as if nothing had happened. Mei had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot aggressively against the floor. Akio was sitting against the edge of his bed, sitting in what looked like pajamas.
But right next to them... was Tetsuya. For an instant, Riku's heart was in his throat. Tetsuya looked lifeless, but as soon as Riku saw the slow rise and fall of his chest, he slowed his advance.
He wanted to sob right then and there, but he stopped himself, biting his lip to prevent the tears that could have fallen.
Akio saw them come in. "Dr. Tsukimura! Riku!!"
Akio jumped up from his bed despite Mei's sharp, "You're supposed to be resting." He ignored her, crossing the room in three quick steps to grab Riku in a crushing hug.
"Finally! I thought you were gonna sleep forever," Akio said, his grin wide but his voice cracking with relief.
Riku staggered from the force, but couldn't stop the small, pained laugh that escaped him. "You're—choking me, man…"
Mei rolled her eyes, but there was the faintest curve of a smile on her lips. "Idiot. You nearly burned yourself out back there, and instead of resting, you're clinging to him like a child."
Akio let go, his eyes roaming over Riku, trying to see if anything about was hurt. "Mei told me what happened to you after it was all over. You're an idiot for doing that to yourself."
Riku's gaze softened as he looked at the two of them. For a moment, he almost believed the world hadn't been torn apart, that they were just three ordinary people meeting after class. But then his eyes drifted to the bed in the corner, and reality sank like lead in his stomach.
Tetsuya.
His friend's body lay still, pale against the sheets, the faint rise and fall of his chest the only proof that he still clung to life.
Riku's feet moved without him willing it. He approached slowly, the sound of his breath filling his ears. When he reached the bedside, his legs nearly buckled.
"Tetsuya…" His hand hovered above his friend's, shaking, but he didn't dare touch. Seeing him like this was worse than any wound Riku could've taken himself.
Renjirō's voice cut gently through the silence. "He's alive. But not untouched."
Riku's head snapped toward him. "What do you mean?"
Renjirō's expression hardened, the calm doctor's mask he wore slipping just enough to show the weight beneath. "When the Silent God tried to claim him, it left behind a signature. Malevolent Mantra."
Mei and Akio's eyes widened.
Mei began. "How? There's no way that a Malevolent Mantra source would be on Earth! Not since-"
"I know. But that's the readings the medical team have reported." Renjirō sighed. "But we'll get more info from them soon."
Riku's brow furrowed. "...Malevolent Mantra? What even is that supposed to mean?"
Renjirō exhaled softly, folding his arms. "Fair enough. Let's take a step back." He motioned with his hand as though gathering threads in the air. "Mantra, in its simplest sense, is the current of life force within all living things. Not just humans — animals, plants, even the world itself. You could call it the pulse of existence."
Riku's mind flashed back to Akio, his explanation before the two had gone to the shrine in search of Tetsuya. "That's… what Akio told me. That it's some kind of energy inside everyone, right?"
Renjirō shook his head faintly. "That's only the surface. Mantra isn't just energy. It's belief given form. It's the measure of your mental fortitude, your alignment with your own desires, your ability to impose meaning onto reality. The stronger the alignment, the stronger the Mantra. And when those three pillars harmonize — belief, fortitude, desire — Mantra flows pure and unbroken."
Riku blinked, trying to wrap his mind around the weight of it. "Let me guess, Malevolent Mantra is the exact opposite?"
Renjirō's gaze darkened, his tone cooling into something harder. "Malevolent Mantra is Mantra that's been tainted. Contaminated by acts of cruelty. By choices that sever the self from its humanity."
Riku swallowed. "…What kind of choices?"
Renjirō met his eyes, unblinking. "Killing without cause. Enslaving the will of another. Violating what should never be violated. Every act of judgment forced upon someone who does not deserve it corrodes the purity of Mantra. Once you cross that line, it doesn't wash away easily. Your Mantra remembers what you've done, even if you wish to forget."
The words sank like stones in Riku's chest. His stomach twisted, and for a moment he didn't want to speak at all. The thought that Tetsuya— his best friend, Tetsuya — could be carrying that kind of stain made bile rise in his throat.
Finally, he forced the question out. "…So how the hell is he contaminated? He's not—he's not like that."
Renjirō's expression softened, the hard edge easing. "No. He isn't. This isn't from him." He gestured toward Tetsuya's unconscious form, the rise and fall of his chest steady but shallow. "It's from the Silent God. When it tried to claim him, its Mantra imprinted onto his body like a scar. The traces of that Malevolence lingered when we pulled him free."
Riku's fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. "Then—what happens to him?"
"That," Renjirō said, his voice carrying both weariness and hope, "is why the medical division is working around the clock. They've begun the detoxification process — purging the Malevolent signatures thread by thread. It will be slow, painful, and uncertain. But because he was saved before death, he has a chance. His body can recover, though it may take months before he opens his eyes."
The relief was sharp enough to sting. Riku's knees felt weak again, and he forced himself not to collapse at Tetsuya's bedside.
Alive. Still alive.
But the thought of his friend's body carrying a corruption he couldn't even see made his skin crawl.
He whispered, more to himself than anyone else, "...Then I'll wait. However long it takes."
Renjirō inclined his head, approval flickering in his eyes.
-------
A few hours had passed by. All Riku did was either walk aimlessly around the lodgings or walk back into Tetsuya's room to see the small chance of his best friend's waking come to pass. It didn't happen.
Riku was beginning to feel delusional. He wanted to trust the words of Dr. Tsukimura to the fullest. That Tetsuya would wake up and continue to live like he used to before everything... happened.
He left the room for, what? The tenth time now? He didn't know where he wanted to go. Or where he should go. But he didn't care.
Riku wandered further into the hallways, his bare feet brushing against polished stone that seemed too cold for comfort. The interior of the Moonless Court lodgings was nothing like the hospitals or dorms of Earth. The ceilings arched high, ribbed with silver inlays that caught the lantern-light and shimmered like constellations. Along the walls, tapestries of pale silk hung between dark wooden beams, painted with shifting patterns that moved as though stirred by unseen wind—moonlit gardens, drifting blossoms, endless night skies.
Every corridor curved softly, never quite straight, like the architects had tried to mimic the winding flow of a river. Even the furniture spoke of quiet wealth: low tables carved from black oak, cushions embroidered with lunar motifs, shelves stacked with scrolls and glass orbs that pulsed faintly when passed. The air smelled faintly of incense—cool, floral, a hint of sandalwood.
It was beautiful, but Riku couldn't focus. Each step felt directionless. He found himself circling the same hall twice, lost not in the layout but in his own thoughts. The Silent God. Tetsuya. Earth. School. His life felt scattered across different worlds, and none of them made sense anymore.
"Riku."
The voice pulled him back. He turned to see Dr. Tsukimura leaning against a pillar, arms folded, watching him with that practiced calm.
"You're restless," Renjirō said, approaching. "Understandable. How are you holding up?"
Riku forced a breath, his shoulders sagging. "…Trying to. It's just hard. Seeing him like that. Not knowing when he'll wake up."
Renjirō's gaze softened. "He will. I promise you that. His condition is stable, and the Malevolent traces are already weakening. He'll live."
The assurance landed heavier than Riku expected. He nodded, swallowing the knot in his throat.
Renjirō let the silence hang for a moment, then shifted, his tone more serious. "There's something I need to tell you. The Silent God case… has been sent to the Council."
Riku frowned. "Council?"
"The Aśvattha Council," Renjirō explained. "The highest authority of this world. They deliberate on matters that affect the balance of the Palimpsest. And your actions—summoning, fighting, surviving—they weren't overlooked."
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Rumors are already spreading. They want to name you a Mantrik."
Riku blinked, his stomach sinking. "…Me?"
"Yes. I should have asked you before filing my report. I'm sorry, Riku. But the truth is…" His eyes locked on Riku's, unwavering. "Whether you wanted this or not, you've already stepped too far in. Remaining a civilian would only endanger you. I'm not someone who can protect you for as long as I'm alive. You're not a child either, to be babied and coddled. So, I ask you... Would you wish to join us and become a Mantrik?"
In the depths of his mind and heart, Riku knew that his life was forever changed. Forever marked by something he couldn't grasp.
But he wanted to live. To smile and see the facets of life that human have a right to. But more than that, something else gave him a reason.
Riku's mind flashed instantly to Tetsuya, still unconscious in that sterile bed. His jaw tightened.
The choice wasn't really a choice at all.
"If it means I can keep him alive… then yes."
Renjirō studied him, then smiled faintly, almost with relief. "Good. A hearing will be convened soon. But first—" His eyes flicked down at Riku's rumpled shirt, scorched purple fabric frayed with burns and cuts. "…you'll need a change of clothes. That shirt has seen better days."
Riku glanced down, flushing. "Guess it does."
"Guess? It's an offense to fabric," Renjirō chuckled. "They say that clothes make the man. Come on. We'll head to the markets. If you're going to be seen as a Mantrik, you should at least look the part."
He placed a hand on Riku's shoulder, steering him toward the exit hall. They pushed through an arched doorway, the silver-threaded doors swinging wide—
And the world unfurled.
Gone was the hushed stillness of the lodgings, replaced by the layered hum of life. Wooden eaves stretched over narrow streets lined with paper lanterns, their faint glow struggling against the waning daylight. Rickshaw wheels clattered over cobblestone, mingling with the chants of merchants and the faint chime of temple bells. The scent of burning incense drifted from a roadside shrine, weaving into the sharper tang of iron from a nearby smith. At the edges of the horizon, beyond the tiled rooftops, Riku saw the silhouette of watchtowers and the faint smoke of trains — the world caught between centuries.
Renjirō spread his arm out toward the vista, a rare spark of pride in his eyes.
"Welcome to Renshō, Kaigenryō."