The name reached Riku's ears, and as soon as they registered, he couldn't help but feel like he heard something forbidden. Taboo even.
How lovely...
"A mask?" he asked.
Sayaka nodded. "A mask, yes. Seems mundane, I know. But trust me when I say that no one you know would be able to handle it. They'd die before they'd even get close enough to touch it."
Riku's eyes widened slightly, wondering what had made the mask such a dangerous artifact. And the name. The name spoke for itself.
"What does it do exactly?" Riku asked.
"That's the issue. We don't know." Sayaka replied.
"You don't know?" Riku asked, incredulously.
"Since no one has ever harnessed it in our records, we have no idea as to what it can really do." Sayaka replied, her voice still indifferent.
Riku fell into step beside her, mind racing.
"If no one's ever used it," he said slowly, "then how did you even bring it in? Wouldn't someone have to at least—"
"Hold it?" Sayaka finished for him. "We didn't hold it. We contained it. There's a difference."
They turned the corner of the street they were walking along, the chatter of the people and the bustling of storefronts ever-present.
"Back then," she continued, "the conservatory wasn't even built yet. It was just a provisional vault. A dozen mantriks were sent to subdue the mask as they transported it here. Only one didn't lose themselves to madness and death, and survived long enough to sign the intake record."
Riku felt something cold settle in his stomach. "What happened to the others?"
"Husks. They weren't even proper corpses. No flesh, blood, fluids, or bones could be found in their body. They were... hollow. Like a body suit."
Riku felt a chill travel down his spine. Nothing to be found in these bodies. Like empty trash bags that hadn't been used. Yet these husks were people. Actual people who lived.
"The last thing the survivor heard was a hum. Humming, which came from the other mantriks..." she said, slightly pasuing. "...along with coming from the mask."
Riku looked down as they walked. I guess the name speaks for itself then...
"There are… many theories about its origin," Sayaka continued, as if reciting a classified document rather than talking about a nightmare. "Some believe it was once worn by a priest during the Primyth era, a figure who used it to act as a conduit for divine punishment."
Riku swallowed.
"Another speculation claims that it's not even a crafted object at all. Since it's an Eschatonic relic, it wouldn't fit the mold of what affinity relics are — actual man-made objects. The archivists of Arakasa say... it was once a face. Torn clean from an apostolic mantrik's skull. One who ascended so far into their domain that their own identity crystallized into a permanent, cursed mask." Sayaka's eyes half-lidded, as if she personally found this specific one distasteful.
Riku's mind flickered with the image—skin like porcelain, a face without a body, waiting. He shuddered, feeling slightly nauseous from just the thought of it.
They turned past a row of lamplights shaped like hanging bronze lanterns, their glass panes tinted with a muted amber hue. The street sloped upward, leading toward what looked at first like a large estate, quiet and dignified.
Riku finally spoke. "How did you bring it here? If just proximity causes—"
"We did not bring it," Sayaka corrected. "We escorted the space around it."
Riku's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"
"We sealed the area it occupied into a fixed spatial fold. The transport wasn't of the object—it was of its boundary. We moved the containment perimeter itself, inch by inch. No one touched the mask. The combination of the volunteer's Bhāṇḍa's at that time is what created that spatial fold. And even then... it was barely enough." Sayaka said.
Riku stared at the street as they walked, trying to wrap his head around how that even worked. And how even then, men and women had lost their lives to such a process.
As he tried to shake his head and rid himself of such thoughts, he looked ahead to see the conservatory. There it was, emerged into full view.
It stood taller than any structure Riku had seen in Renshō. Even larger than the Grand Hall. The exterior resembled a refined estate from the late shogunate era, its wooden beams lacquered a deep umber, polished to a muted sheen that caught the pale daylight. The eaves were wide, like the wings of a shrine, but the windows—large, rectangular, framed with iron rivets—hinted at a newer age trying to reform the old.
Banners hung from the building, adorned with not letters, but symbols, each of which had different meanings that were unknown to Riku. The enormity of this place was nothing short of grand to him.
"Welcome to the Conservatory of Kaigenryō!" Sayaka said, her voice holding a mix of her typical lethargy and restrained pride.
The doors parted with a low mechanical slide, and the moment Riku stepped past the threshold, the air changed.
The interior did not match the traditional facade. Where the outside evoked a dignified estate, the lobby within felt like stepping into a sanctum built between centuries. Polished stone floors reflected the dim amber glow of lanterns suspended in midair—lanterns without chains or fixtures, simply hovering, their light steady and cold. The walls were lined with panels of dark wood, but between the panels, Riku could see veins of silvery script embedded into the lacquer, like runes hidden beneath the surface, pulsing faintly as if breathing.
It was, for lack of a better word, beautiful.
A long reception counter stretched along the left side, where scribes in muted gray uniforms sat behind latticed screens, brush pens moving swiftly across paper that looked too old to still be in use. Their movements were efficient, unhurried. Occasionally, a faint metallic chime rang out as a seal was pressed into wax, then set aside to dry.
To the right, a wide chamber opened into an array of study alcoves. Books and relic schematics lay open on low tables. Archivists sat with focused stillness, murmuring to themselves as they transcribed diagrams. Every so often, an attendant in ash-colored robes glided by, their eyes scanning their work without needing to speak.
At one point, one of their gazes caught Riku, their eyes widening in shock. They almost stood up, as if they wished to confront him, but before they could, Sayaka's voice interrupted.
"Come on, Riku!" she said. It was almost as if she sensed a potential encounter and wanted to avoid it at all costs.
Riku followed Sayaka further into the lobby, their boots echoing slightly against the floor. The deeper they went, the more there was to see about this place.
Despite the warmth of the wooden architecture, a faint cold curled at his ankles—like a draft that didn't belong to this floor.
He paused.
At the far end of the lobby, mounted on a dark iron frame, was a large map etched onto a polished slate. The script was written in graceful strokes, more calligraphy than signage.
"Conservatory Layout - Kaigenryō Branch"
"1st floor: Reception/Scriptorium Studies".
"2nd floor: Affinity Relic Archives."
Riku's gaze rose to the final inscription.
The script shifted color—streaked through with a dull, dried crimson.
"Red Mist Vault (Access Restricted)"
Riku stared at the message. "...A vault?"
Sayaka 's voice reached his ears from behind him. "The top floor isn't a floor. It's not a place for people. Only the vault exists there. And I'm assured you can assume what's in there."
Riku's eyebrows raised slightly. He knew it. The feeling in his stomach told him everything. He nodded.
Sayaka nodded back. "That entire level is a sealed containment chamber dedicated to one relic—the Bloodless Song Mask."
Even the name of that floor felt heavier on the air. The crimson lettering looked less like paint and more like residue, as though something had once bled across the stone during its inscription.
Small warnings were etched in smaller glyphs beneath: "No verbal invocation beyond this point. Maintain mental seals before ascent. Written clearance mandatory."
Sayaka walked without pausing. Riku trailed after her, glancing at the archway they just passed through, and arriving at the registry zone. As they did, the smell shifted—iron and ink. At workbenches, smiths in reinforced robes handled crystalline implements, adjusting relic fittings under glass containment hoods. Sparks crackled without heat. Tools were inscribed with marking sutras, ensuring they didn't resonate with whatever they were used to examine.
They eventually approached the stairs to the upper floors. As Riku's foot touched the first step, a subtle vibration crawled up through the stone, like the stair was measuring him.
Sayaka did not look back as she walked up the stairs. "We're heading to the second floor. Come alone, now. This isn't a sightseeing tour."
"Right... Sorry." Riku replied. He exhaled slowly and followed her.
The second floor opened like a gallery.
The stairs led to a breathtaking expanse, with artifacts of varying degrees of splendor being adorned on the walls, as well as being kept behind glass containment. Cases lined the walls, each containing an object resting on velvet-backed stands. The variety was a little dazing in all honesty. In one corner, Riku saw bronze-colored armored gauntlets, which were obviously meant for fighters who prioritized melee combat. He saw pendants that shimmered like they remembered fire, daggers with folded script etched along the sheath. One display held a single peacock feather, iridescent and perfectly still despite the faint current in the air—as if reality refused to disturb it.
Riku's eyes were almost as wide as saucers, trying to soak in all the things he could see. "These are..." he began.
"Affinity relics." Sayaka replied. She nodded, her face still holding the same expression of mundanity. "Every relic stored here is documented, cross-referenced, and tested multiple times per year. After all, they contain the remains of those who have passed. You could call it the conservatory's living memory."
Riku trailed beside her, his eyes darting across every glass case they passed. The room hummed faintly, though no machines seemed to be running. It was as if the relics themselves were breathing. The words continued to resound in his ears. The reverence in her tone made it sound less like an inventory and more like a mausoleum.
They passed a row of floating pendants that shimmered faintly under the amber light, each encased in transparent wards. Beyond them stood a kusarigama. The chains that came from it were eerily black, like the night sky during a new moon. The tip of the sickle was tipped with a diamond-like shine, as if it could purify anything it slashed.
There was a plethora of artifacts that seemed to overwhelm Riku. He didn't know where to start when it came to his impression of this place.
Riku stopped to observe one in particular, a thin bracelet of obsidian beads threaded with faintly glowing sutras. For a moment, he thought he saw one of the beads turn, like an eye half-opening. He blinked, and it was gone.
"Ms. Uro, what is this?" Riku asked.
Silence.
Riku looked behind him, only to see that Sayaka was gone. He whipped his head around in all directions, wondering where she could've gone. Or if this was just another one of her lazy satirical plays.
"Ms.Uro?" he called out again.
Nothing.
He took a few tentative steps forward, but the corridors seemed to loop back into each other, indistinguishable and silent. There was no sound—no echo, no other footsteps, only the distant hum of dormant relics. The stillness began to weigh on him.
Maybe better to just stay put.
He exhaled slowly and leaned against one of the carved pillars lining the hall. The pillar was dark stone, etched with motifs of lotus blooms unraveling into flame. For a while, Riku simply watched the faint motes of light drifting through the air, trying to steady the feeling that he was being observed.
After a minute or two, a voice broke the silence.
"Lost already, are you?"
Riku turned sharply.
An elderly woman stood at the end of the corridor, her posture perfectly straight despite her age. Her hair, a silver cloud tied in a messy bun, framed eyes that gleamed with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She wore archivist robes layered with too many pockets, quills and folded talismans sticking out at odd angles.
"Uh—I…" Riku stammered, unsure how to explain himself. "I was with someone, but I think I took a wrong turn..."
The elderly woman's eyes drifted to the insignia on Riku's coat, her lips curving upward slightly. "Ah, Sayaka. That one always forgets newcomers can't smell direction the way she does."
Riku quirked an eyebrow. This woman knew Ms.Uro?
The old lady chuckled, the sound raspy but warm. "Never mind that." She paused, looking Riku up and down, like he was an item lined for inspection. Her eyes widened slightly, but not in alarm. Rather, it was something like welcome surprise. "You're the new mantrik inducted into the Moonless Court! Riku... Shinsora, was it?!"
Riku blinked. "You… know who I am?"
"Know you?" she laughed, clasping her hands. "Child, everyone in Kaigenryō's heard of you. A fledgling mantrik surviving an apostolic field collapse? That kind of thing makes for three weeks of gossip. Half the population here thinks you're a ghost!"
Riku scratched the back of his head awkwardly. It was one thing to have a stranger know who you are. But for an entire region to know who he was, was flattering and scaring at the same time.
She stepped closer, studying him with the sharpness of someone who saw far too much. "And of course, there's the matter of who vouched for you."
Riku's eyebrows raised a little. "You know Dr. Tsukimura?"
Her grin widened. "Know him? Child, I don't believe there isn't a single soul who doesn't know Renjirō. That's the prince of Kaigenryō you have as your captain!"
Riku blinked again. "Prince?"
"Oh yes." The woman waved a hand dismissively. "He may be a modest man, and he might not boast of his reputation, but ever since he saved everyone during the Ashen Cycle, there hasn't been a person in this place who doesn't revere the man! Not literal royalty, mind you. But who else other than the best captain of the five authorized concords would have such a talent as you?"
Riku had to take a minute to register what the old woman had said. He had only known Renjirō as the calm man who'd never lose his temper, even in the tensest situations. But after hearing this, it seems that it was more than just Riku's survival that got him to this point.
She nodded once, as if confirming something she already knew. "Riku Shinsora. Good. You can call me Uma. I'm the keeper of the affinity relics of this conservatory. I assume you're here for one, under Renjirō's wishes?"
Riku nodded, still trying to process what he had just heard minutes ago.
Uma's grin softened. "Excellent! Now, let me see what I can get for you!"