Outside the church, the heavy rain still poured, and the sound of raindrops striking the stained-glass windows echoed through the hall.
Inside, the space was filled with candles, casting a mysterious and sacred atmosphere.
Yutab looked at Vantias and Aldrin and said:
"The cult's behavior can mean only one thing… they intend to rewrite the kingdom."
Both Vantias and Aldrin's eyes widened in shock. Sweat trickled down Aldrin's forehead, while Vantias felt a surge of fear and anxiety.
Aldrin drew a deep breath and replied:
"That's exactly what I fear. It's been seen that many of the cult's members are nobles. That means their power is strong enough to actually make it happen."
Vantias' face turned pale, as though he had just remembered something—a detail he had overlooked when he gazed into the orb.
"Now… I understand… The burning of the capital shown in the orb… it means the cult's goal isn't just ruling the kingdom, but something far more terrifying…"
Aldrin closed his eyes and told them:
"That's enough for today. You may leave, but stay in touch. I want your reports delivered weekly."
After the meeting and presenting their findings about recent events, Vantias and Yutab left the church. Outside, the rain still fell heavily, and only a few people hurried down the streets. Yutab looked at Vantias and said:
"Go get some rest. Tomorrow we head to the Academy—I'll see you there."
Vantias smiled."Alright, good night."
"Good night," Yutab answered, then started walking toward her home.
Raindrops struck the ground like bullets. Vantias lingered for a moment, watching her leave. She wore a long black cloak. Suddenly, Vantias' own clothing began to shift.
A long black coat, a wide hat, and a dark mask covering his entire face appeared.
He silently began to follow Yutab, careful not to draw suspicion.
When Yutab arrived home, she removed her clothes and hung them on the rack. Then she lit the candles one by one.
The air carried a mixture of burning wood, dried herbs, and old paper.
The interior was just as it had always been: windows boarded with wood, furniture covered with white sheets. The room filled with the scent of burnt matches and melted wax. Dim candlelight cast faint illumination across the house.
At the center of the room stood a large oak table, cluttered with unrolled scrolls, ink-stained quills, and small glass vials filled with glittering, unknown powders.
In the corner lay a simple bed with a woolen blanket, worn and disordered—evidence that Yutab spent most nights working at her desk, surrounded by files and notes.
She collapsed onto the couch, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Exhaustion and pain from her work pressed down on her body. When she opened her eyes again, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts racing:
"Everything is either too simple… or far too complicated. Someone inside the Academy is playing their role perfectly. I must—"
TAP! TAP! TAP!
Suddenly, loud knocking echoed through the house. Someone was pounding on the door with force. Yutab froze, wondering who could possibly visit her at this hour.
The pounding grew louder, harder, as though the visitor was desperate to break in. Her irritation boiled over—she stood, shouting angrily:
"I'm coming! Who is it?!"
TAP! TAP! TAP!
Grabbing a candlestick, she strode toward the door, her anger building. She yanked it open with force…
…No one was there.
The street was empty, drenched in heavy rain. Yutab leaned outside, peering left and right, but saw no one. Only the glow of distant torches lit the deserted road.
"Strange… Who would knock like that?" she muttered.
She shut the door and returned inside, settling back on the couch.
Then—
A cold wind swept through the house. The candles flickered and began extinguishing, one by one. Fear surged through her veins.
A moment later, every candle was snuffed out. Darkness swallowed the room.
Panicked, Yutab rushed to relight a candle on the table. She swallowed hard, her anxiety mounting with every heartbeat.
Clatter!
The sound of breaking glass came from the next room. Yutab froze—something, or someone, was inside her home.
She lifted the candlestick, turning it carefully, scanning the shadows.
Then her eyes fell upon the mirror above the fireplace.
In its reflection, she saw a figure standing directly behind her.
The mirror shattered.
Before she could react, a man seized her, covering her mouth. She struggled desperately, the candlestick slipping from her hands.
"Mmmph!"
His grip tightened as he tried to suffocate her. Yutab fought with every ounce of strength, but escape was impossible. Tears welled in her eyes, and moments later, she fell unconscious.
…
When she finally opened her eyes, her vision blurred, everything dark and hazy. Dizzy, she glanced around.
The basement was damp and suffocating; its stone walls oozed with moisture, patches of dark moss filling the cracks. From the low, curved ceiling, droplets fell steadily—drip… drip…—echoing in the silence. The stench of wet earth and rusted iron weighed heavily in the air.
A half-burnt torch stuck into the wall flickered weakly, casting trembling orange shadows that danced along the stones. The ground was muddy and stained with damp patches. Ropes trailed across the floor toward an old wooden table nearby, where it seemed someone had been bound before.
Yutab was tied tightly to a wooden chair, ropes cutting into her wrists and ankles. The dim firelight revealed bruises and exhaustion across her face. In a darker corner, the shadows of ominous tools hung on the wall: chains, hooks, a small hammer. Their mere presence was enough to thicken the air with dread.
Narrowing her eyes, dazed, she whispered under her breath:
"Where am I? What happened?"
A man with white hair, wearing a black vest, calmly polished a knife at the table.
It was Marcus.