Total darkness beyond the walls of the dwelling.
So dense it didn't seem like a background, but a void.
As if the world ended at the mansion's edge. As if this entire island was a theater with a single stage set.
One step — and you fall.
One step — and you're gone.
Just you and this smothering nothingness.
The night was terrifying. Almost as much as that time.
Rain, relentlessly drumming against the glass, as if trying to knock its way inside.
And the wind — sharp, like a stranger's stare.
Just another night on the island. That's all. And that "just" became far too heavy.
But all of that suddenly vanished.
Screams. Yahweh's screams.
He ran toward us, holding a book. And behind him — Hov. Not rushing, like the shadow of himself.
They were together. No longer part of the background — they became part of the scene.
From this moment on, we were gathered.
All of us.
Together — to untangle another mystery left by the witch.
This was my chance.
Not just a chance. My first chance.
No — not *mine*. His.
To prove not myself. To prove **him**.
I glanced to the side.
He was sitting to my right. Morgana to my left.
If I were someone else… someone who believed Enua was guilty, I would...
I would've looked into his eyes and understood.
He couldn't be guilty.
Sometimes, to understand everything, you don't need words.
You just have to look. Look — and feel.
…And yet...
I couldn't shake the memories.
The witch's move.
That moment.
I **saw** it.
If I stop trusting my eyes — then what is there left to believe?
Why did I take it as truth back then? Why didn't I suspect an illusion?
And now — Gerudo.
Not a copy. Not a phantom. Not a puppet.
He was real. His body, his voice, his gaze — all of it was real.
It wasn't a lie.
It wasn't a trick.
And yet...
I can't rely only on feelings.
I need to **know**.
Guilt isn't decided by the heart. It demands facts.
And I have none. At all.
So, our only path — is to translate the symbols.
Solve the riddle.
That, and only that — is the chance. The one and only, like the last match in a storm.
The next hour we'd spend on this.
Each of us.
We were all in the same room, within each other's sight.
The night had to pass peacefully.
Tonight — no one should die.
We agreed: if anyone needed a drink — Cheryl and Morgana would handle it.
Bathroom breaks — not a problem either. One of the servants would accompany you.
And since the moment allowed for it, I decided…
— Do you practice any form of martial arts?
She turned to me. A direct gaze, almost too direct.
— Huh?
— Do you practice any form of martial arts? — I repeated.
— I heard you the first time. Just… what brought this on?
— Ah... just curious. You can clearly handle yourself — figured maybe you've been trained?
— Can't say we were specially prepared. But also can't say we're helpless.
An answer... odd.
As if she wanted to say everything — and nothing.
— Hey, lovebirds, quit chatting, — came Yahweh's voice. — Better come help us out here!
Morgana blushed. I saw it — I looked on purpose. I wasn't supposed to smile, but… hard to resist.
— Come here, Hov and I found something, — Yahweh added.
We came over.
And saw it.
Hundreds — no, thousands of hieroglyphs. So tiny they seemed to reject being seen.
Not handwritten — more like stamped by time.
And next to each — a translation. Into several languages.
Ours — among them.
I don't know if that's luck. Or just another move by the witch.
— Perfect. All that's left is to gather the right ones and put them together.
Sounds easy.
In reality — searching through thousands of symbols to find the right ones. Again and again. A hundred times over.
— This might take way longer than we thought, — said Kamiki.
— Then we need a plan.
— Got any ideas? — Hov.
— What if… — Tiamut hesitated. — What if this book isn't the only one?
Silence.
Everyone looked at her.
One idea — and a chain reaction.
What if the book — isn't the original?
— Copies, — Kamiki nodded.
— But do they even exist? We've searched through so many books. None were similar.
— What if he wrote this tiny on purpose, because he *didn't* intend to make copies? — Hov.
— I agree. He could've written everything in another book. But he didn't. So why write microscopically? — added Yahweh.
— Then... let's just tear it up and split it, — Tiamut calmly proposed.
— Are you serious?! — Yahweh protested. — And that's what you call "just"?
— Got a better option?
— We don't know what kind of consequences this might bring.
— Or if there'll be any at all. — Kamiki.
Yahweh looked at him. The same always-relaxed, slightly odd, slightly distant guy. Smiling.
— A grimoire is one thing. An ordinary book — another.
And — he tears it. Just takes it and rips it.
Pages flying like leaves ripped from a branch.
— What are you waiting for? — Kamiki said, still smiling. — Dive in.
Silence. Then — movement.
We divided it. Collected it. No consequences.
— Such a brute, — Cheryl whispered.
— I'd be lying if I said I liked that, — Morgana added.
— But it was faster. And, sadly, no one needed the book anyway.
I turned to Morgana.
Something felt off.
I sensed it — I shouldn't have said that.
"She… got upset? Why?"
— She's not upset because of your words, — Cheryl explained. — It's because of the action.
— Does it matter?
— Maybe not. But… Gerudo-sama used to come here often. Dusting shelves. It mattered to him.
— Morgana once saw him gently, almost like a father, wiping down books. He made a promise to himself to keep visiting the library — in memory of the first master.
Now I understood.
Why she was hurt.
Why words and actions affected her like that.
— I should apologize.
— Suit yourself, — Cheryl said coldly.
But Morgana was already gone.
"She left?!"
I rushed out of the room.
Behind me — shouts. For a second. Then silence.
I couldn't let her be alone. Not now.
What if the witch?
What if this — was a trap?
But…
She was just sitting on the staircase.
Hunched over. Head resting on her knees. Alone. But not entirely.
"Thank God…"
I sat beside her.
— I'm sorry. It's my fault.
Silence. But not dead. Alive.
I was about to get up, but I felt…
Warmth.
Her palm.
On my hand.
Like sudden summer in a drawn-out winter.
I swallowed.
She was looking at me.
Cheeks flushed. Hand steady. Unmoving.
— Tell me… you will… avenge the witch, won't you? — she asked, her voice trembling.
— He did nothing. He wasn't involved. He just… *was*. Why did she kill him?! Why… Aragi!!
She screamed.
Cried.
Broke — right here, beside me.
I understood.
I understood how much it hurt.
I understood what revenge meant.
— I'll kill her. And I'll avenge Gerudo.
She hugged me.
Tightly.
As if I were her last anchor.
I gently lifted her face in my hands.
Eyes — in tears. Cheeks — red.
I kissed her.
She didn't pull away.
She responded.
And for a moment… everything disappeared. Time disappeared.
Only we remained.
But in another reality, where seconds still passed as usual, Yahweh's voice called us again.
They'd found something.
As if the story kept moving. Whether we wanted it to or not.