"…I'm sorry."
"It's all right, Talulah. After all, you know you can't kill me… don't you?"
"…"
"Heh, isn't that so? You think what you've done isn't such a big deal, that this was just a tiny act of rebellion. After all, only this body of mine was hurt in the fight, wasn't it?"
"…"
"But, Talulah… it hurts so much... You burned me using the Originium Arts I taught you myself, you cut me with the sword I gave you on your eighteenth birthday… But that's nothing serious, right?"
"…No! That's not true!"
"Then what is it? You always take my kindness for granted…"
"…I'm sorry."
"Talulah, there are some things you can't unsee once they've happened. You've already wounded my flesh this time. Next time, you'll burn my will. And in the end…"
"No! I would never do that!"
"Oh, but you already have."
The scene shattered—
—and the world turned to fire.
In the midst of a burning inferno, Talulah stared in shock at the man lying bloodied in her arms—Kashchey.
She had never seen him so broken, so fragile.
With a weak, bitter laugh, he whispered, "Didn't think I'd fall this far… all because I hesitated for one foolish moment of pity."
A sword was driven deep into his chest, blood pouring from the wound.
The sword—the same one he had given her for her eighteenth birthday.
Around them lay countless charred corpses of Black Snake, and the indistinct remains of those who had once served him.
Talulah's trembling hand loosened its grip on the sword. Her other hand reached out, shaking, to touch his face.
Kashchey could barely speak now, his breaths shallow, his eyes unfocused.
Seeing his lips move faintly, Talulah leaned closer, desperate to hear him.
Then, a frail voice—twisted by pain and resentment—echoed directly in her mind.
"Talulah… it hurts so much..."
—
Inside a shabby tent belonging to Reunion, Talulah jolted awake in fright.
The documents on her desk fluttered as she sat up, rubbing her eyes before forcing herself back to work.
Though the air was hot and stifling, she still wore a thick sweater—its fabric old, its stitches stained with faint tear marks.
Kashchey had knitted it for her himself.
…Another nightmare.
She knew full well this wasn't one of Kashchey's cruel illusions.
She was strong enough now to keep the Black Snake's will from seeping into her mind—at least, not without her noticing.
No, this was something else.
Her guilt, clawing its way out from deep within.
I'm sorry… Kashchey.
—
Meanwhile, on a sunny beach in Siesta—
"Sasha! Catch this!"
Wearing nothing but beach shorts, Mephisto spiked a volleyball toward Faust.
Faust returned it easily, his reflexes and agility far sharper than Mephisto's. An archer's body was built for precision and strength—unlike a medic's.
Still, the two played with surprising energy, the ball soaring back and forth between them.
Alina, dressed in a modest swimsuit, smiled softly as she watched their cheerful match.
A few steps away, Ch'en lounged on a beach chair, staring at them with visible boredom.
Without a doubt, this wasn't a vacation.
She was a babysitter—perhaps even a bodyguard.
…Why did I ever agree to Talulah's request?
People nearby had noticed the Originium crystals on Mephisto's body. A small commotion followed—some uneasy murmurs, some hurried steps backward.
The beach was vast. There was no need to crowd near an Infected.
What if they caught the infection too?
Still, the members of Reunion weren't bothered by the reactions. In truth, having never left Ursus before, they were astonished at how the Infected were treated here in Siesta.
Yes, they were still avoided. But compared to Ursus, this was paradise.
There were even entire service industries dedicated to serving the Infected.
I just hope Lyudmila and Alex aren't getting into trouble…
Alina couldn't help but worry about the two other Reunion members who hadn't also come to Siesta.
Skullshatterer and Crownslayer hadn't joined them—they were traveling with Rhodes Island instead.
Skullshatterer, eager and restless, had wanted nothing more than to see his sister again.
As for the Crownslayer…
When she heard that a certain doctor named Kal'tsit was aboard Rhodes Island, she immediately volunteered to accompany Skullshatterer as Reunion's "representative," claiming it was to ensure his safety.
But everyone knew she had another motive.
---
Meanwhile, Cape had returned to Siesta once again.
Not only because of the four Feranmuts from the deep sea—no, he had little interest in them, really.
Let them continue indulging in their "music." That was one less complication to deal with.
There was no need to force contact with them. Their domain was the ocean, and the ocean itself had long since been corrupted.
The Seaborns were, after all, mysterious and unpredictable beings.
This might be Siesta's last music festival, Cape thought with a wry grin. How could I possibly miss the fun?
He wore a cheap T-shirt emblazoned with the Cape Group logo—just like everything else he owned, from his shoes to his sunglasses.
Cape never cared much for luxury.
Besides, as the head of the Cape Group, shouldn't he support his own products?
It definitely wasn't because he thought "high-end goods" were a terrible waste of money.
With a straw in his mouth and a bottle of soda in hand, Cape swaggered down the street in oversized sunglasses, looking every bit the eccentric tourist.
Despite being a highly recognizable figure—one of the most infamous businessmen in all of Terra—people rarely realized who he truly was.
Maybe they'd glance at him and feel a flicker of recognition.
Maybe they'd pass him by and wonder where they'd seen that face before.
But it was only a possibility.
An uncertain future.
A future that Cape could easily step around.
As he strolled through the sunlit streets, his gaze caught something unexpected.
A familiar-looking group was being stopped outside a restaurant.
And on the restaurant's sign, shining prominently, was the unmistakable Cape Group logo.
Well now~ what a delightful surprise.
With a faint, knowing smile, Cape sauntered toward them.
It was Ch'en and her group from Reunion.
Right now, they were being blocked by the restaurant's guard.
"I'm sorry, but we're closed for the day," the guard said lazily, his tone dripping with insincerity.
Ch'en frowned. She had just seen other customers enter moments ago.
"…"
Noticing the guard's disdainful look—and the way his eyes lingered on the Originium crystals showing through Mephisto's and Faust's swimwear—Ch'en immediately understood the situation.
"Your restaurant claims to serve both the Infected and the uninfected, doesn't it?" she said firmly.
"Sorry, not during off hours," the guard repeated, unmoved, making a dismissive gesture.
Ch'en clenched her jaw but restrained herself.
The Infected had never been welcomed on this land. That much had never changed.
"I'm sorry, everyone," she sighed. "I wanted to treat you to something nice here… but it looks like Cape Group's so-called 'equal service' is nothing but empty words."
With clear irritation in her voice, she turned to leave with the others.
She'd brought them here to relax—not to start a fight.
But just as they were about to go, a lazy, smooth voice drifted toward them—amused, almost theatrical.
"For the inconvenience caused by this temporary worker, the Cape Group sincerely apologizes…"
A purple-haired Feline man in gaudy sunglasses and a cheap logo T-shirt strolled forward with an easy grin.
"Would you be willing," he said, tilting his head ever so slightly, "to give the Cape Group… one more chance?"