The inside of Whispering Saffron gleamed in silver, the moonlight spilling through long glass windows and painting the shelves in pale light.
Behind the counter, two figures stood, neither moving, the air between them taut with unspoken recognition.
Vivan broke the silence first. His eyes lingered on the woman who had, until tonight, been nothing more than a background figure in his story.
"I never got your name when we first met," he said, tone casual but gaze sharp.
The shopkeeper tilted her head, lips curling into a soft giggle.
"Well, the name's Vanessa Cliffleton. And for a guest of your status, it isn't unusual to overlook people like us. So…" her smile deepened, eyes glimmering with strange warmth.
"Is it the silver moon talking through you now, dear lord?"
Her words hung heavy. To most, they would sound harmless. To Vivan, they sounded like a thread tugging at a hidden curtain.
He smirked, leaning forward just slightly.
"Miss Cliffleton… my pleasure to finally meet you properly. But you see- " his eyes narrowed- "that's not something a person of this world should understand."
For a heartbeat, her composure cracked. Fear flashed in her pupils, quick as lightning. Then, as if a switch flipped, her warmth returned, her voice calm and measured.
"What do you mean by that, Lord Ghostwalker?"
Vivan didn't let her recover. He leaned on the counter, lowering his voice.
"Let's drop the formalities of this world. We're from the same place, aren't we? The name's Vivan. And yours?"
Something in her expression softened, almost relieved. A smile tugged at her lips. Then, in a whisper so faint it nearly vanished into the quiet, she answered.
"…How did you know?"
Vivan grinned, teeth catching the moonlight. "I have my ways. But we're too new to be bragging about skills just yet, don't you think?"
She hesitated, then breathed the words like a confession. "Katrina. Katrina Fernandes. I'm French."
He reached out and clasped her hand, firm but measured. "Vivan Halden. India."
For the first time since entering the shop, they looked at each other without masks. It lasted only a few seconds before his brow arched, sarcasm returning.
"So why hide behind a false name in a… game world?"
Katrina's brow furrowed. "Game world? What are you talking about?"
Vivan blinked. "This world. That's what it is, isn't it?"
Her face hardened, voice low but certain. "It isn't a game. This is a parallel dimension we accessed using new AI tech- EDS. Enhanced Deep Sync."
The words hit him like a blade in the ribs. He froze. His thoughts recoiled, clashing against the memory of Erina's soft voice when he first woke.
"This is a VR game world from VR Corp. For medical stability while your body rests in a coma."
His jaw tightened. She was lying or worse, maybe Erina had lied to him.
Katrina caught the change in his eyes. "What's wrong? You didn't know?"
A bitter sound escaped him.
"Tch. No. I was told this was all VR. That I'd been in an accident. That my body was in a coma, and this was just to keep me sane."
Katrina's eyes sharpened. "Did they mention VR Corp?"
"Yes." His voice came flat, emotionless.
Silence pressed down on them. Both sank into thought, neither willing to share where their suspicions led.
Finally, Katrina broke it. "Then why did you come to me tonight? Not just to trade secrets, I assume."
Vivan exhaled sharply, dragging himself back to the present. "Borin said you could upgrade equipment. That true?"
Her lips curled into something between pride and mischief. "I can. Not only that—I can imbue special traits. Merge clothing, fuse gear, turn scraps into something legendary."
Possibilities sparked in his eyes. Without hesitation, he pulled the Coat of Ignis and Flame Hide Vest from his inventory and placed them on the desk.
Katrina's expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened, then narrowed as if staring into a forbidden memory.
"Where… did you get these?"
"In the Evaluation Zone, of course. Where else?"
Her brows shot up. "Evaluation Zone?"
"Yeah. Monster drops."
Her jaw dropped, and for the first time, her composure shattered. "Impossible. The Evaluation Zone was only meant to calculate class and stats. It never had loot. Ever."
Vivan's chest tightened. He didn't answer. His mind roiled instead- Erina's words, the system prompts, the morality engine. All of it- lies?
He forced a calm expression. "Do you think I'm lying?"
She studied him for a long moment, gaze piercing. Then she shook her head.
"No. But what you're telling me makes me question everything I thought I knew about VR Corp… and our place in this world."
Vivan nodded grimly.
Katrina exhaled, finally breaking the tension.
"Fine. I'll take these. Give me a week, and I'll craft something better. Any special requests?"
"Stealth. And a hood. A cool one."
A laugh escaped her lips. "Easy enough." She suddenly darted across the shop, rummaging through a case. When she returned, she slapped a long coat of white and red onto the counter.
"Here. Use this for now. You'll need it if the kind of lunatics who chased you earlier come back."
Vivan's smirk returned as he took it. "Thanks. What'll it cost?"
She smacked his forehead with two fingers. "Just pay me the crafting fee when it's ready. Don't try to turn my kindness into a business deal, dimwit. Consider it help from an older sister."
For the first time that night, warmth lingered in the shop. Yet when Vivan stepped out under the silver moon, the coat heavy on his shoulders, his mind swirled with darker weight.
The night air pressed cool against his skin as he stepped out, the red-and-white coat heavy on his shoulders. But the weight that truly dug in wasn't cloth- it was doubt.
EDS. Parallel world. VR Corp. Coma therapy.
Katrina's words clashed with Erina's calm assurances, with Lenora's scripted prompts, with the Morality Engine that judged every step he took.
If this wasn't a game, then what the hell was it? And if it was, why did the rules keep breaking for him?
He remembered Selvaria's bitter eyes, her claim that Otherworlders only brought ruin. The Warden's cavern walls, etched with code that whispered of prisons and creators.
Hollowart's veiled threats at court.
It all circled back to one question that burned hotter than any flame spell.
Who's lying to me?
Erina? VR Corp? Katrina? Or was he lying to himself, clinging to the idea that this was still a game- that there was an escape, a reset, a logout?
He tightened his grip on the coat's edge, jaw stiff.
If she's right… then I've been lied to since the beginning.
As Vivan started toward the castle of Novarim, a vulture screamed into the night sky above his head.
Its cry cut sharp through the silence before the bird wheeled twice in the air and turned, gliding toward the Forest of Beginnings.
Vivan's lips curled into a grin. He remembered the first assassin he had recoded in his chamber at the castle- how he had left a specific line embedded, waiting to trigger.
| If gathered_intel_serpent = true then activity = Vulture.execute |
| Else gathered_intel_serpent = false then activity = Investigate.execute |
He whispered the old code under his breath, and his grin widened as he broke into motion, boots striking fast against the cobblestones.
"So our first mole has gathered some intel, huh?"
The city fell away behind him, brick and torchlight giving ground to wilderness bathed in silver.
Branches swayed above, carrying whispers in the wind. Ahead, crouched beneath the dense canopy, a cave mouth yawned in the earth.
The vulture circled once more before landing atop a tall tree, watching in silence like a dark sentinel.
Vivan activated Sigilforge, and the glyphs etched along his right arm stirred awake, crawling down to his wrist in an azure glow. Lines of light shifted and bent, answering his will.
He raised his hand over the coat Katrina had given him, feeding the command into the fabric itself.
Threads of silver code wove together, stitching a hood from nothing, its edges dissolving into mist before settling firm.
|For (hood = true;) { hide.identity = true; }|
The command flickered once across his vision, accepted.
The hood shadowed his face instantly, blurring the sharp lines of his features until only a vague silhouette remained.
In moonlight, he was no longer Vivan Halden, Ghostwalker of the court- only a wraith slipping through silver and shadow.
Vivan stepped inside the cave as it swallowed him whole.
Its mouth gaped like a wound in the earth, damp air curling out in cold, metallic breaths.
The stone walls shimmered faintly with veins of moisture, and every drip echoed like a clock counting down.
Shadows tangled with each other, twisting into shapes that teased the edges of monsters.
The deeper he moved, the thicker the silence grew until it pressed against his skin like a second cloak.
Vivan advanced in silence, steps measured, soles brushing stone without a sound. Ahead, a faint candlelight flickered, fragile against the heavy dark.
He slipped behind a jagged slab of rock.
Two figures stood at the center of the cave. One, robed in green from head to toe, the hood low enough that only a curse sigil burned at the hollow of his throat- the mark of Amionisa.
The other was the mole Vivan had tracked.
The robed man's voice cracked like a whip.
"You couldn't finish a simple task? Worthless fool. You got captured?"
The mole flinched, voice low and hurried.
"Sire, we should not underestimate the Ghostwalker! I'm sorry… I failed. But trust me, he isn't someone you can just erase."
A sharp *tch* escaped the robed man.
"We've already set countermeasures in motion tonight. By tomorrow, he'll be finished."
The mole's brow furrowed.
"Countermeasure?"
The hooded man's lips curled, teeth flashing in candlelight.
"Yes. The First Fang has been mobilized."
The words hit like a blade. The mole staggered back, face blanching.
"The… The First Fang?" His voice cracked in horror.
The robed figure turned, his back now exposed. His tone was casual, almost mocking.
"Why do you tremble? Unless… is it true? Has Ghostwalker taken hold of your mind? Have you betrayed us?"
Behind the rock, Vivan's breath stilled. His pulse slammed in his ears.
The info got out? We have a leak inside the royal castle? Hollowart…?
The mole couldn't answer. His body locked in terror, sweat cutting cold lines down his back.
And then the hooded man vanished. A blink, a ripple—suddenly he was behind the mole.
The cave rang with the wet *shhk!* of steel sliding through flesh, followed by the ragged moan of a dying man.
A dagger burst through the mole's stomach, crimson dripping in thick trails down the blade.
"AAArghhh!"
The mole collapsed to his knees, body convulsing as blood spread in a dark pool across the stone.
The robed man held him close, almost gentle, whispering like a priest delivering last rites.
"You served well. But there is no place for a traitor among us."
With that, he let the body drop. The hood slipped back, revealing a rough-bearded man. The darkness still clung to his features, but the candlelight caught on something small, damning, and unmistakable-
A pair of earrings carved with the royal emblem of Novarim.
Vivan's eyes widened in the shadows. His chest tightened. The betrayal was closer than he had imagined.
….To be continued