Evening was not merely the sun setting. It was crimson light piercing through the spring leaves, a gentle breeze carrying its warmth across Magrichela. The golden corridors of Angurich's Majestic Office shimmered in that glow, and as Golka walked through, the light seemed to gather around her, as if the heavens themselves had chosen her as their mirror.
From his chamber, Angurich paused. His gaze fixed upon her, illuminated in the soft brilliance of twilight. For him, she was no ordinary angel — she was a spark, a new star spinning into existence, aligning with his vision for Magrichela's future. His thoughts whispered to him with rare intensity: "I don't know why I trust her so blindly. There is a force in her… something mysterious. Yet my heart insists that I must place faith in her, unconditionally."
Drawn by that pull, Angurich stepped forward, his presence carrying both majesty and guardianship. His voice, unusually tender for a ruler, carried across the corridor.
"Golka," he began warmly, "how are you finding your new atmosphere? Is it comfortable? Are you facing any difficulties? Is everything to your liking? Tell me, how is your new class? How are the students treating you?"
Golka stopped in her tracks, astonished by the concern in his tone. She had expected distant authority, not gentle courtesy. Gathering herself, she adjusted her posture, her hands folding neatly as she answered with measured passion.
"Oh… you are so kind, Mr. Angurich. Thank you for your concern. Truly, I feel happy because of your care. Everyone here has been very friendly to me, and I am more comfortable than I ever imagined, especially when I compare it to the place I came from before. It almost feels like I have returned home. The students are disciplined and respectful. Slowly, they are beginning to open their hearts to me. But…" she hesitated, her expression falling, "there is one girl who resents me. She feels I don't belong here, that I am an outsider. Because of that, I fear I am a burden to her. Perhaps even to everyone. Forgive me, Mr. Angurich… I am sorry if I trouble them with my presence."
Outwardly, her voice trembled with sorrow. Inwardly, her thoughts were as sharp as blades.
So the mighty ruler of Magrichela trusts me already… how laughably easy. One glance at me and his heart bends. These angels — always blinded by light, never seeing the shadow beneath.
She kept her eyes lowered, her posture humble, but inside she was watching every flicker of his expression. Each word of comfort he gave was a victory, another step into the net she wove.
Yes… defend me, shield me, make me your responsibility. The more fragile I appear, the deeper I can root myself in your trust. And when doubt comes, you'll crush it yourself — because doubting me will feel like betraying your own heart.
Angurich's eyes sharpened, his voice steady but filled with conviction.
"No, Golka. You must never apologize for your existence. You are not a burden — not to me, not to anyone. If others fail to see the warmth of your heart, that is their blindness, not your fault. You are far more caring than they realize. I will make note of this."
His words settled in her, and for the first time, Golka allowed herself to breathe a little more easily. Yet she had her own plans to set in motion. With a subtle shift, she began to weave her story, carefully planting the seeds of her chosen image.
"There is one favor I must ask of you," she said softly, her tone hesitant yet deliberate. "I do not wish to trouble you, but… I was once a librarian, an instructor of the Archical Mythics of Demonic Presence — studies of demons and their lore. However, an accident changed everything. I was trapped in Hell's misfortune for more than a hundred years. The torment shattered my memory. I suffer from amnesia, and I cannot recall what happened before that tragedy. Only fragments remain. I remembered my past only when I was suffering there, but even that is faint."
Her lips quivered, her eyes shimmering faintly, but it was all performance.
Good… look at me with pity, with sympathy. Every ruler wants to be a savior. And if he believes he is saving me, he'll open every door himself. Every secret will be mine without a fight.
"I am unfamiliar with this place," she continued, glancing at the magnificent carvings of the corridor. "Magrichela is vast, its design so complex and majestic. Sometimes I lose my way between classrooms, murals, and laboratories. It has only been a day and a half since I came here, and already I've wandered aimlessly. No one has guided me, and I cannot distinguish one hall from another. To be honest, I even know little of Magrichela's history. I know it is childish of me to ask this favor… ah… forgive me if I have troubled you. I am sorry."
Inside, though, her thoughts curled like smoke.
You'll guide me, won't you? You'll walk beside me. You'll feed me every secret you guard, and I'll drink them one by one. By the time you realize what I am, Magrichela will already be bleeding from within.
Angurich studied her carefully, his heart unexpectedly moved. He sensed her vulnerability, yet beneath it, there was strength he could not explain. His voice softened once more.
"Golka, you are not a burden. Not to me, not to this realm. You should have come to me sooner. I would gladly be your guide. If it will help you regain your memory, then I will tell you everything you wish to know about Magrichela — its history, its meaning, its soul."
He extended his hand slightly, the gesture both protective and inviting.
"Come. Let us walk together. I will show you what you seek, and perhaps in our stroll, you may find fragments of what was lost."
The evening light deepened into crimson as the two walked side by side, their footsteps echoing softly through the grand halls. For Golka, it was the first move in her hidden plan — her mask perfectly in place, her claws sharpening beneath her smile. For Angurich, it was the beginning of trust that would bind their fates closer than either could yet imagine.