"So… how do I become one?"
"Well… it's up to the person itself."
"What do you mean?"
"Compatibility, to be exact. If one were compatible, they can become a Veridian—but that doesn't mean they will. There's also talent, which ties into compatibility with a specific Actor. Explaining it fully would take a while."
"Just give me the short version."
"Essentially, you need two things: compatibility with the base—meaning the ability to become a Veridian at all—and compatibility with an Actor. You can pick any Actor you want, but you won't progress nearly as well compared to one that actually matches you. And to become one… you need a remnant. A stained object—one influenced by anomalies."
"What anomalies?"
"That..." Jotun paused. "…has been a mystery for centuries. So we don't know. The object could be anything—but at the same time, not just anything qualifies as a stained object."
"We Veridians usually call them static relics," Yule added with a friendly smile. "Stained object is just another term."
"And if you do have one," Jotun continued, "the next step is to absorb it. Assimilate it. Let the object infect you—let the anomaly spread into you."
"Then congratulations," Yule said cheerfully. "You're a Veridian."
"That's it?" I asked.
"Well—in short, yes. If you survive, that's it."
"Survive?"
"Correct."
"So you could die?"
"It's not exactly dying… it's more of, uhh..." Yule trailed off. "…yes. You become static."
Jotun let out a quiet sigh at Yule's explanation.
"He means you'll be in a state between dying and living. You won't be able to die… or to live. You'll be frozen in time, essentially."
"Is there any wa—"
"Nope," Yule said.
"So… there's really no way?"
"Nope...…"
A beat of silence.
"So?" Yule clasped his hands together. "What do you think? Want to join us?"
"...Actually, I think I have—"
"Okay! You're joining us."
"Wait—"
"LET'S GOOO!"
"No, I'm—"
"LET'S MAKE A CELEBRATION!"
"Yule—no, I'm not—"
"FOR OUR NEW MEMBER…! WOOHOO!"
"NOOOOOOO!"
I screamed out.
CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.
The carriage rocked steadily down the road. Astin sat across from me, composed as ever despite the bandage still wrapped around his neck. After getting dragged by him to the carriage—past a handful of Bureau workers in the hallway who all gave me the exact same look that said we heard every single bit of that—I'd settled into my seat and hadn't moved since.
I stared ahead with a lifeless expression.
My life is over. My freedom… my quiet, everyday, safe little life…
Why.
"You know," Astin said, "even if you hadn't joined, you wouldn't have been safe. Not with that temple… and certainly not with that golden hair of yours."
I didn't respond.
"…Mr. Astin," I said after a moment, "are you sure you're fine joining? You were in pretty bad shape just earlier."
"It's fine. It was just poison. Had I taken more damage, maybe not—but Yule is a Tincturer too. A more professional one at that."
"I guess so." I paused. "Oh—I've been meaning to ask. Why are you looking for my golden hair?"
"Honestly… I'm not sure. It just feels like it's pulling me." He tilted his head slightly. "You know how it is—walking past a market stall and spotting something valuable for a suspiciously cheap price."
I stared at him.
"Then why in the hell did you intimidate me, chase me down, and all of that?"
"I was simply being formal. You pushed me off and ran."
"Well, of course I ran. You sounded like a villain. I ran, you reappeared out of nowhere, and then you captured me—is that not what a villain does?!"
"…Not exactly. That's more of a criminal's job."
"IT'S THE SAME THING."
"…I suppose you're right." He glanced at the passing buildings. "My apologies for that. As compensation, I'll make you an outfit later—some formal wear and a work uniform."
"Uniform?"
"More of a dress code, really. As you've seen from Jotun, Yule, and the others you passed in the hallway—you'll need to wear a brooch. Or something similar."
I let out a long, slow sigh and stared at the ceiling of the carriage.
…And so I came back to this world. Even returning is a rare thing in stories. Which means here, I'm either the protagonist… or an important side character.
Wonderful.
"Hey… Astin."
"Just Astin is fine."
"Astin—are you in a hurry? Anything going on?"
"Not in particular."
"Then—"
I leaned toward the small window and called out to the coachman.
"Excuse me—how far is the central market from here?"
"About a twenty-six minute ride, sir."
"And from there back to my house?"
"Since it's roughly in the same direction, about twenty minutes, sir."
"At what speed?"
"Medium to high, sir."
I checked the time.
Twenty minutes left…
Not enough.
"Hey, Thran," Astin said. "What are you looking for at the central market?"
"Honey."
A pause.
"I'll get it for you. Just go home."
"…Actually?"
"Yes."
"Thank you—genuinely, thank you."
"You're welcome."
Clop… Clop… CLOP…
The rhythm slowed.
CRREEEAK—CLACK.
The carriage door swung open. I stepped down onto the cobblestone, the carriage pulling away behind me as I turned toward the front door.
Oh my God what am I going to do.
AGHHHHH—
A silent scream, kept strictly inside my head.
I'm ten minutes late!!! If it wasn't for the accident earlier—why did we have to get swept up in all of that—AGHHHHH.
I gathered what little courage I had left and silently eased the front door open.
No one.
Thank God.
I slipped inside, the house quiet and empty, and crept toward the stairs—
CLONK!
"OW—"
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"
The pan landed square on top of my head.
"I was with a friend—I got hired for a job! AND DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO HIT ME WITH A PAN?!"
"Yes. I did."
"WHY?!"
"So you'd listen."
"I am an injured person! Is it really fine to just hit an injured person?!"
"If it's you? Yes."
"WHAT—WHY?!"
She let out a sigh.
"Shut up and go take a bath."
"But I just did."
"When? You're violating my right to breathe right now. Go hug a bar of soap. I'm sure it misses you."
"But—but—"
"No buts."
I looked at her.
"…Fine. Why are you so angry today?"
"I'm not angry."
Said the person who just hit me with a pan and scolded me like it was a competition.
"What did you say?"
"What? Nothing."
…Did I actually say that out loud.
I let out a loud sigh and trudged to the bath—and yes, I hugged a bar of soap, exactly like she said.
I finished bathing. By then it was already dark outside, and the air had started to chill.
Knock. Knock.
"Ris—who's that knocking?" I called.
I ran through the possibilities. Another pursuer? Someone from the Bureau? But then I remembered—Astin had gone to the central market to pick up honey.
"A friend," I said.
"Oh—alright then."
I approached the door in thick old clothes, the kind you throw on when the cold starts creeping in.
CREAK—
"Hey, honey—I mean—Astin."
Silence.
"…Did you just call me honey?"
"HAHAHAHAHAHA—"
Astin burst into laughter.
"Yes, honey—what is it?"
"THRAN, ARE YOU INTO GUYS?! AND IS THAT ASTIN MIRO?! THE TRAVELING WEAVER?!"
"NO, I'M NOT—" I spun around, face burning. "I was just thinking too hard about the honey I asked him to buy. And yes—yes, that is the Traveling Weaver."
"Oh my God..." Elris gasped, hands flying to her cheeks, eyes lit up with exactly the kind of excitement that meant trouble. "I can't believe you're dating Astin Miro—"
"I AM NOT DATING HIM—"
"Come in, come in!"
Elris waved Astin inside before I could finish my sentence. Astin stepped through the doorway, I followed, and the door clicked shut behind me.
"So~" Elris settled into her seat with the composure of someone fully prepared to enjoy every second of this. "How did you two meet?"
"We met at the event—I was a guest of sorts," Astin said.
"Ooh~ such a romantic meeting~"
"RIS, FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT DATING HIM—"
Thran's expression crumpled into something genuinely pained—the face of a man losing a battle he never agreed to enter.
Elris ignored him completely.
"Wait—earlier, Thran said he got hired for a job. Is that related to you?"
"Unfortunately, not directly, my lady," Astin said. "Though I do know the people working there."
"So how long are you planning to stay in Lorden's Crossing?"
"I haven't decided yet." He smiled. "Perhaps longer—if my lady allows it."
There was something in his tone. Light, teasing—deliberately so.
"Hmm… I'd love to offer you a room, but unfortunately we only have two."
"That is truly unfortunate."
"…Though I wouldn't mind sharing mine."
"RIS. What exactly do you mean by—"
"Shut up, Thran."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Such a generous offer, my lady." Astin pressed a hand to his chest, expression carrying the gravity of a man bearing a great tragedy. "But we must respect Thran. If I were to stay here… Thran would sadly have to break up with me."
"ELRIS—"
"Too bad." Elris shook her head with a mournful sigh. "I suppose you have somewhere to stay in Lorden's?"
"Yes, I have a place reserved."
"That's a shame. Will you come by again?"
"Of course, my lady."
"Then that's settled. I shouldn't keep you too long—it's getting dark. Oh—and thank you for the honey."
"Thran asked me to pick some up. It was no trouble."
"How is there even honey left? It was sold out at the central market."
"I went to the square market instead, my lady."
"Oh, you didn't have to go all the way out there… Thran must've spent quite a bit."
"Not a single bit, actually. I owed him something from earlier."
"Thank you so much, Astin."
"Please—just Astin, my lady."
"Very well. And you should just call me Elris."
After that, the two of them fell into a proper conversation. Topics drifted easily—Astin's travels, stories from the road, Elris talking about herself. One thing led to another. It went on longer than either of them probably intended.
Two hours later.
"Thank you for everything, Elris."
"Of course. Come back anytime."
"Very well. It's dark now—I should get going. The carriage should be arriving any moment now..."
"Goodbye, Astin."
...
.........
Five minutes.
............
Ten minutes.
............…
"Where the hell is the carriage."
Astin muttered it quietly to no one in particular.
"Well——" he straightened up— "it seems I won't be making it to the hotel tonight."
"Then just walk home," I said. Maybe a bit sharper than I meant.
…
He let out a long sigh.
"Very well. Since he clearly doesn't enjoy my presence, I'll walk."
"Come on, Thran—don't be stingy."
"We don't have a room, Ris."
"My room."
"Hell nah."
"What?"
"No."
"Then what—let him walk home? His hotel's probably far."
"…Fine. I'll go look for a carriage."
"HEY—ASTIN, COME BACK."
Astin turned and walked back toward us.
The night breeze had picked up—stronger now, colder. The street was dark except for the warm glow spilling from nearby house lamps, and the moon hanging full and bright overhead.
"…The moon is beautiful tonight."
I stared at him.
"Are you seriously saying that right now? Are you trying to—"
"No, no—I'm just playing."
"…Okay. I'll go look for a carriage station."
Just as I turned to leave—
CLATTER. CLOP. CLOP.
A carriage rolled up from down the road. Dark and well-built, just a little fancy. The coachman wore a Fate Providence brooch.
"Seems they were just late," Astin said.
He turned to face us.
"Goodbye, Thran." Then, softer, toward Elris— "And goodbye, my lady."
He stepped toward her, took her hand, and pressed a brief kiss to the back of it before stepping into the carriage.