"…Where am I?"
In a brand-new dreamscape, Nero slowly opened her eyes.
The faint aroma of tea wafted up from the square table, enveloping her in its warmth. Across the table sat a girl with light-colored hair, who lifted a steaming kettle and poured its contents into a cup with deliberate grace. Standing, she placed the tea in front of Nero with both hands.
"This is my dream," the girl said as she sat back down, her movements precise but tinged with a mechanical stiffness.
Nero studied the girl's face, completely hidden behind a mask, for a few seconds before piecing together her identity with a hint of uncertainty.
"Wakaba Mutsu?" Nero ventured.
She glanced around. They were seated in the heart of what looked like a garden, beneath the shade of a gazebo. The sun hung at just the right angle, suggesting it was early afternoon. Vibrant flowers bloomed around neatly trimmed bushes, where a few butterflies fluttered—a picture of serene vitality.
The place felt like a reflection of Shoko's estate. Not far off, a familiar building stood, its entrance draped with two massive red curtains.
Wakaba Mutsu didn't respond, just sat there, silently watching Nero. With a shrug, Nero turned her attention back to the girl and said, "Last I checked, I was in Shoko's dream, hanging out with Hatsuka."
Wakaba Mutsu remained still, a cup of tea untouched in front of her. At Nero's words, she gave a slow, subtle nod. "Our dreams… they're the closest linked."
"That so?"
Nero took another look around. According to Hatsuka, Shoko's dream was a warzone right now—her subconscious spawning countless monsters locked in battle with Nanna's minions.
Yet here, in this neighboring dream, everything seemed… peaceful.
Nero picked up her teacup, took a sip—not bad—and let her mind replay the recent events. Why had her connection to Shoko's dream been severed? What had gone down in the real world while she was diving into this dream?
The obvious suspect was Little Ace. But Nero hadn't sensed even a whiff of "Lust" in that planetarium. Plus, the place was sealed within Hatsuka's barrier—Little Ace couldn't have been there in person.
And that led to one clear conclusion.
Nero held her teacup, her brow furrowing as she let out a soft sigh. "Guess we've got a traitor in the ranks, huh?"
She'd had her suspicions that either Rikishi or Soyo might be swayed by Little Ace's schemes, but she hadn't expected to actually get burned.
"They were all fooled by Little Ace," Wakaba Mutsu said, her tone calm but carrying a faint plea for leniency.
"People gotta pay for their choices," Nero shot back, not buying the excuse.
She wasn't playing dumb or letting this slide. Her stance was firm: betrayal like this didn't get a free pass. Two reasons fueled her resolve.
If it was just a case of Little Ace tricking someone into thinking Nero was the enemy, she'd laugh it off—no big deal. But this was different. The city was teetering on the edge of disaster, and Nero was the heavy hitter, the one openly fighting for their side, the only one who could stand toe-to-toe with Nanna. To stab her in the back now was to gamble with the lives of everyone in the city.
And then there was the sheer cowardice of it. Nero didn't care what honeyed lies Little Ace had spun—she'd given everyone plenty of chances to speak up. Before both missions, she'd laid it all out: say what's on your mind, no matter what. And the traitor hadn't even tried to talk to her.
Sensing the anger in Nero's words, Wakaba Mutsu's gaze flickered briefly, but she stayed silent.
Nero's tough talk aside, she wasn't entirely sure how to handle the punishment. Sure, the traitor had been duped, so going full demon-slaying mode—chopping limbs or worse—wasn't her style. Probably. And demanding compensation? These were teenagers—maybe they had pocket money, but nothing substantial enough to cover a betrayal this big.
Yeah… they're just kids. A lot of punishments didn't feel right for Nero to dish out. She'd have to think carefully about how to deal with this.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Nero looked up and asked, "From what you know, who among them could sever a conceptual 'connection'?"
She already had a hunch but wanted confirmation.
"Soyo Nagasaki… probably," Wakaba Mutsu replied.
Nero's guess was spot-on. Soyo's weapon—a blade capable of "cutting" on a conceptual level—was the only one that fit the bill.
She hid it well. Until now, Nero hadn't suspected Soyo's demonic tool held that kind of power. Among their group, only a weapon with such a unique, conceptual ability could pose a real threat to her.
Nero took another sip of tea, set the cup down, and stood, scanning the small garden. "Is there a way to get into Shoko's dream from here?"
She'd lingered long enough. Now that she knew what was up, it was time to get things back on track.
But Wakaba Mutsu shook her head. "This place… it's hidden."
She raised a hand, pointing toward the mansion. "Otherwise, they'd find us."
They'd find us? Did she mean…
Nero stepped out of the gazebo, striding through the pristine, lively garden toward the massive red curtains. Standing before them, she stared at the unnaturally wide drapes, their vivid crimson stirring something in her. She turned back toward the gazebo.
Sure enough, the gazebo faced the mansion's entrance directly—an odd, almost illogical setup. From the doorway, the garden stretched out unobstructed, with the gazebo and Wakaba Mutsu seated at its center, perfectly framed in the line of sight.
Nero reached for the curtain, her lips moving silently as she mouthed, "Can I look?"
From the gazebo, Wakaba Mutsu gave a faint, silent nod.
Gingerly, Nero pulled back a corner of the red fabric, her eyes peering through the gap into the world beyond this tranquil garden.
In the pitch-black void outside, countless scarlet lights flared to life.
They aligned in perfect rows, a river of blood-red stars.
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