「The same day. 5:45 P.M.」
The utility chamber was a tomb of fading light and settling grime. G6 and Edmund sat in heavy silence, the air thick with the stink of iron, sweat, and goblin musk. The state of their blood-drenched clothes was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered lay between them.
G6 occupied the center couch, legs crossed, her shaded gaze a laser on the piece of black paper resting on the low table like a coiled viper.
Opposite her, Edmund was a sculpture of tension. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white. His steepled fingers pressed against his forehead, as if physically containing the dread.
"What… do we do with this?" His voice sliced the gloom.
"I don't know," G6 stated, flat. "But it's the cause. The mana wasn't dampened. It was locked."
"Agreed," Edmund's voice was low. "But the reason? If this is the work of a ranking demon… it's an impossibility."
G6 said nothing, her mind running silent, tactical overrides.
Edmund sighed. "As you know, only common monsters and lesser new-types roam the kingdom. True ranking demons are myths. Horrors from another land." He looked up, eyes grave. "All high-ranking demons and the worst beasts reside in one place: the Charnel Lands."
Then a new terror dawned. The blood drained from his face.
"What?" G6 asked.
"All entities powerful enough to create that," he whispered, a trembling finger pointing at the paper, "who can write in that profane tongue… are in the Charnel Lands."
"So?"
"The Charnel Lands lie at the center of four kingdoms. Ours—Einston—is the East." His words sped up, edged with panic. "Each kingdom has a barrier town guarding the border. Ours is in the North. The town we used for your alias. Scutum."
He stood, unable to sit. "There's a possibility… the barrier has been breached. That something got through…" He paced, a hand raking through his hair. "No. It's stood for centuries. It's impenetrable. The expeditionary forces would have reported… unless…"
"Calm your wits," G6 commanded, her voice a lash of irritation. His panic was a useless variable. "Even if you're right, and it's an inside job, the North is weeks away. Twenty days of hard travel from Scutum to that forest." I did my research after you saddled me with that alias. "Brenda mentioned knights use teleportation tools to return quickly. Activated by their identification cards."
Edmund slowly sank back into his chair, panic receding into stunned silence. She absorbed strategic intelligence like a sponge.
"Your conclusion is weak. Your theory is shaky," she stated. "If I were infiltrating a kingdom, I'd start in the border towns. Not plant a flag in the capital's front yard."
"You're right," he conceded, the logic a steadying anchor.
"I saw the kingdom map in the Bastion," G6 continued, connecting dots. "The forests form a continuous wall. All of them are connected."
"So… the goblins carried it here?" Edmund ventured, doubtful. "But new-types are beasts. They can't think strategically."
G6's brows furrowed behind her sunglasses. "The one I fought could think. Not brilliantly, but with intent. Like a novice combatant." She let that hang. "Let alone the fact it used two elemental affinities."
"What?"
"Its long-range attack was a massive wind blade. It used hardened rock as a shield."
"That's… impossible." The sheer absurdity momentarily overrode his fear. "Monsters don't wield affinities. Not even new-types…"
G6 fell silent. She wasn't an expert on this world's rules, only its operational parameters. And those parameters had just been shredded.
Three sharp knocks shattered the quiet.
"Lady Reise? I am coming in." Felicia's voice preceded her. The door opened, her hand finding the light switch.
Sudden illumination starkly revealed them: clothes crusted with dark blood, spatters on skin, the room reeking of battle.
Felicia's professional mask slipped for one shocked second before snapping back. "I… will draw you a bath immediately, my lady. You must be presentable before returning to the West Villa."
"Let's continue later, Edmund." In one fluid motion, G6's hand swept the black paper from the table into a hidden pocket of her coat, concealing it before Felicia could process the movement.
Without a word, G6 stood and followed the flustered maid into her adjoining bedroom. Edmund waited for the door to close before releasing a deep, weary sigh. The mystery was now a potential cataclysm, and they were the only two who knew.
❈.❈.❈
G6 stood naked before the full-length mirror, conducting a forensic damage assessment. Her eyes traced the vivid purple bruise flowering across her ribs.
"Tch. Lucky shot, you overgrown pest," she muttered to her reflection.
She craned her neck. A network of fine scratches and darker bruises mapped her back—a souvenir of her crash through the branches. "Ugh. There too?" It wasn't the pain. It was incompetence. She prodded the swelling at her mouth. "Fuck. I smell like a garbage dump."
She sank into the bathtub. The hot water stung. Felicia had done her job; the water was clouded with fragrant, rosy foam, the cloying scent of roses and lavender already fighting the battle stench.
"I wonder what's happening with this kingdom," she mused, arms resting on the tub's edge. "Should I even bother? I haven't solved my own problem yet."
She closed her eyes, trying to banish the demonic script and the forest's dead silence. Politics, monsters, mysteries—all were background noise to her primary objective: freedom.
A single, traitorous thought slipped through:
That thing was smart. It used strategy. It knew magic it shouldn't. The mana's back… for now. But whatever created that lock is still out there. If it's moving in the shadows… my 'freedom' might not exist for long.
The bath felt like a temporary ceasefire.
As she relaxed, a new sensitivity prickled. With the mana restored, she could feel a faint, discordant echo—a residual "signature" from the black paper or the Hobgoblin's magic. A wrong note in the palace's harmony. It was faint, but there. Clinging to her.
Her eyes snapped open. Her instincts zeroed in on the pants pocket where the paper was hidden. A faint pull. A whisper.
She squinted, then stood. Water sluiced off her body, splashing carelessly on the floor. She ignored it. Even mapped with the evidence of battle—the scratches, the darkening bruise—her form was a paradox of lethal grace and alluring magnetism.
Wrapping herself in a robe, she retrieved the black paper. The faint, stinging metallic-ozone scent hit her. "This shit."
❈.❈.❈
The transformation began. The wild aura of G6 Arcadia was tucked away. The polished, icy veneer of Reise Worthon was meticulously applied.
First, the practical: her tactical thigh belt, a comforting weight. The black paper slid into one pocket, a sleek dagger into another. Then the dress—an elegant black gown, a weapon of social warfare.
She frowned. The dress was backless. Her scratches and bruises would be on full display. Her gaze caught the swollen corner of her mouth in the mirror. "Exhausting."
At the vanity, she became an artist of deception. Foundation and powder vanquished the bruise on her face. As she carefully lined her lips with a dark, blood-red color, the motion triggered a jarring flash.
Hazy. Fractured. A piece of that lost, drunken night. The cold press of an ornate table against her cheek… the world spinning… A shadow blocking the light. Sandalwood and expensive soap. A warmth too close. The sudden, searing brand of her tattoo flaring to life—a pain so sharp it cut through the haze. Her eyes fluttering open to the blurred, close-up view of Prince Dio pulling away, his expression a chaotic mix of panic, guilt, and something else.
'It's fucking burning.' Her own voice, slurred, disgusted.
Her eyes momentarily widened in the mirror. The blood-red lipstick clattered onto the vanity.
"THAT FUCKER CEMENT. HE DARED TO LIE TO ME?"
He omitted that crucial detail?
The weight of demonic incantations was instantly forgotten, replaced by incandescent fury and disgusts.
"Tch. As if it wasn't bad enough," she seethed. "He does it while I'm drunk and unconscious? What is he, a common offender?" The violation sent a fresh wave of rage through her. Her first kiss in this world—stolen.
"I'm going to kill him."
A cold, analytical thought cut through. Wait—was that the missing data point? Was that why the tattoo burned?
That disgusting teenager. I need to shower in acid.
She stormed out to find Edmund waiting, perfectly composed.
"Lady Reise. It is nearly seven. Shall we?" Felicia.
"Uhuh. I need strong alcohol," she stated, a low promise of violence. She turned to Felicia, who was gathering the ruined clothes. "Felicia. Do something about these. If they can't be saved, make me a new set. Exactly. The. Same." Without waiting, she strode out, a storm in silk.
「WEST VILLA」
"I wonder what is keeping Lady Reise so late," Brenda fretted, pacing.
"She is typically here before six without fail," Earl noted, his finger tapping a slow rhythm on the table.
"Maybe I should check?" Keith suggested, half out of his chair.
Prince Dio's head snapped up. "Why would you need to check on my fiancée?" His tone was sharper than intended. He, too, had been counting the minutes, a knot of unfamiliar worry tightening in his stomach.
"Perhaps she was immersed in her studies," Eliza offered softly.
"Reise? Immersed in utility magic?" Keith snorted, dropping back into his seat. "The only magic she's interested in is the kind that lets her punch something. She'd rather smash training dummies than polish one. I'm surprised she hasn't turned the entire department into a combat gym." He gestured at Prince Dio. "She's got the vigor for it. Especially lately."
Prince Dio's frown deepened. He had no retort. The image of a docile Reise studying household charms was absurd. The image of a furious Reise reducing a training ground to rubble was terrifyingly plausible.
The unspoken truth hung heavy: her absence was a mystery they couldn't solve.
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏
In the front yard, Tina and Lilia lit up with relief as the carriage arrived.
Edmund opened the door.
G6 emerged. Her appearance gave them pause. She was swathed in a coat both familiar and utterly foreign—the same high-necked, hooded design, but this was no practical garment. It was a masterpiece of sumptuous jet-black fur, impeccably tailored. It concealed her injuries while accentuating the sophisticated black dress beneath, an imposing effect completed by full-length, princess-style black gloves.
"Lady Reise! Welcome home!" Lilia chirped.
"Good evening," Tina said, her eyes missing no detail. "You are… unusually covered today."
"Yeah," G6 said, a faint, smug smirk playing on her lips. "I made it."
"It is beautiful!"
As if. Felicia sewed it in record time and claimed it as my work. Handy.
"The others are waiting. They've been… anxious," Tina informed her, gesturing inside.
Right. Fucking Snow White.
Her smirk vanished, replaced by icy, focused fury. Both maids stepped back. Without a word, she turned and marched into the villa, heels clicking a staccato rhythm of impending doom on the marble. She stalked, bypassing everything, heading straight for the dining hall.
She didn't bother with the handle.
BAM!
The double doors flew inward, slamming against the walls. Brenda yelped. Keith nearly fell. Earl's finger froze. Eliza's smile vanished.
In the doorway, backlit, stood Reise. The elegant fur and gloves made her look like an avenging aristocrat from a dark fairytale. Her gaze swept the room—a predator scanning—before locking, sharp and deadly, onto Prince Dio.
The silence was absolute.
Wait. Public confrontation is not my forte. And, this is a private matter.
The cold, calculating part of her mind reasserted control. She took a heavy, deliberate breath. The avenging fury dissolved, replaced by the familiar, icy mask.
"Reise… we're rich, but think of the doors," Keith said with a nervous chuckle.
"Lady Reise! I'm so glad you're home!" Brenda rushed forward, her critical eye scanning the outfit. Despite herself, she was impressed. "Your coat and gloves… are beautiful."
"I apologize for keeping you all waiting." No, I'm not. "And thank you. A piece I've been crafting in my sessions," she lied smoothly, gliding to her usual seat at the head of the table.
"Good evening, Lady Reise," Eliza greeted.
"Likewise," G6 responded, flat.
The usual seat-scramble began. Prince Dio moved with uncharacteristic speed, claiming the chair to her left. Earl was already settled on her right.
"Jerk!" Brenda hissed at Prince Dio before sitting next to Earl.
"Tch, annoying prince," Keith whined, slumping next to Prince Dio.
Eliza offered Prince Dio a faint, wounded look before sitting next to Brenda.
"So, you're taking to your studies with… newfound vigor," Earl began, gesturing to her attire.
"Yes. Aren't I simply the best?" G6 replied, arrogance a perfect shield.
"I'm glad you're coming to like it there," Prince Dio said, leaning toward her. His voice was strangely warm, which only fanned her irritation.
"Shut up," G6 said, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. Prince Dio recoiled, genuinely confused.
"You can't go to the department tomorrow. The knight recruitment gathering begins mid-morning," Earl informed her.
Yeah, I was so intending to go. I need to drop my proposal to the witch-queen about splitting my time. "Okay," G6 agreed, with unsettling lack of fuss.
"Whoa. You're oddly agreeable today," Keith blurted.
"That's even more frightening," Earl murmured. A compliant Reise was a Reise planning catastrophe.
"Let's just settle on the fact that I'm far too tired to deal with your collective stupidity tonight," G6 stated, leaning back.
"So, Reise—" Prince Dio began.
"I said shut your mouth," G6 interrupted, her voice a low, venomous drone.
Keith snorted. "Reise… don't be so harsh."
"Shut up, Keith. I'll have you mucking the royal stables for a month," Prince Dio shot back.
"You wouldn't dare! Reise, tell him!"
G6 picked up her fork, examining it like a newly issued weapon. "If he doesn't, I will. Now, can we eat? Or do I need to start throwing things?"
"Lower that, black lady," Alistair's gruff voice cut through as he and Janin entered with serving carts.
Tch. Impeccable timing.
"Good evening, everyone," Janin said warmly.
G6 harshly put her utensil down and leaned back with a frustrated slump. A mistake. Sharp, seizing pain flared across her bruised back. "Fuck!" The curse was a raw burst of agony.
"What's wrong?" Prince Dio's worry was immediate.
"Lady Reise, are you hurt?" Brenda echoed.
Edmund remained a silent statue, his eyes sharp.
"I'm… fine," G6 ground out through clenched teeth. "Just this stupid chair. The carving is digging into me."
"I will have them all replaced first thing in the morning," Prince Dio stated, leaving no room for argument.
Alistair served G6: a generous cut of medium-rare steak, mashed potatoes, and a small goblet of dark, murky green liquid.
"This will help," he mused, his voice almost inaudible to anyone else.
"What?"
"A new herbal tonic to strengthen your body," he declared aloud. "Drink it after your meal. You need your strength." He added another half-slice of steak to her plate.
"Isn't that rather heavy?" Earl asked.
"For someone as busy as her, it is not nearly enough," Alistair retorted, his words laden with meaning.
G6 felt a primal hunger stir.
"I will request a salad. I will skip the meat for now. Lady Reise, we will proceed at our own table," Edmund said abruptly, his face slightly pale as he retreated to their corner. The bloody steak had reminded him of the forest's carnage.
"I will eat meat!" Lilia chirped. She turned to G6. "Lady Reise?" she gestured to their corner.
"Edmund never changes. He has always had a weak stomach," Alistair commented casually. Did he tell him? Or does the old cook just see everything?
"If you want more, send one of the girls. We'll take our leave." Alistair gave a short bow before he and Janin left.
"Let's eat," Prince Dio started.
The table began eating in awkward silence. After a few moments, Prince Dio cleared his throat. "The recruitment begins tomorrow at the main palace arena. It will be a long day."
"Almost every eligible Adventurer has shown interest," Earl responded.
"Why does this only fall to Bastion? Tch," Keith whined.
"Maybe because Bastion is the ground of offense and defense, you dimwit," Brenda retorted.
"Shut up, nerd!"
"I am kind of excited. It's the first time the Palace has accepted knights not of noble birth," Eliza added gently.
"I wonder what is going on with the kingdom from the North…" Earl mused.
G6, silently slicing her meat, froze. Right. The rushed recruitment is a preemptive move against whatever the North is planning. Does this connect to the Charnel Land?
Prince Dio noticed her drowning in thought, her gaze blank on her plate. He said nothing, fearing her snap.
A firm knock cut the chatter. The door opened to reveal Leo, the Queen's personal butler.
"Good evening, Your Highness, esteemed Pillars. Excuse the intrusion. I am here to deliver a message from Her Majesty." All conversation ceased. Forks hovered.
"You are requested to attend a meeting in the Main Palace Meeting Hall two hours before the recruitment begins."
"The recruitment starts at ten. You want us at the palace by eight?" Prince Dio clarified, surprised.
"It was stated… as a pressing matter."
Hmm. That was fast. G6's thoughts went to the guild report.
Confusion rippled through the room.
Only two people did not look confused.
G6 took another slow bite of steak, her face an unreadable mask.
Edmund, at the smaller table, met her gaze for a fraction of a second before looking away.
They knew.
The Palace had received the report. The "pressing matter" was the new-type hobgoblin and horde that had appeared on the capital's doorstep. And though they had concealed the true horror—the dead mana zone, the demonic incantation—the mere breach was alarming enough.
The game was escalating. As the nobles speculated in worried whispers, only two people understood just how high the stakes had risen.
—To Be Continued…—