Clink.
A golden bullet fell through the air and was caught deftly in Rast's hand.
Hiltina had been watching him in silence for a long while, and when he turned to meet her gaze, he did so with that same clear, guileless look in his eyes—one that somehow made it impossible to tell whether he was joking or deadly serious.
She half expected this to be another one of his strange jokes. After all, this was hardly the time for dinner and sleep. And this blood-soaked manor was about the least suitable place imaginable for either.
Until she saw him actually walk out of the chamber—and head straight for the kitchen.
"I don't know if your 'Chariot'-class ascension means you no longer need to eat," Rast called back as he rummaged through the cupboards, "but thanks to the reset, my body's no different from an ordinary human's right now."
"We haven't eaten since last night. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. And the last two times I invoked the Lantern Bearer's ability drained a lot of my mental strength. Only proper rest can restore that."
From the dim kitchen, the sound of clinking metal and shifting utensils echoed faintly. Rast had gathered a meager collection of ingredients: a bowl of cold rice, half a matsutake mushroom, some milk, and a few eggs.
He tapped one of the eggs lightly on the counter, cracked it open—and promptly fished out a spoiled one.
"Willpower can overcome many things," he said matter-of-factly, tossing the bad egg into the trash, "but the body still has its limits."
"The Night Blade you wield consumes mental energy too, doesn't it? Whether you admit it or not, you're far from your best right now."
"What we're facing next," he added as he washed his hands, "won't be mere cultists."
"If you go in like this—"
His tone was calm, almost detached.
"—you'll die."
Hiltina flinched slightly. It didn't sound like a warning. It sounded like a fact.
"Five hours," Rast continued. "That's how much time we've gained in this loop, thanks to you. Five hours faster than before."
"In those five hours, eat your fill. Drink. Even if you can't sleep, just close your eyes and rest. Get your mind, body, and spirit into perfect condition."
"Only then," he said, his eyes glinting in the low firelight, "do we even deserve a shot at that one-percent chance."
Hiltina let out a quiet sigh and dropped onto a worn-out sofa nearby.
He was right. She wasn't in top form—hadn't been since they fought their way into this manor. Both the Chariot hierarchy's power and the Night Blade demanded a steep price in stamina and mental focus.
"You've got quite a silver tongue," she muttered.
"Thank you," Rast replied easily. "It's a practiced skill. I used to play the part of a starving idealist giving speeches outside the Parliament gates. Fastest way to meet a certain lady councilor."
Hiltina watched as he cracked eggs into a bowl, added salt and scallions, then whisked the mixture with steady, unhurried motions.
He rinsed some carrots, ham, and mushrooms, then chopped them into neat little cubes.
Based on what she'd seen of his cocktail mixing earlier, Hiltina had half-expected a dazzling display of technique—fire, flair, and the confidence of a master chef. But what she saw now was… simple. Ordinary. Almost comforting.
"Truth is, I never studied cooking," Rast said, rolling up his sleeves as the stove's flame flickered to life. "Of all human appetites, hunger is the easiest to satisfy—and therefore the quickest to become boring."
"I only ever learned how to make fried rice. Elie taught me that."
"I didn't even want to learn, but she said a man living on his own needs to know how to feed himself—or he'll just starve to death. She forced me to memorize every single step."
Hiltina's eyes flickered faintly at the mention of that name.
It was the first time Rast had spoken of someone else so openly. Elie.
Who was she? A native projection of Deep Blue Port?
But no… he hadn't shown this kind of emotion even when he'd spoken about the dancer or the councilwoman.
Could it be someone from before—from a time when he wasn't trapped in the Night World, before he was caught in the endless echoes of Deep Blue Port's history?
She thought about asking, but decided against it.
Twenty minutes later, two trays of steaming fried rice sat before them.
The grains gleamed with oil, every piece distinct and glistening gold beneath the soft kitchen light.
Hiltina glanced at the meal, then at the energy bar in her hand. In the end, she couldn't bring herself to say "Thanks, but I brought my own."
She sighed. "Didn't expect you to have the mood to cook in a place like this."
"What else would we eat?" Rast asked, taking a seat across from her and pouring them both a cup of warm milk. "Those ration bars you carry?"
"Nutritionally, maybe there's not much difference—but in terms of experience, in terms of what keeps the spirit alive—there's a world of difference."
He smiled faintly. "In Deep Blue Port, keeping your spirit intact is far more important than any amount of calories."
Hiltina leaned back slightly. "You don't sound like someone eager to escape this place. If it were me, I'd be desperate to clear this Night World and never look back."
"Oh, I am desperate," Rast said quietly. "More than you could ever imagine."
He took a bite of fried rice, his expression softening as if the warmth itself anchored him.
"In the first loops, I was just like you—rushing, searching for a way out, clawing at any thread of hope."
"But after failing over and over again… after the hope curdled into despair, after I screamed myself hoarse and tore myself apart, I stopped caring. I threw myself from rooftops, leapt into smelters—again and again—just to feel something, anything, before the world reset."
He paused. The sizzle of the pan had long faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the kitchen lamp.
"Until someone stopped me."
"Stopped you?" Hiltina asked before she could stop herself.
"She told me that if I kept destroying myself like that, even if I did one day break free from this city, I'd never again be able to live among people."
Rast smiled faintly—an expression that carried both sadness and peace.
"After that, I decided to try something different. To live like a resident of this port city—to blend in, even if each 'day' I got to live was short, fleeting, incomplete. But that brevity… it had its charm. It let me experience a thousand different lives."
"And after a while," he continued softly, "I started to feel alive again. Not as some wandering ghost trapped in Deep Blue Port's endless night, but as… a person."
He glanced out the window. The first hints of dawn were spreading through the mist, tinting the sky a dim, silvery white.
"No matter what happens outside," he said, voice almost a whisper, "no matter what fate awaits this city—"
"At least, for now… we live here."
"In this world."