Listening quietly to Rast's account, Hiltina lifted a spoonful of egg fried rice and brought it to her lips.
The next moment, her light brown eyes widened slightly.
The fried rice was cooked to perfection—each grain glistening with a golden sheen of egg, fragrant with the earthy aroma of black truffle.
It wasn't the kind of flavor that would normally move someone like Hiltina. She'd seen far finer cuisine; compared to dishes crafted by royal chefs, this humble fried rice had countless flaws in both ingredients and technique.
And yet, for some reason, the Rast sitting before her now—cooking this simple meal with his own hands—felt far more human than the mysterious, unpredictable young man she'd met before. The one who played life like a game, who mixed drinks with dazzling precision and a magician's flair.
The air between them no longer carried that faint distance and detachment. Instead, she could feel something warmer, more real—like a trace of the ordinary world breaking through the endless twilight.
Just then, the sun rose over the horizon, piercing the gray morning sky. Its light filtered through the window shutters, spilling across the cold, lonely manor and driving away the shadows.
A damp sea breeze drifted in, brushing against Hiltina's cheek. Sunlight mingled with the wind, carrying a soft, gentle warmth.
If one listened closely, you could even hear the distant murmur of the tides.
For the first time, the air of this city didn't feel quite so suffocating. It was a pleasant season—late summer fading into early autumn. The weather was mild, and the deep-blue harbor was, in truth, a beautiful coastal city: endless seas, clear skies, bountiful fish.
If this place weren't part of the Night World—if the corruption known as the "Evil God's taint" weren't silently festering in the city like a ticking bomb—then maybe, just maybe, she could have spent a lovely vacation here on the beach.
Neither of them spoke for a while after that. They simply focused on finishing their breakfast in silence.
Fifteen minutes later, Hiltina set down her utensils.
She leaned back into the sofa, feeling the taut string inside her finally start to loosen.
"Looks like your mental state's improving," Rast said.
He'd finished his own breakfast and was sipping his hot milk at a leisurely pace. "That's good news. The last thing I need is my teammate losing sanity mid-battle and deciding to stab me in the back."
"I actually have a question," Hiltina said, sinking deeper into the soft cushions as fatigue rolled over her like a tide. "If you've got the time to master mixology and carving… why not study something more academic?
"You have all the time in the world—practically infinite time. Shouldn't that mean your knowledge could surpass all the great scholars and sages in history?"
Rast reclined lazily on the opposite sofa. "I've thought about that too. In fact, I spent several decades doing exactly that—devoting every cycle entirely to academic research."
"After all, knowledge is power, right? If I could truly become a sage who sees through all things—if I could comprehend the laws of the universe itself—then maybe I could unravel the truth behind Deep Blue Harbor's endless loop."
He chuckled softly. "But unfortunately, that's impossible."
"No matter how much I study, I can never surpass the limits of the era I live in. I only have the luxury of time to learn what others have already discovered. Walking the same paths as those before me is easy—just persistence and discipline.
"But to push the boundaries of a field forward… that takes genius. Only those who stand at the very pinnacle of their age can achieve that."
"To transcend your era, to break free from the limits of inherited knowledge—that's a privilege reserved for true prodigies."
Setting down his empty glass, Rast closed his eyes. "It's like this—no matter how hard I try, with only the recipes and culinary knowledge preserved here in Deep Blue Harbor, I'll never be able to cook one of those 'legendary dishes'—you know, the kind so divine it makes people's clothes explode the moment they take a bite."
The manor fell silent once more. Only the faint rustle of the curtains stirred in the sea breeze.
The limits of time… and of talent…
Hiltina pondered Rast's words, about to ask another question—when she noticed the even rhythm of breathing beside her.
Rast had already fallen asleep on the sofa.
It was strange. In Hiltina's mind, Rast had always been elusive and unfathomable—a man in total control of every situation. Yet now, asleep, he looked unexpectedly calm. Curled up quietly in the corner of the sofa, he was almost catlike in his stillness.
Only then did Hiltina realize she might have overestimated his apparent maturity.
Awake, Rast projected a presence far beyond his years, as though he stood above everything. But asleep, his face was much softer, almost gentle—innocent, even. He couldn't be older than she was—seventeen, maybe eighteen at most.
Which meant…
He had entered the Night World's "Echo of History" at that tender age—trapped in Deep Blue Harbor's endless loop for hundreds of years.
Hiltina gazed at his sleeping face, the faint fog surrounding him seeming only to deepen.
Tens of thousands of loops… centuries of repetition.
Time long enough to wash away every passion, every memory, every trace of humanity—leaving nothing but a hollow shell, an empty vessel.
That wasn't something anyone could overcome by simply "playing roles," as Rast had claimed.
An infinite cycle, the same day repeating endlessly, no escape, no progress… For any human being, that was hell itself.
And anyone who could return from such a hell… could only be someone who lived for an obsession strong enough to defy death.
There had to be something deep within him—something burning quietly like the furnace of a steam engine—that kept his timeworn soul moving forward.
A fire that had never gone out in hundreds of years… even reduced to ashes, still smoldering with faint warmth.
What could that fire be?
Could it have something to do with the girl named Ai?
But no matter how much curiosity stirred in her heart, if Rast didn't want to speak of it, then no one would ever know.
Sleepiness, it seemed, was contagious.
Watching Rast's peaceful face, feeling the damp, sunlit sea breeze brush her skin, Hiltina's own drowsiness came rushing in like a gentle tide, wrapping softly around her.
…
When Hiltina awoke, daylight was pouring through the windows. It must have been past noon.
The instant her mind cleared, she bolted upright and turned toward the manor's main door.
On the opposite sofa, Rast was already awake, calmly watching the same direction in silence.
Time passed, heavy and wordless.
Then came the sound—footsteps approaching from the manor's entrance. Closer… and closer… until they stopped just beyond the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone was at the door.