Now, the world itself stopped us.
After space collapsed, it did not fully close.Like a river forcibly cut off, yet the water continued to flow.
When I opened my eyes again, beneath my feet was neither stone nor earth.
It was a gray-black riverbank.
The sound of water was low and slow—no waves, yet never still.The river carried an unnatural darkness, as if it absorbed all light and left only outlines behind.
I knew where we were.
Not because of memory, but because—I had read its name countless times in the myths of the waking world.
Lethe.
But there was no bridge.No ferry. No sign pointing to where one should go.
Only the river.
And—flowers blooming on both banks.
Red beyond anything this world should allow.
Their stems stood straight; petals curled outward, as if burning, as if withering.I crouched down and reached out, then stopped just before my fingers touched them.
No leaves.
Only flowers.
I turned toward the opposite shore.
That bank was covered in leaves—deep green, broad, full of vitality.
Yet—not a single flower.
Flowers without leaves, leaves without flowers.Never meeting, life after life.
In the myths of the living world, this was the curse used to describe eternal separation between realms.
"This is not a place meant for the living."
The voice came from the far side of the riverbank.
Not a warning.Not an expulsion.
More like the statement of a rule that had always existed.
I looked up.
They were not human.Nor were they dead.
They stood within the shadows of the shore, their forms unstable, outlines constantly rewritten.Black mist flowed around them—not to conceal, but to sustain.
The Undead.
They did not arrive as enemies, but with a calm bordering on cruelty.
"This is the other shore of Lethe," one of them said."Not a court of judgment. Not a final destination.""It is a boundary layer left behind by the myths of the living world.""Used to contain—entities that are no longer permitted to continue operating, yet cannot be deleted immediately."
His gaze fell on us.
More precisely—on Silent Man.
"You were never meant to arrive here," he said."Regarding the third activation of the Rose War, an overflow occurred. This was not an accident. It was an error."
Silent Man did not respond.
His condition was worse than I had expected.
His wings had not fully retracted. The fractured wing-bones were temporarily fixed by some natural force, but showed no sign of healing.His breathing was slow—each rise and fall felt like an act of will, forcing himself to remain alive.
I stepped in front of him.
Not out of bravery, but because—I knew that if he endured another impact, he would be dragged straight back to the Rose.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
The Undead did not answer immediately.
They appeared to be reading something.Not data, but state.
"Confirmation in progress.""Core deviation not yet recovered.""Variable persistence confirmed. Risk level elevated."
One of them raised his head and looked at me.
"Luminary Elf Heart: not fully activated.""Natural core response rate: fifty percent."
No emotion.No surprise.
As if reading from a report.
"You are the first external unit to breach the curse of eternal separation and arrive at the other shore of Lethe," he said."But this is not an achievement."
My fingers tightened slightly.
"That is—"
"System burden," he finished.
Silent Man shifted behind me.
I felt the fluctuation in his emotions.Not anger, but a fatigue born of being evaluated again and again.
"If we are errors," he said quietly,"then why allow us to exist at all?"
The Undead fell silent for a moment.
Not because the question stumped them, but because it had no emotional answer.
"Because deletion would cause greater instability.""Your current state—"
He looked toward the river.
"Is like Lethe itself.""Neither alive nor dead.""Only temporarily retained."
I understood then.
The other shore of Lethe was not punishment.Nor mercy.
It was simply—a place where the world delayed making a decision.
"So you appeared to send us back?" I asked.
The Undead did not deny it.
"Back to where you belong.""To continue bearing the deviation you caused."
One of them turned to Silent Man.
"The power within you has exceeded the boundary between human and infected entity.""If this continues, you will lose control again."
Silent Man raised his head.
His gaze was cold.
Not hostile—but accustomed to being assessed this way.
"So?" he asked.
The Undead observed him for a moment.
"Therefore—""You require reinforcement."
I froze.
Not congratulations.Not affirmation.
But a conclusion so calm it was unsettling.
"Not for your sake.""But to prevent the next purge from tearing the waking world apart."
I felt my breathing grow heavier.
"What is the cost?" I asked.
The Undead did not answer immediately.
Because this time, they were not evaluating.
They were—waiting.
Waiting for something that had always remained.
The river suddenly moved.
Not faster—but reversed.
A familiar presence emerged from the heart of Lethe.One that no longer belonged to any flesh.
I recognized it instantly.
Not by appearance, but by that unmistakable, merciless pressure.
"Tch."
The voice carried faint impatience.
"You took too long."
Sethiel 's consciousness condensed above Lethe.
No complete form.As if disassembled, leaving only the most essential outline behind.
He glanced at Silent Man and sneered.
"And you collapsed like this?""You're weaker than I expected."
Silent Man did not argue.
He only closed his eyes briefly.
"I know," he said.
Sethiel 's gaze shifted to me.
No warmth.No comfort.
"You too," he said."Power in your hands, yet still hesitating."
I did not step back.
I had wanted to argue, but realizing I still did not fully understand the nature of the Rose's reclamation authority, I could only say,"If I didn't hesitate, I wouldn't be myself."
He stared at me for a moment.
Then—he smiled.
Not with joy.With resignation.
"That's exactly why you're troublesome," he said.
The Undead stood aside, not interrupting.
At this moment, they were merely observers.
Sethiel 's consciousness began to break apart.
Not dispersing—but transferring.
"Listen carefully," he said."What I leave behind is not a blessing."
His power split into two different streams, seeping into us separately.
Not filling us—but unlocking parts that had long been sealed.
"The cost will be paid," he said."Not now."
His voice dropped.
"But—when you believe you are finally safe."
The next moment, his consciousness collapsed.
The waters of Lethe resumed their flow.
The Undead stepped back.
"Record complete.""Reinforcement confirmed."
They gave us one last look.
Not congratulations—but as if tagging two high-risk objects.
"Until next time.""You will not be this intact again."
Space began to close.
The presence of Lethe slowly faded.
Just before we were pulled back into the waking world, the last thing I saw—
Was the flowers and leaves, briefly overlapping in the river's reflection.
For an instant.
Then, separating.
The world did not stop.
But—it had begun recalculating for us.
And this time, no one said, "This is necessary."