Rinkai.
The school infirmary was silent, with only the surreal sky's light filtering through the thin curtains.
Gabriel lay on the bed, his breathing steady. Then—his eyelids twitched.
Something disturbed his instincts before his thoughts could catch up.
His eyes opened.
The first thing he saw was Baobhan Sith's face… very close.
The fairy girl sat sweetly on top of his stomach, her red skirt spreading to either side, her smile sweet—the kind of sweet that always preceded disaster.
Gabriel did not move.
Not because he was calm.
Because he couldn't.
Thin strands of magic, almost invisible, bound his wrists, arms, chest, and legs—pinning him to the mattress like an insect on display.
His thoughts instantly spiraled.
Why is she here?
Why is she in this position?
Why didn't I wake up sooner?
What is going on…!?
The Ash persona spun rapidly behind his steady gaze, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't make the situation… even worse.
Sith pressed her palm against Gabriel's chest. Not hard. She didn't need to.
"Awake already?" her voice was soft, almost like a whisper before sleep. "Lowly prey."
Her brows furrowed slightly.
"Why is your face so calm?"
She didn't like that.
Then something crossed her mind—and her smile returned, wider this time.
"Ahh… I see."
She leaned her body forward slightly.
"If you're punished… you'll react, won't you? Wouldn't that be interesting?"
The tip of her index finger lifted, then slowly traced down to Gabriel's neck.
Her nail touched his skin—cold.
"Mother said I shouldn't go overboard," she continued casually. "But that doesn't mean I can't punish you… for the insolence of calling her 'Fay.'"
A slight pressure.
His skin was lightly grazed. A single drop of warm blood surfaced.
"You are a lowly creature," she whispered softly. "Unworthy of standing at Mother's side."
Her eyes narrowed.
"A toy I can play with… until it breaks."
Sith stopped.
She withdrew the tip of her nail from Gabriel's neck, her focus shifting.
Her head tilted slightly… then slowly lowered.
Her face moved closer to his neck.
Her lips parted just enough to reveal small fangs—cute in shape, but clearly not made for decoration.
In one smooth motion—she bit down.
Gabriel jerked on reflex.
Not from pain—he had long since dulled his pain receptors—but from the unfamiliar sensation itself. Warm. Close. Far too close.
The magic threads binding his body trembled slightly as his muscles tensed for a brief second.
Blood flowed.
Not spraying—just a warm stream that Sith immediately welcomed.
The room remained silent.
Only the faint sound of breathing… and a soft, nearly inaudible swallow.
For Sith, it was not merely blood.
There was the taste of mana. The structure of existence. Something neither fully human nor fae—a blend that made her eyes narrow slightly in intrigue.
Only a few seconds.
Then she pulled away.
Her fangs withdrew, leaving behind bite marks that slowly began to close due to Gabriel's natural regeneration.
Sith wiped the remaining red from her lips with the tip of her finger, her expression shifting into one of satisfaction—calm, yet clearly evaluating.
"Interesting…" she murmured softly.
Her gaze dropped to Gabriel, who was still looking at her with a face far too composed for someone who had just been bitten.
"At least," she continued gently, "you're not entirely bland, lowly prey."
She rose from atop his body, her red skirt shifting lightly as her feet touched the floor.
The magical threads still bound Gabriel—but they were no longer reinforced. As if deliberately left that way.
Sith walked toward the infirmary door without looking back.
"Consider that… a tax for your existence at Mother's side," she said casually.
The door opened.
Before stepping out, she paused briefly.
"Don't die just yet. I'm not bored of you."
Then she left.
Silence filled the room once more.
On the bed, Gabriel drew a slow breath—not out of weakness, but because his thoughts could finally clear.
Pale white mana flowed from his palm, threading through the knots of magic that bound him. The strands of energy trembled, weakened… then unraveled one by one like mist losing its shape.
He was free.
His hand rose to touch his neck. The skin there was still warm, slightly damp, where two small puncture marks had been moments before.
The sensation hadn't completely faded—too close, too personal—and the memory from just now brought a flush all the way to his ears.
Gabriel turned his face away briefly, exhaling to steady himself.
Then his eyes shifted toward the corner of the room.
His brows furrowed.
"…Fay," he called softly, his tone almost a faint complaint. "You were there the whole time, weren't you? Why didn't you stop her?"
The air in the corner of the room rippled faintly, like the surface of water touched by wind.
From that distortion, Morgan stepped out—calm, graceful, as though she had been part of the room's shadows from the very beginning.
Her gaze lowered to Gabriel, then to the bite mark on his neck, before returning to his face.
"I stop what is dangerous," she said flatly, in the tone of a queen who had no need to raise her voice.
"That was not danger. Merely… the bad habits of a child testing her limits."
She crossed her arms over her chest.
"If I intervene every time Sith misbehaves, she will never learn the difference between what may be touched… and what must not."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And you," she continued, "were not truly helpless. You were simply surprised."
Morgan stepped closer, the distance now near enough to notice the lingering flush on Gabriel's face.
"However…" her voice softened by a fraction. "If she had gone any further than that, I would have stopped her."
A thin silence lingered.
"What interests me more," she said quietly, "is why your reaction was not anger… but confusion."
Morgan's gaze shifted—deeper now, evaluating.
Clearly, the Fairy Queen was contemplating something.
A moment later, Morgan walked out of the infirmary, leaving Gabriel alone on the bed.
The room fell silent again.
Minutes passed, yet sleep did not return.
Every time Gabriel closed his eyes, the sensation replayed—warm, close, far too vivid. His fingers unconsciously rose to touch his neck again.
The result was the same.
His cheeks flushed once more.
He let out a quiet sigh.
In the end, he gave up—not on sleep itself, but on the attempt to sleep.
Gabriel climbed down from the bed and left the infirmary, deciding to do something rather than continue lying there with thoughts that refused to settle.
***
Beneath Rinkai's surreal sky, layered in colors like a shattered nebula, Gabriel sat alone on the school rooftop.
A black piano formed before him from condensed mana—its keys reflecting the spectrum light of the sky above.
The first note fell.
Cold. Sharp. Elegant.
The melody of Treachery flowed from his fingers—not merely music, but a subtle pressure upon space itself. Each note brushed against the surface of the dimension, making the air of the Keter Region tremble faintly.
In the faculty room, Morgan continued stirring a potion within a vessel above blue flames—yet her hand paused for a fraction of a second.
Sith, standing beside her, clicked her tongue softly. Her ear twitched slightly.
"…Noisy," she muttered, though her ears did not reject the sound.
In Class 2-B, Kurumi fell silent mid-sentence. Sawa turned her head toward the window.
Inside the gymnasium, the White Queen's subordinates exchanged glances, the atmosphere unconsciously tightening.
The music was not loud.
Yet it was everywhere.
Back on the rooftop.
The final key was pressed.
The note lingered… then faded.
Gabriel slowly opened his eyes.
Three steps behind him, the soft sound of chains shifting echoed quietly.
Ren stood there—long purple hair, a flower ribbon, a small hat, handcuffs and chains that contrasted strangely with her petite figure. Her sharp violet eyes stared at Gabriel's back as if assessing a riddle.
She was close enough.
Gabriel did not turn around.
"Spirit of Jester," he said calmly. "Why are you approaching Ash?"
The wind of Rinkai brushed past, making Ren's chains chime softly—cling… cling…
The girl smiled faintly. Fragile, yet gentle.
"I'm curious," she said softly. "You play a song that sounds like betrayal… with those hands?"
Her head tilted slightly.
"Which one is real, hm? The music… or your face?"
Silence descended, thin as mist.
Gabriel understood what she meant.
Ren—the Spirit he had saved on the journey to Rinkai, simply because he liked her Astral Dress—was, in truth, only searching for something simple.
Someone to talk to.
"Whichever hands play it," Gabriel replied, still gazing at the spectrum-streaked horizon, "the song never cares."
He paused briefly.
"Like fate. It does not ask who takes the step… it only records the footprints."
At last, Gabriel turned. His eyes fell upon Ren—calm, but not empty.
"There is no such thing as true coincidence in this world," he continued. "Only chains of cause and effect… that appear random to those standing in the middle of them."
The wind lifted the tips of his black hair.
"The question isn't which one is real," he said quietly, "but… why you chose to approach me, Ren?"
Ren smiled faintly, then stepped toward the rooftop railing.
The chains around her ankles chimed softly as she stopped, gazing at Rinkai's layered sky—colors overlapping like a dream that never quite ended.
"I often wonder," she said quietly, "what my very first wish really was. Sometimes I'm afraid to remember it… yet I'm curious, too. Strange, isn't it? A contradiction like that."
Gabriel gently closed the piano lid, stood, and walked over to her.
He stopped at her side—not too close, not too far.
"If that's what you wish to know," he said calmly, "Ash can tell you. The truth about it will not hurt you."
He looked up at the same sky.
"But… the world will shift slightly. The course of history may change."
____
Author's Note:
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