Here in the lightless underground.
In one of the Infinity Castle's countless compartments, a girl with black feathers lay on her side across a divan, one arm draped over her forehead, eyes half-closed. Her long hair—the color of cherry blossoms—spread across the bedding beneath her.
She felt as though her body were in permanent freefall. The Infinity Castle was like an ancient underground tomb that had swallowed her whole. Every second spent here was longer than a second above ground. Was this what Kibutsuji Muzan's life had been? Centuries of living like a rat, cowering in the dark underground.
The room was larger than the little wooden cabin behind the Butterfly Mansion's garden. Also considerably more hollow. The walls were sealed on all sides—not a single window—and the door had been shut tight with two lengths of Red Feather Blades. No one could walk in unannounced.
Three large paper lanterns hung inside, and along the walls candles burned in their sconces. Because there was no wind, the flames held perfectly still—as steady as electric light. The Infinity Castle ran deep enough underground that daylight never entered, and yet every corridor, every staircase, every room was lined with lanterns, the whole system managed by Nakime.
That woman's ability was remarkable. Inori suspected the Infinity Castle itself had been built around her Blood Demon Art—that Nakime could rearrange and govern any part of this space at will, transporting people and places between sections as she pleased.
And yet a demon with that level of power wasn't counted among the Twelve Kizuki. According to Doma, she was simply Muzan's personal attendant.
Attendant was a peculiar position. Not the same as a general or a commander—but often trusted by the ruler in ways that generals weren't. Similar, in a way, to the palace eunuchs of ancient dynasties who served close to the throne, who tended to quietly accumulate their master's small secrets.
Did Nakime know things about Muzan? Things that hadn't come up yet?
Thinking of that eerie, silent biwa-player, Inori rolled onto her side and let her eyes fall closed. Nakime was frank enough—she said what she knew and nothing more—but you could never get into her inner world. No matter how long you looked at her, you sensed nothing behind those eyes.
If Nakime weren't the one controlling the entire castle's spatial structure, Inori suspected she would have already forgotten she existed.
The feeling was something like the protagonist of a horror film who, strapped for money, rents a haunted house—and then has to figure out how to coexist with the unsettling landlady.
"Missing the old days?"
From the stillness, a second voice.
Inori didn't startle. She kept her eyes closed. In the dark, a girl in white approached—pink hair, unhurried steps.
"Inori-chan~! I missed you so much!"
"..."
It had been a long time since she'd come to see Mana.
They could communicate through their mental link without being physically present in the same mental space—but actually meeting face to face required Inori to reach inward intentionally. She looked at the beautiful girl coming toward her, eyes reflecting light like polished crystal.
Looking at them side by side, their features weren't quite identical. Mana's face was slightly younger—a kind of innocent purity that Inori herself had never had, something openly unguarded. And her hair was a shade lighter.
"Why didn't you come see me, Inori-chan~"
Ouma Mana flew at her like someone reuniting with a long-missed older sister, rubbing her face insistently against Inori's snow-white neck, greedily drinking in the scent of her hair without the slightest shame. Only Mana would dare.
But then, they shared one body. Some liberties were practically structural.
"I had a lot on my mind," Inori said, gently pushing her back. "That's all."
"Hmm? Somehow I get the feeling you're scared of me."
Mana tilted her head, a sly expression working at the corners of her mouth.
...this damn girl.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm the rightful owner of this body. Why would I be scared of you?"
Inori felt the pressure of this immediately, furrowed her brow, and deliberately moved her gaze sideways, making a point of not looking at her directly.
"Ha ha, there's no use pretending—I know all of you~" Mana pressed closer, face still drifting toward Inori's ear. "You're scared I'll eat you up, aren't you?"
"Who said anything about being scared—"
"Last time, when your Stand memories were stolen—didn't you ask me to step in? Then you lay here and fell asleep. Remember that?"
"...S-so what?"
"If you hadn't woken up so early, I might have already gotten what I wanted~"
"..."
This girl. She saw absolutely everything—even the things Inori had buried deepest. But that was simply the nature of sharing a consciousness; some thoughts passed between them by default. Of course she knew.
"Ha ha ha—I'm right, aren't I? You were scared that if we met again I'd do something strange. That's why you stayed away."
Inori's jaw worked once. She chose silence.
She couldn't deny it.
The truth was yes. Mana had already made her feelings clear. And Inori felt—viscerally—that if she conceded, it would be a defeat to her dignity. She was the one this body belonged to. She wasn't about to let some guest tenant maneuver her into being the helpless one.
If there was going to be anything between them, it would be on her terms. She would be the one to propose it.
If Menjou Hare had been the one confessing, she would have said yes on the spot, struck a victor's pose, and made a great show of being magnanimous about it~. That particular dynamic didn't apply to Mana.
Because Mana knew every emotion. Every thought sitting at the surface of Inori's mind. If she agreed—the force of that shared awareness would inevitably make her the losing party. Helpless. Liable to be teased without mercy. Able to do nothing but act spoiled and beg her to be gentler.
—Miss Mana covets my body. A battle of wits between two pink-haired girls.
That was exactly why she'd been avoiding coming here.
But there were things she could no longer put off. Things that touched the core of their future—whether they could ever return to the world of Guilty Crown. Things connected to the secret of the Nameless Monster. Inori had finally run out of reasons to stay away.
"No more jokes," she said. "I need to talk to you about something real."
"This is real to me too," Mana said.
"..."
Mana blinked with perfect innocence. And for just that moment, with that expression, she looked almost exactly like Inori—that specific slight smile, the one that never showed what was underneath it.
So this is what I look like from the outside, Inori thought, and found it profoundly uncomfortable.
Mana smiled wickedly. Her gaze traveled over Inori slowly—over the sparse black feathers that covered just enough to maintain decency, the expanse of pale skin they left visible, the whole effect at once innocent yet unbearably suggestive.
"Look at you," Mana murmured. "Dressed like that. Are you trying to tempt me?"
—Absolutely not! None of this is my choice! If I could figure out how to deactivate Nameless Monster, King Crimson would never enter ACT3 form again—ever! Even if I could control it myself, I still wouldn't use it!
"I'm serious!"
Inori felt heat rising in her face, clamped her eyes shut, and raised her voice to cut off whatever Mana was about to say next.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing. Talk to me slowly. I know what you want to ask."