I can’t sleep.
Rolling from one end of the bed to the other, I tug at the blankets, reposition the pillows, and even try placing one between my legs. I flip onto my stomach, but my back quickly begins to ache. Turning over again, I stare at the ceiling and rest my right forearm across my forehead, as if that alone might quiet my thoughts.
The cold wind rattles the window to my right. Propping myself up on my arms, I sit up and draw back the curtains, greeted by the sleeping city of Atrila.
As expected, the city is much smaller than Kala. It’s something I’ve known informationally and statistically, but actually seeing it like this, dimmed and quiet from such an elevated height, feels like a blessing.
The streets that bustle with life during the day are now painted in silver moonlight. Lanterns flicker faintly along the main roads, and the canals reflect the stars like broken shards of glass. Many of my roommates, and even some of my classmates, dreamed of spending a single day at the castle after hearing stories of the royal grounds.
Yeah, I’ve been taking my time here for granted, so consumed by my obsession with getting better and stronger. But honestly, I should have stopped and taken a deep breath, just to see what was right in front of me.
Even if Miss Hana’s advice doesn’t fully fit who I am, what she first told me still holds truth.
I need to carry on, but also remember the ones who were lost. In many ways, it feels like I’m honoring them, even a little, by beholding this sight.
It’s been nearly three days since I had my encounter with Hana and her mountain of meat and cheese.
We haven’t been to the same store since, and I think I’d rather keep it that way for now.
There was a nice fish restaurant close to the meat place we ate at. The guy at the stall was kind, like every other storekeeper.
He was probably just being nice to drive business, but still, it’s never boring meeting new, friendly people.
With a sigh, I close my eyes.
Ever since the strange mirage malfunction that happened a few days ago, I haven’t activated my Soul Sight.
I’m scared of my magical energy backfiring. Not that I’ve even had an opportunity to activate it in the first place lately.
With everyone sleeping right now, I guess now’s not a bad time to try it out.
I take a deep breath and command magical energy to flow into my eyes. The sound around me muffles for a second before popping back into reality.
The world sinks into a deep blue, not much different from how it looked before, but now I can see the threads emanating from bodies even from this distance.
I was given orders to stay behind and inside the castle.
Atrila’s a big city, so it's highly likely that there are a ton of knights and guards roaming around, especially at this hour.
If the cultists decide to attack the capital, they’ll be met with the full force of the Atrila military, the Queen’s magical attacks, and the Sword Saint herself.
There shouldn’t be a safer place on the planet for me than this city before me.
Besides, even if a drunkard approaches me, at this point in my training, I’m sure I’ll be able to take him down without any problems.
Sliding off my bed, I grab the winter outerwear that was gifted to me by the palace staff. Funnily enough, Miss Hana was right in saying that the Queen was quite stingy with her money. She was hesitant to even offer me a fresh set of clothes.
I guess you don’t get a strong economy without being money-conscious, even so, it feels a bit crazy that she’s that frugal.
Thankfully the maids and the other staff members gave me their childhood or their kids’ clothes. It was a gift, claiming it was their way of cheering me on.
I’m so blessed to have so many people looking out for me.
It’s not quite the same as what I used to wear, but it fits me perfectly fine, and I look pretty good in it too.
Behind my closet, I spot a neatly folded piece of fabric placed on the ground under the shadow of the hanging clothes. The clothing is dark and would be nearly unrecognizable if not for the blaring logo shining on top.
The insignia of the Kala Magic Academy.
Mine was lost during the battle, from what I recall, torn to shreds when I allowed Oktavia to take over my body. So the one in front of me was none other than Albo’s.
I smile, a small exhale leaving my nose as my lips curl upward. My gaze is taunted by the custom-modified piece of clothing before me, almost as if it’s speaking in his voice, begging me to take it with me.
The thought of leaving it behind seems cruel.
The last time I went on one of these journeys with him, he forced himself to come by wrapping his arm around my neck. I suppose this isn’t any different, but instead of his arms, it’ll be his robe.
“Maybe I’m too soft for him.”
Reaching down, I grab the short robe and put it on. There’s barely enough fabric to even cover the first half of my back. Back at the academy, our robes were so long they would often reach our heels.
They hindered our movement so much, which is probably why Albo hated them.
Twisting the doorknob, I slip out into the hallway. Unlike at the academy, I have no roommates to wake. I’m not dumb enough to hop around the castle, but there’s little need for caution when sneaking out.
I was given the honor of freedom within the castle, so the guards who spot me most likely won’t stop me.
To be fair, I could try to sneak out, putting my physical strengthening techniques to the test. But I wouldn’t want to accidentally alarm anyone, and leaving through the front gate is probably the safest and kindest option.
With all that’s been happening lately, even the knights guarding the gates and halls deserve a break.
I close the door behind me and am met with a row of large glass windows. Above me is an arched rooftop, with five unlit chandeliers lined up from one end of the hall to the other.
The floor is lined with marble, but a long red carpet paves the way from end to end, preventing any potential accidents from slipping. Maids often clean the castle as much as they can, despite the Queen’s adamant requests for them to stop.
If I had to guess, they’re probably just doing it for the love of the task, or maybe the nation. It’s crazy how much loyalty people are willing to show when they’re given an ounce of freedom.
I turn left and set off across the carpet, my hands clasped loosely behind my back. I maintain a dull, steady pace toward the door at the far end of the hall.
The castle is an endless cycle of stone and silk. I move from room to room, hall after hall, passing through drawing rooms that smell of expensive beeswax and cold ash.
In the wider galleries, the sunlight is blinding as it hits the polished marble floors, but as soon as I turn into the next corridor, the warmth vanishes, replaced by the damp, stagnant chill of windowless passageways.
The repetition starts to weigh on me. My footsteps are muffled by the heavy rugs, making the walk feel strangely silent and disconnected.
I push through one heavy oak door, only to find another hallway stretching out before me, a gilded maze that seems to have no end.
Dully opening the next door, I’m met with an empty throne room. The raised throne, where the Queen usually sits, is high enough to stand out in the middle of a crowd, but not so high as to look down upon those who approach it.
A slight temptation overcomes me as I resist the urge to sit on the throne, even for a moment.
“No, no,”
I tell myself.
I was given so much hospitality, and sitting in a chair reserved only for the absolute ruler would be nothing short of disrespectful.
Directly south of the throne are two large metallic doors that lead to the front gate. Even just by looking at them, they seem heavy.
Only a few days ago, I was taught that there are smaller doors behind the pillar next to the metal ones, where people can discreetly exit and enter.
I guess the metal doors are there for theatrical purposes, to show grandeur.
Wrapping around the room, I find the cleverly hidden door behind the pillar, and I’m met with a small connecting room with another set of doors.
“How many doors does this castle have? They’re not even locked…”
Finally going through the last set of doors, my hair and robe flutter gracefully as the wind’s howl greets me with its cold, wintry welcome. I slowly walk down the polished quartz stairs as I make my way toward the guarded gates of the castle.
Upon approaching the metal bars, the knight opens the door, offering me a wave.
“Where are you headed, miss?” he asks.
Most of his body is covered in silver armor, with only the lower half of his face visible. He has a chiseled jawline and a long mustache, not to mention a bright smile.
“I was planning on taking a short walk. Is that okay?”
The knight nods. “Just make sure to stay away from taverns. They can get quite rowdy during these hours.”
With a short wave, I make my way into the city.
…
The city of Atrila seems mostly architecturally the same as Kala. The main difference is quantity. The homes are built with nearly the exact same materials, and even the stores carry a similar feel.
I guess Kala and Atrila are both within the same nation, but as someone who’s only lived in a small village and in Kala, I expected the capital to be much larger in size.
Eventually, I come across the main city plaza. It’s a wide, spacious area that would often house multiple food stalls. The number of people gathered during lunchtime and dinner would often make the area seem small.
But with everyone asleep or in taverns, the plaza feels like an endless stretch of land. Occupying the center is a single stone water fountain, quietly cycling clean water from the canals.
I take a small peek at the fountain, only to be greeted by an abundance of shining metal coins scattered along the base of the pool.
According to one of the maids, tourists and citizens alike would toss a single coin of their choosing as a way to pay tribute to the Goddess of Freedom, a prayer for financial freedom, or perhaps freedom in love.
Whatever the reason may be, if anyone wanted their wishes granted, this would be one of the best ways to pray for them.
Unfortunately, with the sudden rise in cults and religious wars, churches are often looked down upon.
Not that I ever really cared.
I activate my Soul Sight to know where I’m actually headed. Unfortunately for me, the buildings in Atrila are much taller than what I’m used to, so I’ll just have to walk through the alleys in search of any animals that would like their final comfort.
It reminds me of when I first started doing this, before I learned how to optimize my routes back in Kala.
To be honest, it does take up quite a bit of my time to look for things manually, but it’s not all that bad, especially since I can just let my mind be free like right now.
I flip my eyes on and off like endlessly flicking on the light switch, so that if anyone sees me in the dead of night, they’re not met with the creepy sight of two jewel-like eyes.
Each time I pass by a well-lit building, I’m greeted by muffled laughter and the shattering of glass.
Surprisingly, there aren’t too many drunkards sleeping on the streets. Kala didn’t have them either, but I was thoroughly warned beforehand by my guardians back in the village not to wander at night for that very reason.
I take a deep breath as the winter chill shoots into my nostrils and invades my lungs. I exhale the gathered air, and a puff of white clouds escapes my mouth, slowly dissolving into the sky.
With every step, I can’t help but wish I could talk to someone.
I could ask Miss Hana to come with me next time, but she’s less of a friend and more like a teacher.
There’s nothing more lame than trying to spend some quiet, quality time with your teacher, especially since I’m not really in the mood for constant lectures from her.
She’s great, but probably not built for quiet night outings.
The Queen… nah.
KL… is probably way worse, so I’m not even going to think about him. Most of the time, he gets too close to my face. I’m sure he’s a great guy and all, but yeah.
Who else…
Wait, I wonder what happened to Veronica after the attack at the academy.
If I dig into Oktavia’s memories, I remember her being carried away by Miss Hana alongside Albo during my battle with Sulva.
But I haven’t seen her since. She’s probably alive, but—oh, she probably got sent back to her country, Velion.
From what I could tell, she’s a pretty big deal, so it wouldn’t surprise me if someone came to pick her up after the mass killing at the academy.
Before my thoughts could linger too far, I slap my cheeks with both my cold hands.
“What am I even thinking about her for? She doesn’t deserve even an ounce of my worry.”
“-ngh…”
A strange jolt stings my eye. It’s the same sensation I felt a few days ago after my lunch with Hana. A skull-piercing headache hammers into my thoughts as I lose my sense of direction. Did I overdo it with my eyes?
No. Since I only activated them in short bursts, I shouldn’t be feeling anything strange.
I place my right palm on my forehead as I lean against the brick wall of an empty store. The temperature is warm, but not to the point of a fever. The only sign I’ve had of overusing my magical energy, or more specifically, my eyes, was an unusually high fever.
So… what’s this feeling?
I grit my teeth and gulp down a lump of saliva. A sensation that feels like static overfills my brain, blocking any progressive thought or reasoning.
I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes of dissolving the sensation like I did a few days ago, but the feeling doesn’t go away.
As a matter of fact, like a cruel joke, it feels like the buzzing grows stronger and louder.
“What the hell?”
A silhouette stands before me as I raise my head. A fizzled, yet present image of myself walking along the city, the same mirage that lined the streets a few days ago.
Like someone took a snapshot of my movements, the “me” in front of me seems to be walking in a certain direction. Unlike my current state, she appears much more calm and collected.
The biggest difference between me and her is the absence of the short robe I’m currently wearing.
Is this Oktavia?
She had mentioned something about loops, is this from her time as Saya?
I can’t turn off my Soul Sight, no matter how hard I try.
Like instinct, I follow the mirage left behind, trying to mimic its route and match its movements.
I sluggishly trek along the streets. The route leads me to a rather crowded street. Based on the mirage, Oktavia seems to have easily maneuvered her way through the crowd, but in the state I’m in, that task proves to be quite difficult.
The people wandering are too busy, drunk, or horny to even notice a short, stumbling girl like me.
Maybe they think I’m one of them. I mean, if I saw myself walking the way I am right now, I’d assume the same thing.
“-Hah… Hah…”
I pant, heavy breaths looping in and out of my body, the mist of cold air forming with each labored huff.
The mirage eventually leads me to a large building, its overwhelming shadow towering above me with spiked roofs and intricate architecture.
It’s a church.
As I stumble toward the entrance, I glance at the metallic plaque fixed beside the wooden door.
Church of Eudoxia
A church dedicated to the Goddess of Hope. Why would my Soul Sight lead me here?
My mirage went inside, so I will too.
The door opens with no resistance, almost as if it were anticipating my arrival. Sliding open, it allows me to step into the humble church before me.
Rows of pews line the floor, with a single altar standing at the far end of the building. A large statue of what people assume the Goddess of Hope looks like watches over the church like a guardian angel.
The mirage halts just before the altar, with dots of crimson red rising from the ground.
My eyes follow the trail of red until I’m met with an ungodly sight.
“W-wh-what the hell…?”
My body, the ones in the mirage, is lifted into the air, blood and guts gushing from its abdomen.
It isn’t just one.
It’s two.
Three.
Twelve…
Twelve mirages, all in different positions, all facing different deaths.
One missing a head. One cut vertically open. Another exploding from within.
Bile rises in my throat as I try to contain the culmination of an entire day’s meal.
Surrounded by the intangible bodies stands a dark silhouette of unknown origin. It doesn’t look human, but it doesn’t resemble any animal I know either. It has a single leg, with spikes poking out of its head like—
Like…
“A… hand…?”
I gasp as my body forcefully lurches toward the figure, eager to unravel my own curiosity. My Soul Sight hooks into my gut and yanks me forward, forcing my eyes to lock onto the horror even as my mind screams for me to look away.
My vision of the creature sharpens as it slowly steps forward. A single, mud-like hand, with a string of three human faces lining its palm, grows in size.
My legs give out, and I fall to the wooden plank floor beneath me. My hands tremble at the sight of the morbid display before me.
I can’t turn off my Soul Sight.
There are threads. So many threads.
Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it off.
Please turn it off.
That isn’t mud shaped like humans.
There’s no stench of blood, no sign of struggle, not even an evil expression lining their faces. It’s a snapshot of their final moments of despair. And yet…
Those are humans.
Why are they all clumped up into one?
Why?
Turn it off. I don’t want to see this anymore.
- CANT. TURN. IT. OFF. PLEASE.
PLEASE.
PLEASE.
My mind spirals. I feel like passing out. The static only gets louder.
If this is a dream, I want to wake up right now. This isn’t even a nightmare, it’s something worse. I want to wake up. I…
“W-What are you doing here?”
I recognize this voice. A second silhouette comes into my line of sight, sliding to the left from behind the ungodly hand.
This scenario, this situation… It’s almost identical to what happened a week or so ago.
It’s similar, but also different. He isn’t laughing anymore.
I know his name, but the words struggle to take form.
But it's unmistakable.
This wet, repulsive, and screeching moan only belongs to one person. The person I hate the most, the person I want to kill the most.
My synapses snap back and forth, as an influx of rage and fear switch places with one another in an endless loop.
I bite my lip, forcing the words stuck in my throat to trickle out. My face scrunches into what I can only describe as a fierce scowl as I glare at the silhouette in front of me, his body and face slowly coming into the light the closer I get.
“Rias… Sol!”