It took less than ten minutes for the servants to bring the guest to my room. He’d been tightly bound with sturdy ropes and roughly wiped clean, revealing a face that I could only describe as “stupidly handsome.” They’d left on his long golden earrings, forming a striking contrast with his sharp eyes and soft jaw. A blue dragon pendant had been hung around his neck for reasons I could only begin to guess.

The slowly spreading bloodstains on his clothes suggested that he hadn’t been treated as miraculously as I’d hoped. His breathing was ragged and his skin pallid. If I wanted to get information from him, I probably didn’t have much time. His head lolled as the servants brusquely stuffed him into the chair across the tea table from me.

I waved for the servants to go and waited for the door to close before speaking in an indifferent tone.

“You don’t look so good.”

It took some effort for him to focus his piercing red gaze on me.

“Do you think…” He coughed hard; the familiar sound of death’s rattle exhaled from his lungs. “…your problems will be fixed… if you kill me?”

“Will they not?” I said.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a mocking lilt.

“Acacius, I will kill you,” he repeated. “That is my promise to you.”

Wow, scary. “Uh-huh,” I said, watching the blood bubbling around his lips. What a liar. But I could be tolerant of a dying man. “Should I prepare to transcribe your last words?”

The guest started to laugh, which quickly devolved into a series of wet coughs.

“What… Feeling generous?”

“I’ve heard that miracles do happen,” I said. “Unfortunately, even if I called for a doctor now, it seems that they wouldn’t be able to do much for you.”

He tilted his head, assessing me with all the poise of a tiger sizing up its prey.

“What do you want?”

I shrugged. “Do you really not have anything to ask?”

It would be a bit disappointing if that was the case. A question could reveal a lot of information about relationships or the surrounding context.

The guest watched me for a moment longer, eyes flickering.

I half expected that my ploy wouldn’t work. Although plenty of people would play along with an invitation to talk, suspicious or otherwise, he clearly harbored a strong hostility towards Acacius, and he spoke with a strong conviction, like it was only a matter of time before I was a dead man. By his hands, even. Why would he bother communicating with someone like that?

But strangely enough, he did.

“Where is Dreyminn?” he asked.

Why’d he have to start with something so specific? Who was that?

From Acacius’ journals, I knew he was a careful, observant, meticulous person. There was no way he wouldn’t remember Dreyminn. But he was also cagey and insecure, covering it up beneath a thin veneer of arrogance. So, despite my invitation to my guest to talk, I took the risk of raising an unimpressed eyebrow, prompting him to elaborate.

Lucky for me, he played along, saying, “The crow spirit you kidnapped.”

That just raised more questions than answers for me, though.

“Can a spirit really be kidnapped?” I drawled, careful to pitch it as a rhetorical comment rather than a genuine question.

The feeling that he considered me dead already grew stronger.

“If you can recognize their will… you recognize… that you can also go against it.”

It made sense, but didn’t help me reconstruct events all that much.

“I haven’t seen Dreyminn around,” I said. “I suppose I could take another look after this.”

Fortunately for me, he didn’t press. Instead, he moved onto a harder question. “What about…” He coughed again. “My teacher?”

His teacher…

I felt sorry I couldn’t give him a solid answer.

I changed tactics. “You must have some ability if you got this far. Why don’t you try telling me what you know?”

The unspoken implication was that he had enough information to put together the pieces himself. If he did, it was good for me; and even if he didn’t, I’d know more about the situation.

The guest pondered my words, less like someone solving a puzzle and more like someone putting me under evaluation. Despite his increasingly labored breathing, he didn’t seem to be in a rush. For a dying man, he was really calm, wasn’t he?

But he still played along.

“Capturing Dreyminn… drew my attention… to the New Lunar Society. Finding their frame… and infiltrating that realm… led me to your family’s… crimes. But my teacher… didn’t respond to my emergency signal.”

Fascinating connections were being made here. At this point, it was safe to say the Duval family was in the wrong, right? I was also surprised to hear him mention frames. From what I remembered of Acacius’ books, frames were something that allowed different, and sometimes contradictory, systems to exist in parallel. That was why there was both magic and technology in Kosmonymia. But it was hard to move from dry theoretical passages to a practical example all of a sudden. Weren’t frames something that anyone had access to? Why would the New Lunar Society have their own frame?

“And you sent the signal from within the realm?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He frowned. “You’re saying… the ‘moon paths’… can interfere with… first-order powers?”

Yeah, I had no idea what that was.

“What kind of person is your teacher?” I said.

A wry smile. “Very… powerful.”

He seemed to be telling the truth. “So, what can the Duval family do to that sort of personage?”

My guest nodded as if he understood what I was implying. I felt a little sorry for encouraging all kinds of misconceptions, but at least it would make him feel better before he died, right?

I weighed the potential risks for a while before finally saying, “If you want your teacher to retrieve your body, you can try sending the signal again now.”

My guest met my eyes straight on. “You aren’t… afraid of the consequences?”

“As long as I put my mind to it, I’m sure I can survive.”

It would be a shame if I had to give up this comfortable lifestyle, but it wasn’t impossible, either. I’d just have to steal some supplies and Acacius’ notes on the Devouring Exchange before I left, and then find a way to circumvent Acacius’ death sentence. I’d already been thinking about doing that anyways.

Speaking with my current identity, though, I was sure the implications of my words were quite different. My guest frowned and started to speak, but then he began coughing, so hard the blood dribbled all down the front of his already-stained clothes.

Although it seemed like it might be out of character, I got up and steadied him by the shoulder.

When the coughing fit finally subsided, his breathing was far more strained. He didn’t have long.

“I wasn’t joking about taking your last will,” I said. “I won’t make any promises, but I can hear you out.”

The guest managed to raise his head to meet my eyes.

“What’s… your… motive?”

“They say you should balance out your bad karma with good deeds.”

This guy probably qualified as someone who was sacrificed unjustly, right?

My guest shook his head at my answer.

But he still said, “Don’t… let anyone else… see my body.”

That seemed easy enough to do. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t… destroy… the body.”

“Alright.”

He closed his eyes. His voice was hoarse and faint. “That’s all.”

These were very mild last requests. I would’ve expected more. But considering he and Acacius had had a hostile relationship, it made sense that he wouldn’t trust me with anything more sensitive.

That was a shame. I felt more inclined to fulfill his last requests than Acacius’.

“Do you believe in a god?” I asked.

His breathing was much weaker now.

“The Scribe…”

I remembered that name. The Scribe, the Signifier, and the Secret-Keeper… was it?

“I’ll offer a prayer for you.”

I wasn’t sure what kind of rites or prayers were common in this world, so I just held my nameless guest’s hand and prayed silently.

Exalted Scribe, as this world’s watcher, may you bear witness to this person’s life so that he will not be forgotten.

That was about all that I could think to say.

A few minutes later, he stopped breathing.

I put his sword next to him as a gesture of farewell.

Okay, I’d done my best. Now I just had to find a nice place in the garden to bury him without anyone seeing it.

Luckily, after exploring the mansion these past few days, I had a candidate location in mind. I needed to move fast if I wanted to get the body out before it started stinking up the room. I locked Acacius’ room and strode confidently out of the mansion out the back door.

The setting sun gave off just enough light for me to navigate past the courtyard fountain, down the stone paths through artfully arranged flora, to the shed near the manor walls. I picked the lock, helped myself to a shovel, and chose a flowerbed that had recently been cleared of plants. It was out of sight of the main manor, and the slightly overgrown plants indicated that the gardeners must not pay as much attention to this area. It was the perfect place for me to dig a shallow grave in peace.

But when I returned to my room and unlocked the door, the body was gone. So was the sword. The curtains fluttered in the wind from the open window.

Someone must have seen the body.

That meant they had evidence of the family’s misdeeds, now, so hiding the missing body from the Duvals might lead to more trouble in the future. How bothersome… I didn’t like how it would reflect badly on my capabilities in the Duke’s eyes.

But more importantly, if I hadn’t specified that I’d only try to fulfill that wish, whoever took the body would have turned me into a liar. I was definitely going to keep a grudge over that.

Luckily, the study and Acacius’ notes were undisturbed, but some of Acacius’ pendants had been stolen from the bedroom, and the black blindfold was missing from his jacket pocket where I’d left it. I couldn’t find anything else out of place.

I rang a small golden bell, and a few minutes later, a woman with dark, tight curls came in. I recognized her as the servant who usually brought me my meals, but she didn’t seem to like talking to Acacius, so I had yet to learn her name.

“Did anyone come into my room in the past hour?”

“No, sir. Since the door was locked, we chose not to disturb you.”

“I see. Then, who in the household is responsible for security while Graves is gone?”

The servant finally overcame her distaste of Acacius to look at me. “We trust the autonomous security systems, sir, unless otherwise directed by the family. Did something occur?”

I was a little disappointed I couldn’t throw the blame to someone else, but given the Duke’s temperament, it probably wouldn’t have been safe for a servant to take the blame anyway. “It seems that someone broke into my room while I was walking in the garden. They’ve taken some valuables, and one of the blindfolds.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “One of the artifacts?” she repeated in a heavy tone.

As expected, it really was a big deal.

“I haven’t had dinner yet, by the way,” I said. “Remember, I’d like some hard, dry foods as well.”

She looked at me like I was crazy, but bowed and brought me my meal. Having become accustomed to my routine, she helpfully dismissed herself right after. It went against etiquette to do that without asking me first, I was pretty sure, but it wasn’t like I wanted to talk to her more than necessary, either. This was what we could call a mutually beneficial relationship.

As usual, I ate all the fresh food, but I stowed away the flatbread and hard cheese in the closet. I just couldn’t feel at ease without some kind of emergency stash.

For the past few days, this had been enough to calm my worries about abruptly waking up in a new world as a different person. But for whatever reason, my unease didn’t go away tonight.

Something was about to happen. I was sure of it.

I paced the room. The weather looked fine; the climate here seemed mild, so it couldn’t be a storm, right? Was it an earthquake or some other natural disaster? But how would I even be picking up on that? It was possible my instincts were warning me about a man-made disaster instead, but surely I hadn’t been here long enough to absorb enough information to alert my intuition.

Then maybe this feeling came from Acacius’ subconscious memories.

Couldn’t this bastard have left clearer instructions about what to do?

I called up my Record and checked the pages.

Title: [Executor of the Sacrifice’s Last Will]

Symbol: Golden chain

Description: A title obtained by carrying out the last will of those who died in pursuit of a higher cause or were killed unjustly. Of those you’ve met most recently, only Acacius Duval fits the conditions.

[…]

There were no changes. My guest’s name wasn’t on there. So either he hadn’t died unjustly, killing Acacius wasn’t a greater cause, or my guest wasn’t actually dead. How did the Record decide who met the criteria of this title, anyway? No matter how I twisted my brain, it was hard to imagine why Acacius would qualify.

Whatever, this wasn’t the important point right now. What was important was this.

Title: [Bound Prophet of the Single Path]

Symbol: Seamlessly knotted rope with no ends

Description: The dreamer of another future fears making great changes, lest the future slip out of control. Go forth and walk step by step to the end; pursue as many variations as you like, for the destination you have envisioned will not change. But surely the small changes you accumulate will be enough to divert the path at the most critical moment. Otherwise, what is it all for?

Title Skill: When the user sleeps, they can dream of the future, from now until a chosen future point in time. Until they reach the end date of the future that they have seen, they will not be able to dream of a different end.

Note: Kosmonymia is watching you.

Everything I knew about titles suggested that titles followed from the title holder’s abilities and actions, not the other way around, so I really had to wonder what Acacius had done to get a title like this.

Its prophetic abilities obviously weren’t infallible, though, and the description was also strange, as if written by someone who was mocking me. Still, it was worth trying out, right? If I could peek at the next day or so, maybe it would give me a better idea of what to prepare for.

I got onto Acacius’ bed — still dressed, in case of emergency — and tried to sleep.

Unfortunately, I didn’t catch a wink. My nerves were wound up too tightly to delve into even the shallowest of dreams.

I gave up and went to the window, looking out at the full moon shining among the stars. Everything was peaceful, but I couldn’t suppress the restless feeling in my heart. Something was really wrong.

Impulsively, I left the room and made a full circuit of the mansion and the grounds right outside of it. Everyone was sleeping, including the servants. Not a single thing was out of place.

Where was the best place to shelter during disaster? I opened the back door to the kitchen. Food, water, and fire; that was essential. But it was on the ground floor — not good for floods. And what if the structure collapsed? Was it safer to be inside a building right now or not? I couldn’t decide. I paced right outside the door.

A flash of pink at the corner of my eye made me look up sharply. Emerging from the garden was Cynara, half-frozen as she caught sight of me. She quickly regained her composure and raised her chin. “Acacius? What are you doing skulking about like a thief?”

“I believe the question better applies to you,” I retorted, even though I already knew what she must have been doing.

Cynara stiffened slightly. “You aren’t the only one who can be in the mood for a stroll. After all, the moon is beautiful tonight.”

My vague feeling of dread increased. “Moon…” I muttered, looking up at the sky.

I heard Cynara’s footsteps on the courtyard stones as she walked closer. “What’s wrong, brother? Has the ritual finally made you start losing it?”

This time, I couldn’t be bothered to bite back. “Hey… Cynara. Do we have any safe houses near the estate?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the ones in the moon path realm.”

“Not the moon paths,” I said, with a bit more vehemence than I’d meant to.

Cynara stared at me.

“What’s wrong with the moon paths?” she said.

Nothing, or everything, I didn’t know. Why couldn’t Acacius have left me his memories intact? What was the future he had seen?

“I just have… a really bad feeling,” I said. It sounded really stupid, but I couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. What could I even use as evidence? Was there even any point in wasting time trying to persuade her?

I ran a hand through my hair, forming and discarding potential persuasions, before sighing.

“Forget it. Just go back and do whatever you intended to do.”

But Cynara didn’t leave. The previous hostility and ridicule had faded from her expression, leaving only a deathly seriousness behind.

“What kind of feeling? When did it start?”

Huh? “Just, it feels as though some disaster is approaching… You have your sword, right?”

I could use my World Proof to manifest [Caller], but maybe I should find a more sturdy weapon, too.

Cynara tensed, but eventually unveiled the rapier she’d had hidden behind her back.

“Why are you telling me this?” she said.

Was there a reason why Acacius wouldn’t? “Aren’t you the one who asked?”

Cynara stared at me. I stared back at her, unsure of the significance of our exchange.

Then I saw it.

From the moon, a clear line of darkness fell down through the stars and bloomed over the landscape like ink spilled in clear water. In that darkness, an indescribable presence was moving.

All the hair on my arms stood on end. I immediately turned and ran.

Forget Acacius’ will and the Devouring Exchange. Preserving my life first was most important.

“Wake up! Run!” I shouted, hitting the windows in the servants’ quarters as I passed by. “Get up and run!”

That was all the thought I spared for them before I hurtled across the garden. Cynara’s footsteps thundered behind me. Plant stems cracked under our feet, the only sound I could hear.

…

The only sound?

I chanced a look behind me.

A monstrous shadow, still spilling from the moon, had swallowed the house. Everything was silent. There was no wind, no insect cries. Darkness billowed out from that shadow, reaching out across the ground like a chasm subsuming the earth.

Too fast to outrun. I made my decision in a split second and reached out, grabbing Cynara’s hand. Her frightened, ashen face looked back at me, half-lit by the moon.

“Hold on for your life,” I said.

And everything went dark.

Chapter 2 Back to Index