Snow drifted down from the sky that gradually started losing it's colors, light at first but growing thicker with time.
The hills groaned beneath the growing white, the wind picking up in uneven breaths that mirrored his own.
Tanaka was on his knees, fingers tangled brutally in his hair, shoulders shaking as fractured sobs tore out of him. His cries came in broken bursts, half-words, half-breaths, no longer meant for anyone to hear.
"Tanaka," Odglass called, floating closer, voice strained with urgency."Hey. Tanaka."
He couldn't hear her.
No voice could reach him now.
At the round table beneath the parasol, Cepheus clicked his tongue in irritation, snow collecting on his shoulders without melting.
"Odglass," he said coolly, standing partway from his chair, "you can't keep dragging him here every time he merely dies."
Odglass didn't turn away from Tanaka.
"This isn't the same," he said quietly. "Cepheus… I think it's something serious."
That alone was enough to give Cepheus pause.
He preferred to keep his distance from Tanaka, maintaining minimal contact and interference.
But even he found it strange.
It wasn't that he expected him to get used to death, but it was weird for him to break from just the recent loops.
With a heavy sigh, Cepheus rose fully from his chair and began walking toward them, boots crunching softly against the snow.
"I know Gusteko has been crawling with shamans lately," he said dismissively. "You're making a rather dramatic fuss over—"
He stopped.
Abruptly.
A few steps away from Tanaka, Cepheus froze, icy eyes widening as something invisible brushed against his senses.
"…That's impossible."
The snow around Tanaka twisted unnaturally, spiraling in slow, uneven patterns.
Cepheus inhaled sharply.
"Traces of a curse."
Odglass stiffened. "You're sure?"
"It's well hidden." Cepheus muttered, tension creeping into his voice.
He closed the remaining distance and crouched beside Tanaka, gripping his wrist, with his other hand, he tugged down Tanaka's sleeve.
Mana gathered at Cepheus's palm.
Purple lines bloomed across Tanaka's skin, faint at first—then branching, overlapping, weaving together like veins made of shadow.
Cepheus's jaw tightened.
"It's spread throughout his entire body," he said quietly. "The layers are thin, that's why it slipped past detection."
Odglass stared, breath catching.
"This is…"
Cepheus swallowed, forcing his voice steady.
"…The Phantom Curse."
The words fell like a death sentence.
Odglass's eyes widened. "That's— No. Could it be Pandora? But that's impossible. We inspected him multiple times after her last encounter. And you—"
"You and Reid wiped out the cult four centuries ago," Odglass continued, disbelief creeping in. "There shouldn't be anyone left."
Cepheus straightened slowly, eyes dark.
"There's no way it's Pandora," he said. "If it were, we'd know."
He clenched his hand.
"I personally killed every cultist I found."
A pause.
Then, colder—
"…Which means someone slipped through. That red haired idiot must have missed one."
Silence followed—thick, oppressive.
The bear-like spirit turned sharply toward him."That doesn't matter right now. The curse is active, isn't it?"
Cepheus didn't answer immediately.
His gaze returned to Tanaka, whose body was covered by purple veins.
The Phantom Curse was not a curse of the body.
It was a parasite of the mind.
Once planted, it gnawed at its host's psyche, feeding on emotion, twisting thought, eroding restraint, until reason collapsed entirely. Victims lose themselves before eventually dying.
The recorded fatality rate was a near-absolute guarantee.
Cepheus continued, voice measured but grim."It can't be stopped once it enters this phase."
Odglass clenched her fists."What happens to him?"
"It amplifies with every death," Cepheus said. "Each return worsens the contamination."
He gestured toward Tanaka.
"The first trigger was lust. His heart couldn't handle the overload and ended up bursting."
Cepheus's eyes narrowed.
"After the first death, that emotion was replaced by the fear of dying again. That fear multiplied itself severalfold."
Odglass swallowed.
"And now?"
"Now he's died again," Cepheus said flatly. "So that fear has compounded once more."
He exhaled slowly.
"If this cycle continues, he will lose his sanity. Or worse…"
A pause.
'…He may end up worshipping that lizard.'
Snow hissed softly as it struck the ground.
"The curse traces are scattered throughout his body," Cepheus went on. "They'll continue spreading until they reach his soul. Once that happens, there's no recovery."
Odglass's eyes widened."If his mana reserves weren't so low, this wouldn't have affected him so severely—"
She stopped.
"Cepheus," she said sharply. "What are you doing?"
Cepheus's arm—still gripping Tanaka's—began to glow.
White light bled from his skin, radiant and dense, swallowing the purple curse-lines where they touched him.
"There's no way to dissipate it in its current state," Cepheus said calmly. "But it can be transferred."
Odglass's breath hitched.
The Curse was designed to erode the soul itself. Once active, it could not be destroyed—only redirected.
And because Cepheus's soul resided within Tanaka's body…
There was only one possible target that he could switch to.
"No," Odglass said, panic breaking through her composure."Wait—Cepheus! Stop it! You won't come out of this unscathed in your condition!"
Cepheus didn't look at her.
"It's fine," he replied. "I can keep it in check."
The Curse fed on emotion—amplified it endlessly, without limit.
Fear multiplied into madness. Desire into obsession. Despair into worship.
But—
Ten multiplied by zero was still zero.A billion multiplied by zero remained nothing.
Cepheus had long since hollowed himself out.
He felt no fear. No desire. No despair.
Only purpose.
The light surged—tenfold, then more—flooding the Castle of Solitude until snow, sky, and shadows were swallowed whole.
*********************************************************************************************************
Warm light filled the room.
A low table sat at its center, round and cluttered with notebooks, loose papers, and half-open books.
Two high school students sat across from each other.
Tanaka leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, eyes focused as he tapped a pen against a notebook."Well," he said, thoughtful, "given how little time we have, I think following our seniors' example is the safest route. In recent years they've published an anthology. It worked for them—I think it'll work for us too."
Hana tilted her head, considering."Hmm… that does make sense. So what do you suggest exactly?"
"We keep it simple," Tanaka replied. "There are four of us. Each person writes one piece for a different section. We contact the other two, make sure they're on board, then decide on a shared theme."
"That's good enough," Hana nodded, impressed. "In that case, can't I just add you to the group chat?"
Tanaka's pen stopped mid-tap.
"Don't," he said immediately.
Hana blinked."…Why?"
"I don't want to give my number."
She stared at him.
Then why did you give me yours?The thought surfaced instantly—but she swallowed it, biting back the words.
Before she could press further, a small tug at Tanaka's sleeve interrupted them.
"Oni-chan," a soft, cheerful voice chimed, "are you done? I can help if you want!"
Tanaka's expression softened at once. He lifted the little girl effortlessly into his arms, smiling in a way Hana had never seen before."Thank you, Mio, but it's okay. We just finished."
"Yay!"
Mio kicked her legs happily."One-chan, it's time! We're going to play!"
Tanaka glanced at Hana."That should be enough work for today. Let's take a break."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The door slid open.
"Excuse me," Benson said calmly. "I've brought dessert."
He stepped inside, a tray balanced neatly in his hands. Hana accepted a small dish with a grateful smile.
"Oh! Thank you so much."
"Thank you, Benson!" Tanaka and Mio said in perfect unison.
Hana laughed softly, then turned toward the girl beside her."By the way, Mio-chan—how old are you?"
"I'm eight!"
"So… third grade?"
Mio shook her head."Mm—no. I don't go to school."
"Huh?"
"She's homeschooled," Tanaka explained. "By Benson."
Hana frowned slightly."Isn't that… kind of a waste?"
It was the age where friendships were formed without effort.
Tanaka didn't look offended."It was the same for me," he said simply. "This year was the first time I ever attended school."
Hana's eyes widened."And you passed the entrance exam with a perfect score!? That's amazing! That means Benson-san is incredible too!"
Benson waved a hand modestly."No, no. It's simply that both the young master and young miss are exceptionally gifted."
Mio puffed her cheeks."Enough with boring talk! Oni-chan—play already! And sing!"
Tanaka chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck."…Alright, alright."
He picked up the bass, settling it comfortably against himself. His fingers tested the strings—soft, confident, practiced.
Then....
He began to play.
A gentle rhythm filled the room, light but warm, steady like a heartbeat. When he sang, his voice was calm and clear, carrying a quiet joy.
Mio swayed happily, humming along, eyes shining.
Hana froze.
"…Ah…"
Her breath caught as the sound reached her.
And for a moment...
Her heart skipped a beat.
*********************************************************************************************************
"…For how long do you plan on staying asleep?"
The voice struck like a sudden pull.
Tanaka felt weight vanish beneath him.
The sky flipped.
And then he was falling.
Wind tore past his ears as he dropped a few meters through open air, slamming into a grassy hillside dusted with a thin layer of snow. The cold seeped instantly through his clothes as he rolled once and came to a stop.
"Gh—!" He groaned, sucking in a sharp breath.
Above him, clouds churned lazily over endless green hills, white frost clinging to the blades of grass. Snow fell lightly—soft, almost gentle.
A familiar silhouette drifted closer.
"Give him a break…" the floating polar bear muttered.
"No," came the immediate reply.
Tanaka pushed himself up on one elbow, blinking."What the hell happened to me?"
He recognized it now.
The Castle of Solitude.
"…That's right," he muttered, memories crashing in all at once. "The church. Melty-San. Nora…"
His chest tightened.
Fear, raw and humiliating, rose up from his gut as the images replayed without mercy.
He remembered begging.Running.The smell of blood.
The bodies.
And—
His hands.
His own hands tightening around Nora's blood, stopping it.
Tanaka clutched his forehead, fingers digging into his hair."…Why did I do that?"
His voice cracked—not loud, but broken.
Odglass floated closer, his tone gentler than usual."Don't be so hard on yourself. You were under the influence of a curse."
"A curse?" Tanaka snapped up, disbelief flashing across his face. "When the hell was I cursed?"
"It's almost impossible to notice without a proper inspection," Odglass replied quietly.
Cepheus spoke next, his voice flat, precise.
"It's called the Phantom Curse."
Tanaka stiffened.
"The classical application involves burying it deep within the target's body," Cepheus continued, "then allowing it to manifest and multiply through emotional triggers. In your case, the first emotion it exploited was lust."
"…Lust?" Tanaka echoed, stunned.
"You were fairly resistant," Cepheus went on. "But in the end, It raised your heart rate endlessly until rupture."
The strange heat. The dreams. The way his body had felt wrong.
"I see…" he whispered.
"In rare cases," Cepheus continued, "the curse can replace its initial trigger—but only with something far more intense. After your first death, lust was eclipsed by fear. Pain. Anger."
"That's why you lost control," Cepheus said calmly. "Those emotions continued to amplify over time. And because the curse was placed before your loop point—death would not reset it."
A cold realization sank into Tanaka's bones.
"So… I was going to lose my mind."
"Yes."
And then—
Something clicked.
"Wait," Tanaka said sharply. "If the curse stays active even after death—then why am I okay now?"
He looked between them, breath shallow.
"I thought once a curse starts… there's no stopping it."
Odglass hesitated.
"…That's true."
Tanaka's heart skipped again—but this time, in dread.
"That's why," Odglass said quietly, "Cepheus transferred the curse to himself."
"…Huh?"
Tanaka stared at him.
For a long moment, he couldn't decide what he was feeling.
Hatred came first. He despised Cepheus. That much hadn't changed. He had sworn that the next time they met, he would let everything loose, hold nothing back.
And yet...
The reality standing in front of him was painfully inconvenient.
Cepheus had saved him.
Not in some abstract way. Not indirectly. But in the most absolute sense possible—Tanaka would have lost his mind, loop after loop, until nothing remained of him.
That truth sat like a thorn in his chest.
Tanaka exhaled slowly and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes drifting away."Well…" he muttered. "Shit."
He glanced back."…Are you okay?"
Cepheus didn't even blink.
"Shut up," he replied flatly. "As if I'd be troubled by something as lowly as a curse."
Tanaka winced internally.
…Yeah. I regret that already.
"Okay, my bad for showing concern," he shot back. "In any case, why help me if you're just going to be a bitch about it?"
Cepheus's icy gaze flicked toward him.
"Helping you was not my intention," he said. "If I had to keep watching you worship that lizard every day, I would have ended up begging for death."
Tanaka imagined it himself, broken and frantic, clinging to false faith over and over again.
A shiver ran down his spine.
"…Never mind," he muttered. "You're right. Thanks a lot."
He wasn't in the right headspace to argue.
His thoughts were still tangled, twisted by fear and guilt, by things he should have noticed but hadn't. The obvious flaws in his actions only became clear now—after everything had already burned down.
He clenched his fists.
The reason he had come to Kararagi in the first place was simple:To rid himself of the curse.To reclaim his identity.To reunite with everyone once more.
And yet, the moment he joined the church, all of that had slipped right out of his grasp.
"…In any case," Tanaka said, steadying his voice. "What exactly killed me at the end?"
The final loop replayed in his mind.
It wasn't the curse.
It wasn't Nora.
'Thank you for coming all the way here. You saved me the trouble.'
Someone else had slaughtered the church. Someone else had ended him.
Odglass spoke first."We don't know."
Tanaka frowned. "Huh? I thought you were observing me or something like that."
"The more accurate description," Odglass replied, "is that we can only observe what you are able to see with your own eyes."
Tanaka let out a dry laugh."So because I didn't see who attacked me, you didn't either, huh?"
He paused, then added, "Then what's the point of observing me at all?"
Cepheus answered without hesitation.
"To observe how the world changes," he said. "And to stop the disasters yet to come."
"…Ah."
That single word carried weight.
Tanaka pushed himself up from the ground, brushing snow from his clothes."Well, I should get going now. Thanks again—actually, never mind. 'Thank you' is a waste of breath."
Leaving the Castle of Solitude was as natural to him as breathing. Much like the Forbidden Library, it responded to his intent rather than conscious effort.
Space cracked open ahead of him, a thin fracture splitting the air itself.
Just before stepping through, Odglass spoke.
"What are you going to do now?"
Tanaka halted.
For a brief moment, the snow and sky reflected in his eyes. Then he turned his head slightly, voice calm—too calm.
"…Well," he said, "I think I have to join the church after all."
And with that...
He stepped through the crack.
___
____
_____
As Tanaka left the crack, the space started returning to it's original state and the snow stopped falling.
"To think we would find that curse here of all places." The floating white bear then turned her attention to the figure standing beside her, "Hey Cepheus, do you think it's related to that child's... Is something wrong?"
The figure with the white robe, was standing lost in thought, "Huh? No, I was just thinking about something."
There was a reason as to why Cepheus bothered to hunt down every cultist who was able to wield that curse.
The curse's fatality is an absolute certainty, but that wasn't the reason.
Because... There's one in a million...
One in a million chance a person survives.
And that precisely the worst case outcome.
The curse would then evolve and consequently becomes something else, giving birth to a disaster.
Cepheus muttered under his breath, "The witch's seed..."