Noir's hand went unconsciously to his left wrist.
Bare.
The crimson fabric was gone. When had—? Had medical removed it during treatment? He couldn't remember. The absence felt wrong, like missing teeth he couldn't stop tonguing.
He said nothing. Not yet.
Soo Ah's attention wasn't drawn to the grim folder Shin Jin had left or the gaudy basket from Yuusha.
But Noir.
"That thing," she said quietly. "The one that came out of you when you died. It looked at me."
The room went still.
"Not like you look at me," she continued, her gaze unwavering. "Like I was… furniture. Something in its space." She paused, the memory clearly disturbing her. "Then it killed seven rippers in three seconds. A swift precise terrifying beast."
Piers shifted uncomfortably beside her.
"And then it looked at Piers," she went on, her brow tightening as if chasing a half-remembered detail. "For a second, I thought it… hesitated. Like it knew him from somewhere. Or recognized something."
Piers went very still.
"Maybe I'm imagining it," Soo Ah admitted, her voice sharpening with frustration. "Maybe my brain was just trying to make that… thing… make sense. But I know this much—it wasn't mindless. And it wasn't you."
She leaned forward, her humor gone, replaced by stark clarity.
"So before we dive into ancient history, answer this, Noir. When you become that thing again—and you will—will it recognize us? Or will we be obstacles to remove?"
Noir's throat tightened. He remembered the void, the cold certainty, the ancient presence that was both him and not him. He remembered the way it had assessed his friends not as friends, but as… variables. Problems to solve.
The promise had been the only thing stopping it.
"I don't know," he said, the admission tasting like ash.
Piers reached for the folder, his movements deliberate. "Then we find out. Starting with this."
...
Noir opened it.
The first page was a case file: "Crimson Seer of Heian-kyō (794 AD)." A seer who manifested crimson energy without spiritual training, described as "a void that became a sun."
Official cause of death: spiritual corrosion.
A marginal note in unfamiliar handwriting read: "Witnesses reported he spoke in 'tongues of buried kings' before his execution. Not corruption. Possession? Or memory?"
The word "memory" was underlined three times.
Piers's voice was quiet. "If it's memory, then the power isn't new to you. It's… recalled."
Noir stared at the faded ink. Someone, centuries ago, had wondered the same thing he was wondering now.
And that person had been executed for it.
The next page was colder, more clinical: "Anomalous Crystallization – Incident Site #227." The Cathedral's underground chamber. Graphs showed energy signatures that matched "no known paradigm of virtue or sin."
The conclusion, stamped in red: "Localized reality corruption. Containment insufficient. Recommend subject isolation."
"Site 227…" Noir whispered. "That's the training chamber. Where I… lost control."
Noir's throat tightened. They were studying him like a phenomenon. A natural disaster in waiting.
...
The third sheet was a redacted personnel file labeled SUBJECT: "CUSTODIAN."
Black ink bars obscured most of it, but fragments remained visible:
• ... subject discovered under ripper attack
• ...carried Anchoring Artifact A-77 (red gem, spiritual attractor) for 6+ years
• ...Subject claims connection to "silver-haired man" during Devil's Cradle
• ...subject claims memory gaps regarding artifact acquisition
•... Confectionary item mentioned: "misty candy" (no sample recovered)
•... Spiritual suppression suspected based on subject's atypical development
•... Theory: External agent administered long-term cognitive/spiritual dampening
DISPOSITION:
• Artifact confiscated upon intake (Subject unconscious)
• Currently integrated into Primary Barrier Array
• Subject cleared for training with ongoing observation
...
Noir's blood went cold.
Soo Ah's face went pale, then flushed with guilt and anger. "My intake report," she said quietly.
"I documented everything—the ruby, what you told me about the silver-haired man. Standard procedure."
Her voice cracked. "I thought I was helping."
"He read it before you woke up," Piers said. "Took the ruby while you were unconscious. Then sent you on a mission designed to trigger the very thing he'd been studying."
Soo Ah's hands clenched. "I handed him everything."
"You saved my life," Noir said quietly.
"And delivered you into his hands.My thoroughness. My by-the-book reporting. It all became a weapon he used against you."
...
Noir turned the page.
The fourth sheet was a passage from an ancient text, photocopied from something that looked like it was crumbling apart:
"When a soul carries its own past across death's river,
three bindings preserve the journey:
An ANCHOR to tie spirit to flesh,
A SUPPRESSOR to veil ancient eyes,
A TRIGGER to lift the veil.
The sleeper does not host the dream.
The sleeper IS the dream, forgotten.
And when the dream remembers itself,
the world shall tremble or rejoice,
depending on what was buried."
Noir read it twice.
Anchor. The ruby. Taken by Yuusha.
Suppressor. The candy. Given by the mysterious silver haired man.
Trigger. Death itself.
"It's not possession," Piers said, voice strained with a tension that felt deeply personal. "It's... reincarnation."
His hands were shaking slightly as he traced the text.
"You're not being invaded by something foreign, Noir. You're remembering who you were before."
"Someone old," Noir said. "Someone who killed seven rippers in three seconds and looked at you like problems to eliminate."
Piers stared at his own palms as if they belonged to somebody else. "If you're a recycled soul, what does that make us? First drafts?"
Soo Ah smacked his arm. "Spiral later."
She turned to Noir. "So you're some ancient badass's reboot. Fine. But the guy who bled out next to me—who tried to live—he's still sitting here. That's the Noir I'm betting on."
Despite everything, Noir almost smiled.
Almost.
Soo Ah's expression hardened. "Still, it's hard to believe he used my report. It was filed to protect you."
Bitter anger threaded through her words.
"In the cathedral that day—when you went after him—I stood between you and Yuusha because I thought I was saving you from getting yourself executed. Attacking the Head Priest in his own sanctuary? That's not vengeance, Noir. That's suicide."
She shook her head slowly. "But he wasn't trying to mentor you or discipline you. He was studying you. Testing how far you'd go. Measuring your reactions."
Her voice hardened.
"My protection was based on a lie—that he cared whether you lived or died as anything other than data. Now I know better."
She met Noir's eyes directly.
"I protect my squad from real threats. Even if that threat wears white robes and runs this entire place."
Noir turned the final page. A map fell out.
One room circled in red: Restricted Archives – Section 7B.
A note at the bottom:
"What Yuusha learned, he learned here.
What he hides, he hides here.
Find it before he knows you're looking.
The truth about Crimson Seers—all of them—is in this room.
But so are the reasons they were all executed or disappeared.
Be careful.
- S.J."
Soo Ah picked up the tea-stained tickets. "He gave us a mystery...and a deadline."
Piers closed the folder, his movements slow and deliberate. "We go to the movies this evening. We pretend, for a few hours, that we're normal. That this…"
He gestured to the folder, the basket, the weight hanging in the room like a physical presence.
"...isn't waiting for us."
"And then?" Noir asked.
Piers met his eyes, and there was something fierce and desperate in his gaze. "Then we break into the most guarded room in the Order and steal your past back."
"Before Yuusha can use it against you," Soo Ah added. "Again."
A pause.
Then Soo Ah grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes. The expression was sharp, almost feral. "Sneaking, lying, stealing from authority figures. Finally, a mission that uses my real skill set."
Noir looked at his friends—the strategist hiding his own impossible secret, the survivor who'd stared into End's eyes and now chose treason to protect him, and himself, the dream of something ancient trying desperately to stay human.
They were all liars. All broken. All clinging to each other in the dark.
And somehow, that made them stronger.
He picked up the tickets, feeling their weight. "One normal night first."
"One normal night," Piers echoed.
"Then we commit crimes," Soo Ah said cheerfully.
But as they rose to leave, Noir's hand went to his wrist again.
Still bare.
The crimson fabric—his mother's gift, his tether to being Noir—was gone.
And he still hadn't told them.
Part of him wanted to. Wanted to say "The one thing that kept me human is missing and I don't know where it is or when it disappeared."
But the words stuck in his throat.
Because if the fabric was gone, if his anchor and his suppressor were both stripped away…
What was keeping End buried?
He said nothing. Just curled his empty fingers into a fist and followed his friends out the door, the ghost of the fabric clinging to his skin like a premonition.
Behind them, the basket sat on the table—a bribe they hadn't accepted.
And beside it, the folder—a weapon they'd just armed themselves with.
The pieces were in motion.
And Yuusha, somewhere in his pristine office, was watching the board.
Waiting to see what move they'd make next.