A sharp knock cut through the darkness.
Toki's eyes snapped open.
For a brief, disoriented second, he didn't know where he was. The warmth of the bed, the quiet of the room, the faint scent of polished wood and old stone—then memory came crashing back like cold water.
The fog.
The invisible beasts.
Crimson eyes in the dark.
Another knock followed, firmer this time.
"Toki," Bernard's voice called from behind the door. Calm on the surface—but strained. "We're waiting for you in the dining hall. Breakfast is ready."
Toki exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, dull and gray, as if the sun itself hesitated to intrude.
"…Coming," he answered, his voice steady despite the dull ache lingering in his bones.
Footsteps retreated down the corridor.
Toki pushed himself upright, the sheets sliding off his body. His muscles protested faintly, more from memory than pain. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed—and froze.
No sharp agony.
No tearing sensation.
No wet warmth of reopened wounds.
Frowning, he reached down and carefully unwound the bandages wrapped around his thigh.
The cloth fell away.
Smooth skin stared back at him.
Not even a scar.
Toki's breath hitched.
"…What?"
He leaned closer, fingers hovering just above the place where flesh had been torn away only hours ago. The bite marks should have been deep. Ragged. Angry.
There was nothing.
He tore the rest of the bandages off—his calf, his ribs, his forearm. Each one revealed the same impossible truth.
Perfectly healed.
No discoloration.
No swelling.
No trace of damage.
Toki straightened slowly and turned toward the mirror mounted beside the wardrobe.
A familiar face stared back at him. Pale, perhaps a little tired around the eyes—but intact. Whole. Alive.
His fingers curled into fists.
"…So you really knew what you were doing," he murmured.
The image of the woman surfaced unbidden in his mind: crimson eyes glowing softly beneath a hood, hands steady as she pressed the salve into his wounds. He'd felt pain then—sharp, biting pain—but he hadn't imagined this.
Not this level of healing.
"That wasn't normal medicine," he whispered to his reflection.
He shook his head. Questions later.
Right now, he had a different problem.
Toki splashed cold water on his face, smoothed his hair, and adjusted his clothes carefully, making sure there was no hint—no stiffness, no limp—that might betray him. He practiced a neutral expression in the mirror, one he'd learned long ago.
Calm.
Polite.
Unreadable.
Then he left the room.
The dining hall of the Silas manor was bathed in warm light, long windows letting the pale morning spill across polished wood and white linen. The table was already set, breakfast laid out in quiet abundance.
Elizabeth sat at the head, hands folded neatly, posture impeccable as ever.
Bernard sat to her right, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Ozvold occupied the opposite side, leaning back slightly in his chair, expression calm—but his eyes were sharp, observant.
The moment Toki entered, all conversation ceased.
"…Good morning," Toki said, inclining his head respectfully.
Elizabeth looked up first.
"You're awake ," she said gently. "Did you sleep well?"
Toki met her gaze and smiled faintly.
"Like a stone," he replied smoothly. "Thank you again for your hospitality, Lady Elizabeth. I slept without turning once."
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then—
Bang.
Bernard's fist slammed into the table hard enough to rattle the plates.
"Miserable liar!"
The sound echoed through the hall.
Toki didn't flinch—but his eyes flicked toward Bernard.
Elizabeth rose halfway from her chair.
"Bernard," she snapped. "Lower your voice."
"No," Bernard growled, standing fully now. His eyes burned, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. "I will not stay quiet about this."
He took a step toward Toki.
"Do you think we're fools?" Bernard continued, voice shaking with barely restrained fury. "Do you think you can look me in the eyes—look Ozvold in the eyes—and lie to our faces like that?"
Toki opened his mouth, but Bernard cut him off.
"Last night," Bernard said, jabbing a finger at him, "we talked. You agreed to stay inside. You said we'd handle this together."
His voice cracked.
"Did that conversation mean nothing to you, Toki?"
The silence that followed was heavy.
Toki slowly exhaled.
"…How did you find out?" he asked quietly.
Ozvold shifted, finally speaking. His tone was controlled, but irritation crept into every word.
"Your people filed a report at dawn," he said. "A disturbance at the outskirts. A clear battle site."
He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.
"They mentioned shattered stone," Ozvold continued, eyes narrowing, "and a single footprint driven deep into the pavement. Compressed. Violent."
He looked Toki dead in the eye.
"We know you too well. There was no point pretending otherwise."
Toki closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them again, the mask was gone.
"…You're right," he said. "I lied."
Bernard scoffed, turning away.
"I'm sorry," Toki continued, voice steady but heavy. "I betrayed your trust."
Elizabeth's expression softened—but she remained silent, allowing him to continue.
"But I didn't go out there recklessly," Toki said. "And I didn't come back empty-handed."
That made Bernard pause.
Toki straightened.
"I'm almost certain the killer is a Star Collector," he said. "He operates with beasts under his control—at least eight of them. They can turn invisible, along with him."
Ozvold's fingers tightened slightly.
"Invisible?" Bernard muttered.
"Yes," Toki replied. "Complete concealment. Not just optical—spiritual as well. My senses barely caught them."
He clenched his jaw.
"I haven't identified their weakness yet," he admitted. "But now we know what we're dealing with. His range. His numbers. His tactics."
Silence returned.
Bernard slowly turned back.
His anger hadn't vanished—but it had cooled, tempered by reason.
"…You could have died," Bernard said quietly.
"I know."
Bernard stared at him for a long moment—then sighed heavily.
Before he could say more, Elizabeth spoke.
"There's something else," she said.
All eyes turned to her.
"We received a message from the King this morning," Elizabeth continued. "Toki—specifically you—have been summoned."
Toki stiffened.
"Summoned?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"We were told someone is waiting for you at the palace."
Bernard glanced at Toki.
"Seems you don't have the luxury of explanations right now," he said, his tone calmer—but firm.
Toki nodded once.
"I understand."
He didn't ask who was waiting.
He didn't ask why.
He knew better.
The carriage was prepared swiftly.
Two massive Umma birds—, Bernard's prized beasts—stood harnessed at the front, feathers shimmering faintly in the morning light. Servants moved with quiet efficiency, loading supplies and opening doors.
Elizabeth stood at the manor's steps, cloak drawn tightly around her shoulders.
"Be careful," she said as Bernard and Ozvold climbed aboard. Her gaze lingered on Toki. "All of you."
"We will," Bernard replied.
The carriage lurched forward.
Elizabeth raised her hand in farewell as the manor slowly disappeared behind them.
The road to the palace stretched long and quiet.
No one spoke.
The rhythmic beat of the Umma's legs filled the silence, wind rushing past the open sides of the carriage.
Toki stared at his hands.
Uninjured.
Unmarked.
Guilt sat heavy in his chest.
I promised them.
And still I went alone.
He clenched his fingers slowly.
I have to make this right.
The carriage slowed to a halt with a soft creak of wood and leather.
Ozvold was the first to step down, boots crunching against fresh snow. He reached up and offered a hand to Bernard, then turned toward Toki, giving him a brief nod.
"We're here."
Toki followed, the cold air biting at his lungs the moment he stepped outside. The royal palace loomed before them—vast stone walls rising like a frozen mountain, banners hanging heavy under the weight of winter. Snow clung to every ledge and spire, turning the fortress into something both majestic and unforgiving.
The palace courtyard was alive.
Steel rang against steel.
Dozens of knights trained across the wide expanse, their breaths visible in the cold air, boots digging into the snow as they ran drills, sparred, and practiced formations. Commands echoed sharply, cutting through the morning like blades.
Toki's eyes swept over them instinctively.
Then—
"Captain Toki!"
A group broke formation and hurried toward him, faces bright despite the cold. His men—mud-stained boots, flushed cheeks, eager eyes.
"It's good to see you!" one of them said, barely restraining his excitement.
"We've finished the warm-up session," another added quickly. "Now that you're here, the real training can finally begin!"
Toki stopped.
For a moment, he simply looked at them.
These weren't just soldiers. They were young—too young compared to him. Some had scars already. Others wore exhaustion like armor. And yet, when they looked at him, there was trust. Pride. Expectation.
Something tightened in his chest.
He smiled—softly, warmly, like a father indulging his children.
"I'm sorry, boys," Toki said. "Today, you'll have to train without me."
Their smiles faltered.
"I've been called in for a report," he continued gently. "Duty doesn't wait."
Disappointment flickered openly across their faces, but none of them complained. One of them straightened, saluting sharply.
"Understood, Captain."
"Good luck," another added. "We'll push ourselves twice as hard."
Toki nodded.
"I know you will."
They dispersed reluctantly, returning to their drills.
As he walked on, his gaze lingered.
Near the edge of the yard, Kandaki moved with grim focus, sword flashing as he repeated the same sequence of strikes over and over. Each cut was precise, controlled—exactly as Toki had taught him.
Further away, the steady rhythm of pounding footsteps echoed faintly.
Tora.
Running laps around the courtyard walls, breath even, posture disciplined. Too disciplined for her age.
Toki's smile faded.
…Kandaki is still clinging to that training routine.
And Tora—she's pushing herself again.
A quiet sadness crept into him.
I almost forgot she wants to enter the Snow Festival race.
The thought struck deeper than he expected.
What kind of mentor forgets something like that?
His hands clenched slowly at his sides.
I've been so consumed by my own battles… my own failures… that I neglected them. Neglected my command. Neglected the people who trust me most.
A bitter thought followed, uninvited.
They'd probably do better without me.
The corners of his lips twitched upward into a hollow, practiced smile.
The massive doors of the throne room opened before them.
Warmth washed over Toki as they stepped inside, torches flickering along the high stone walls.
At the far end of the hall sat King Mathias, resting upon his throne with the calm authority of a man born to rule.
Beside him stood Smith, arms crossed, gaze sharp and calculating.
"Toki," the king said, smiling as they approached. "I'm glad you could arrive so quickly."
Toki dropped to one knee, Bernard and Ozvold following suit.
"Your Majesty," Toki said. "I apologize for the trouble caused by my actions last night."
Mathias raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Toki lifted his head.
"I conducted an unsanctioned investigation," he admitted. "And while I gathered valuable information, my recklessness could have endangered others. For that, I take full responsibility."
Smith studied him closely.
"And what did you find?" the king asked.
Toki explained—briefly, efficiently. The invisible beasts. The Star Collector. The overwhelming disadvantage.
When he finished, the room was quiet.
Smith exhaled slowly.
"We already know you went out," he said.
Toki stiffened.
"You… do?"
Smith nodded once.
"She told us."
Toki blinked.
"…She?"
The throne room doors opened again.
Footsteps echoed across the stone.
Lorelay entered first, her presence cold and composed as ever. But she wasn't alone.
Beside her walked a woman draped in a black robe.
The fabric clung to her form like living shadow. Her hood was drawn low, concealing her face—yet Toki felt it instantly.
That pressure.
That gaze.
His breath caught.
The woman stopped a few steps forward, then slowly reached up and pulled back her hood.
Black hair spilled free like ink, framing a pale face carved with sharp elegance. And then—
Crimson eyes locked onto his.
Unblinking.
Unmistakable.
"Aaah…" she said softly, lips curving into an amused smile. "The fast boy."
The room seemed to tilt.
Toki stared.
"…You."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him like a curious predator.
"I knew we'd meet again," she continued lightly. "Though I didn't expect it to be this soon."
Smith cleared his throat.
"Toki," he said, "allow me to introduce her properly."
The woman stepped forward, placing a hand over her chest in a mock bow.
"My name is Lilith," she said. "A nun of the Church of the Goddess Moonlight."
A pause.
"…Division of Assassins."
The title hung heavy in the air.
Toki's jaw tightened.
Lilith's smile widened just a fraction.
"For the time being," she added, eyes never leaving his, "I'll be supervising you."
Silence fell.
Toki finally spoke.
"…So you were watching me."
"Of course," Lilith replied. "I would've stepped in sooner if you'd actually been dying."
He grimaced.
"That was your definition of not dying?"
She shrugged lightly.
"You survived."
Lorelay folded her arms.
"She intervened without orders," Lorelay said coolly. "Which is why she's here."
Lilith chuckled.
"And yet, here I am."
King Mathias leaned forward slightly.
"Toki," the king said, "this situation has escalated. A Star Collector operating freely inside our capital is unacceptable."
His gaze hardened.
"Lilith will ensure you don't repeat last night's… improvisation."
Lilith leaned closer to Toki, her voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear.
"Try not to disappoint me, alright?"
A shiver ran down his spine.