Brynja, Noen, and Thornec stood silently in the room.
All three stared at the masked man.
The man on the chair lowered his gaze, lifted it again, let it wander nervously through the room — as if trying to read their reactions. His breathing was shallow, uneven. The silence felt heavier than any shouting.
Then Thornec moved.
Slowly, he extended his arm.
Straight toward the masked man.
"W-What are you doing?!"
The masked man flinched, slammed his back against the chair and slid a little backward. The chair scraped softly across the floor.
"What are you doing, Thornec?" Brynja asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Thornec didn't answer.
His hand remained outstretched.
The masked man began to sob, his body shaking — but instead of a strike, instead of pain, Thornec only reached for the mask.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He lifted the white mask.
And underneath—
a young man.
Dark, unkempt hair.A narrow face. Slim shoulders. A body that barely looked trained.
At most eighteen years old.
His eyes were wide with fear.
The boy gasped for air and hurriedly tried to hide his face behind his hand — but it was too late.
All three had seen him.
His real form.
He kept his hand in front of his face for a while longer, as if he could undo the truth that way.
Then he heard Noen's voice.
"You don't need to be afraid."
Noen knelt down in front of him.
Slowly.
At eye level.
"You are now under the personal protection of the Black Synod!"
His voice sounded firm.
Proud.
Even though he himself was not an official member.
The no-longer-masked boy slowly lifted his gaze.
First to Noen.
Then to Brynja.
Then to Thornec.
All three stood there.
Arms crossed.
With proud smiles.
And for the first time,
in a very long time,
he wasn't shaking quite as much anymore.
Noen straightened up again.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
His gaze remained calm, open — nothing threatening in it.
"So," he asked gently, almost carefully: "Who are the Masked… and what is your motive?"
The young man hesitated.
You could see it: the inner struggle, the weighing of whether he really wanted to take this step. His fingers briefly clawed into the fabric of his clothes, then released again.
He took a deep breath.
Once.
Twice.
Then he spoke.
"The name of our group…"
He swallowed.
"…is Divine Compact."
"Divine Compact?" Brynja murmured, frowning.
"I think the President once mentioned something like that…"
The young man nodded faintly and continued.
"Our people…"
He paused, as if saying it alone was difficult.
"…work with the Minigods."
The air in the room changed instantly.
Noen unconsciously held his breath. Brynja tensed her shoulders. Thornec's face hardened.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then the boy continued, quieter but determined:
"We hope to gain wealth from it."
A short pause.
"Honor."
Another.
"And… above all, power."
Noen blinked.
The words took a moment to truly sink in.
Then he took a half step forward, pulled out of his shock, still visibly shaken.
"You work with the Minigods?" he asked.
"How is that even supposed to work?"
"Minigods can't even communicate with huma—"
"Not in the classical sense."
The boy interrupted him calmly.
Noen fell silent.
"But," the boy continued,
"there is a method."
He briefly lowered his gaze.
"A very elaborate… but effective method to communicate with them."
Noen grabbed the young man by the shoulders and shook him back and forth in the chair.
Not brutal. But insistent.
"How does it work?!"
The boy gasped, raised his hands defensively, his whole body shaking with the motion.
"I-I-I-I don't know myself!" he stammered, desperately shaking his head. "I—I really don't know!"
Noen let go of him.
The chair rocked for a moment, then slowly came to rest.
A heavy breath.
Then—
"B-but…" the boy said hastily."I know who does!"
All three of them looked at him immediately.
"Jorik," he said. "One of the other two masked colleagues…" He swallowed. "One of the guys you left lying in the snow a few days ago."
Noen froze.
"…oh."
His gaze slowly drifted to the side.
Thornec. Brynja.
Both were looking at him.
Not angry. Not yelling.
Just… incredibly annoyed.
Noen rubbed his face with one hand.
"I should've taken them all with me, somehow, I'm such an idiot," he muttered, taking the blame.
Thornec let out an audible breath.
"How can we find him?" he asked, his voice tense but controlled.
The young man lifted his head.
"You, Noen. "He pointed straight at him. "You still know where you knocked them out last time."
Noen blinked.
"Maybe…"The boy hesitated briefly."…they're still there."
Noen's eyes widened.
A spark ignited.
"All right!" he said immediately, full of drive. He straightened up. "But I'm not going on foot again."
Brynja nodded briefly.
"I'll order us a cart."
The young man looked back and forth between them.
"Okay…" His voice was quiet. Heavy.
"Hopefully they're still there."