Elias was the one who spoke first.
"There is a café in town," he said, his voice even, calm, polite to the point of distance, as if a blade was not hovering near his throat a moment ago, as if the man in front of him was not Noah Fallow, the immortal exorcist whose name alone carried quiet terror within the Association. "If you want to talk, we can do it there."
Noah blinked.
Just once.
Then he smiled.
It was not a sharp smile, nor a cruel one. It was warm, refined, gentle, the kind of smile that made people instinctively relax their shoulders and lower their guard.
He withdrew the sword with an elegant flick of his wrist, as though the threat had never existed in the first place, and inclined his head slightly.
"A café sounds lovely," Noah said. "Lead the way."
Inside, Elias was screaming.
This was a terrible idea. An awful idea. Every survival instinct he had, both from this life and the last, was howling at him to run, to hide, to lie down and pretend to be a corpse if necessary.
Noah Fallow did not follow people to cafés. Noah Fallow observed disasters from a distance, like a man watching ants drown in a glass of water, curious to see how long they would last.
Yet his face did not move.
His body did not tremble.
He turned, adjusted the umbrella in his hand, and walked toward town with an unhurried pace, as though inviting an immortal monster to afternoon tea was a perfectly normal thing to do.
They walked side by side.
The town was small, quiet, the kind of place that slowed time without asking permission. People glanced up as they passed, eyes lingering on Noah more than Elias, because Noah was… noticeable.
Tall, well dressed, with soft hair and an elegant posture that made him look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine rather than in a battlefield soaked with blood and curses.
Some people whispered.
Some smiled.
Noah smiled back.
He greeted them kindly, nodded to the shopkeeper, helped an elderly woman cross the street with the same hand that had held a blade moments earlier. Elias watched it all from the corner of his vision, his thoughts spiraling inward like a dog chasing its own tail.
Fake.
Everything about him is fake.
And yet… he is real enough to kill me without blinking.
They entered the café.
It was warm inside, smelling faintly of roasted beans and sugar. A bell chimed above the door. The owner glanced up, startled for half a second by Noah's presence, then smiled instinctively and gestured them toward an empty table near the window.
They sat.
Noah crossed his legs neatly and scanned the menu with interest. Elias stared at the wooden tabletop, its surface worn smooth by years of use, grounding himself in something solid.
"I'll have milk tea," Noah said pleasantly. "Less sugar."
"And you?" the waitress asked.
"Black tea," Elias replied.
When they were alone again, the silence stretched.
Noah was the first to break it.
"So," he said lightly, "Elias Evan. No… Elias Graves."
He reached into his coat.
Elias felt something cold settle in his stomach.
Noah pulled out a thin folder and placed it gently on the table, as if it were nothing more than a receipt. He opened it with practiced ease, flipping through pages filled with text, photographs, records stamped with the Association's seal.
"The eldest son of Duke Evan, estranged, politically inconvenient, emotionally distant," Noah read softly. "Disappeared from public record. Declared dead in all but name."
His finger slid down the page.
"Reappears as Elias Graves. Funeral director. Rural area. No prior combat record. No official affiliation."
He looked up, eyes smiling.
Noah said. "I admire it."
Elias lifted his gaze.
His expression was flat, unreadable, his eyes dull like still water. If there was fear, anger, or panic inside him, none of it reached his face.
"That name no longer belongs to me," Elias said calmly. "Elias Evan is dead."
Noah's smile widened.
"Ah," he murmured. "Clean severance. Very neat."
The drinks arrived. Noah thanked the waitress with a gentle nod. Elias wrapped his fingers around the warm cup of tea, the heat seeping into his palms.
They spoke quietly after that.
Noah asked questions.
Elias answered them.
Not fully. Not dishonestly. Just enough.
Yes, he could see spirits.
No, he had no interest in the Association.
Each answer slid out smoothly, without hesitation, without defensive tone. Elias did not argue. He did not explain more than necessary.
Noah watched him like a cat watching a fish in a bowl.
At some point, Noah's gaze drifted to the umbrella resting against Elias's chair.
"May I?" Noah asked lightly.
Inside, Elias froze.
Outside, he nodded.
"If you wish."
He did not know why he agreed. Perhaps because refusal would draw more attention. Perhaps because Noah was strong enough that resistance would be meaningless. Perhaps because, deep down, Elias wanted to know what Noah would see.
Noah picked up the umbrella.
For a brief moment, the air around them seemed to tighten.
Noah's fingers tightened slightly around the handle.
Then he let go.
He laughed softly, a low chuckle that carried genuine amusement, and set the umbrella back carefully, almost respectfully.
"How interesting," Noah said.
He leaned back, spreading his arms along the back of the chair with easy elegance, like a man making an offer he already knew the answer to.
"Elias Graves," Noah said, "would you like to join Squad Six?"
Elias did not blink.
"No."
The refusal was immediate, calm, absolute.
Noah tilted his head. "You didn't even consider it."
"I did," Elias replied. "And I refuse."
Noah smiled.
He stood.
The movement was smooth, graceful, almost lazy. Elias watched him rise, every instinct inside screaming again, louder this time.
Then Noah reached out.
Cold metal snapped around Elias's wrist.
Click.
Elias looked down.
Handcuffs.
Association issued.
Noah's voice remained gentle, almost apologetic.
"Elias Graves," he said softly, "you are under arrest for possession of a forbidden artifact, interference with Association operations, and suspected heresy."
Elias stared at the cuff.
Once.
Twice.
Inside, something cracked.
Not fear. Not anger.
Exhaustion.
Twice.
Ever since transmigrating into this world, he had been arrested twice.
He let out a slow breath.
Of course.
Noah leaned closer, his smile warm, eyes bright with interest.
"Shall we go?" he asked politely.
Elias did not resist.
His face did not change.
And somewhere deep inside, he thought tiredly.
I really should have stayed dead.
*****
The interrogation room smelled faintly of metal and incense.
It was clean, too clean, the kind of sterile space designed to make people uncomfortable by reminding them that everything here was controlled.
Elias sat with his hands cuffed in front of him, posture straight, back resting lightly against the chair. The cold iron bit into his wrists, grounding him in a way that was both unpleasant and reassuring.
At least this was real.
The door opened.
Celestia Athlwein walked in first.
She looked tired. Her crimson eyes locked onto Elias immediately.
Her brows twitched.
"…You," she said flatly.
Behind her, Cain Ardent entered more quietly.
He paused the moment he saw Elias.
Then he adjusted his glasses, staring for a second too long, confusion written plainly across his face.
"You're… the funeral director," Cain said slowly.
"Yes," Elias replied.
Cain looked past him, toward Noah Fallow, who entered last with his usual unhurried steps, hands tucked casually into his coat pockets as though this were a social visit rather than a high-level interrogation.
Cain frowned. "Why is he in handcuffs?"
Noah smiled gently. "Precaution."
Celestia spun on him. "You arrested him without consulting ISD."
"And I brought him here without killing him," Noah replied mildly. "We're both full of surprises today."
Celestia ground her teeth.
Elias watched the exchange in silence, his expression unchanged. Inside, his thoughts were looping in tight, frantic circles.
This is bad.This is very bad.Why is Noah personally involved. Why is Cain here. Why is this room—
The door behind them slid open again.
And Elias felt it immediately.
The air shifted.
The walls here were different. Not plain metal, but faintly translucent crystal reinforced with runic patterns etched so fine they were almost invisible.
Elias recognized it.
His stomach sank.
This wasn't a normal interrogation room.
This was an assessment chamber.
A hunter assessment chamber.
"…This room," Celestia muttered, finally noticing. She turned sharply toward Noah. "Why are we here?"
Cain's confusion deepened. "This is a Rank Selection Room. It's used for C-rank evaluations and above."
Elias lowered his gaze slightly.
He knew this room.
He had read about it. In detail. The novels loved scenes like this—dramatic awakenings, explosive revelations, protagonists confronting their trauma and emerging stronger, brighter, chosen.
He swallowed.
I am not a protagonist.
The umbrella was gone.
At some point between the café and now, it had dissolved back into the black tattoo coiling quietly around his arm, dormant and obedient. Elias felt its presence like a sleeping beast beneath his skin.
Noah clapped his hands softly.
"Excellent," he said, pleased. "Everything is ready."
Celestia stared at him. "Noah. Explain. Now."
Noah turned to her, his expression patient, indulgent. "You want answers about Jackal, don't you?"
Celestia's jaw tightened. "I want to know what he did last night."
Her eyes snapped back to Elias.
"You disappeared. A cult hideout collapsed. A sealed dark entity was neutralized. And somehow," she continued sharply, "a D-rank civilian with no combat record was at the center of it."
Elias met her gaze calmly.
"I buried bodies," he said. "That is my job."
Celestia's eye twitched.
Cain cleared his throat awkwardly and moved toward the control panel at the side of the room. "I'll… start setting up the instruments."
As he worked, glowing lines lit up along the walls, forming a complex formation that hummed faintly with spiritual energy. Elias felt a subtle pull in his chest, like something reaching out to brush against his soul.
Noah walked closer to Elias.
Up close, his presence was overwhelming in a way that was difficult to define. Not pressure. Not hostility. Just… density. Like standing near a deep, still ocean that could swallow you whole without ever stirring.
"This is a simple test," Noah said softly, as if explaining to a child. "An illusion-based soul resonance examination."
Elias exhaled quietly.
Good.
Illusion.
Not extraction. Not memory probing. Not truth-binding.
Good.
"It reflects the subconscious," Noah continued. "Your fears. Your instincts. Your inner world. Hunters use it to evaluate compatibility, stability, and potential."
Celestia crossed her arms. "He's D-rank. This is unnecessary."
Noah smiled at her. "Is it?"
Elias closed his eyes for half a second.
He had read about this test.
Those who faced it saw what terrified them most. Some screamed. Some broke down. Some lashed out violently. Others froze, trapped in their own minds.
At worst, they revealed obsession, hatred, ambition.
Cain finished calibrating the device and glanced back. "Everything's ready."
Noah nodded. "Good."
Celestia looked between them, unease creeping into her expression. "Noah. If this goes wrong"
"It won't," Noah replied gently.
He turned to Elias.
"Relax," he said softly. "This won't hurt."
The restraints on his wrists clicked open.
The room dimmed.
The formation activated.
And Elias thought,
At least it won't show that I don't belong in this world.
The light swallowed him.