Takehana Ito sat frozen on the edge of her bed, clutching her phone with both hands.
Her heart beating wildly.
"I know I wanted to get his number," she whispered to no one, cheeks burning, "but this is way too sudden…"
When she had asked for his number before, it was at school—Just so she could add him to the Literature Club's group chat.
She wasn't embarrassed back then because the context mattered.
But now?
He had not only given her his personal number…He was coming to pick her up.
Her phone chimed.
She nearly dropped it.
A message.Followed by a call.
She picked up immediately.
"Hello Hana, it's me."
"Yes!" she replied far too loudly.
There was a brief silence on the other end—she could feel his confusion.
"…Right," he continued awkwardly, "we're in front of your house to pick you up."
"Huh— I— okay! I'll be right there!"
Still flustered, she hurriedly snatched her bag and rushed out the door, barely remembering to lock it behind her.
Outside stood a sleek black vehicle—shiny, polished, unmistakably expensive.Benson stood beside the open passenger door in a perfect butler's posture.
"Good afternoon, Miss Ito," he greeted with a polite bow.
Before she could answer, a small head popped out of the rear window.
"Hello, Onee-Chan!"
Mio waved so enthusiastically Hana thought she might fall out of the window.
"Hey, careful!" Tanaka's voice chimed gently from inside, a hand immediately pulling the girl back.
…
A moment later, Hana found herself in the front seat beside Benson.
Why am I in the front seat? she wondered.
She turned her head just slightly.
Behind her, Tanaka sat with Mio perched on his lap.The little girl hummed, softly swinging her feet and leaning her back against her brother's chest.The scene was almost too adorable to look at straight on.
Then Hana noticed something.
A bandage wrapped Tanaka's left hand.
"What happened to your hand?" she asked.
Tanaka looked down as if he had forgotten it existed."Hm? Ah—this. I burned myself while cooking."
"Oni-chan," Mio chimed in worriedly, "will you still be able to play later?"
She meant the guitar.
"Yes," he said, giving her head a gentle pat. "I mostly use my right hand. Don't worry."
Benson exhaled dramatically from the driver's seat.
"I told you, Master Tanaka, to leave the cooking to me."
"Yes, yes," Tanaka replied, unimpressed. "I just felt like doing it."
Benson shifted his gaze toward Hana with a small apologetic smile."I'm sorry for making you sit in front. The young miss is quite energetic, so I thought you'd be more comfortable here."
"Oh—no, thank you…" she said, glancing again at the siblings.
'They're so close.' Is what she thought.
"I was surprised," Benson continued, "when I heard you were in the same club as Master Tanaka."
"Huh? Ah—yes," Hana replied. "He joined about a month ago."
Mio puffed her cheeks."Oni-chan never tells me these things!"
"It's boring stuff," Tanaka said.
"You always say that!" Mio huffed, then turned to Hana with bright curiosity."Ne, Hana Onee-chan, what do you do in that club?"
Hana stiffened.
Her heart throbbed again—partly because Mio called her by her name, partly because she couldn't possibly admit that they mostly used the club to slack off.
"…We read books," she answered in a defeated whisper.
Mio's response was immediate.
"Hmm. It does sound boring."
Hana shriveled inside.
The car rolled forward.
As they passed through a towering gate, Mio pressed her hands to the window.
"We're heeere!"
Hana followed her gaze—
—and gasped.
"Woah…"
It wasn't a house.
It was a mansion. The kind of place she had only ever seen in magazines or dramas.
*********************************************************************************************************
Elsewhere, far from the mansion—
Tanaka stood in a narrow, deserted alley behind the clustered shops of Banan, a place where even the wind felt reluctant to pass through. The walls were close, the shadows thick, and every distant sound seemed to scrape against his nerves.
His heart hadn't stopped pounding since morning.
Badum.
His chest tightened.
Badum Badum
He swallowed, throat dry.
"Okay," he muttered, scanning the empty air. "Come out."
Silence.
His fingers curled into fists.
"I know you're watching me," he snapped, voice cracking. "So come out already!"
A faint shift. A soft displacement of air.And then—like she had always been there—Nora stepped out from the shade of a hanging awning.
Expression unreadable. Poised. Calm.
Tanaka's stomach twisted.
"Why are you following me?" he demanded, voice sharper than intended.
"You're the one who called for me," Nora replied simply.
"I already told you everything I knew."
Badum
BADUM
His heartbeat hammered so violently it blurred the edges of his vision. The sound rattled through his skull, drowning out everything else.
"You are suspicious," Nora said, "and that is why I'm going to follow you."
Tanaka's breath stuttered.
"Are you going to kill me?"
BADUM BADUM BADUMBADUM
His pulse roared like a drum about to burst. His palms were sweating, every instinct screaming danger danger danger—
Nora tilted her head. "Is there a reason for me to kill you?"
"Don't screw with me!" Tanaka barked, voice cracking under the pressure. "I did nothing—absolutely nothing—so leave me alone!"
He blinked.
And she vanished.
Gone.Not even a footstep. Not even a breeze.
Tanaka staggered back, panic clawing at his throat.
"Nora!" he shouted, voice raw. "Don't screw with me!"
He spun around, searching the empty alley, his breathing ragged and shallow.
His heartbeat thundered painfully—like something alive, something trying to claw its way out of his chest.
"Stop screwing— stop screwing— stop screwing with me!" he yelled, pacing, losing control, every nerve stretched thin as wire.
Piece by piece.
He was unraveling.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Badum Badum Badum.
The sound wasn't just in his ears anymore. It throbbed behind his eyes, rattled his teeth, pulsed through his spine. His chest burned, breath coming in short, jagged gasps, sweat soaking into his clothes despite the cool air.
His vision blurred at the edges.
"Fucking show yourself!" he screamed, spinning in place, eyes darting wildly. Shadows seemed to move when he wasn't looking. Every footstep—his own—felt like someone else stalking him.
Badum Badum Badum
His hands shook harder. His stomach twisted, nausea creeping up his throat. It felt like withdrawal—like something vital was being ripped out of him, cell by cell.
He stumbled into an open plaza, wide and exposed, deliberately stepping into the light.
"Come out!" he shouted hoarsely.
Nothing.
No Response.No Nora.Only his heartbeat screaming in his skull.
Then—
A voice.
"You."
Tanaka flinched violently, breath hitching like he'd been struck.
That voice.
His eyes snapped up.
Standing a few paces away was a towering demi-human knight—black-and-white fur catching the light, muscular frame wrapped in polished armor. His feline eyes narrowed instantly.
Tristan Prim.
Badum.
No—no no no no—
His heart surged faster, panic slamming into him all at once.
Don't speak.Don't react.Don't speak.Don't react.
The words repeated in his mind like a broken chant, desperate, frantic.
Tristan's gaze locked onto the fox mask.
"The bar owner told me you were mute," he said slowly, suspicion bleeding into his tone. "So what exactly is going on here?"
Tanaka took a step back.
Then another.
And turned to run.
A strong hand clamped down on his wrist.
"Let me go!" Tanaka snapped, the words tearing out of him before he could stop them.
Tristan's ears twitched.
"I want to ask you some questions."
"Garitch already told you I have amnesia," Tanaka shot back, panic sharpening his voice. "Let me go!"
"You already lied about not being able to talk," Tristan replied coolly. "So how do I know that wasn't a lie too?"
"I'm not lying!"
"For starters," Tristan said, tightening his grip slightly, "take off that mask. I just want to talk."
The air shifted.
Subtle. Heavy.
Tanaka froze.
His breathing slowed—not because he calmed down, but because something colder slid into place.
He reached up, fingers brushing the edge of the fox mask—
Then his voice dropped.
Flat.
Low.
Razor-cold.
"Hands off."
The pressure in the air thickened, like the world itself was holding its breath.
"Huh…?" Tristan muttered.
"I said..." Tanaka snapped, power bleeding through his tone despite his trembling body, "hands off."
Tristan's muscles locked.
His body shuddered, an instinctive fear crawling up his spine. His grip loosened without him realizing it—and the moment it did, Tanaka tore free and bolted.
The echo of his footsteps vanished down the street.
Tristan stood there, frozen.
That presence.
That tone.
That feeling—
A chill ran down his spine.
That young man came as a refugee from Pristella, he said that he had Amnesia.
"…Gluttony," he whispered. "Someone who eats memories…"
His eyes widened slightly.
"That can't be right…"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What do I do? What do I do—what do I do—what do I do?
Tanaka ran blindly.
His lungs burned. His legs screamed. The world tilted violently beneath his feet—and then he stumbled, boots catching on uneven stone. His body pitched forward, vision spinning, and he hit the ground hard.
Before he could scramble away, a hand reached out.
Warm. Steady.
"Jay-Chan?"
He flinched.
Fingers closed gently around his wrist, helping him up.
"What's the matter?" a soft voice asked. "Is something wrong?"
He looked up.
Red hair spilled down her back like flowing crimson, glossy and vivid even under the muted light. She wore the white and red vestments of a nun, fabric clean and well-kept, her expression open with genuine concern.
Sonia.
She was new—recently joined the church. She came to the bar often, ordered simple meals, always smiling, always trying to befriend him.
She was kind.
So was Melty.So was Garitch.So was the church.
The realization struck him late—far too late.
His gaze dropped.
The notebook.
It wasn't in his hand.
His chest seized.
I dropped it.
Everything unraveled in that instant. The mute act. The lies. The fragile distance he'd built to survive.
There was no salvaging it anymore.
Tanaka exhaled sharply—and spoke.
"I need to speak with Sister Melty."
Sonia froze.
Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly.
"Jay-Chan…" she murmured. "Y-Your voice…"
"I know!" His words spilled out too fast, too rough. Panic bled through every syllable. "I know—just—please. I really need to see her."
The cat was out, the moment Tanaka spoke in front of Tristan, he was screwed.
If there was anyone who would help him, if there was any bit of hope left for him.
It will be the people in the church.
"…All right," Sonia said quietly. "Come with me."
___
____
_____
Badum.
Badum.
Badum.
His heart refused to slow.
Every step down the corridor echoed too loudly in his ears. The stone floor felt uneven beneath his feet, as if the world itself were tilting, conspiring to throw him off balance. His pulse throbbed in his throat, in his temples, so violent it hurt.
Badum. Badum. Badum.
The room Sonia led him into was small, calm, and faintly warm. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, painting soft colors across the walls.
Inside stood Melty.
Twin strands of pale blue hair framed her face, tied neatly behind her shoulders. A small ahoge bounced atop her head as she turned, amber eyes lighting up the moment she saw him.
"Hey, James," she said gently. "Sonia told me you wanted to speak with me. Is everything okay?"
Her voice was calm. Kind.
She tilted her head, then noticed something off.
"…Ah. You don't have your notebook," Melty said, already stepping past him. "Wait here, I'll go get you something to—"
Tanaka reached out and grabbed her sleeve.
His fingers were trembling.
Melty stopped, surprised, turning back toward him.
Badum Badum Badum
His chest felt too tight. His lungs refused to draw in enough air. The words piled up in his throat, choking him, burning him from the inside.
Sonia hadn't told her.
She didn't know.
If he hesitated now—if he stopped—
Everything would shatter.
"I—I'm sorry," he blurted out.
Melty froze.
Of course she would, this was a scenario she couldn't anticipate.
"I lied," he continued, the words spilling out broken and uneven. His voice cracked immediately. "I'm sorry—I lied about not being able to speak."
Badum Badum Badum.
His hands flew up, gripping the fox mask as if it were the only thing holding him together.
"I think—" His breath hitched. "I think someone is trying to kill me."
The room blurred.
"Please," he begged, bowing his head sharply. "Please let me stay here."
His voice shook harder with every sentence.
"I know I'm suspicious. I know I lied. I know I'm an outsider, and a burden and... and... and I know how bad this looks—"
Tears spilled out beneath the mask, soaking into the cloth.
"But I didn't do anything," he said, voice breaking completely. "I swear I didn't. I don't want to hurt anyone. I never hurt anyone."
His shoulders shook.
"I'm just scared," he whispered. "I didn't do anything to them, but they're after me, and I don't know why, and I— I—"
His words collapsed into sobs.
The heartbeat thundered on.
Badum Badum Badum.
Then—
Warm hands gently held his wrists.
"James."
Melty's voice cut through the noise—not loud, not sharp, but steady.
"Please," she said softly. "Raise your head."
He hesitated, then slowly looked up.
She met him at eye level. Her expression hadn't changed.
"You don't have to explain everything," Melty said, her voice calm and unwavering.
She smiled faintly—not the kind meant to cheer, but the kind meant to reassure.
"I believe you."
Lifting his face loosely, Tanaka looks at her with stunned eyes.
No matter how many times he tried, no matter how many times he tried again, it only got worse.
"You are not a burden. You are not unwelcome."
Unbearable pent-up emotions exploded, and they were spat out on the tongue.
His breath stuttered.
"As long as you are here," she said firmly, "no one is going to hurt you."
The words sank deep.
The pounding in his chest didn't stop—but for the first time, it didn't feel like it was tearing him apart.
He finally felt safe enough to fall apart.
*********************************************************************************************************
The office was quiet in the way only important rooms ever were.
Behind a broad desk sat Riften Magoji, posture straight, hands folded within the sleeves of a finely woven kimono whose fabric caught the light with muted elegance. His mustache was perfectly trimmed, his thick eyebrows unmoving, giving his face a perpetually unreadable expression.
Nora stood before him, arms at her sides, back straight.
Riften broke the silence.
"So…" he said slowly, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "What do you think, Nora-chan?"
She answered without hesitation at first.
"As you predicted, Riften-Sama," Nora said. "He is still suspicious. He lied about being mute."
A pause.
"But…" she continued, her voice lowering, "something about him doesn't sit right with me."
Riften's fingers tapped once against the desk.
"Off?" he asked. "How exactly."
Nora hesitated—just for a heartbeat.
"Last night, he was calm," she said carefully. "He was alert but still composed. This morning… it was different."
Her eyes narrowed as if replaying the scene in her head.
"He looked terrified."
Riften leaned back slightly.
"Couldn't that be an act too?" he said.
Nora replied. "It didn't feel like one."
Riften fell silent, thinking.
"…I would prefer," he said at last, "if he truly were on our side."
That, at least, was the truth.
When the man had first arrived from Pristella, he had been barely more than another refugee—face wrapped in bandages, body marked with injuries.
Later, the bandages were replaced by a festival fox mask. He claimed amnesia. He claimed muteness.
One of those claims had already proven false.
Still, Riften had agreed with Garitch to let the man stay, if only to keep him close and watched.
Despite his suspicious behavior, especially his request to see Halibel, he had been undeniably helpful. His abilities of using healing magic had saved lives.
But these were not times that allowed for trust.
The Kingdom of Lugunica had lost its royal family, one by one, starting with Zabinel Lugunica, until the bloodline was erased entirely. The nation had been thrown into chaos, forced into a royal selection under the shadow of instability.
The Sacred Empire of Vollachia burned from within. A civil war had erupted weeks ago, and rumors whispered that the emperor himself had been overthrown.
And Gusteko…
Vague Adgard, the mad prince. A true descendant of the Gustekan royal blood. Fifteen, perhaps sixteen siblings slaughtered by his own hand. Branded a traitor by the Holy King and sealed away in the northernmost tower.
And above all...
Pristella.
The Witch Cult's attack had reduced much of the city to ruins, leaving scars that would not heal quickly.
Three nations teetered on the edge of disaster.
Only Kararagi remained untouched.
And with Halibel absent, the responsibility fell squarely on Riften's shoulders. As mayor of Banan, it was his duty to keep the city safe, to prepare for threats before they revealed themselves.
Riften exhaled softly, then looked back to Nora.
A faint smile crossed his lips, polite, controlled, and utterly noncommittal.
"For now," he said, "just keep an eye on him."
Nora inclined her head.
"Yes, Riften-Sama."
*********************************************************************************************************
By the time she returned to the pub, night had already settled over Banan.
Everything looked the same as always—
and yet, something was wrong.
She slowed when she heard voices from inside.
"What!?" Tristan's voice cut through the air, sharp with disbelief. "He joined the church!?"
Nora's eyes narrowed slightly.
"A sister from the church came by earlier," Garitch continued. "Said he decided to quit working here and stay with them instead. Just like that. What the hell happened to him so suddenly?"
"Did she or he say why?"
"I don't know," Garitch replied, frustration clear in his voice. "I tried to see him, but I couldn't. By the time it got this late, I was told to leave. I'll have to wait until tomorrow."
There was a brief pause.
"…This is troublesome," Tristan added quietly. "I wanted to confirm something earlier."
Ever since the fall of the royal family, tensions between the church and the royal castle had been steadily worsening.
Nora's fingers curled beneath her sleeves.
She stepped forward, letting her presence be known.
"Garitch-San," she said calmly, "I'm going to sleep now. Good night."
Garitch glanced her way, momentarily startled. "Huh? Ah—yeah. Good night, Nora-chan."
Tristan gave her a brief nod, his expression still troubled.
Nora offered nothing more. She turned and walked away, her steps unhurried.
Once inside her room, she closed the door softly behind her. The noise of the pub faded, replaced by stillness. She reached for her cloak, pulling the hood over her head, shadowing her face.
A moment later, the window slid open without a sound.
Nora slipped through it like a ghost, landing lightly on the rooftop outside. Without looking back, she vanished into the night, moving swiftly toward the church.
*********************************************************************************************************
The room was small. Clean. Quiet.
Tanaka sat on the edge of the bed, draped in the pale robes of the church, hands resting limply on his knees.
"…To think that I joined a church."
The words slipped out without weight, like he didn't quite believe he was the one saying them.
If someone had told him this a few days ago—no, even yesterday—he would've laughed. Mocked the idea.
It wasn't that he looked down on religions. On the contrary, he acknowledged the fact that people could find peace thanks to them.
It's just that he never imagined he would become a part of one that worships a dragon.
And yet.
It's quiet here.
That thought came unbidden, clinging to his chest.
His heart—finally—wasn't trying to tear its way out of his ribs. The pounding had dulled to a distant throb, like an echo of something already finished.
Maybe… maybe the Divine Dragon isn't so bad.
The thought startled him.
Since when do I think like that?
But the warmth lingered anyway. Safety. Walls thick enough to keep the world out. People who looked at him without suspicion, without knives hidden behind their eyes.
I can breathe here.
That was enough.
The candle flickered.
The air shifted.
His spine went rigid.
Someone was in the room.
He turned—
"What are you doing here?!"
Nora stood near the wall, half in shadow, her presence wrong in a place like this.
"That's what I should be asking," she replied evenly. "What the hell happened to you? You join the Divine Dragon Church out of nowhere, Garitch is worried sick—"
"Don't move."
Tanaka stumbled backward, steps clumsy, heel hitting the door behind him.
His pulse spiked instantly.
BadumBadumBadum
She followed me. Of course she did. Of course.
"Hey—hey," Nora said quickly, raising her hands. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."
Liar.
"You're lying," he spat. "You're here to kill me."
"What? No—!"
The room felt too small. The walls too close. His breath came shallow, sharp.
This is it. This is how it happens. Again.
"I won't let you," he whispered.
The air thickened.
Nora gasped.
Her body jerked violently as invisible force seized her from the inside. Blood twisted beneath her skin, veins bulging, writhing like snakes trapped under glass.
"You—wait—!"
He didn't wait.
He didn't think.
He tore.
Blood bending surged through him, raw and uncontrolled, ripping her balance away. Nora slammed into the wall, coughing, choking, giving him the opening he didn't even realize he was looking for.
He bolted.
Down the corridor.
"Help!" he screamed. "Someone—help me!"
His footsteps echoed—
Then stopped.
The hallway ahead was… wrong.
The smell hit first.
Coppery and thick.
"What the hell is this..."
Bodies lay strewn across the floor.
Limbs twisted at angles that shouldn't exist. Blood smeared the walls in long, desperate arcs. Claw marks gouged into stone. Melty laid face-down, spine bent backward, neck torn open like something had fed.
Tanaka's stomach lurched.
No—no—no—
Nora caught up behind him and froze, her eyes widened in horror.
"…What in the world happened here?"
Her voice trembled.
Tanaka spun on her, eyes wild.
"Did you do this?!"
"What? No!" she snapped. "Of course I didn't!"
"You're lying!"
His vision blurred. Tears spilled without him noticing.
Everyone is lying. Everyone lies.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he sobbed, voice cracking, "but after this—after this—I can't forgive you! I can't forgive you!"
Nora's eyes widened.
"You, listen to me—!"
He clenched his fist.
Her scream ripped through the hall as her blood halted inside her veins.
Her skin darkened, blood vessels bursting one by one, crimson seeping from her eyes, nose, mouth. She clawed at her throat, gasping, choking on her own life.
"Stop—please—!"
He couldn't hear her anymore.
All he could hear was his heart.
Badum.Badum.Badum.
Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.
Her body went limp.
She collapsed in a wet heap at his feet.
Silence.
Then—
Pain.
Something punched through his back.
A sharp, burning impact.
His body seized.
A red dart jutted from his chest, piercing straight through him.
He couldn't breathe.
Couldn't scream.
An alluring, amused voice drifted through the carnage.
"Oh? How fascinating."
His vision shook.
"All the enchantments I so carefully layered inside your body…" the voice purred, circling him unseen. "It's all gone..."
The dart moved.
It expanded.
Red spikes erupted outward from inside him, tearing through muscle, organs, bone—bursting from his chest, shoulders, neck.
Agony consumed everything.
"And instead," the voice continued softly, almost kindly, "fear, anger, despair… overflowing."
It hurts—
It hurts—
It hurts—
"Thank you for coming all this way," the voice said. "You saved me the trouble."
His legs gave out.
The world tilted.
Darkness flooded in—
—and Tanaka's life was claimed.
*********************************************************************************************************
He awoke screaming.
Cold air tore into his lungs as he sucked in a breath he hadn't earned.
Rolling green hills spread in every direction, peaceful to the point of mockery—yet even as he stared, thick clouds crawled in, swallowing the color. Snow began to fall, slow and heavy, blanketing the hills in white.
"…No. No—no—no—!"
He was killed by someone else.
He collapsed to his knees, hands clawing at his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as if he could tear the memory out by force.
"I didn't mean to—! I didn't—! I didn't—!"
He killed a little girl who did nothing to him.
His voice cracked, broke, dissolved into raw sobbing. He screamed until his throat burned, until his chest ached, until his tears soaked the grass beneath him.
A massive shape drifted closer through the falling snow.
A polar bear, small, ghostlike, floating just above the ground. Its fur shimmered faintly, untouched by the snow piling around it.
"Tanaka," it called gently. "Hey. Tanaka."
No response.
He didn't see it.
Didn't hear it.
He was too busy shaking, rocking back and forth, nails digging into his own skin, breath hitching in broken gasps.
At the center of the hills stood a round table beneath a parasol dusted with snow.
A man sat there, white hair cascading down his shoulders, icy blue eyes half-lidded with irritation. Snow had settled on his robe, unmoving, as if the cold itself acknowledged him.
He sighed.
"Odglass," he said flatly, not looking away from the trembling boy in the distance. "You can't keep dragging him here every time he merely dies."
The floating bear—Odglass—finally turned.
"Cepheus," he replied, voice strained. "I know you haven't been watching closely."
Even after the first updated loop, something was deeply wrong.
He hesitated, glancing back at Tanaka—still crying, still unraveling.
"But this time… it's serious."
Odglass lowered his voice.
"I think it's a curse."