76. Beep
"!?" I almost screamed as a ghostly figure slipped out from the wall of my room.
Slowly, from head to toe, a young lady materialized. She had a pale complexion, blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes that framed her delicate features. Draped in a regal black gothic dress and crowned with a soft hat, she looked less like a spirit and more like a living porcelain doll. What made her terrifying was not a grotesque face, but rather the flawless, doll-like beauty—utterly devoid of emotion.
'Emlyn would probably scream with joy if he saw her.' The stray thought flickered across my mind before vanishing.
I stared at the wall in disbelief. A ghost had just appeared in my room—suddenly, without warning. My detection hadn't picked up a thing. Normally, it functioned like a synthesis of all my senses, so in theory I should have sensed her presence. Yet because I habitually filtered out irrelevant information—the background hums, faint shifts, and other trivial details—her faint, almost imperceptible existence had been discarded as well.
There was no time to lament my mistake. Forcing my mind into calm, I wove threads together, and in an instant a staff materialized in my right hand. The room was spacious enough for me to swing the weapon freely.
My left hand still felt oddly foreign—its power had been almost useless for the past month—but I was gradually adapting.
As usual, my stigma ignited: pure white flames flared to life, burning brilliantly as they curved and condensed into the form of a scythe blade. I couldn't help but notice it seemed a little duller than usual, but it wasn't enough to cause concern.
If this had been anywhere else, I might have already beaten the hell out of that ghost. But in this world, such mysticism was almost considered ordinary. Still, I refused to lower my guard and kept my eyes fixed on her.
The young lady ghost, however, appeared just as startled. She froze mid-step, hesitation flickering across her face. Perhaps it was because she saw me standing ready, as though I had been waiting for her all along. Or maybe it was because she overheard what I said to Uriel. Possibly both. That was the impression I gathered from the faint shift in her expression—though whether it was true or not, I couldn't be certain.
"So, how can I help you, miss? Isn't it a bit inappropriate to visit at this hour?" I asked, feigning composure.
This house was filled with my weaknesses—every corner a reminder of my vulnerability. At that moment, I began to understand why Klein had chosen to abandon his name.
"The gem you seek—I know its source," she replied calmly. Her voice was soft, ethereal, carrying the weightless cadence of a fairy whispering in a dream.
"I see." I began to understand why she had come here, and for now, it didn't seem like she intended to fight me.
"How do you know this place?" I asked.
The information about me and Xio should have already circulated through the black market by now—but knowing my exact residence was far too much. Had I slipped up and leaked something? If so, then I had just made a grave mistake.
Is this what they called if you played with fire you're gonna get burned?
"I followed you," she said—short and concise.
"Hah…" I sighed, dragging a hand down my face in exasperation. With so many people in Backlund using detection, overreliance on it was as good as frying my brain. Even so, I had still used it, just to make sure we weren't being tailed. Yet it seemed I had grown too confident in my own abilities.
"Then what is it you want from me?"
"Exchange," she replied. "Assist us, and we'll see to it that the gems are removed."
"Alright. What kind of assistance do you need?" I answered without hesitation, agreeing immediately.
I could have tried to bluff, acting tough and questioning how she knew my intentions—maybe even playing the game of push and pull in negotiation. But if she could slip in here easily, she must have already scouted my surroundings. Unless she and her group were complete fools—which I doubted—then she had likely noticed the similar gem in Mother's gallery as well.
And it seemed I had made the right choice. She didn't answer immediately—just for a moment, but I caught it: the faintest shift in her expression. A small tell, enough to suggest she was at least a little startled by my response.
Or so I thought…
"Okay," she replied at last, before turning and leaving the room.
….
…
..
.
I tried to activate my detection, but… even after imprinting her presence into my subconscious, I couldn't find her. She had truly left.
…
Yeah, I must be dreaming, I told myself, turning over and sliding back into bed—ignoring the message window, as usual.
'The Demon-like Judge of Fire expressed that this was not a dream.'
The next day, I woke up with those memories still vivid in my mind.
'The Demon-like Judge of Fire says it all the time.'
"Sorry," I murmured, apologizing sincerely. "I was still out of it last night." I got up and went to refresh myself.
'The Demon-like Judge of Fire expressed her dissatisfaction and mentioned she had learned something about 'Zoa Ele.''
My hand froze midway. "Truly?!" I hadn't even begun the deep search, and she already had a hint?
"As expected of my angel," I muttered, a mix of admiration and disbelief in my voice.
….
It felt awkward.
"By the way, you can just talk to me directly now. I still feel the burden, but it's not much. Don't you have to pay to send a message?" I added.
Before, every time her true words entered my mind, I would go blank for a moment, crushed by the burden and pain. Now, it was more like a mild headache—uncomfortable, yes, but far from unbearable. During a long conversation, however, the cumulative strain could easily become overwhelming.
'The Demon-like Judge of Fire asked you to activate your stigma.'
Her request arrived, simple and direct. I had no reason to refuse. Feeling a bit childish, I quickly activated my stigma and let my instincts guide me.
From my right hand, small orbs of pure white fire appeared at the tip of each finger.
I might be able to seal a beast on someone's stomach with this, I thought, laughing to myself.
As usual, I wasn't entirely sure what they were—or what they could truly do—but the idea had simply popped into my mind.
"I still have to pay, even if it's not a beep message," her bubbly words echoed in my head.
"???" Something odd had just happened. "Pardon?"
"I still have to pay, but I pay less when you activate the stigma. The more you use it, the less I pay," she explained again.
So the more I borrowed her power, the stronger our connection became—and the less she had to expend to reach me. That was my understanding, but…
"What was that beep just now?" I asked.
"Beep?" Her voice sounded as confused as I felt.
"I'm sorry, but can you repeat exactly what you said before, word by word?" I pressed, trying to parse it carefully.
"I paid less—" Uriel began, responding to my request.
"The one before that," I interrupted, cutting her off. That wasn't the line I needed.
Uriel fell silent for a moment, recalling her words: "I still had to pay even if it's not a beep message." Then she repeated the same line.
"That's the one!" I exclaimed, excitement bubbling. "But… what message did you mean?"
"It's a beep message," Uriel replied, though her voice came out filtered, just like before. Seeing my reaction, she realized her words hadn't come through properly and tried to explain in another way—but all I heard was: "beep beep beep."
"I guess you really didn't want me to know that," I sighed, glaring at the message window—my strange, enigmatic system.
What are you trying to achieve? I thought, feeling another burden settle onto my shoulders. Yet, oddly, I also felt a flicker of satisfaction. I have made some progress in understanding my existence here. It was a tiny step—maybe 0.001%—but it was still progress. Not zero.
The boundary between existing and not existing was a huge leap. I knew, somewhere beneath it all, there was something being kept from me.
Uriel kept trying, but it didn't seem easy to find a loophole.
"It's okay, Ms. Uriel. Thank you, as always, for your help," I said. She didn't need to keep pushing—just knowing something was there was enough.
"By the way, have you discovered anything about 'Zoa Ele'?" I shifted my focus, seeking a way to further strengthen myself.
Knock… knock.
"Young master, may I come in?" A servant's voice intruded on our conversation, tinged with concern.
I hid a sigh. "Yes, please come in," I replied.
Click.
A young maid stepped into the room. "Is everything okay?" Tear asked, her posture was different than usual. Yet her eyes betrayed her composure, darting around the room as if searching for something.
"Everything's fine. But as I've told you before, I don't need help waking up," I replied, my tone carrying a hint of reprimand.
Tear glanced at my neatly made bed. "But… it's our job," she murmured softly. Then, gathering her resolve, she asked cautiously, "Is there someone else with you, young master?"
"No, just an imaginary angel," I replied, teasing her.
As expected, her dumbfounded reaction was amusing to watch. "Let's go have some breakfast," I said, heading toward the door.
"Ah!" Tear snapped out of her daze and hurried to follow. "It's okay, I'll make an appointment for you," she muttered, beginning to recount the information she had about mental health issues.
…
Maybe I shouldn't have done that.