The afternoon sun cast a golden veil over the wide, open field, its light soft and dignified. The sky stretched endlessly above, unmarred by trees or buildings, save for a single structure that stood in solemn solitude.
A manor, stately and composed, rose from the heart of the field—its stone walls a pale gray touched with age, ivy curling gracefully along the columns and window frames. The architecture was refined rather than grandiose, with tall arched windows and narrow balconies that whispered of quiet prestige rather than loud opulence. It had the kind of presence that didn't beg to be noticed—it simply existed, unshaken, like something that had been there long before and would remain long after.
Behind it, framed by trimmed hedges and an open courtyard of smooth stone and packed earth, a young woman stood with poised stillness in the backyard.
She moved with quiet certainty—short, dark brown hair gently tousled by the breeze, green eyes narrowed in calm focus. Her attire was the garb of an adventurer, but carefully crafted—her coat a deep green, etched with intricate silver threading that hinted at old runes or forgotten paths. Pouches lined her belt with meticulous balance, and her black gloves bore scuffs from disciplined use. Every detail was functional, but carried a quiet artistry.
In her gloved hands, an elegant bow shimmered to life in a whisper of cold air—formed not of wood or metal, but crystalline ice. Its limbs curved like frost-laced antlers, patterned with delicate filigree that glowed faintly blue beneath the afternoon sun. An arrow followed, summoned from her will—translucent, needle-sharp, its shaft spiraling with etched markings like frozen script.
This was Tania Reinstorm, holder of [Frost Arrow], a D Ranker.
The ice creaked softly in her grasp as she pulled back the string. For a moment, the world fell still.
Then she released.
The arrow flew swift and silent, slicing the air with perfect grace.
A clean thunk echoed across the yard as it struck the bullseye—dead center.
A light round of applause followed the arrow's impact—measured claps from three guards posted along the stone edge of the yard. Their armor bore the manor's crest, but their postures were relaxed, the gesture one of genuine praise rather than duty.
The young archer let out a soft sigh.
"There is no need to applaud every time I strike the mark," she said, her voice calm, clear, and edged with faint reproof. "It is expected."
The guards exchanged glances and nodded, their hands falling back to their sides. They remained still, returning to silent observation.
She turned away from them and faced the row of wooden targets once more. One of them remained untouched, its center unmarred by frost or force. Her gaze lingered on it.
'Why does it feel hollow today?'
Another sigh, not from fatigue, but from something quieter. A hesitation that had no name.
She raised her hand. Ice bloomed once more, obedient and precise, as an arrow spiraled into shape between her fingers. With practiced elegance, she drew and loosed.
Thunk.
Dead center.
Another burst of clapping broke the stillness—sharp, sudden.
Her brow furrowed, and she turned sharply, more surprised than angry—though the spark of irritation was unmistakable in her eyes.
"I thought I said—"
But it wasn't a guard.
The backyard door had opened without her noticing. A figure now stood just beyond its frame.
A young woman—slightly older, with long dark brown hair that flowed over her shoulders in refined waves. Her eyes were the same shade of green but carried the composure of someone who had lived just enough longer to see further. She, too, wore green—though hers was a dress of noble cut, layered with silken folds and stitched with intricate patterns that mirrored the younger woman's attire. Black gloves covered her hands, completing the symmetry.
Her older sister had arrived. Named Lania Reinstorm, and holder of [Frost Wave], an A Ranker.
Lania stepped further into the backyard, her hands clasped lightly behind her back, a familiar gleam in her eyes.
"My, my," she said, her voice warm and lilting, "such precision, such grace—and yet you scold them for clapping? If it were me, I'd have demanded a standing ovation after every shot."
Tania exhaled quietly through her nose. "You do not shoot things to begin with."
Lania gave a soft laugh. "That's entirely beside the point."
Tania turned back toward her, her expression neutral but her eyes faintly narrowing. "What brought you here today, sister?"
"Is it so strange for me to visit my darling little sister?" Lania said, clasping her hands over her chest in mock offense. "Must I file a request just to admire your training from the shadows?"
Tania's shoulders stiffened slightly. 'There it is again... that tone of hers.'
She looked away with a faint sigh, masking the faint pink rising in her cheeks.
"Fine," she said with composed resignation. "If you insist on intruding, I shall entertain you."
She turned slightly, casting her gaze toward one of the guards.
"You. Escort Lady Lania to the—"
"Oh, don't bother," Lania interrupted smoothly, already waving a hand. "I know the way. I probably know this manor better than you, little sister."
Tania didn't argue. There was no point when Lania had that particular glint in her eye.
"Very well," she said instead, tone even. "I shall be there in a few minutes. I will change first."
Lania smiled and gave a graceful nod. "I'll be waiting."
With that, Tania stepped toward the manor, her form composed and upright—but the slight quickness in her pace betrayed the faint heat still lingering on her face.
As Tania disappeared through the manor's rear entrance, Lania remained where she stood, her gaze drifting back to the targets.
The ice arrows still shimmered faintly under the sun's gentle gaze, their elegant forms slowly beginning to melt. Yet even as they softened, each one remained perfectly centered—unmoving, unwavering.
Lania gave a small, approving nod.
'Her aim has become remarkable.'
A breeze stirred the hem of her dress as she stood in the quiet yard, a rare stillness settling around her. Her thoughts wandered, unhurried.
'She used to follow me around… like a little shadow in green boots. Clinging to my arm whenever we left the house, asking me which ribbon to wear, which book to read, even how to hold a fork at formal dinners.'
Her smile softened at the memory. It was tinted with fondness, and something older.
Then her thoughts shifted—forward, to the Tania of now. Straight-backed and sharp-eyed, with her precise words and polished tone. A young lady who tried so very hard to present herself as mature.
'I like this version too. Because now, I can tease her all day and never get tired of it.'
With a small, almost impish smile, Lania turned on her heel and made her way toward the manor, stepping with the unhurried grace of someone who had long known its halls. Her steps were light, practiced—she knew exactly where the tea room was, after all.
And she intended to be there when her sister arrived.
...
Tania walked through the quiet corridors of the manor, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone floors. The halls were as she had left them—immaculate, orderly, silent.
Yet her thoughts were not.
'Of all times, she chooses today to appear.'
Her brow creased faintly. The sudden arrival had unsettled her routine more than she cared to admit.
'I was perfectly content...'
But even as she told herself that, a pause lingered at the edge of the thought. Her gaze lowered slightly as she passed a window, the light filtering through its panes catching the faint glint of her gloves.
'No. That isn't entirely true.'
These past few days had been quiet—too quiet. With her usual training partners away and the manor's staff ever discreet, the silence had stretched a little longer than it should have. Her days had passed in rhythm: target after target, meal after meal, each moment measured and alone.
So perhaps… her sister's visit wasn't entirely unwelcome.
She reached her room—a tall door with a silver-inlaid handle—and opened it with a practiced turn. The interior greeted her with the familiar scent of old parchment, cold stone, and lavender. Neat shelves, a trimmed writing desk, and a standing mirror greeted her, all arranged with disciplined elegance.
She stepped inside.
'Just a change of clothes,' she told herself, 'then tea.'
And, she supposed, conversation.
With her sister.
...
The tea room lay at the eastern wing of the manor, bathed in soft light that poured through tall, arched windows draped in pale green curtains. White stone walls met polished green tile floors, and the furniture mirrored that same gentle harmony—white chairs with curved legs and cushioned seats encircling a small, delicately carved tea table. Everything within the space gave off a sense of quiet refinement, as though the room itself understood decorum.
Lania sat comfortably, her back straight, one hand resting lightly on the edge of her cup. A maid stood behind her, attentive yet invisible in presence—the mark of excellent training.
Before her, steam curled upward from the porcelain cup of green tea, its surface kissed with soft, creamy swirls that floated like delicate clouds. The aroma was gentle, sweet, and unmistakably rich.
She lifted it slightly, savoring the scent before taking a careful sip.
'Still perfect.'
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
Tania always made sure it was stocked—the finest blend from the White Clouds, rare and mildly expensive. It wasn't even her own favorite, Lania knew. Tania was never much of a tea enthusiast.
And yet, without fail, it was always here.
Just for her.
Lania smiled faintly behind the rim of her cup, her expression touched with quiet affection.
'She never forgets…'
Tania's meticulous nature extended far beyond her training. It was in the way she always ensured this tea—the exact blend Lania loved—was waiting whenever she visited. It was in how she arranged for golden deer to be served whenever Zaros, their older brother, came home, knowing his tastes as sharply as her own limits.
'She remembers the little things. Even when she pretends not to care.'
Lania exhaled softly, placing the cup down with care, letting her thoughts drift. She traced the aroma back in her mind to its origin—the source of the leaves that swirled in that perfect cup.
The White Clouds.
One of the Thirteen Territories of the Story World. A land high above others, known for its floating gardens, its rare produce… and its terrifying ruler.
The Grey Rose Organization held dominion over it, but above them all stood one man.
Duke Ren.
[Grey Rose].
A Z Ranker. Not just any Z Ranker, but one of the very few who sat at the summit of the Story World's power. Even their father, formidable as he was, couldn't rival him.
Only the Emperor—the [Last Emperor]—stood at the same height. The Pioneer of Fantasy himself. The silent ruler whom all others respected as the best Story Owner in terms of the Fantasy Genre.
Lania's fingers brushed the porcelain again.
'To think… this tea came from a land ruled by such a man.'
She smiled again, but this time it held a note of irony.
'And yet here I am, enjoying it in peace. Because my little sister remembered I liked it.'
The soft sound of footsteps reached Lania first, measured and graceful. The door to the tea room opened with a gentle click, and Tania stepped inside.
She now wore a dress much like her sister's—green, elegantly stitched with intricate patterns of silver thread that shimmered faintly beneath the filtered light. A small black hat, modest yet fashionable, sat at an angle atop her short dark brown hair, completing the appearance of a young noblewoman with impeccable poise.
Lania's eyes widened ever so slightly, a smile already forming as she leaned slightly forward in her seat.
"Well, well. Look at you," she said, her voice laced with playful approval. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to outshine me today."
Tania paused mid-step.
A faint flush crept across her cheeks almost instantly, and she turned her head just slightly—too sharp to be casual.
"I-I simply thought it appropriate attire," she replied, her voice precise but not nearly as steady as it could have been. "This is a formal space, after all."
Her gaze never quite met Lania's as she crossed the room, posture perfect but clearly trying to will her blush into submission.
'Why must she always start with that tone…?'
She sat down opposite her sister, smoothing her skirt with deliberate care. Her composure returned—mostly—as the maid moved with silent efficiency, placing a delicate porcelain cup before her.
Steam rose gently from the freshly poured tea.
Tania lifted it with practiced grace, though her fingers lingered just a moment longer on the handle than usual.
Lania watched her with quiet amusement.
Then, she let out a soft sigh, her eyes drifting toward the window where the sunlight had begun to take on a golden hue. The expression on her face, for once, was not playful.
"I've been tired these last few days," she admitted, her voice calm, lacking her usual teasing cadence.
Tania, who had just taken a sip of tea, lowered her cup with elegant precision. Her features shifted—no longer flustered, but composed once more. That poised, noble calm returned to her gaze.
"Is that so?" she asked, tone quiet but attentive. "Why is that?"
Lania leaned back in her chair slightly, exhaling again, though now with a hint of satisfaction.
"I just finished challenging a Fragment. An S Ranked one." She smiled faintly. "It was called [In the Court of Hollow Veils]."
Tania blinked once, her brow lifting in mild surprise.
"I've never heard of it. But…" Her eyes narrowed just slightly, thoughtful. "It does sound… intriguing."
Lania nodded, the smile returning to her lips—along with a familiar glint in her eye.
"Oh, you'd have adored it. The whole thing was about uncovering logical loopholes in a trial. A murder mystery mixed with courtroom theater. I had to defend a wrongly accused man while discrediting forged evidence, peeling back the lies one layer at a time."
"That does sound rather cool," Tania admitted softly.
Lania leaned forward, resting an elbow against the table and cupping her cheek with one gloved hand.
"Of course it sounds cool to you," she said, tone sly. "All serious and elegant—such a Tania kind of Fragment. I could practically see you adjusting your little hat mid-objection."
Tania flushed again—but only slightly. This time, she held her posture, brushing the remark off with a sigh.
"I simply find structure and clarity... satisfying," she replied, voice firm yet composed. "That is not something to be mocked."
Lania grinned. "I wasn't mocking. I was admiring. Truly."
Tania chose not to dignify that with a response.
Instead, she asked, "Who was the Reciter?"
Lania's gaze shifted slightly, thoughtful. "A middle-aged woman. Wears a long coat and carries around an old pocket watch. She calls herself the [Ancient Detective]."
Tania's eyes widened a fraction.
"She's an X Ranker, isn't she?"
Lania nodded. "Mhm. And what's more surprising is that it was her—not a Replica. She recited the Fragment herself."
"That's rare," Tania murmured. "For someone at her level…"
"I thought so too," Lania agreed. "But maybe she really loves that Fragment—or maybe…" She paused, a touch of mischief returning to her expression. "She heard that I was going to challenge it. The daughter of the [Duke of Ice], after all."
Tania gave her a flat look across the rim of her cup.
"You give yourself too much credit," Tania said quietly, setting her teacup back onto its porcelain saucer with a soft clink.
Lania tilted her head, her smile unfading. "Do I?"
Her tone was light, but her eyes—sharp with a kind of practiced confidence—held the weight of lineage behind them.
"Well," she continued, lifting her own cup of green tea, "Father is a Z Ranker. One of the Thirteen Dukes sworn to the [Last Emperor] himself. A member of the Council of Eight. Wouldn't you say that earns me the right to a little credit?"
Tania stared at her in silence for a moment, her expression unreadable.
'She's not wrong. Even if she does say it like that.'
"…Fine," she said at last, her voice clipped but even. "I'll allow it."
Lania chuckled softly, clearly pleased.
"Oh? What a rare honor."
Tania didn't rise to the bait this time. She simply picked up her cup again and took another sip, gaze turned politely toward the window.
Lania let out a soft chuckle, swirling her tea once before setting the cup down. But then, her voice shifted—quieter, more grounded. It was a rare tone for her, especially when speaking to her little sister.
"…Is it true?" she asked. "You're really going to challenge the Final Express?"
Tania's green eyes met hers, calm and unwavering.
"Of course I am," she replied with firm clarity. "It took me months of convincing before Father finally agreed. He even gave me a D Ranked Ticket—fitting for my current rank. After putting so much into preparing, I couldn't possibly back down now."
'Not after all that studying. Not after the simulations. Not after the lectures, the strategies, the letters sent to older Rankers for guidance.'
Her gloved fingers rested lightly against the table.
"I've committed myself," she added quietly. "This path… is mine."
Lania nodded, her expression thoughtful, gaze warm with a tinge of respect.
"I understand."
She leaned back slightly in her chair, her long dark brown hair catching a glint of the sun.
"I've never considered riding the Final Express myself," she admitted. "Even though I technically still can—it's made to accommodate up to SSS Rankers, after all, and I'm only A…"
Her voice drifted slightly before returning.
"But… the idea of riding a train through countless Fragments never quite appealed to me. I enjoy choosing my Fragments. Setting the pace. I'm not built for long journeys—I like to know what battlefield I'm stepping into."
She smiled again, but this time without teasing.
"I admire your resolve, Tania."
Tania's cheeks colored faintly at the praise, but she lowered her gaze and offered a soft, "Thank you."
Lania didn't tease her. Not this time. Her eyes instead sharpened with quiet curiosity, turning the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"Do you know," she asked, voice smooth but serious, "who else will be participating in the [Ticket Hunting] event at the Town of No Return?"
Tania gave a small nod. "I've looked into it. A few confirmed D Rankers, yes. But I also did research on some of the more prominent E Rankers—those with a high chance of breaking through before the event begins."
Lania's brow lifted with pleasant surprise. "Oh? And who made your list?"
Tania didn't hesitate.
"One of them is Marcus. Owner of the [Calamity Flame] Story."
Lania leaned back slightly, nodding as recognition crossed her features.
"Marcus, hmm… yes, he's not just powerful—he comes from a very influential lineage. Even stronger than ours, truth be told."
Tania gave a slight nod, silently agreeing with her sister's assessment of Marcus, but chose not to elaborate further. Instead, she shifted the conversation to another figure on her radar.
"There's another... character," she began carefully, selecting her words with a hint of restrained amusement. "Known as the [Night Walker], real name Zanfuel."
Lania's eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued.
"Unlike his story name," Tania continued, voice low and measured, "he's widely regarded as—how shall I put this politely—an idiot. Yet, despite that, he's known to be exceptionally strong, particularly in shadow-like terrain."
She paused, taking a slow breath.
"He recently acquired a D Ranked Ticket. So it's very likely he'll attempt to break through before the [Ticket Hunting] event begins."
"He's also known to travel with two others," Tania added, her expression thoughtful. "Both are peak E Rankers."
She lifted her teacup, pausing only briefly before continuing, "One of them is named Verion. His story is called [Whispers Beneath the Blackthorn]."
Lania's brows lifted slightly at the poetic name, but she didn't interrupt.
"From what I last gathered," Tania said, placing her cup back down with careful grace, "he already holds a Ticket to the Final Express—though it's only E Rank."
A small sigh followed.
"Still, he seems rather determined to obtain a D Ranked one somehow. So I expect he'll have advanced by the time the event begins."
Tania's gaze lowered slightly in thought, her tone steady as she went on. "The third member of their little group is called Klein."
Lania tilted her head. "And what's his story?"
"[Blank Reader]," Tania answered. "He's the smart one among them. A planner, by all accounts. He doesn't have a ticket yet… but judging from the patterns in his movements and behavior, it seems he's aiming to secure one either shortly before the event—or during it."
She folded her gloved hands neatly in her lap, her expression calm but alert.
"I'll be keeping an eye on him. He doesn't look like much on the surface, but neither did many of the figures who later changed the rankings."
Lania leaned back in her chair, one finger tapping lightly against her teacup. "That's quite the trio you've been watching," she murmured. "Zanfuel, Verion, and Klein…"
"They're not to be underestimated," Tania said, her voice quiet but firm.
"No, they're not," Lania agreed, surprisingly earnest. "Zanfuel is reckless, but his instinct in combat is terrifying. Verion… sounds like the type to hide his fangs until it's far too late. And Klein—" she exhaled softly "—those types are always dangerous. Quiet minds that work ten steps ahead."
Tania gave a small nod, lips pressed in agreement. "I'll keep my distance when I can."
Lania smirked faintly. "Sensible, as always. Still, I never thought I'd hear my little sister talking about unpredictable boys with such focused concern."
Tania turned slightly red, eyes narrowing. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"I do," Lania said, sipping her tea with an elegant shrug. "But I never said I'd stop teasing you entirely."
Tania sighed in quiet defeat, brushing a hand over her dress to distract herself from the faint heat on her cheeks. Lania's soft chuckle followed, almost triumphant.
Then, after a sip of tea, Lania leaned in slightly. "So… is that all for the Peak E Rankers?"
Tania gave a single nod. "For the ones I've looked into, yes. Now for the D Rankers."
Lania perked up with interest, eyes bright.
Tania continued, her tone cool and composed again. "There's someone called Rodes. Newly advanced to D Rank. His personality is… difficult. Arrogant, to say the least. But in terms of raw power—he's a beast of nature. He already owns a D Ranked Ticket."
She paused briefly, then added, "His story name is actually just… [Rodes]."
Lania blinked once before bursting into a light laugh, one hand over her lips. "Truly? That's it?"
Tania gave a soft exhale, almost a sigh. "I'm not joking."
Lania smiled wide. "How terribly humble of him."
Tania gently placed her teacup down, the fine porcelain clicking softly against the saucer.
"There's also the [Red Tower]," she said, voice steady. "A strong D Ranker. He failed to get a ticket in last year's [Ticket Hunting] Event. From what I gathered, he was… not pleased. He's most likely going to try again this year. Word is, he plans to steal one—just like last time."
Lania raised an eyebrow, then gave a light snort. "And just like last time, he might lose again. Poor tower, still crumbling at the base."
Tania shook her head slowly. "He's reckless, yes. But persistent. I wouldn't underestimate him this time."
She reached for her tea, letting the rising steam fog the bottom of her lashes for a moment before continuing, "There are a few other names, of course… but none that truly stand out to me. At least, not yet. Those are the only ones that made my list so far."
Lania tapped a finger against her cheek. "Hm… fair enough."
"There are still two months left before the event," Tania added. "Things could shift."
Lania nodded thoughtfully, eyes now distant—clearly pondering the possibilities.
She sighed softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. Then, in a tone uncharacteristically quiet and earnest, she spoke:
"I believe in you, Tania," she said, green eyes focused entirely on her sister. "You'll keep your ticket. You'll protect it during the [Ticket Hunting] Event. And when the time comes… I know your journey aboard the Final Express—from Fragment to Fragment—will be something unforgettable."
Tania blinked, caught off guard. Her lips parted slightly, a breath held in her chest.
'She rarely says things like this… so directly.'
A slow warmth crept up her cheeks, though her gaze remained steady. "Thank you," she said at last, voice gentle. "Truly. It… means a lot."
She looked down into her cup, watching the steam dance just above the surface.
"Outside of you and Zaros, no one's ever really believed in me," she admitted quietly. "Not truly. Not in a way that… mattered. I try to ignore it, to act like it doesn't bother me. But it does. It always has."
Her gloved fingers curled slightly around the porcelain.
"That's why… words like yours, even if simple, reach me more than you know."
Across the table, Lania didn't tease, didn't smirk. She simply smiled—a quiet, knowing expression.
"Then I'll make sure to say them more often."
And for a moment, the two sisters sat in silence, not awkward or heavy, but full of something unspoken. Something understood.
—End of Chapter.
-------
Private meeting between the sisters:
Lania: Just saw a cat that looked like you.
Tania: ...how exactly?
Lania: Elegant. Cold. Judging me from a rooftop.
Tania: You deserved to be judged, probably.
Lania: It hissed when I tried to pet it. Just like you when I ruffle your hair.
Tania: Stop. Touching. My. Hair.
Lania: No promises, little sister.