The stone floor of the autopsy chamber felt colder than it had any right to be.
Toki stood hunched over, staring down at the uneven slabs as if they were the only things keeping him anchored to this timeline. His blue hair had slipped loose from the knot at the back of his head. Strands trembled with the same small shiver running through his bones, falling over his face like a curtain—hiding truths no man should ever have to remember twice.
The room smelled faintly of iron and disinfectant. A single lantern swung gently overhead, casting shadows across the walls—shadows that stretched and twisted just like his thoughts.
Toki Thought
They weren't wild beasts, he told himself. Not like the ones hiding in the forest near the manor.
They were controlled—summoned, shaped, or puppeted by something far worse.
He inhaled, slow and shaking.
They could've been manifestations of magic… or a curse. But I know for sure they were controlled by the person who cut off my head .
A fresh wave of memory crashed over him—the sharp metallic scent of his own blood, the flicker of steel, the cold silence that followed.
How did I die so fast?
How did I return before setting an anchor?
His nails dug into his palms.
Most likely… my final thought remained attached to the autopsy room. That must be why time rewound to this point. My anchor wasn't placed. My mind grabbed whatever it could.
His breath hitched.
If I hadn't heard his voice… I would've doubted anyone killed me. But I didn't smell him. Nothing. Invisible—just like his beasts. Those creatures devoured my body without dying. Even with how poisonous my blood is…
His eyes narrowed.
That means they weren't truly alive… not wild animals. Constructs. Summoned things.
His own heartbeat seemed to echo inside his skull.
And the man—he said he didn't expect to find another Star Collector.
Another.
So he himself is one.
Toki swallowed hard, the reality pressing down like a blade on the back of his neck.
If he has an Authority like mine… this is beyond bad. Sephira told me only those touched by divine forces awaken Authorities. Someone like him…
His jaw clenched.
He isn't like the Puppeteer. He's a hundred times worse.
The lantern flickered, and a wave of dread crawled up his spine.
What if he wasn't alone? What if there are others? A Star Collector wouldn't attack randomly—they have followers for that. So he came here with a purpose.
And then a darker thought.
Could Nihon be part of this?
He shook his head instantly.
No. Even though she's a Star Collector, she's an assassin. When she attacked me and Utsuki, it was because she was paid.
He looked toward the row of corpses—limbs torn, throats ripped, bones twisted.
And there were no metallic strings… none of the signs of her signature weapons.
His thoughts drifted to Ozvold.
Ozvold is a cavalryman… a born strategist. He would never be taken down like this by just anyone. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.
Ozvold says
"Toki."
The voice broke through his thoughts like a stone thrown into deep water.
Toki lifted his head, strands of hair falling away enough for him to see Ozvold standing a few steps away.
"I'll go to the Maho manor and warn them that the city is dangerous!"
The words struck him like a slap.
His breath stopped.
His eyes twitched.
Something breaks inside Toki
A soundless crack echoed through him.
His vision blurred—not from tears, but from a pressure building behind his eyes. His heartbeat thundered, beating like war drums.
He saw Ozvold's lips moving, but the world dimmed until only one instinct screamed inside him:
Don't let him leave.
Before he even understood it, Toki's voice tore out of him—low, unnatural, and filled with a darkness none of them had ever heard.
"You're not going anywhere!"
The air froze.
Ozvold blinked. "Toki… don't worry. I know the safest rout—"
"You're not going anywhere!"
The shout slammed into the room like a beast roaring inside a cage.
Toki took a step forward, and the lantern behind him flickered violently as if reacting to his rage.
"Do you want to go alone just to die like a dog?!"
Ozvold stiffened.
Everyone else went utterly silent.
Toki's hair swayed in the cold air, but his eyes—his eyes were the thing that terrified them. They shook in an inhuman way, vibrating with contained madness and fury. A darkness swirled behind his pupils, swallowing the reflected light.
"I am your commander," Toki growled. "You will listen to me."
He lifted his hand, fingers trembling like claws.
"When I say jump, you ask how high."
Ozvold swallowed hard, eyes widening.
Toki's voice thundered through the autopsy room once more:
"I ORDER you not to go to the manor!"
The shout wasn't human. It was the roar of someone who had seen his own corpse torn apart, someone who had been murdered so brutally he still felt phantom bites in his flesh.
It was the roar of a man who had returned from death terrified that he might lose the few people he still had.
Fear fills the room
Everyone—Smith, Bernard, even Ozvold—stared at him as if something monstrous had taken his place.
And then—
A single tear fell down his cheek.
Then another.
Not tears of pain.
Not tears of grief.
But tears pulsing with fear and hatred so raw that Bernard instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword.
Lorelay stepped forward, her boots soft on the stone.
"Toki…" she whispered.
But Toki wasn't hearing anything. He was shaking violently, breaths ragged, muscles twitching. He looked like someone cornered by invisible demons.
His chest heaved. His eyes glistened.
"Toki," Lorelay repeated more firmly, placing a gentle hand on his back.
The touch made him flinch as if struck.
Her voice softened even more, warm and steady beneath the lingering stench of death.
"Let's calm down. You've seen enough for today. We'll continue the investigation tomorrow. Right now… we shouldn't risk ourselves."
Toki squeezed his eyes shut, trembling.
He didn't want them to die. He didn't want another timeline filled with corpses. He didn't want Ozvold's head rolling on the floor next to his own again.
Bernard stepped forward next, speaking with the calm authority of a noble general.
"Toki, Ozvold—come with me to the Silas manor tonight. I'll speak to Lady Elizabeth personally. We don't need to split up."
Ozvold hesitated but didn't argue.
Lorelay added, "I'll send a message to Utsuki myself. She'll know you're safe."
But her gaze lingered on Toki's trembling arms, the tears dripping onto the stone floor.
"Toki… you need rest. You've endured more than enough."
Toki's thought
Rest.
He almost laughed.
Rest?
I died . I felt my flesh being eaten. I heard the voice of a man who shouldn't exist.
And I came back without a plan. Without an anchor.
His hands curled into fists.
If Ozvold dies… If Bernard dies… If any of them die because I let them walk into danger
He couldn't breathe.
He felt Lorelay's hand still on his back. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were red—not from exhaustion, but from the weight of a future that only he had seen.
Smith, usually unreadable, finally spoke from the corner.
"Toki, you saw something, didn't you?"
Toki didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because if he told them… if he said out loud I was decapitated ,
if he admitted I returned because the timeline broke,
they would panic.
They would think he had gone mad.
But Lorelay already knew.
She leaned close, her forehead almost touching his shoulder.
"Toki," she whispered, "you don't have to tell us what you saw. But you're shaking like a dying man. Let us help you."
He let out a slow, shuddering breath.
The fear, the rage, the desperation—they all pressed down on him at once.
"…I won't lose anyone," he murmured.
Bernard nodded firmly. "Then stay with us Tonight."
Ozvold stepped closer, guilt flickering in his eyes.
Toki looked at him—really looked at him—and in Ozvold's gaze he saw the ghost of another timeline where his throat was torn open.
A sob caught in Toki's throat.
"Ozvold… I can't .... again."
Ozvold froze.
Bernard inhaled sharply.
Lorelay gripped Toki's shoulder.
And for the first time since the timeline shifted, Toki let his knees loosen slightly, his body leaning into the touch of another human being.
He whispered, broken and raw:
"…please don't go alone."
The room went silent—but this time, the silence wasn't fear. It was understanding.
Toki's shoulders shook as he finally allowed himself to breathe.
Bernard stepped forward and placed a strong, grounding hand on his back.
"We won't."
Smith nodded once. "For tonight, no one moves alone."
Lorelay gently lifted Toki's chin, making him meet her eyes.
"You've seen horrible things.," she said softly. "Let's make sure it wasn't in vain."
The darkness didn't disappear—
But it no longer felt like it would swallow him whole.
As they guided him toward the exit of the autopsy room, Toki glanced back at the stone floor.
The place where his timeline had sent him.
And he swore—quietly, fiercely, to himself:
"I won't let it happen again."
Snow drifted quietly across the lantern-lit courtyard as Toki, Bernard, and Ozvold approached the Silas Manor. Evening had tightened its grip on the capital, filling every corner with a heavy, metallic stillness that refused to dissipate. The events of the autopsy chamber clung to Toki's shoulders like a wet shroud—unseen but suffocating. His footsteps were slow, unsteady, each one echoing the tremor that still rattled his bones.
Elizabeth was already waiting for them at the entrance.
Normally she would have smirked, folded her arms, and made some sarcastic remark about how the three of them looked like beggars crawling to her doorstep. She loved her small rituals of mock cruelty—especially toward Bernard. But tonight, when Toki raised his gaze and met her eyes, she said nothing.
Her expression softened.
Not pity. Not fear. Something closer to—recognition.
She stepped forward, placing her fist gently against the center of his chest.
"You must stay strong."
Her voice was low, steady, carrying a warmth she rarely showed.
For a second, Toki didn't breathe. The touch felt unreal, distant, as if it reached through the fog that clouded his mind.
Elizabeth straightened, cleared her throat sharply, and turned away.
"Now come," she said. "Dinner is ready. And don't you dare tell Utsuki that I wasn't a good host."
The dining hall glowed with polished silver and candlelight. A long table stretched across the room, covered with steaming dishes—stews, roasted meats, fragrant rice, and soups shimmering with herbs.
Tonight Toki barely touched his plate.
"Sir Toki," one of the servants murmured, bowing nervously as they refilled his cup, "please eat a little more. You must keep your strength…"
Toki didn't respond. He barely heard them.
Every time he blinked, he saw the autopsy room again.
The blood smeared across cold stone.
The severed heads.
The invisible footsteps around his corpse.
The voice whispering, almost bored.
He remembered the sound of his own spine hitting the floor.
He remembered dying—quickly, almost too quickly.
And the nausea of being pulled backward through time.
He pushed the plate away.
Bernard noticed but didn't comment.
Ozvold noticed—and nearly commented—but shut his mouth after seeing Toki's expression.
Elizabeth pretended not to notice, but her grip on her wine glass turned tighter.
When dinner ended, Bernard excused himself and offered to escort Ozvold and Toki to their rooms.
Bernard carried a lantern as he led them down the dim hallways of the manor. He walked with the nervous energy of a man who had too much on his mind and nowhere to put it. His fingers tapped against the lantern's frame, echoing in the quiet corridor.
He delivered Ozvold to his room, gave a brief nod, then continued alone.
He stopped in front of Toki's door.
He reached for the handle.
Stopped.
Pulled his hand back.
Ran his fingers through his hair.
Reached again.
Pulled back again.
He let out a frustrated groan.
"What am I doing…?"
"What are you doing, idiot?"
Bernard jumped so hard the lantern almost flew out of his hand.
Elizabeth stood behind him, arms crossed, hair messy from preparing for bed, expression irritated enough to curdle milk.
"I'm trying to sleep," she snapped. "And you're making more noise than a drunk barbarian."
"S-sorry," Bernard stuttered. "I didn't mean to—"
"Spare me." She stepped closer and narrowed her eyes. "You want to talk to him."
Bernard looked at the floor. "I… yes. But I don't want to bother him. He's been through—"
Elizabeth grabbed his cheeks with both hands, yanked his face down to her height, and glared straight into his pupils.
"Toki is your friend. He's never asked for help, but right now he needs you more than he ever has."
Bernard swallowed hard.
"But… what do I even say?"
She jabbed him in the chest with a single finger, pushing him back a step.
"Listen to your heart. It's simpler than you think."
Bernard let out a startled laugh. "You always put me back on my feet. That's why you're the woman I—"
"No. Not now." She cut him off, turning away with a light huff. "Go talk to him. I don't have patience for your romantic nonsense tonight."
Bernard blinked.
Then smiled.
Then reached for Toki's door again.
Berbard pushed the door open and stood in the doorway, his posture unsure, his face serious.
"Toki," he said softly.
Toki sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched forward, hair falling like a curtain over his eyes.
Bernard stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him.
Then he sat down beside Toki without a word.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then thirty.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable.
It was grounding.
Finally, Toki spoke, voice barely louder than a whisper.
"…You came because you want to know what I saw?"
"No," Bernard replied immediately.
Toki looked up, startled.
"I came because I'm your friend," Bernard continued. "If you want silence, I'll sit here in silence. If you want to talk, I'll listen. But I'm not leaving you to carry everything alone."
Toki's throat tightened.
"Tomorrow," Bernard said, "all divisions will be notified. Patrols will be doubled. We're heading into hard times… but we'll make it through. Together."
A gentle knock interrupted them.
Ozvold entered."Commander—"
Toki winced."We're here. No ranks, no titles. Just us."
Ozvold corrected himself immediately. "Toki. I'm not here to ask questions. Only to stand with you."
Toki rubbed his eyes.
"I… I'm sorry for earlier. For yelling. For losing control."
Ozvold shook his head. "Don't apologize. You reached your limit. Anyone would."
Toki's voice cracked.
"I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of watching people die because I'm not strong enough to stop it."
His hands clenched into fists.
"That thing… … I couldn't even see him. And last time I faced something like that…"
His breath trembled.
"I could barely protect Tora. Barely protect Utsuki. Now the whole capital—"
Bernard placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We're scared too. All of us. But Smith already sent word to the Order and to the Church of Moonlight. Reinforcements will come."
Ozvold added, "And we'll fight. Because we still have something worth fighting for."
Toki closed his eyes.
For the first time since he returned from death, a small warmth pulsed in his chest.
They sat there together for several hours, speaking little but saying enough.
Eventually, Bernard yawned and excused himself.
Then Ozvold.
Leaving Toki alone in the dimly lit room.
Once the hallway fell silent, Toki reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial.
The liquid inside shimmered with a sickly silver-purple glow—like moonlight trapped in a bottle and forced to decay.
The Gravedigger Potion.
A concoction meant to warp the body, sharpen instincts, and drown the soul in the cold logic of graves.
Toki exhaled slowly.
"No more fear… not tonight."
He uncorked the potion.
A cold vapor poured out, curling like pale fingers around his wrist.
The scent was metallic. Old. Like earth freshly dug open.
He swallowed.
The world convulsed.
And then—Silence.
A terrible, perfect silence.
Toki wiped his mouth, breath heavy.
"I don't have the luxury of being afraid anymore."
He pushed open the window, climbed onto the roof tiles, and dropped silently into the snow-covered garden.
He didn't look back at the manor.
"Bernard… Ozvold… I'm sorry."
He tightened his grip on his coat and began walking toward the shadows of the city.
"I have to find the truth. Even if I die.
And knowing my fate…"
A bitter smile twisted his lips.
"…death has never been kind enough to let me stay dead."
The night swallowed him whole as he disappeared into the capital's sleeping streets.