"Light, guide us to where we stay,
If dreams should take our hearts away.
Will dawn undo the nightmare's thread,
Or weave a darker one instead?
Whatever waits, my friend—don't go.
Hold on, and let the lantern glow."
As the teacher left, a cold fog curled through the garden.
"Does he ever sleep?" Marv muttered.
"I don't think he ever does," Shinigami replied, voice low and sharp as glass.
Their hearts felt strangely hollow, as if the night had taken something from them.
"Parmiss, should we go?" Shinigami asked softly.
Parmiss nodded, her gaze lost in the mist.
"Marv, you're with me," Kazuto said, placing his hand on Marv's shoulder.
Marv smiled faintly. "Let's go, brother."
The slow wind carried the weight of an empty world.
Together, they walked toward the fountain in the center.
"This was…" Marv's thoughts wandered. "An interesting one."
"I don't want to talk about it," Parmiss said politely.
"So, this is goodbye, I guess." Marv's smile lingered like fading candlelight.
"May the night sing its lullaby, and we shall wake to a new day," they all said together.
"Good night, Parmiss. Good night, Shinigami," Kazuto's eyes shone bright.
"Take care of yourselves, you two." Parmiss's smile so gentle that Marv felt a warmth in his chest.
They went on their paths. The lanterns glowed dim and orange. The trees whispered like old souls. Every step they took felt like a thread leading deeper into something unseen. On opposite paths, our pawns shared a silent connection.
The fog had thinned by the time Parmiss and Shinigami reached the large, almost unreal door of their dormitory. The lantern by the wall shimmered faintly — golden dust floating in its glow.
"Ah? So… how do we get in?" Parmiss tilted her head. The door was sealed tight, with no visible keyhole.
"Should I just break it down?" Shinigami muttered, rolling up her sleeves like a sinner ready to confess.
"Hold it!"
The voice was small, airy — almost like a dream trying to speak.
Shinigami froze, eyes darting around. "Who's there?"
Parmiss's tone softened. "Please, come out."
The wall lantern flickered, glowing brighter until, with a swirl of silver dust, a tiny figure emerged — wings of soft light fluttering weakly.
A fairy — yawning like someone woken too early.
"You two are a pain," she murmured, rubbing her eyes. "Why are you out here so late?"
"Like we even got to go in," Shinigami muttered, crossing her arms.
"Huh?" The fairy tilted her head; finger pressed to her lips like a curious child. "What do you mean?"
"We were lost," Parmiss explained softly. "Professor Ainsworth found us and brought us here."
"Oh, you mean the Wanderer of the Dark." The fairy's tone brightened instantly. "That makes sense!"
She placed a hand proudly on her chest. "I'm Lanette — your dorm fairy."
Parmiss smiled. "Nice to meet you, Lanette. I'm Parmiss, and this is Shinigami."
"Yo," Shinigami waved lazily.
"Could you open the door for us?" Parmiss asked.
"Of course!" Lanette twirled in the air, hands gathering golden dust. She blew gently — and the massive gates creaked open like waking giants.
"Come in, come in!" she chimed, floating backward. Inside lay a breathtaking garden path leading to a mansion bathed in pale moonlight.
As they followed, Parmiss asked curiously, "Lanette… what did you mean by 'Wanderer of the Dark'?"
Lanette's tiny shoulders rose as she thought. "Professor Ainsworth… he's a strange one. Students say he changes his tone like night flips its stars — and…"
"And?" Parmiss leaned in.
"They say he walks the school every night… alone, and without light."
Her voice was a whisper, as if sharing a ghost story not meant to leave the garden.
Parmiss and Shinigami exchanged glances — a silent understanding passing between them.
"Oh, thank you for telling us, Lanette," Parmiss said kindly, her tone hiding the spark of curiosity beneath.
"You're welcome! And if you ever need anything, I'll be right here!" Lanette puffed her chest proudly, wings glowing brighter.
They reached the dorm's grand wooden door.
"I'll be going now," the fairy said, spinning once midair. "Take care, you two!"
"Bye-bye! Take care of yourself!" they said in unison, waving as her figure faded — leaving behind a trail of dust that glimmered, then disappeared.
"She's so sweet, isn't she?" Parmiss smiled.
"Yeah," Shinigami said, her tone softening.
Parmiss turned the golden knob, and the door opened gracefully. Warm light spilled over their faces as they stepped into the hall.
The room stretched wide — chandeliers, portraits, polished floors, the faint smell of lavender.
"Our bags!" Shinigami pointed. "Finally." They walked slowly towards their belongings.
The hall was still. Only a faint lamp glowed near the sofa, where a girl lay curled up, sound asleep, her arm hanging off the side as if she'd drifted off waiting for someone.Parmiss slowed down, a whisper escaping before she could stop it."Someone… waited?"
Shinigami didn't answer — just smiled faintly and kept walking.
The soft hum of the chandelier above filled the silence, its light swaying like a heartbeat that hadn't yet stopped dreaming.
They retrieved their bags carefully and looked up toward the staircase.
"The rooms must be upstairs," Parmiss said.
Shinigami nodded. Their footsteps echoed up the stairs, the chandelier swaying slightly in the still air.
They found a vacant room — one made for three. Moonlight poured through twin windows, brushing against elegant furniture and a polished wooden cupboard.
Someone was already asleep in one of the beds, a large brown briefcase resting beside her.
"Who's she?" Shinigami whispered.
"Hmm... Let me check." Parmiss said, putting down her bags and leaning forward at the briefcase of their roommate.
"Property of Eurika Fiore," The name shimmered faintly in the moonlight, as if it carried a story waiting to wake.
"Sounds noble," Shinigami murmured, eyeing the sleeping girl.
"Let's not wake her," Parmiss smiled gently. "We've had enough surprises for one night."
"Right… I'm exhausted," Shinigami yawned, rubbing her eyes.
They took turns changing clothes and settled into their beds.
"Good night, Shinigami."
"Good night, Parmiss."
The faint glow of the lantern dimmed, and outside, the fog began to fade.
Parmiss turned toward the window, the moonlight brushing her cheek. "Tomorrow," she whispered... though she wasn't sure what she meant.
The quiet hour — finally — began.
Yet as sleep took her, the world seemed to pause — breathless, waiting.The lantern by her bedside flickered once… twice… then steadied.
A whisper — soft as silk over glass — brushed against Parmiss's dreams.
"Fate is the game of life, gentle soul…"
The voice echoed from nowhere, and everywhere. Calm. Patient. Almost kind.
"If one could change it…" a pause — the sound of shifting air, like a thousand wings turning,"…would they be a god? Or still just human?"
The whisper faded. Only the pulse of the lantern remained — slow, steady, watching.
Parmiss stirred, her lips parting as if to answer, but only silence followed.
And then — as though the voice had never been — the night closed its eyes.