In the tower that always loomed on the horizon—distant, unreachable unless it chose to call you—on one of its floors, a young man with purple hair—like fresh watercolor spilled across a canvas—stood atop a massive steam-powered flying machine.At its core pulsed a crystal beating with thousands of shifting colors, sliding and bouncing like fragments of liquid light.The vessel, vast as a small town, cut steadily through the sky.
"Damn it! I get a little farther every time and… each step just pushes me two back."Adam clenched his teeth, tearing out strands of his hair in frustration, oblivious to the void yawning beneath him.
A violent gust slammed into him. His body faltered, legs slipping into empty air.
"Adam!!!"A youthful voice shouted from a balcony that served as a lookout. A rope shot out toward him.
Falling fast, Adam plunged a hand into his coat.From the darkness, a small book emerged and glowed weakly as it opened.
"First pages… most important…" he muttered, fingers scrambling desperately through the paper.At last, he found what he needed. He pointed his palm downward and hissed:
"I wanted to save this for something better…"He gritted his teeth."Gluttony, regurgitate."
A shockwave blasted from his hand, hurling him upward.The rope caught him and dragged him back toward the balcony.
Adam gripped the railing, panting, and stepped inside like nothing had happened.
"Young master, are you alright?"Fidelis asked, voice heavy with concern.
"Yeah, yeah… nothing I can't handle."He dusted off his coat, released the book, and it crumbled into ashes that vanished before touching the floor.
"But… how did you fall from—?""I'm fine." He cut him off, curt. "Bring me something… the most complicated thing you can find."
He nudged him gently inside and closed the door.Pressing his ear to the wood, he waited for the footsteps to fade.
"Good…" he whispered, stretching.The word broke into a coughing fit—blood splattered out.He wiped it with his coat, unfazed, and slid down against the wall, chest burning.
"Shit… didn't brace for the recoil. It actually hit me…"A rough, bitter laugh escaped.His eyes lifted to the bright sky.
"A year and a half here… and I still haven't collected all the fragments.Can't even escape."He reached into his coat; the book reappeared, its pages spinning in a wild blur."Right, Primigenio?"
After that dizzying night, Adam had fallen asleep in the lookout.
Dragged back to his quarters—Room 42-29—he'd been left in bed until morning.
The place, though small, had all it needed for short stays;more a tiny apartment than a simple bedroom.
Fidelis, as any proper retainer would, woke long before the one he called "master."He moved through the room with quiet precision—cleaning, preparing breakfast.Each gesture careful, habitual, while morning light filtered in, touching plain furniture and the calm air.
Adam jolted awake.A sharp pain stabbed his chest, a brutal reminder of the previous night's fall.He pressed a hand to his torso, hissing.
"You… brought me back here?"He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.
"Yes, my lord. As your follower, it is my duty to serve you."
"We've talked about this, Fidelis. You're my companion, not a follower.I let you come because it was better than leaving you where you were, where…"Adam looked away.
Maybe he hadn't noticed before, or maybe he'd just ignored it—but the one standing beside him was barely a child.To any adult, they both were.Since they'd met six months ago, Fidelis had only just turned fourteen.Far too young for all this.
Adam wasn't much older—three years ahead at most.Still, here they were: two kids handling problems fit for adults, tangled in things they shouldn't be mixed up in.Awareness of that youth—and the weight it carried—filled the room with quiet heaviness.
Fidelis shifted uncomfortably in his chair.He knew Adam was right, yet the boy had never treated him like a servant.His loyalty wasn't born of obligation—only trust.
Adam reached out an arm; Fidelis helped him up.
"So… did you find anything on whoever's behind the white hat?"Adam asked while changing shirts.
"Unfortunately, no, my lord."Uncertainty tinged his voice.
Adam rolled his eyes.Fidelis wasn't going to change.
"All right. We should go out and…"He went silent a moment."I don't know anymore. I can't find anything useful."
They'd been stuck for days.No leads, no direction.Nothing worked in their favor.
"Are you sure this person even exists?Lately it feels like you're just stitching pieces from different puzzles to find someone who might not be real."
Adam gave a bitter smile.
"Maybe. But this letter…"With a flick, the object appeared in his hand.The paper was covered in symbols that writhed like insects beneath skin."It's the only real clue I have."
Fidelis leaned forward, frowning.He studied it carefully.Soon his face twisted in defeat.Symbols shifted and twisted, senseless—the more he stared, the less meaning they held.
"I can't understand a thing.The more I look, the worse it gets."
Adam didn't fully understand it either—until, among the chaos, one symbol stopped.Gold.Still.As if it were watching him.
His indigo eyes locked onto that golden spark.Hypnotic.
The air thickened.Despite the tension, Adam smiled faintly.
"No matter…"He closed the letter and slipped it inside the book hidden beneath his shirt,as though that pocket had always existed."It's not time yet."
With a jump—ignoring the stabbing pain—he grabbed his coat.A single gesture told Fidelis to get ready to leave.A spark of motivation lit him—something he hadn't felt in a long while.
"It's time to get results, Fidelis,"he said, standing at the door.