The faint outline of a ceiling greeted Tatsuya's half-open eyes as he awoke in silence.
There was no bell tolling, no knocking at the door, no sunlight piercing the window like a spear of divine intervention.
Just quiet.
His gaze drifted to the edges of the ceiling. Pale gray shadows loomed there, textured in the half-light of pre-dawn, and the thin curtain over the far window swayed with the gentle breath of wind from a barely-cracked pane.
He lay there for a moment, unmoving.
I'm… awake?
Despite the heaviness in his body, he felt no urge to fall back asleep. No lingering dream beckoning him back. Only a sense of strange awareness—like waking up in a place that still didn't feel quite real.
This is my room now… This is where I live now.
The thought came slow, like ice melting through layers of him he hadn't realized were frozen.
Yesterday was my first official day here.
But to him, it felt like a lifetime.
From being attacked, to eating with strangers, to trying to smile through the feeling of a void yawning quietly in his chest.
It hasn't even been twenty-four hours…Why does it feel like I've been here for weeks?
The weight of it clung to him. Like time was moving differently in this place—both too fast and too slow all at once.
He sat up in bed.
The room creaked slightly beneath his movement. Nothing else stirred.
Outside, the world was still. The kind of quiet that belongs only to the hours before dawn—when even the birds were still sleeping and the moon hadn't decided whether to stay or leave.
Tatsuya stood and pulled his robe over his shoulders, cinching the sash loosely at his waist. His fingers brushed past the window latch and gave it a small push.
The window opened with a soft click, and a rush of cold morning air swept into the room.
Tatsuya jumped out barefoot onto the stone path, the dew of the grass chilling his feet even through the hem of his robe.
The estate grounds stretched out before him like something from a dream: fog draped lazily over the garden hedges, and the trees lining the outer paths were faint silhouettes, limbs swaying gently like they were whispering secrets to one another.
And in the midst of it all—a lone figure.
Short blond hair tied in a bun. Posture alert. A slender spear slung casually across her back.
Sora.
Tatsuya stopped for a moment, surprised.
She's already up? Then again… I guess this is her job.
She hadn't noticed him yet. Her patrol was slow, deliberate, eyes scanning the fog as if waiting for something only she could see.
He hesitated. Then raised a hand.
"Morning patrol, huh?"
Her head turned.
Sharp eyes. A calm face.
Then, a blink.
"…Tatsuya?"
She tilted her head just slightly, and the edges of her lips lifted into something half between a smirk and genuine confusion.
"You're up early. Insomnia, or guilt for not finishing your fish?"
"Neither," Tatsuya said, walking up beside her. "Just… couldn't sleep anymore."
Sora looked him up and down.
"You came out barefoot? On stone? You might actually be an idiot."
"Hey," Tatsuya shrugged. "My brain's still catching up to this whole magic-world-afterlife situation. Don't expect footwear-level decision-making just yet."
Sora exhaled through her nose, amused.
"You always talk like you're in the middle of an existential crisis."
"I am in the middle of an existential crisis."
That earned him a short laugh.
For a while, the two just walked.
No monsters. No alarms. Just the sound of Sora's boots tapping against stone and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
"You're really out here every morning like this?" he asked after a while.
"Of course." Sora nodded. "Even if nothing happens, someone has to keep watch. Safety doesn't maintain itself."
"Do you enjoy it?"
Sora didn't answer right away.
She gazed ahead at the mist curling around the distant trees.
"I don't know if 'enjoy' is the word. But… there's something comforting about it. Like, no matter how chaotic things get, the path I walk is always the same. It's mine."
She looked at him.
"Even if no one sees it."
There was something in her voice. Not sadness. Not bitterness.
Just… honesty.
Tatsuya glanced down at the stones beneath his feet.
A path that's always the same… even if no one's watching.
That sounded… familiar.
"Hey, Sora."
"Mm?"
"Yesterday, when you said thanks for making you laugh… did you mean it?"
She blinked.
Then gave him a sideways glance, almost amused.
"Why? You think I'm buttering you up so I can stab you in your sleep?"
Tatsuya froze.
"…I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
A pause.
Then, her lips turned upward again.
"Yeah. I meant it. You surprised me, that's all. I didn't expect someone like you to make me laugh."
"Someone like me?"
"A lost, clueless guy who wandered into a sacred estate like a puppy with no leash."
Tatsuya let out a short laugh despite himself.
"Wow. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
They stopped at the edge of the garden where the mist was thickest, the hedges glowing faintly with morning dew.
The sky above them had begun to lighten—just enough for the stars to start fading, one by one.
"…Tatsuya," Sora said suddenly.
He looked at her.
She wasn't smiling this time. Her eyes were sharp, but not cold.
"I don't know what you're looking for here. But I hope you find something worth staying for."
He stared at her.
Words failed him for a moment.
Then, with a quiet nod—
"Yeah… me too."
Tatsuya stood alone in the mist after Sora had departed down a different path, her silhouette slowly swallowed by the silver morning fog.
Her words echoed in his head—quiet, but lingering.
"I don't know what you're looking for here. But I hope you find something worth staying for."
He released a slow breath, watching it drift like smoke into the air before turning back toward the estate.
But his feet didn't guide him toward the dining room. Not yet.
Instead, he veered left—past the stone path, across the courtyard where the soft green began to glisten under the rising sun. Past the statue of the three stars cradled in a woman's hands, and through the half-open gate that led down to the stables.
The scent of hay and earth tickled his nose the moment he stepped through the wooden archway.
The stable was already alive with subtle movement.
Creaking wood. Snorts. The dull sound of hooves shifting over straw.
Stefan was in the far stall—his massive frame curled like a sheep trying to disguise itself as a boulder. His fur shimmered faintly, still dusted with what looked like morning dew.
Tatsuya approached slowly.
"Morning, Stefan," he said gently.
The goat let out a soft huff of air through his nostrils.
Tatsuya smiled faintly and reached over the stall, giving him a cautious pat on the head.
"Still not used to you being a house pet, honestly. Back home you'd be the final boss of a horror game."
Behind him, a voice scoffed.
"You're not wrong."
Tatsuya turned to find Itsuki, standing with a bundle of hay slung over his shoulder, one arm crossed over his chest. His usual scowl was softened slightly by what might've been… restrained tolerance?
"Didn't expect to find you up this early," Itsuki said. "You the type that wakes with the sun?"
"Something like that," Tatsuya replied, rubbing his neck. "Or maybe I just never fell asleep properly."
Itsuki walked past him and tossed the hay into Stefan's stall with practiced ease. He grunted contently.
"Be careful around him," Itsuki warned. "He's calm now, but that thing's got more horns than brain cells."
But Stefan doesn't even have horns?
"I'll keep that in mind." He responded
they walked together toward the mansion, the morning sun had just begun to pierce the trees, light streaking across the grass in long, dreamlike lines.
As they walked together toward the mansion, the morning sun had just begun to pierce the trees, golden light streaking across the grass in long, dreamlike lines.
Their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm.
"…You ever feel like you're walking through someone else's dream?" Tatsuya muttered.
Itsuki glanced sideways at him. "All the time."
They passed through the eastern courtyard entrance, the estate slowly waking to life.
Itsuki paused at the threshold. "I'm heading in through the back," she said. "Takes less time to avoid conversations."
"That's a strategy," Tatsuya replied, watching her go.
Part 2
The warm scent of baked bread and herbs lingered in the air as Tatsuya slowly pushed open the heavy door to the dining room.
The morning light filtered in through tall windows, illuminating the long table in stripes of gold. Plates were already set, fresh bread, pickled vegetables, and a pot of soup resting at the center, faint wisps of heat curling skyward.
But the chairs—save for one—were empty.
Ruza sat alone, her posture elegant as always, back straight and hands folded neatly in her lap. A single plate in front of her. She didn't seem surprised by the quiet.
Her cutlery moved with precision, but her expression was unreadable. Her eyes, always so sharp and fierce, seemed oddly… dulled. Like polished crimson glass left in the rain.
She's alone?
Tatsuya took a slow breath and stepped in.
She looked up at the sound of his footsteps.
Their eyes met.
For a second, nothing was said.
Then—
"…You're awake early."
Her voice was calm, but not unkind.
Tatsuya gave her a faint shrug and offered a small smile. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd beat the breakfast rush."
She didn't smile back.
But she did glance at the seat next to her.
"…Sit."
He nodded and did just that, carefully sliding into the chair beside her.
For a few seconds, only the quiet sounds of chopsticks tapping porcelain and the rustle of morning wind filled the space between them.
Tatsuya reached out and filled his plate with bread and picked a bowl of soup. The food looked perfect—warm, soft, comforting—but something about the atmosphere made it hard to enjoy.
Wait? Am I hungry?
Without even thinking about it, Tatsuya had filled his plate full with food.
Right now it felt save to eat, but he didn't understood why.
Why does it feel save to eat now?
Ruza didn't speak, didn't glance at him again. Her gaze was fixed on her bowl, like something was holding her attention tightly.
Her grip on the cutlery was just slightly too firm.
Tatsuya looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
Is something bothering her?
He stirred the soup in front of him, not lifting the spoon.
"I thought I'd be the only one here," he said quietly.
Ruza paused for a heartbeat before answering.
"I usually eat early."
"Really?" he asked. "You don't wait for the others?"
"No need," she said, then after a second added, "They eat together often enough. One morning without me won't change that."
There was something clipped in the way she spoke. Measured. Like every word had been strained through a filter of patience.
Tatsuya looked at her more directly now.
He could see it more clearly—something simmering beneath the calm.
"…Did something happen?"
Her cutlery froze mid-air.
"…No."
That's definitely a yes.
He decided not to press her, letting the silence stretch again.
Ruza resumed eating, her movements a little more mechanical this time. Tatsuya took a few bites, the flavors of the food registering only faintly.
He wanted to say something. Not to pry, but… to be there. Somehow.
"I was always like that too," he said suddenly.
She glanced at him.
He kept his gaze forward, watching the steam fade.
"Back home… when I was upset, I'd eat alone. Just to prove a point. Even if I was starving."
She blinked slowly, but didn't interrupt.
"It always made me feel powerful for a little while," he continued, his voice calm. "Like, 'Yeah, I don't need anyone.' But eventually, I'd just end up staring at my empty bowl, realizing I didn't even remember what the food tasted like."
A small laugh escaped him, weak and self-deprecating.
"Turns out pride doesn't season your meals very well."
Ruza's eyes widened, just a little.
Then slowly—very slowly—her shoulders relaxed.
Her cutlery lowered.
She didn't smile, but something about her softened—like the edge of a blade slightly dulled.
Ruza turned her eyes back to her food, but didn't pick up her chopsticks again.
Instead, she let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh. More like letting go of something.
"…Tatsuya."
He looked at her.
"Thank you."
It was soft. Barely above a whisper. But sincere.
Tatsuya blinked, surprised.
"For what?"
She didn't answer.
But he noticed now that her expression had changed.
A quiet flicker of thought behind her crimson eyes. A decision, maybe.
Ruza picked up her teacup and took a sip, her movements smoother now.
The tension that had wrapped around her like invisible thread began to loosen.
Tatsuya said nothing more.
The rhythm of breakfast had finally settled.
After the quiet meal shared between Tatsuya and Ruza, the room had slowly filled with familiar faces—Yatsu entered first, his gaze steady, followed by the synchronized steps of the maids, Misuki and Nisuki. Each took their seat with the practiced precision of a well-worn routine. Later Itsuki joined them.
But one chair remained conspicuously empty.
Not that it mattered to everyone—but Tatsuya noticed.
He looked around once, then glanced toward Ruza beside him.
"…Did Luna eat too much yesterday that she doesn't need breakfast?" he asked with casual confusion.
Ruza didn't even blink.
"No. She always sleeps in. And eats later."
Her tone was dry, like someone who had rehearsed this answer far too many times.
Tatsuya blinked.
So… just lazy, then?
"She's a glutton and indolent," Ruza added, folding her arms across her chest. "Honestly, I sometimes wonder if she's part demon."
Ruza sighed, clearly not done.
"I've told her many times that she just needs to go to bed earlier, but she never listens. She gets distracted, wanders around the halls at night, or stares at the stars like they're going to tell her secrets."
There was a hint of genuine exasperation in her voice, but it wasn't cruel.
It was the tone of a sister who loved deeply and scolded even deeper.
"I'm her older sister… but she doesn't always listen to me," she murmured.
Then—without warning—she turned to him.
"What about you? Did you have siblings?"
Tatsuya froze.
The question hit like a loose floorboard in his heart, catching him mid-step.
Siblings…
A warm image stirred behind his eyes.
A flash of auburn hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. A proud smile as an arrow flew through the air, splitting a distant target in half. The smell of bent wood and straw.
"…Yes," Tatsuya said quietly. "I had an older sister."
His voice softened.
"She was a wonderful person. My idol growing up. I loved her very much."
He smiled at the memory—just for a moment, his eyes sparkling with that far-off light people get when they look back on something too golden to keep.
"In fact, she was once the number one archer in the entire country."
Ruza's brows lifted with interest. "Was she an adventurer?"
That smile faded.
The gleam in his eyes darkened like embers left in the rain.
"No."
The word sat heavy on his tongue.
"She got killed by a group of thugs."
The words felt dry. Flat. Like they had been said too many times, or not enough.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Ruza said, her voice softer now.
Tatsuya didn't meet her gaze.
"She died before the world got to know her," he murmured.
His fists clenched slightly in his lap.
Not with rage. Not the white-hot kind that lashed out, but the deep, black kind that sat in your chest like a heavy stone.
"I swear, if I ever see those people again…"
His voice didn't rise.
But his words cut like a blade.
"…I'll kill them."
Ruza didn't respond immediately.
But she didn't look away.
She simply let the silence stretch, a quiet acknowledgment that no words would fix a wound like that.
And perhaps that was enough.
Someone approached from behind and paused beside Tatsuya's chair. A maid—Misuki—standing straight as ever, her expression polite but unreadable.
"The bath is ready, Master Tatsuya," she said.
Bath? Wait… do I smell that bad!?
He instinctively sniffed his sleeve—he didn't smell bad, but maybe the stables weren't helping his image.
Before he could protest, she was already gesturing toward the hall with a quiet bow.
A few disoriented steps later, he found himself being ushered into another wing of the estate.
Wh… what is this…
Steam rolled through the air like silk sheets being pulled over the floor.
A large stone bath, fed by crystal-clear water, bubbled quietly in the middle of a room that looked like a luxury resort's best-kept secret. Marble tiles. Ivory pillars. A ceiling mural of dragons and stars painted in gold and indigo.
Tatsuya dipped one foot in and nearly collapsed with a sigh.
Then he walked back a few steps.
He looked over the room once again.
And then…
He skittered forward and with a dramatic jump he made a bombshell in the water.
Splash!!!
The heat wrapped around him instantly, seeping into his muscles, his bones.
"This… this feels incredible…"
He sank in to his shoulders, letting out a low groan of satisfaction.
"…But the nature hot springs at Paul's place were better."
His smile slowly faded.
The surface of the water shimmered, reflecting his face like a mirror made of smoke and memory.
"Sister…"
He whispered the word, barely audible.
It echoed in his mind, louder than it had any right to be.
"I'm telling you, you've got to pull the string back with your elbow straight, not bent like that!"
Her voice—clear as day—echoed in his head. Laughter followed. He could see her again. The way her ponytail bounced as she walked. The little scar on her chin she never bothered to hide. The scent of sunflower oil on her fingers from helping in the kitchen.
Everything came back with such cruel clarity.
Tatsuya closed his eyes.
It's been years…
And yet…
The pain hadn't faded. Not even a little.
It just settled. Deep down. Heavy and quiet like snow over a grave.
He had told Ruza the truth: she was his idol. But even that didn't do her justice.
She was his anchor when everything else felt like it was drifting.
And now?
Now she was just… gone.
Ripped away, pointlessly, by people who didn't know her name—people who didn't deserve to speak it.
He pressed his palm against his face.
"I swear, if I ever see them again… I'll kill them."
The words came back to him, like venom rising up his throat. It wasn't something he liked saying—but it had slipped out so easily.
He wasn't someone who wanted to kill.
He wasn't someone who wanted revenge.
At least… that's what he told himself.
But the truth was—He would.
Without hesitation.
He'd never even been able to bury her body. Never got to say goodbye. Never saw justice carried out. Just a name on a police report, a file in a dusty drawer, and a half-hearted apology from men in suits who said, "These things happen."
His fists clenched under the water.
She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve to be forgotten.
The hot spring was supposed to be relaxing, but all he felt was the cold ache inside him growing sharper.
Tatsuya lowered himself deeper into the water, until it reached just beneath his nose.
The world muffled around him.
The heat, the quiet, the pain—they blurred together, forming a soft cocoon around his body, even as his heart ached.
If she were here… what would she tell me?
Probably to stop brooding. To eat something. To keep moving forward.
She hated when he got stuck in his own head like this.
He tried to smile at that.
But the smile didn't last.
A small tear welled up at the corner of his eye, swallowed quickly by the steam. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. It was just… silent mourning.
He took a slow breath.
Let it out.
"…I miss you," he whispered, the words vanishing in the mist like smoke in the wind.
Part 3
Tatsuya didn't know how much time had passed before he got out of the bath.
His fingers were wrinkled, like an old man.
He toweled off and looked at the window in the dressing room.
The sun had already surpassed the midday point.
I must have bathed in that bath for at least a few hours, I hope they don't think I drowned or something.
The sunsets were still early in the evening, it wasn't until early Zathor that the days were getting longer.
Tatsuya decided to go to his bedroom, not really wanting to do anything. It wasn't that he had nothing to do.
He had his practice drills from Paul's, he could ask Yatsu to train him, enjoy the sun in the garden or explore the estate some more.
But he wasn't feeling up to any of that.
Just the weight of everything just were to heavy to handle right now.
All he wanted to do was sleep.