Ryouma sat near the couch, his arms resting lazily over his knees as he glanced at the girl sitting stiffly a few feet away.
"You calm now?" he asked, his tone light but careful.
The girl sat with her arms crossed tightly, eyes still flickering around the room with suspicion.
"I'm literally sitting in some shady guy's apartment," she said dryly. "How exactly am I supposed to be calm?"
Ryouma groaned, letting his head fall back for a moment.
"Can you chill with the 'shady guy' stuff? Seriously—I'm trying to help you here."
She sighed, and for the first time, a faint smirk tugged at the edge of her lips.
"Alright, alright."
A brief silence passed before Ryouma leaned forward, breaking the awkward air.
"So… we haven't introduced ourselves yet. I'm Ryouma Winslow. Just feel free to call me Ryo."
She nodded slowly.
"I'm Archive. Just Archive."
Ryouma blinked, raising a brow.
"Wait, like... Archive Archive? You're telling me your name is literally a storage unit for documents?"
Archive answered flatly.
"It's short for my full name, which is incredibly long. So yeah—I prefer Archive."
He chuckled half-heartedly.
"I'm almost afraid to ask, but... just out of curiosity, what's this full name?"
She tilted her head slightly, then spoke with the kind of dramatic flair that suggested she was used to this reaction.
"Archivum Omniscientiae et Aeternitatis de Sacris et Arcanis Codicibus, Infans Archivorum."
Ryouma stared at her, mouth slightly ajar.
"Seriously? Your name is literally—whatever that was? I can't even say that."
Archive just shrugged.
"Exactly why I go with Archive. Oh—and my Mergus name is Archive 001."
That caught him off guard.
"Mergus?"
"Yeah, you know—people who cast Metra spells and stuff." She said.
Ryouma leaned back slightly, squinting.
"I know what a Mergus is. It's just... isn't Metra like a fairy tale? Like, the kind of supernatural abilities people use in fantasy novels to defeat demon lords and save princesses?"
Archive grinned faintly.
"More or less. Except Metra is real."
He stared at her, deadpan.
"Yeah, sure it is. And my uncle is Bob Jersey."
"No he's not. And who's Bob Jersey?"
He facepalmed.
"Never mind."
Archive narrowed her eyes at him.
"Are you saying I'm lying?"
"I mean… yeah. Because Metra doesn't exist. I know supernatural abilities are real—Gaias are everywhere in this city. But Metra? Come on."
"So you don't believe me?"
Ryouma leaned forward slightly, a small grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.
"If you want me to believe you… then prove it."
Without hesitation, Archive suddenly stood up on the couch, arms spread wide with mock theatrical energy.
"Behold—the Walking Sanctuary!"
Ryouma tilted his head.
"The… Walking Sanctuary?"
She pointed to her robe like it should've been obvious.
"My robe. Duh."
"Cool name for a robe."
Archive ignored the jab and continued matter-of-factly.
"This robe is woven from condensed Metra energy—in other words, Concentrated Arcor. Oh, you might know it as Ether or whatever you science nerds call it."
"That's not the point. How is your robe made of Metra?" Ryouma asked.
"Because it just is. It's infused with condensed Metra—so it can shield me from both physical and supernatural attacks." She said.
Ryouma leaned back again, folding his arms.
"You know, I was born with a strange power too. I'm not exactly sure what it does, but it cancels out any supernatural ability I come in contact with. I think... it might even be able to negate divine miracles."
Archive raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"Oh really? Then prove that. If you're so confident your ability can cancel out divine miracles, go ahead. Touch the robe. If it's as powerful as you say, it should cancel the enchantment."
He smirked.
"You asked for it. Don't blame me if you end up buck naked."
Archive rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead."
Without another word, Ryouma reached forward and touched the edge of her robe.
In an instant, the fabric tore like paper—silent, sudden, and complete. The entire robe torn, piece by piece, stripped away by the unseen force of his ability.
Archive stood there proudly at first, unaware.
"See? Nothing happened. Told you—"
Ryouma's expression twisted with awkward panic as he quickly turned his gaze away, eyes locked on the ceiling.
"Uhh… you're kinda... naked."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, Archive stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with confusion, before they sharpened—and in the very next second, she gasped, clutched at her bare shoulders, and scrambled upright on the couch.
"...Eh!?"
She stared down at herself, the ruined remains of the white robe sliding off like torn paper. Her face went crimson.
"Wha—?! Wh-What happened to my robe!?"
She turned away in a flash, hugging her arms to her chest, voice pitched high with both panic and fury.
"D-Don't look this way! Turn around! Immediately!"
Ryouma, already mid-panic, flailed a little before spinning on his heel and slapping a hand over his eyes.
"Whoa! Hey—relax! I didn't do it on purpose!"
He reached blindly into his bag, fumbling until his fingers closed around something familiar. Without looking, he tossed the crumpled jacket over his shoulder.
"Here! Take this!"
The jacket landed beside her with a soft rustle. Archive snatched it up, wrapping it around herself in a huff.
Archive quickly wrapped it around herself and grumbled, "I knew it. You are a pervert."
Ryouma groaned, "Can you not? I didn't know you were actually telling the truth about your parlor tricks."
He paused, thinking. So Metra really exists…? That means there's a lot about this world I don't know.
Archive plopped down on the couch, still holding the robe's remains. "So, what now? My robe's ruined."
Ryouma stood. "Hold on a sec." He headed into his room and came back with a box filled with sewing supplies—pins, needles, and thread.
He handed it to her. "I can't fix it for you. That robe's made of Metra, remember? The more I touch it, the more it gets destroyed. You'll have to do it yourself."
She sat, muttering under her breath, and began sewing.
"I won't look," Ryouma said, turning away. "Just… fix your sacred bathrobe."
After a bit, she said, "Done."
Ryouma turned back. "Seriously… until now, I didn't think things like that actually existed. I always figured everything could be explained scientifically. People in Gaia City don't even believe in the divine."
Archive shrugged. "Not your fault. I know Humans are ignorant—but seriously."
Ryouma leaned back. "Earlier, you told me your name was Archive. Sorry, but I can't call you that."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, it's kinda my thing to give people nicknames based on their actual names. But with your name…" He waved vaguely. "There's nothing there that fits someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"A pretty young lady," he said casually.
She blushed.
"So," Ryouma continued, "if the people responsible for you couldn't be bothered to give you a proper name, I'll do it myself. Now, remind me of that absurdly long full name again."
She sighed, but recited, "Archivum Omniscientiae et Aeternitatis de Sacris et Arcanis Codicibus, Infans Archivorum."
"Right… That is such a mouthful," Ryouma said, rubbing his temples. "I think that's Latin."
He mumbled it under his breath, translating: "The Archive of Omniscience and Eternity on Sacred and Arcane Codices, The Child of Archives…"
Ryouma sat up straight. "Alright. Archive… child of archives… hmm…"
He snapped his fingers. "Got it. Shiryoko."
She tilted her head. "And what does that mean?"
"No clue. Maybe something about archives or something. I mean, I'm half-Japanese, I'm not exactly a language expert."
She smiled. "It's alright. It's a nice name."
"Cool. So, officially, you're Shiryoko now." He grinned. "But for daily use, I'm just gonna call you Shiro."
"Whatever suits you. You cared enough to give me a nice name, so I won't complain."
"Alright then, Shiro" Ryouma said, standing. "Now that we've settled the name issue, let's get back to why I brought you here in the first place."
He glanced at her and noticed the blush still lingering on her face. "Uh… can you stop that? This isn't some rom-com novel. Tone it down with the blushing."
"Shut up," she snapped. "I'm not doing it on purpose."
"I'm just saying. Nobody wants to read a story where the girl blushes at everything. That's, like, Rom-Com 101 failure."
She glared. "We're straying off-topic. Do you mind?"
"Right, right." Ryouma sat again. "So. The people chasing you—any idea who they were?"
"I think I have an idea."
"And that is…?"
She looked at him, dead serious. "I think it's because of the 150,000 Grimoires I carry with me."
Ryouma blinked. "Wait… one hundred and fifty thousand Grimoires?"
"Yep." Shiro said.
"Uh… what's a Grimoire?" Ryouma asked confused.
Shiro crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Seriously? You reacted like you knew what a Grimoire was."
Ryouma shrugged. "I was trying to keep up."
"No surprise though. You do live in a city of science and tech, so it makes sense you're clueless about stuff like this." Shiro said.
"Gee, thanks," he muttered.
"Alright, listen up," she said, her tone sharpening. "Because I'm only saying this once.
So Grimoires are ancient scriptures used to cast Metra spells. And the ones I carry, are some of the most dangerous in existence."
Ryouma blinked. "Wow. First I find out Metra exists, and now there are History books filled with ancient words that can cast spells? That's... honestly, mind-breaking."
Shiro nodded. "There's even one book in my collection that talks about a future dominated by science and machines. And now that I've seen this city, it's clear—the book was telling the truth."
Ryouma leaned forward, curiosity deepening. "Okay, but if these books are so dangerous, why don't you have, like, a bodyguard or something? Someone must've made you carry them, right?"
She hesitated. "Yeah… someone… I thing."
"And they just let you wander around without any kind of protection?" Ryouma asked.
Shiro went quiet.
"That's… cruel," Ryouma said, more to himself than to her. "If people are after you because of those books, then your life's at risk. They should've had someone looking out for you."
He paused—just as his stomach gave a loud, growling protest.
Shiro blinked. "Was that…?"
Ryouma looked at her flatly. "That wasn't me."
Her stomach growled next.
She blushed, flustered. "W-Well, I haven't eaten all day, okay?!"
Ryouma stood up. "Alright, alright, don't combust. Just wait here, I'll be back."
He grabbed his wallet and keys and headed for the door.
"I'm going to the convenience store," he called back. "And, please don't disappear while I'm gone, Okay?"
---
On his way.
The cool air greeted him like a slap to the face. He zipped up his hoodie and shoved his hands into the pockets, walking briskly down the sidewalk.
"Something about this whole thing doesn't sit right," he muttered to himself. "If those Grimoires are that important… why leave the girl alone? Why not put her in some hidden fortress? Or with a bodyguard? Someone."
He rounded the corner, heading toward a convenience store—when something caught his eye.
Three guys in track suits were crowding around a girl in a side alley. She was maybe his age. Cute, dark-hair, clearly uncomfortable as they loomed over her like a pack of dogs pretending to flirt.
Ryouma paused.
"…Okay," he muttered, "this is new."
Well it wasn't for Block E, because in Block E this was the norm, and he was about to find that out.
His hand twitched, and he slowly began walking toward them.
CHAPTER END.