The pain was worse in the joints.
Not the kind of pain that makes you scream. The kind that settles in deep—quiet, persistent, like something had cracked inside and kept grinding.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Light stabbed in from the broken shutters. Cool morning, or maybe late afternoon. Hard to tell in this place. The air had that faint, mineral bite of mana saturation. Like the inside of a storm before it breaks.
I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it.
My skin felt like parchment stretched too tight. Muscles twitched without permission. Fingers buzzed like they were charged with static.
The System hadn't spoken since the Soul Contract. But I could feel it—like a coiled presence under my thoughts, patient, silent.
I dragged myself upright, legs dangling over the bed. My boots were gone. Coat folded on a chair. Shirt half-removed and stuck to my chest with dried blood and sweat.
Someone had bandaged my hands.
Cleanly. Precisely.
I didn't hear her enter. She was just there—the way fog is just suddenly around you.
Liri stood beside the chair, arms folded, watching me like I was something under a mage's glass. Her hair was braided over one shoulder, sleeves rolled to the elbow. The dagger at her hip was visible now—sleek, silver-edged, too fine for a maid.
"You lived," she said, with the subtle disappointment of someone losing a bet.
"Disappointed?"
"Surprised."
I grunted. "I'm full of surprises lately."
She didn't move. Just studied me.
I nodded at my hands. "Yours?"
"Yes."
"Thanks."
She said nothing.
We stayed like that for a while—me blinking through the fog in my skull, her staring like she was trying to hear something beneath my skin.
"You pushed too hard," she said finally. "You burned your own channels."
I flexed my fingers. The pain flared, but they moved.
"It worked."
"That's not the point. Mana isn't just power. It's pathway. You pour too much, too fast, you shatter the path—and it doesn't always rebuild."
"I didn't exactly get a manual."
"I noticed."
A beat passed.
I looked at her carefully. "Where did you learn to heal?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Maid training?"
"No."
She moved to the window. The sunlight hit her shoulders, outlining her in gold.
"You knew about the System, didn't you?"
Silence.
She glanced back, eyes colder. "Not your version. But I've heard of things like it."
"From where?"
She didn't answer.
So I stood.
Every part of my body screamed in protest, but I forced it. One step. Then another. She didn't stop me. Didn't help either.
I crossed the room, stood beside her at the window.
"Who are you really?" I asked.
A pause.
Then, softly: "Someone who was told you'd never change."
I looked at her, but she kept her eyes on the horizon.
"You don't speak like a servant," I said. "You don't walk like one. You don't think like one."
She didn't argue.
So I stepped closer.
"Why are you still here?"
Finally, she met my gaze.
"To find out if I was wrong."
Something flickered between us then—unspoken, not gentle, not romantic, but real. A tension neither of us trusted enough to name.
I turned before it broke.
"I'm going for a walk," I said.
She didn't stop me.
The estate felt different in the daylight. Still ruined, still half-buried under time and ash, but not empty. There were whispers in the air now. A pressure beneath the stone. Mana, yes—but also memory.
The System stirred as I passed beneath the old arches.
[Soul Signature Stable][Mana Burn: 54% Recovery][Passive Perception Increased][Warning: Proximity to Sealed Zone Detected]
That stopped me.
I looked down the side path leading into the garden. Or what had once been a garden. Now it was just cracked earth, dead grass, and broken statues.
But something called from beneath it.
The ground shifted underfoot. Not visibly. Not physically.
Just a hum.
Like something old had turned over in its sleep.
I stepped off the path.
There, half-hidden beneath a collapsed trellis, I found it—a stairwell leading underground. Black stone steps, each one etched in faded runes. A sealed door at the bottom. Thick metal, framed in obsidian.
[Sealed Chamber Detected][Access Requires Key or Force-Level Tier III+][Caution: Divine Residue Detected]
That word again.
Divine.
I reached out, not to open it, but just to feel the edge.
Behind me, a voice snapped: "Don't."
Lirae.
I turned.
She stood at the top of the stairs, face pale, eyes sharp.
"That door isn't yours," she said.
"Then whose is it?"
"Someone who knew what they were doing."
"You keep assuming I don't."
She stepped down slowly, each footfall deliberate.
"There are things in this world that were buried for a reason."
"So let me guess—you're here to guard it?"
"I'm here to warn you."
I raised a hand, half-playful. "Message received."
"You think this is a game."
"No," I said. "But it's starting to feel like it has rules."
She stared at me for a long moment, then turned and walked away.
But not fast.
Not angry.
Just… retreating.
Like someone deciding not to cross a line.
I waited until she was gone before pressing my hand to the seal.
[Denied]
Figures.
But the air around the door pulsed faintly, reacting to my touch.
Like it remembered me.
That was new.
I returned to the courtyard to find Gray standing over a makeshift training post, striking it in rhythm. His movements were precise now. Focused. More than a peasant. Less than a soldier.
Progress.
"Gray," I said.
He stopped immediately, turned.
"I want to test something."
He nodded.
I raised a hand.
[Soul Contract Adjustment Available — Minor Trait Sync][Trait: Perception Boost – Temporary Link?][Y/N]
"Yes."
A faint hum. Then a jolt in my vision.
I saw through him. Just for a second.
Not his eyes.
His feeling. The weight of his muscles. The pressure of his boots on the stone. The heat in his chest—warmth that hadn't been there before.
Gratitude. Awe. Something deeper.
I pulled back, reeling.
Gray steadied me.
"You alright?" he asked.
I nodded. "Just not used to… being someone else."
He said nothing, but didn't move.
He was waiting for something.
"Why do you follow me, Gray?" I asked.
His reply was immediate. "Because when I was dying, you gave without asking."
I stared at him. "You're wrong. I asked the System first."
"You still chose yes."
I nodded slowly.
We trained until the sky dimmed.
Later, as dusk settled, Lirae led me to a place I'd never seen. A massive, dead tree on the far edge of the estate—its branches like ribs clawing the sky.
"The Tree of Bones," she said. "Old kings were hanged here. Traitors buried under the roots."
"Charming."
"Put your hand on it."
I hesitated. Then did.
And felt it.
The mana sang.
Low. Deep. Like whale-song beneath the world.
Lirae watched me.
"You hear it," she said.
I nodded.
"So did he. The one before you. The one who left that door sealed."
I didn't ask more. Not yet.
That night, I dreamed.
Floating ruins. Chains wrapped in starlight. A symbol burned into the sky.
When I woke, it was on my hand—faint, but glowing.
A circle within a triangle. The mark of the First War.
I sat up, gasping.
Across the room, Lirae sat in the chair beside my bed, arms folded, half-asleep.
I didn't speak.
But just before she drifted off, I heard her whisper:
"He's no longer the boy they abandoned."