"Senior!"

Moen awoke abruptly amidst the panicked shouting.

The moon, the cultists, the Order of Knights, the Silencers—everything had vanished. All that remained was the light blue curtain swaying gently with the breeze, and the familiar silver-haired girl sitting by his bedside. She wielded a sharp blade with skillful precision, peeling an apple.

It was unmistakably a hospital room, and the girl beside him was Celicia.

"Want some?"

Celicia held out the perfectly peeled apple to Moen. Surprisingly, she didn’t slice it into small pieces this time. Instead, she offered the entire apple directly to him.

But Moen didn’t accept it. He simply gazed intently into Celicia’s eyes and asked:

"Where is Senior?"

"In prison."

"Which one?"

"The Third Division Penitentiary of the Silence Agency."

"I need to see her!"

"Impossible."

Seeing Moen refuse the apple, Celicia deftly sliced off a small piece with her fruit knife and placed it into her own mouth.

The sweetness of the juice spread across her tastebuds, and the concentrated sugar in it softened the sharp edges of her usually cold demeanor.

"It's not possible. When cultists are detained, no one is allowed to visit them—not even me."

"Senior is not a cultist!"

"I know she isn’t. But she soon will be."

"Why?"

"Don't you really know? Or are you just lying to yourself?"

Celicia cast a sidelong glance at Moen before lowering her gaze once more to continue slicing the apple with precision.

"You must've seen it that day."

"Seen what?"

"The scales."

"… Scales? That doesn’t mean anything. Some people with unique bloodlines, like those imbued with dragon blood, or even the merfolk from the southern seas, they have scales too."

"But those were snake scales."

"So what?"

"Snake scales are entirely different."

Celicia said with quiet pity:

"Snakes—they belong to the moon."

"…"

Those light words landed like a hammer blow against Moen’s spirit. His strength suddenly evaporated, and he reclined back onto the pillow, staring blankly at the pale ceiling. It felt as though the blood in his veins was being drained away bit by bit.

His heart grew colder with every passing second.

"So… it really is serpentization sickness?"

"Absolutely true."

"Could there have been a misdiagnosis?"

"You’d have to ask the Silence Agency about that. But with their level of expertise, the likelihood is extremely, extremely small."

"Damn it."

Moen cursed, though he knew not at whom the words were directed.

"Why does it have to be serpentization sickness…"

Any illness afflicting Senior wouldn’t normally frighten Moen. His status as a duke’s son ensured he had access to the best medical resources in the world.

And with the aid of powerful healing magic and advanced alchemical instruments, nearly every disease known to humankind could be treated.

Except serpentization sickness.

Because the root of this illness emanated from the dark god.

It was a unique form of corruption crafted by the Moon of Silence—targeting certain rare individuals and sowing disaster within them.

These seeds would slowly take root, grow, and flourish until the host was entirely consumed.

Its outward manifestation was serpentization.

Snake scales, snake-like eyes—those afflicted with serpentization sickness eventually developed reptilian traits until they completely transformed into a new species. Or perhaps, a distinct entity. They became snakefolk.

And as Celicia had mentioned, snakes are lunar creatures.

Snakefolk—their existence intertwined with an innate faith in the moon—served as natural believers of the Moon of Silence and agents of calamity, spreading the dark god’s disasters among humanity.

That was why Celicia had said that Senior was on the brink of becoming a cultist.

Serpentization couldn’t be reversed, nor could it be cured.

At least according to the original storyline Moen had pieced together, there were no records of anyone recovering from serpentization sickness.

"What will happen to Senior?"

"According to the Silence Agency’s protocols, if she has never harmed anyone, she will likely be sent to a remote prison island in the southern seas controlled by the Empire. There, her powers will be sealed entirely, and she will live out the rest of her life in confinement."

"How pathetic..."

"At least she'll still be alive, won’t she? But that might not be easy to Anna Kablin."

"What do you mean?"

"That depends on one particular accusation she’s going to face."

Celicia finished the whole apple before speaking. Using her handkerchief, she wiped the fruit knife clean of moisture, then casually tossed a stack of documents over to Moen.

Moen flipped through the files quickly. The cold despair lingering in his chest was instantly overtaken by a searing rage.

The files only presented one troubling matter: as a patient of serpentization sickness—or, more specifically, a future snakeperson—Anna Kablin had already been identified as the prime suspect in the murder of Tyk Rod!

Furthermore, she was being accused of several "heart-clutching" murders half a year ago—rumors that had morphed into urban legends about the dreaded Heart-Raping Banshee.

"That’s impossible!"

Moen furiously slammed the files shut:

"Murder? Heart-Raping? Senior would never do something like that!"

"I understand how hard this truth is to swallow, but reality isn’t determined by mere subjective gut feelings."

"So what evidence do you have to prove Senior is the culprit?"

"A defining characteristic of late-stage serpentization is a shift in one's consciousness—where snakefolk's instincts begin to take over. At that point, male hearts exert an almost irresistible allure to them—it is encoded deeply within their very nature."

"...Hearts…"

Suddenly, Moen recalled the prophesied dream he’d had. But he quickly forced that irrelevant thought out of his mind and continued questioning:

"But even that doesn’t prove Senior's guilt! Snakefolk aren’t unique to her!"

"True. I also wish to see her proven innocent. However, numerous clues currently point in her direction."

"Clues?"

"I hadn’t paid much attention to the Academy until recently, when rumors about the Heart-Raping Banshee began circulating. It was then that certain details caught my eye."

Celicia spoke softly:

"Take Tyk Rod, for example—he was a count's son. Under normal circumstances, it would have been highly unusual for him to venture into the Lower City District. Our investigations reveal that he only went there due to an invitation he received. But the identity of the person who invited him remains known only to Tyk himself—Tyk, who is now deceased. Still, we do know when that invitation was sent: the day before the Open Day event."

"And that proves… what exactly?"

"It proves that the murderer is most likely the person who invited him. And as Tyk wasn't known to have interacted with anyone outside the Academy prior to this, the likelihood points strongly toward someone within the school."

"But..."

Moen's face turned pale:

"This still doesn’t prove…"

"Let’s discount the astronomically low probability of two snakefolks infiltrating the Academy simultaneously. As a president of the student council, even I hope Anna Kablin isn’t the guilty party. Last night, I filed an official request with the Silence Agency asking them to investigate further. This morning, they sent me their findings."

Once again, Celicia handed Moen another folder. Only now, did Moen notice the faint dark circles under her sharp silver eyes, and the bloodshot veins in her weary gaze.

"Thank you," Moen uttered softly.

"You have no reason to thank me in this matter," Celicia replied coldly.

Moen offered a bitter smile and flipped open the new file.

But the fragile hint of color that had returned to his face immediately faded away once more.

"This… What is this?"

"It’s as you see: Anna Kablin herself refused to account for her whereabouts on the first day of the Open Day event." Celicia sighed gently.

She had hoped to establish Anna Kablin’s innocence, only for this unexpected turn of events to push her deeper into the abyss.

"But... That still doesn’t prove her guilt. Maybe she had something personal..."

"I doubt there's anything personal that could outweigh murder accusations—worse yet, accusations of heart-raping crimes. Besides, don’t you think it’s highly suspicious for her to withhold critical details in a matter that decides life and death?"

"But without evidence, no evidence…"

Moen murmured weakly. The absence of tangible proof made it impossible to convict her—Senior might still...

"Moen," Celicia said, fixing her gaze on him. Her voice took on a heavier tone:

"Innocent until proven guilty—that principle only applies to ordinary people."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Snakefolk... They’re treated as part of the cultist category, regarded with overwhelming fear and hatred by most. Imperial laws, in many cases, do not apply to them."

Celicia lowered her eyes, her rare moment of vulnerability seeping through her typically resolute tone.

"Count Rod has been at the gates of the Silence Agency's Third Division all day, demanding the immediate execution by fire of the so-called ‘cultist’ who killed his son."

"Count Rod? How dare he? How dare he?"

Moen’s expression twisted in rage, his heart ablaze with anger. He clenched his fists and slammed against the bedframe. Who was this mere count to act so audaciously?

But his fury quickly dissipated, leaving behind only cold despair—a bucket of ice water extinguishing his flames in an instant.

After all, according to the file, Count Rod was merely a grieving father who had lost his child. How could Moen justify leveling criticism at him?

Much like his current grief-stricken outrage, Count Rod’s actions were entirely within reason.

"Still, one thing you can take solace in: the Silence Agency, as an independent imperial dark god response unit, wields near absolute authority in handling such matters. Even I cannot interfere. Rest assured, they're unlikely to yield to Count Rod’s demands. What's more, the two cultists you encountered last time—the Silencers are currently hunting them down. I’m confident there'll be progress soon." Celicia offered a small reassurance.

"Thank you."

"I told you—you have no reason to thank me regarding this."

Celicia stood gracefully. She wasn’t dressed in her student council uniform but donned a rare and simple white dress instead.

The dim, indifferent light filtering through the curtain illuminated her figure, casting a faint haze that expanded outward like mist.

"Have a rest. I have other matters to attend to."

"Okay, goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Moen remained lying on the bed, stunned. By the timeline he'd pieced together, he had already been asleep for a full twenty hours—but still, he felt utterly drained.

This exhaustion didn’t come from his body but from his soul.

He didn’t rise to see Celicia off; he simply stared blankly at the mist-like silhouette as it drifted out of the room.

"Your Highness!"

Suddenly, a brisk gust of wind swept through the room. Celicia's dress swayed like mist being scattered, revealing her cold, composed features.

A knight clad in silver plate armor stormed through the door, invading the room in urgency.

Sweat glistened across his brow, panic etched deeply into his expression. Even the knightly etiquette drilled into his every move had been cast aside—he hadn’t even knocked before barging in.

He thrust a file toward Celicia.

"An emergency dispatch from the Silence Agency."

"Emergency? Has there been progress in the case?"

Celicia frowned slightly as she reached for the file.

Her sharp gaze quickly skimmed through the documents, but what she saw caused her cool, composed features to shatter in an uncommon display of shock.

"Did something happen?"

Looking at Celicia's rare loss of composure, Moen asked in puzzlement.

Celicia waved the knight away and turned back, her gaze fixed on Moen with an intensity that lingered for a while, as if deliberating over something.

It wasn't until Moen also began to sense that something was amiss, with the unease in her heart gradually mounting, that Celicia took a deep breath and spoke softly:

"The Third Division of the Silence Mechanism was attacked by cultists. The prison was breached... and Anna Kablin... has been taken."