Tonight’s banquet finally sputtered to an end; the crowd ebbed away like a dimming tide.

Alvis and Bazeroth called in Lucimia and Desty; the four met alone in the study, voices low as wind through paper screens.

They planned for tomorrow. Beyond those two octopuses, the barracks hid many Deceivers; the Church would haul them out one by one.

Hearing they’d net the octopuses, Lucimia mentioned the old bookstore’s blond owner—likely a Deceiver as well.

“Lucimia, the Church will form squads tomorrow to purge Deceivers. Do you want to join?”

Lucimia froze; the reason her father had brought her in settled like a stone.

“If you want to become a Holy Knight, this operation’s good training. If not, it’s fine. Stay home; the Church will handle the Deceivers.”

Alvis laid the choice in her hands like a steady lantern.

In this, Alvis truly did well; his calm felt like winter pine.

Did Lucimia want to be a Holy Knight?

The Church had the strength; they didn’t need her. What gnawed at her was tomorrow night’s Sacrificial Ritual. Would it be Authority Power, like the Holy Water? A Blessing could be deflected by Exemption. Authority Power was a different beast.

If she could slip past the ritual, every knot would loosen. No more two nights of heart pounding like trapped wings; she could sink back into a lazy, fish-in-sunlight life.

Seeing her silence stretch, Alvis thought she had other worries. He said, “Don’t worry about your mother. I’ll try to persuade her. The Deceivers even invaded our home; she’ll understand.”

“...No, that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?”

Say out loud she just wanted to slack off? The thought pricked. Lucimia glanced at Desty, then Bazeroth; after a beat, she let it go.

“What’s wrong, Lucimia?”

“It’s nothing. I just feel I’m not strong enough yet, so…”

“I see.” Alvis nodded, thoughtful. “It’s my oversight. Interested in the Magic Academy in the Royal Capital? I kept you from it before. With your talent, it’d be a shame not to go.”

Huh? A Magic Academy?

Her eyes lit up. A Magic Academy in this world—she’d wanted that rhythm, to meet new faces, to taste an otherworld campus life.

She wanted to agree; her chin started to dip. Then the word Dark Deity pulsed in her bones. Could she walk into a proper academy like that? She shook her head fast.

The nod-then-shake left Alvis a bit stunned, like a flag caught in crosswinds.

“Alright, leave it. Springing choices on you can be hard. Let the Church take tomorrow’s action. Think it over in the coming days.” Alvis, ever gentle, eased the knot.

She nodded quickly, relief fluttering like a small bird.

“And about Kaeli and Vittor...” Alvis sighed, heavy as damp wood. “After tomorrow’s Exorcism Day, we’ll arrange their funeral.”

“Mm.” Lucimia answered softly, her voice like mist.

So the Church would handle the purge tomorrow. Lucimia would stay home, thinking how to face the looming ritual.

Back in her room, Yuna sat obediently on the bed. The door clicked; she turned, sweet as sugar. “Lucy, sis, you’re back?”

“Mm-hmm, I’m back.”

Seeing that bright joy, Lucimia felt she looked like someone waiting for a beloved to come home, a lamp kept lit all night.

She told Yuna about the banquet and explained the Deceivers, threading the story like beads.

“Sorry for making you stay in the bedroom. I was afraid the fighting would wash over you.”

“It’s o-kay. I know,” Yuna said, words soft like cotton.

“Oh, right. I brought you good food.”

Lucimia had brought back many treats from the banquet, one portion of each. Pan-seared fish, charred outside and tender within, the meat spread with a bright green sauce. Roasted beef, glistening with fragrant oil. And oysters stuffed with diced salmon and oyster, tossed with spices, then packed back into the shells—one bite, and happiness flooded your mouth. A fresh vegetable salad rounded it out.

All of it was delicious; in her past life she’d barely tasted such things.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Any-thing’s fine.”

“Alright.” Lucimia didn’t fuss; she cut small bites from each and let her taste.

Yuna’s eyes weren’t well, so Lucimia fed her herself.

“Ah~”

Yuna opened a little; Lucimia guided the fork to her lips, careful as handling a snowflake.

“Is it good?”

“So good~”

The feeding game went on, gentle and slow like feeding koi at dusk.

Guilt pricked Lucimia. Since morning, she hadn’t fed Yuna much; too much had happened, and she forgot.

The pink-haired girl never fussed, never complained, her patience calm as still water.

Maybe fear of the Dark Deity shadowed her heart; she never even said she was hungry.

So tonight, Lucimia fed her and fed her, until her little belly rounded like a content moon.

At dawn, Lucimia woke in her bed, mind rising like mist.

Unexpectedly, no Sacrificial Ritual appeared, like thunder that never broke.

The weather soured. On this rare Exorcism Day, clouds packed tight; the whole sky looked lead-gray, a lid on the world.

Lucimia guessed it would rain.

She pushed the window open; a cold wind slapped her, and she shivered. With a sigh, she shut it again.

She knew winter was about to step in, quiet as frost.

The bedroom felt chilly, so she burrowed back into warm blankets. She wasn’t joining the purge; she could sleep a bit more.

She roughly knew how the Church would conduct the roundup. Civilians were loose and countless; soldiers were easy to gather. Assemble them all, call the roll by name, then make them drink last night’s Holy Water. If someone refused, beat them hard—beat until an octopus crawled out of the disguise.

As for Deceivers posing as civilians, once they learned their comrades were seized, many octopuses would flee the town. The Church had Holy Knights posted outside; runaways would be netted too.

Those that didn’t run would be called out by today’s ritual—if its grade was also Authority Power.

With such a layout, the Church cast a sky-spanning net; the Deceivers had nowhere to swim.

Lucimia only had to think about how to slip past tonight’s ritual, like a shadow under rain.

Everything seemed to lean toward better. The weight pressing on her these two days had lightened. She tucked her small feet, curled her legs, and slid back into sleep, like a leaf settling on a quiet pond.