Obviously, Lucimia wasn’t going to lie down and sleep. She sat on the bed, mind replaying the last loop’s end like lanterns flickering in fog.

Only by seeing the whole shape—like tracing a river’s bends—could she strike at the right spots.

If there was a chance to keep this life, she’d shelve running for later, like sliding a blade back into its sheath.

First, her goal. Simple as a bright moon: keep this peaceful life. So drive out the Deceiver, protect family and the familiar faces.

As for strangers? She wasn’t a saint. Save who she could. Let the rest drift like leaves if she couldn’t.

Next, what the Deceiver did.

On day one—tomorrow. Lucimia went out and met a boy worn like a mask by a Blue Ringed Octopus.

At the old bookshop, she put down one octopus. She crippled the Blue Ringed Octopus. The next day, whether for revenge or by plan, they killed Julie. They replaced Vittor. They dangled obvious flaws. They steered Lucimia into a trap, hoping to strangle her early.

That same day, Yuna would be brought by sacrifice, like a paper lantern pulled through a dark well.

By the second night, the Church’s team reached the Town of Tranquility. At the banquet, the fake Vittor showed up, identity already blown.

It didn’t flee. It stood and traded blows with everyone, like a reef taking waves, and was finally captured by Bazeroth.

Day three was the ritual. After it, at dawn on day four, the whole town was replaced.

Then came the flight. And Elyssus’s last words, trailing like smoke.

Elyssus had said something: Yuna’s Blessing was something it had never seen?

Also, on day three, in broad daylight, Yuna urged her to sabotage the ritual. Back then, Lucimia thought Yuna wanted to frame her. Now it clicked. If Yuna carried a looping Blessing, everything made sense.

From how she never feared Lucimia’s Dark Deity taint, to those odd, out-of-place lines.

And at the end, she said she wanted Lucimia to grasp the whole event, like mapping a maze from above.

Wait. Doesn’t that mean Yuna has looped more than once?

Remember: Lucimia pressed Yuna hard, knife-edge kissing skin. Yet Yuna kept insisting the ritual must be broken or danger would bloom.

That alone said Yuna had looped more than once.

But then, if Yuna’s looped many times, why did this loop let Lucimia keep her memories?

Can her Blessing let others remember?

And why not say it outright? Why speak in riddles, or nudge Lucimia instead?

Is she unable to? Does the Blessing bind her?

Answers would come only when Yuna was sacrificed here again, like the tide returning.

“So day four’s citywide replacement… was it the ritual? Was the ritual flawed?”

Regret pricked Lucimia like thorns. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? Maybe there’d be no looping.

But she couldn’t then. Information was lopsided. The sacrifice’s taint tugged her mind like iron filings to a magnet, pulling it toward a Dark Deity’s thinking.

“…When she comes, I’ll apologize properly,” Lucimia muttered, voice like rain under eaves.

If the ritual is the key, then tweak the Magic Array, and the city won’t be swapped like masks at a festival.

But one knot still pulled at her. She’d joined past Exorcism Rituals. The visions looked identical to that night.

Why would the same ritual yield a different fate?

And why did it go wrong? Were the Church magi who laid the Magic Array infiltrated by octopuses? When did it happen?

No one could answer. Questions hung like cobwebs in a cold hall.

She pulled her thoughts back to the first half. The ritual had a fix. But how to stop Julie, Vittor, and Kaeli from being replaced?

On the first morning, the Blue Ringed Octopus marked her. She hurt it badly. It held a grudge. With identities exposed, fearing the ritual’s failure, it wanted Lucimia dead before the rite.

The octopus feared Lucimia, the wild card, like fire fears rain.

“Right—of course. I get it!” Lucimia lit up, surprise blooming like dawn.

But why did fake Vittor stride into a banquet set as a trap?

Because he was acting. Playing to a mole inside the Church. He knew he wouldn’t die.

Stagecraft let the Church “catch” him. Lucimia’s trust swelled like a tide. She’d let them handle the Magic Array. Alvis would, too.

Back then, she exhaled. Thought it was over. With the Church as shield, she could finally sleep like a stone in a stream.

It wasn’t.

The one who captured the fake was the Executor, Bazeroth.

So does that mean Bazeroth was replaced too?

That’s terrifying. What kind of octopus could quietly replace a Church powerhouse? Is that even possible?

If so, that one was stronger than the Blue Ringed Octopus, like a storm beyond a squall.

Another guess: the fake was gambling. Bazeroth hadn’t been replaced yet. The Church wouldn’t kill it on sight. They’d keep it alive for intel.

Just stall till the ritual ended, and the board was flipped.

That tracked, because Bazeroth spoke with Alvis before the banquet. If memories were off, Alvis would notice.

Everything clicked. Lucimia almost admired herself, like a cat preening in sunlight.

“Mm. Figures. I’m brilliant.”

The key knots from the last loop were untied.

This loop’s to-do list stood clear as a night sky.

First, don’t provoke the Blue Ringed Octopus. Keep the familiar people safe. Drag things out till before the ritual. Whether Bazeroth was replaced or not, break the Magic Array. The danger would crumble like dried clay.

One hitch still tugged at her. Should she tell her father outright?

Even if the plan failed, the hidden Deceivers still had to be smoked out.

Do it like last time? Use Holy Water to force them to show?

Right. She didn’t have to smash the Magic Array herself. Let the Church wield Holy Water. Force out the Deceivers hiding among their magi.

Yes. Do that.

She’d pitch it to her father. He’d negotiate with Bazeroth.

Mm. That’s the plan.

Her mood lifted like kites in spring. In a blink she’d sorted the whole affair and found the key to break it.

She had faith she could end the octopus crisis this loop, clean as a blade through silk.