After hearing Rexi out, that old prickle slid back into Lucimia’s chest like a thorn under skin.

Strange.

Too strange.

There’s something crooked in Bevi’s shadow.

From the sound of him, Bevi should be the stay-at-home type, a shuttered window in daytime; yet he just happened to run into Rexi out on the street.

He’s an information broker, a moth to every lamp of rumor; he should know Rexi’s a wanted killer, but he didn’t report her, didn’t even look at her like she was tainted.

Why?

Is it because he deals in the dark already, swims daily in alleys where people hire knives, so blood no longer startles him like thunder?

He also knows things about the Dark Deity, knows that a “deity” with Authority Power isn’t the true god, like a false moon painted on glass.

Right—if he’s a broker, he should know what the name Rexi Iveny Eloise means, should see her rank cresting like a banner in the wind.

Maybe—she drew in a thin breath—maybe Rexi’s a face everyone in the Empire knows, some noble’s star, and Lucimia’s the only one in the dark.

But if she’s a well-known noble, Rexi herself should’ve heard it in market chatter, like rain on tiles—who killed whom, who’s wanted—folk love that talk, yet Rexi seems blank as fresh snow.

So Bevi isn’t some common snitch; few people sip from the well of hidden lore about the Dark Deity.

Maybe he even knows Ment, knows Nirael, names that move like cold currents under ice.

Lucimia figured she could meet this Bevi; if his stance lines with hers, she’d ask for news of Erwei City, bait on a hook.

It would help her better break the Cross, like cracking old stone with a steady chisel.

If not… then I’ll Devour you; your knowledge and intel will be my bread and salt.

Still, beware his bite; anyone who trades in secrets usually carries a knife of their own.

She thought it through, then asked, “Do you think Bevi’s a good person?”

Rexi frowned, let the silence stretch like dusk, then said, “I think he is. He told me, sure, I killed someone, but the one who died deserved it. I wasn’t wrong. So he felt… just.”

“So you asked him who you killed?” Lucimia’s voice was calm, a still pond holding a pebble beneath.

“I asked. He wouldn’t tell me. He only said he’d respect my choice.”

“Respect your choice?” Lucimia’s temples throbbed like drums in fog.

What kind of twisted thread is that?

“Forget it. It’s late. Rest. Tomorrow, can you take me to Bevi?”

“Sure, but we can’t rest yet! That’s not fair! You asked me everything. My turn to ask you!” Rexi looked like a cat that had finally decided the hand wouldn’t strike, bold and bright.

Lucimia just smiled at her, lantern-soft. “Alright. Call it a bedtime chat. What do you want to ask?”

She didn’t mind having a voice to share the night with.

“Why are you being hunted? Is it also a misunderstanding… like you were blamed for a killing?” Rexi’s curiosity rose like steam from a teacup.

“No. I wasn’t misunderstood. I really did kill.” Lucimia’s tone was level as a blade on a whetstone.

“Uh…” Rexi froze, then remembered how the girl had moved on her earlier without a blink, like lightning that doesn’t ask permission; maybe it was true—she had killed.

“Then… were they… people who deserved it?”

“Mm… both… and not.” Lucimia lowered her head, her brows knitting like storm clouds. “To reach the ones who deserved to die, I killed many who didn’t. Do you get that?”

“W-what do you mean… Are you saying you still have to kill?” Rexi’s voice trembled, like reeds in a night wind.

“Yes.” Lucimia let out a long breath, warm in the cold air. “At least I can’t let their sacrifices wash away like footprints in rain. And… I’ll find a way to bring them back.”

With the Temporal Authority, she’d find Yuna, find Desty, find the innocent ones in villages and towns whose candles went out too early.

“Kill who?” Rexi asked, eyes bright as stars before dawn.

“The Dark Deity,” Lucimia answered.

“That sounds like… you’re doing something very…”

“Very great? Not really… it’s just for me,” Lucimia said, a flake of frost on her tongue.

“No, not that.” Rexi shook her head, then flashed white teeth in a quick, excited grin. “It sounds like something really fun!”

“Huh?” Lucimia stared at the girl like a owlet blinking in daylight.

It was the first time the sound slipped out of her. Killing a Dark Deity… fun? She said fun? Does she even know what waves she’s playing with?

Lucimia felt the other girl’s thinking run sideways like a crab, and she cut in, voice steady and cold as well water: “Killing a Dark Deity isn’t fun. It’s dangerous—very, very dangerous. It’s blood, tears, despair, horror, and things that crawl where light can’t reach. There’s no fun in it. Got it?”

“Eh… o-okay…” Rexi lowered her head, like a flower folding at dusk.

Then she popped up again, sudden as a sparrow. “I want in. Let me help you kill the Dark Deity. I play around anyway, with everything—I want to try this too!”

“I said it’s not a game!” Lucimia could’ve bitten through ice. “First you need strength. Do you have it?”

The girl before her had no tie to Ment, yet carried Authority Power; she didn’t smell of rot, and if she had to name it, the girl probably could kill a Dark Deity.

Lucimia asked to test the waters, to see what shore the power touched.

“I do,” Rexi said, bright with confidence, a torch in wind.

“What is it?”

“Not telling.”

“Then we’re done.”

“Tch~” Rexi pouted, lips like a sulking petal.

At that, Lucimia sighed, breath a white veil, and said lightly, “People who try to kill a Dark Deity with me rarely meet a good end. So… let it go.”

“Huh? Why?”

“No reason.” Lucimia didn’t want to walk that road in words. “Change the topic.”

Rexi’s eyes rolled like marbles, then she blinked at Lucimia, lashes fluttering like moth wings.

“What is it?”

“Ah, nothing.” Rexi scratched her cheek and smiled, a fox pretending to be a kitten.

Something’s off, Lucimia thought, a cold thread along the spine.

Wait—did she just try to use her Authority Power on me? But I felt nothing, like wind over stone…

Well, of course. Her passive Devouring was always on, a tide that ate ripples; any Authority would drown before it reached her.

She thought a moment, then asked, “Have you considered getting your memories back?”

“Getting my memories back? Nah. I feel fine like this—make a little money by day, chase a little fun by night, like sun and shade.” Rexi spread her hands, easy as a hammock.

“That’s fair, but most people who forget want to remember. Aren’t you curious who you used to be?” Lucimia asked, voice soft as snowfall.

“Mm…” Rexi wavered, twisting like grass before rain. After a bit, she said, “I did think about it. But there’s a voice in me that keeps whispering—don’t look back, it’s good like this. It even feels like… my amnesia was something I did to myself.”