Once the two girls climbed the stairs, Time Halt cracked like thawing ice.

The tavern breathed again, like a bellows relit. Coins slipped into pockets like pebbles into a stream, and ale flowed like a brown river.

The server swept coins off the bar like fallen leaves. She only knew the house was packed, and kegs went dry like fields in drought.

They entered Room 403. Two beds faced each other across a nightstand like two boats split by a pier. Two chairs and two tables stood plain as a monk’s cell.

Lucimia sat on her bed, her sigh drifting down like a feather at dusk.

“Ugh, what a shame I didn’t get one use of Time Halt,” she said, the wish lingering like fog.

“Huh? What would you even do with that?” Rexi asked, curiosity pricking like a thorn.

“For later prep, of course. But it’s gone,” Lucimia shrugged, the motion loose as a slipped sleeve. Then a thought sparked like a firefly. “Right, a question.”

“What, what?” Rexi’s eyes blinked like a cat at twilight.

“After you used Authority Power, did you feel anything off? Like grit under the skin.”

“Off? I don’t think so,” she said, easy as still water.

“Really? Any itch anywhere? Any hallucinations? Or anything else?” Her words tapped like rain.

“Uh… don’t scare me,” Rexi muttered, nerves fluttering like a moth.

“I’m serious,” Lucimia said, voice steady as a plumb line.

“I guess… no? I feel normal. Nothing bad showed up,” Rexi said, calm as clear glass.

“Is that so?” Lucimia’s gaze sank like a stone into a well.

She wondered why Rexi showed no transition after using Authority Power, while a little use made her own body ache like a bruised reed.

Was it just different Authorities, different storms?

She’d judged Devouring Authority as a special tide, one that ate energy harder, so it was easier to lose control, like a boat in a whirlpool.

But why not for Memory Power? In theory, altering memory is deep water, and deep water costs more breath.

And the most important point: Rexi didn’t even know what her Evil Entity was, like a shadow without a source.

Some Evil Entities were biological, like Elyssus and Lucimia herself, breathing like beasts. Some were sources, like the Purification Deity’s water, flowing like a spring. Some were patterns like Auril, etched like a seal.

All of them had a degree of life, like embers that never die.

But Rexi? Nothing. A blank page fluttering in wind.

So why did Rexi show no energy backlash, no thorns?

Either she’d absorbed a lot of energy, so a little use was fine, like a deep lake sipping rain. But too much would still drown her.

Or Memory Power hid a special shape, unknown and sharp, like a blade under silk.

Or the last possibility—the darkest cloud—Rexi had already lost control.

This Rexi wasn’t the old Rexi. “Amnesia” might be a replaced persona, like a mask fused to skin.

The replaced persona might use Authority Power without caring about control, like Elyssus, a storm that wears no chain.

She’d already thought the original Rexi was deep and calculating, like a chess player. The current Rexi was so… bouncy, like a sparrow.

But here came the knot: replaced personas were usually extreme, twisted, uncanny, like mirrors warped by heat.

This Rexi looked normal as daylight.

Strange. A fish that swims the sky.

While Lucimia thought, Rexi flopped onto the soft bed, spread-eagled like a lazy cloud, not a care in sight.

Seeing that carefree heart, Lucimia let it go like a hand from the reins. For now, Rexi was trustworthy, and she hadn’t done anything foul.

Maybe the original Rexi used Memory Power to tinker with herself, sanding down the edge so the out-of-control Rexi wasn’t extreme, like wine cut with water.

It was possible, and Memory Power could do it, like a pen rewriting its own page.

“Hey, didn’t expect the tavern bed to be this soft. Pretty clean, too,” Rexi chirped, rolling like a carp.

Rexi turned over, and where she’d lain, a veil of dust bloomed like ash.

“??” Clean? The word stuck like a fishbone.

Lucimia checked her own bedding; it was clean as fresh snow. She looked back at Rexi, eyes narrowing like a bowstring.

Rexi flipped again to face her, blinking like a firefly. “What?”

Lucimia stood, circled behind her, and saw a new smear of dust, gray as old rain.

With a puzzled frown, she reached out and palmed Rexi’s shoulder, fingers dipping like a sparrow.

“What are you doing!” Rexi yelped, springing up like a startled cat.

Lucimia didn’t answer. She stared at the dust on her palm, a gray moon, and said nothing.

“You’re covered in dust and mud, and you just lay on the bed?” Her words cracked like ice.

“Eh? Am I?” Rexi touched herself and came away gray, like charcoal on fingers.

“There really is!” Her surprise popped like a bubble.

“…Sigh.” Lucimia’s breath folded like a wilted leaf.

She remembered when Rexi got caked. The mud came when they chased that thorny-headed man and dragged his corpse to the bank, where Rexi sat on the ground like a tired bird.

The dust came during the Duel with Auril, scuffed from the floor tiles like chalk, and she hadn’t patted it off, like a child dodging chores.

“What a wild child…” Lucimia muttered, the words soft as a gnat.

“What? I heard that!” Rexi lunged to pinch Lucimia’s cheeks, fingers like crab claws.

“Cut it out. Go change. We’re swapping the bedding,” Lucimia said, pushing her aside like moving a door.

She rolled the quilt tight and slipped it into her Storage Ring, neat as a scroll, ready to fetch a fresh set.

“Don’t swap it. You won’t get one!” Rexi said, serious as a drumbeat.

“Why?” Lucimia asked, a chill rising like mist.

“Because… heh-heh.” Rexi laughed twice, the sound sly as a fox, and said nothing more.

A bad feeling slid over Lucimia like a cold sleeve.

She stepped out. “Change your clothes first,” she told Rexi, voice flat as slate.

“Okay!” came the chirp, light as a reed.

Downstairs, Lucimia made the request. The server looked troubled, face wrinkling like drying clay. “Sorry, we don’t have extra quilts or bedding. We’re not really an inn…”

“Oh…” The word fell like a pebble.

Back on the fourth floor, Lucimia knew roughly what string had been pulled, like a knot found in a rope.

“Rexi…” She pushed the door open, a storm-dark look on her face, and stared at the girl who’d just changed, fresh as a washed apple.

“Uh… haha, so there isn’t any? I told you… I—ow, ow!” Her protest cracked as pain bit like a crab.

Lucimia used Instant Movement and blinked in front of Rexi like a hawk stooping. She pinched Rexi’s cheeks and twisted them a full half-turn, neat as a lid.

It was… oddly satisfying, like popping a joint.

“Be honest. Did you modify their memories?” Her tone cut like a blade.

“Y-yeah, I modified them…” Rexi squirmed like a hooked fish.

She tried to break free. Lucimia layered a strength boost on herself, power pooling like iron in her limbs. Rexi couldn’t pry her off, not an inch.

“You actually used Authority Power for this kind of thing? And you knew I’m saving energy, so I wouldn’t use Devouring on something petty. That way, I couldn’t erase your Memory Power effect, right?”

“And you left the dust on purpose, dirtied the bed so we couldn’t use it. What are you after? Wait—don’t tell me the clerk saying there’s only this one room was your work, too?”

She tightened her grip, pressure biting like a vise.

“Ow, stop pinching! It hurts! I’ll talk, I’ll tell you everything,” Rexi yelped, words tumbling like beans.