“I’m done! I can’t control this!”

Julia Melansa clawed her hair into a bird’s nest and smashed the arcane modules to the floor like breaking ice.

“You try shutting down Princess Golia yourself!”

“If even you can’t, how the hell am I supposed to?!”

Conosen Kent, head of Colonna’s Scholar Corps, roared back, voice like steel scraping stone.

“Haa—fine. Breathe. Let’s talk this through.”

“Princess Golia—the Colonna Empire’s divine artifact—what exactly went wrong?”

The tiny detached dorm had been stretched by space magic, a shell hiding an ocean, big enough for a full arcane workshop.

They stood outside the central isolation room, watching through a one-way mirror as if peering into a still pond.

Gloria sat on a pure-white bed in a pure-white room, blank as frost, unmoving as a winter stone.

Soon, the fruit on her headboard glowed like a lone lantern in snow and drew her gaze.

She reached out, like any ordinary person, at an ordinary pace—

“See that? That’s it!”

“So what? Looks normal to me.”

“She’s a Construct—a lattice of arcana! Every choice follows necessary logic, but picking up fruit doesn’t! She likes roast meat because we defined it. She kills Demonfolk, not humans, because we defined her target set. But this isn’t right. Not right at all. We never set ‘interest in fruit.’ She should tag it as ‘object,’ ‘breakable obstacle,’ not reach like a curious cat and toy with it!”

“What does that even prove? I’m no Arcane Engineer. You’re losing me.”

Julia drew a long breath, baring bone-white teeth like cold blades.

“She’s begun to be ‘curious.’ That’s a human domain. For a Construct, it’s a colossal trespass.”

“You did this?”

“Impossible. No Arcane Engineer alive could do that.”

“Then how… Was it Andor?”

“No. I told you—no one has the authority to give dead matter a human soul. That’s a Divine Being’s prerogative. I don’t know how he did it. He can’t die yet. Not until I know what he did.”

“I can’t help that. The Heretic Inquisition is working with us to convict him. Even the Colonna Empire can’t shield a heretic.”

“Politics isn’t my weather. I don’t care. I need the schematics and the spellwork he implanted. That thing’s locked the core and blocks every command to Princess Golia. It acts like a human soul, unbound as wind. Unless His Majesty uses the ‘Hilt,’ we can’t move her.”

“Denied. Forcing a human body to wield the artifact could kill His Majesty any moment. We won’t trouble him over this. Can’t you pull it off? If Andor mounted it so easily, taking it off should be easy too. We’ll redo every old definition. The Empire has decided. Sacrificing prior data is fine.”

“Can’t. That’s why you called me. Unless we burn down everything from the Sorcerer Emperor’s era to now and rebuild from ash, we absolutely can’t.”

Conosen seethed at her flat refusal; heat shimmered off him. The old man drew the aura of a generation’s swordmaster, pressure like a naked blade.

Around them, staff felt that razor presence; an animal fear of death stilled their hands like frost.

He said:

“Julia, Colonna has more than one Arcane Engineer.”

She said:

“If I can’t, no one in Colonna can.”

The girl didn’t flinch from his sword-bright gaze. She stared back, straight as a spear.

“…Fine. I’ll negotiate.”

In the end, the old man yielded first, like a storm breaking into rain.

“That’s best. If we pry Andor’s mouth open before trial and get the schematics and spells, I don’t care how.”

She turned and went, the ornate hem of her maid dress flaring like a dark wave.

“Stop hating.”

“What did you say?”

“Like him killing your sister.”

“Ha. A Hero killed a heretic. Nothing there worth hating.”

“You know yourself…”

“So what will you say? Revenge is pointless? Hate has no return? What do you know!” Julia snapped her head around with neck‑snapping force—her face a demon’s mask for a breath—then went still again, pond‑calm, the businesslike Arcane Engineer: “Nothing. I said nothing.”

“Don’t forget, you’re Colonna’s Arcane Engineer.”

“I won’t. Everything I do is justified. No one has grounds to censure me.”

Colonna’s First Sword believed he could split sky and earth with one cut, yet soothing another’s heart hurt more than facing a Demon King.

“…I hope so. That would be best.”

At last the girl he’d watched grow up slipped deeper into the dark, each step a retreating lantern, and he could only wait and watch her joys and sorrows, mouthing polite lines that skimmed the surface.

———

Vega set down heaps of books and snacks at Lady Light Jade’s feet like offerings at an altar.

“Master told me to deliver these before he left.”

“…Andor?”

“Yes. He’s off to handle something long in the making. He might not see you for a while.”

“Ah… I see.”

As always, Lady Light Jade perched on her chains like on a swing, eyes far away, as if the world were mist and she were above it.

Her words came half a beat slow, same as ever, but her tone sank like dusk into the sea.

Too easy to read. It made Vega think Light Jade was painfully ordinary, nothing in her worth praise.

“Do you like Barlo cakes or tentacle rolls? I’ll bring more next time.”

“Both!”

A sudden flame of yearning lit her hollow eyes, a spark in a dry well.

She could show feeling here, sure. So what? Is gluttony cute now? Is contrast cute now?

Vega didn’t buy it. She honestly loathed childish little girls.

Come to think of it, she hated every kind of youngling. Kittens, puppies, babies—whining was just weakness, courageless and unready, ugly as wet clay.

But Vega stayed the flawless maid on the surface, politely indulging Light Jade’s wishes like pouring tea on still water.

Then, one more thing—

Vega stepped to the heart where the chains converged. Before the Demon King of “Abhorrence,” twin horns crowning her brow like crescent moons, she bowed, leaned to her ear, and murmured:

“Your Majesty Abhorrence, time is short. We’ve paid the price and given the promised aid. You must decide soon.”

“What are you saying? She can’t hear you.”

“Mm. Maybe. Master only told me to say the line.”

Vega turned without a backward glance and left like a shadow folding.

Out of every gaze, the Demon King’s narrow lids trembled, a flick so slight it was almost nothing, like a leaf’s shiver in still air.

———

Victor was immersed in Alice’s adventure in the mirror, mind drifting like a paper boat on a silver river.

In the tale, the little girl found the legendary Holy Sword, felled the dreadful Red Queen and a hulking ogre. The glittering cadence pulled him along, running where she ran, tense when she was tense, afraid when she was afraid.

“Victor, open up. Ah~”

The little girl’s sugar‑sweet doll voice cut his reading trance like a bell through fog.

Victor frowned, twisted left, and slid to the bench’s far end like shifting shade.

“Victor, ah~”

She ignored his sour look, circled in front, and stubbornly pressed a Qingsen fruit to his lips, green as spring glass.

Still smiling, all sunshine and innocence, like a skylark in June.

“No, Hattie. I’m not eating.”

“Victor, ah~”

Hattie kept beaming. That smile made him feel… mostly helpless, like rain on a campfire. It’s hard to bark at a little girl.

In the end, Victor took the Qingsen fruit in one bite and sank back into the book like a stone into a lake. The girl squealed, hopped up, and plopped beside him, pressed close on the bench like a kitten after warmth.

“Too hot. Scoot.”

“Victor, Victor, why did you come to SkywardCity?”

“Hey, hey!” A vein popped on Victor’s temple like a taut string. “You followed me without knowing why I’m here?”

“Ah.”

“What’s with ‘ah,’ you— Damn it, this run’s dangerous. Listen. Back to the inn at dark. No wandering. Plenty of people see a little countess and want to snatch her—”

“SkywardCity is so pretty. You must be here to sightsee.”

“Listen to me!”

“Mm…” He hadn’t kept his volume down. Hattie flinched, tears pooling like rain in a saucer.

“Uh—sorry. I apologize. Don’t cry.”

“…Then you have to take Hattie out to see the night lights.”

“No! We can’t go out at night. This time it’s really dangerous. I might not protect you. Damn it, this is the boss’s long‑laid plan. Please go back to your lands. The ones coming are Demon Kings. I can’t beat them.”

“But… Hattie’s lands are dangerous too…”

Victor saw her eyes brimming and softened again, like ice under sun.

Go back now. He couldn’t force those words out, stuck like a fishbone.

If he truly meant to send her away, he should’ve been firm when they bought tickets together, boarded the arcane airship together, and strolled Skyward City Atlante together, city lights flowing like a river of stars.

But he didn’t have the heart.

She was a burden, plain as day. If he followed big‑sis Vega’s creed, he’d kill her cleanly or toss her aside, like dropping a stone.

But he couldn’t let go.

He’d been alone too long. These ties were rare, a small treasure of his own, a warm ember in winter. How could he smash it?

He sighed and patted the girl’s head like smoothing a reed.

“I’m a bad guy, Hattie.”

“Victor saved Hattie. Victor isn’t a bad guy!”

“Fair. Real villains are like the boss—so vast even justice can’t judge them, a storm beyond courts. As a man I’m half‑baked, and as a monster I’m half‑baked.”

“Victor is a great hero. Hattie’s great hero.”

“Ha. No one but you calls a killer a hero. But this half‑baked one—your private hero—will stake his life to protect you.”

That much, I’m sure of. Victor lowered the book. Faced with her guileless smile, he smiled back, soft as candlelight on snow.

It was a smile he’d never worn when he was “Victor the Flame‑Wielder,” a killer hated by gods and ghosts alike.