The World Sings Through Its Imperfections.

Beneath the moonlit night, a man in white robes hid his figure under a black cloak. He gazed silently at the fortress destined for ruin under the bright full moon, thinking thus.

In this world, beautiful things are often fragile. No—rather, their beauty lies precisely in that fragility. That’s why I love humans so deeply. They’re fragile, unlike those tough, ugly Corpse Eaters. Humans are like delicate glassware: fragile yet beautiful.

The person meeting him today was another human so fragile one couldn’t bear to deceive them.

“I have a feeling tonight will birth something beautiful,” he murmured.

A crow cawed softly. Hidden under his cloak, the white-robed man watched the huge, blood-red full moon hanging above withered branches in late autumn. He sighed to the shadowy figure beside him, “See that red moon, soon to be imperfect? It whispers tonight’s story to us.”

“Tonight’s the last time,” the other replied coldly, utterly uninterested in his poetry. “As agreed, I’ll tell you how to enter the Third Detention Chamber. After that, I’m done with you.”

The white-robed man didn’t anger. He held only affection for the world’s fragile beauties. Polite and respectful, he addressed this delicate being: “Of course, Officer Von. Please lead me to see that one beautiful, imperfect Ghostkind—unlike the other tough, ugly Corpse Eaters.”

“As promised, you’ll only take the Ghostkind,” Von confirmed, his black cloak rustling. “You won’t harm Miss Aileen or anyone else?”

“When have I ever broken my word, my lord?” the white-robed man asked gently. “But I fear I can’t subdue that ugly female Corpse Eater alone. May I bring an assistant?”

“Only if you swear not to harm anyone in the fort.”

“I swear by this full moon and Sammugina’s name,” the man vowed instantly, facing the bright sky. “My assistant and I will never harm a soul in Fort Posein.”

“Fine. Follow me,” Von muttered. Without asking about the assistant, he strode toward the distant fortress.

Sammugina—the name the white-robed man claimed—silently tightened his cloak and followed soundlessly. Unlike Officer Von’s heavy steps, Sammugina’s tread was light, his mood clearly bright.

Ah, this years-long work handling filthy, ugly Corpse Eaters would end tonight. Once he restored that imperfect Ghostkind to a fragile, beautiful form and realigned Shub-Niggurath’s Gift Ritual, his duty would be complete.

Just imagining escape from those graceless, forest-dwelling Corpse Eaters—and pouring his passion back into beloved humans—filled him with joy.

Ah, at last, he could play with the fragile, beautiful artworks he adored.