After that human-feeling moment between Queen Euphelia and G6, they decided to bid farewell to the temple and return to the Palace.
In the teleportation room, the Queen stood with two imperial knights at her back, her posture regal, her expression serene. Archbishop Tolentino and Priest Dane stood outside the circle, waiting to send them off.
"Thank you for your assistance today."
The voice came from behind them. Both priests jumped.
When they turned, it was G6.
This kind of appearance—this silent, sudden manifestation—somehow set them on edge. How could they not? How could they look at this beautiful woman in silk and rose-gold and not see what lurked beneath the gown?
"It was our duty to serve the people, my lady," Tolentino replied, his voice steady despite the unease crawling up his spine.
G6 looked at them briefly—a flicker of grey eyes, cold and empty—then walked past. "Hearing that title still irks me," she murmured, more to herself than to them.
She took her place beside the Queen, who stood graceful and patient, waiting.
"We will now transport you. Please brace yourselves for the motion and impact, Your Majesty and Lady Worthon," Tolentino announced, his hand moving toward the activation artifact.
Before he could touch it, the Queen smiled—that warm, disarming smile she wore like armor.
"I look forward to working with you, Your Holiness."
Tolentino's fingers touched the artifact.
The figures in the center of the circle vanished with a soft whoosh of displaced air.
Silence settled over the room.
"Your Holiness." Priest Dane's voice was tight with concern.
"Keep yourself out of this, Priest Dane." Tolentino's gaze remained fixed on the empty space where the two women had stood.
"Captain G6 is a dangerous person, Your Holiness." Dane's words came faster now, urgent. "Remember the pact. The Holy Kingdom must remain neutral in political affairs. We cannot be dragged into—"
"The Holy Kingdom will not be dragged into anything, Priest Dane." Tolentino's voice was calm, but final. "Fret not."
"But—"
"The Captain despises the spotlight. She knows what she is doing." He paused, a wry edge creeping into his voice. "And even if we dared to interfere, do you think she would be generous enough to explain herself?"
Priest Dane's face was a portrait of worry. "Still—"
Tolentino placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture almost fatherly—no more like an elder brother. "The Captain wants only one thing from us: help deciphering the demonic script and understanding the dead zone. She wants nothing else from us. Nothing beyond that."
He turned and walked toward the door.
"How can you be so certain?" Dane called after him.
Tolentino paused at the threshold. He glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.
"Because that is all our worth in her eyes."
He left.
Priest Dane stood alone in the teleportation room, the ancient runes still pulsing faintly beneath his feet, and understood.
The doubts. The fears. The cold certainty that they had tethered themselves to something they could not control.
He understood all of it.
And that understanding brought no comfort at all.
「ROYAL COLLEGIUM, SANCTUM」
The figures materialized in the teleportation circle of the Sanctum Department, light still clinging to their forms as the runes dimmed beneath their feet.
The mages on duty rose as one, bowing in practiced unison. "Greetings, Your Majesty and Lady Worthon."
Before anyone could respond, hurried footsteps echoed through the chamber. Ray and Ron Worthon emerged from the adjoining corridor, their robes still bearing the faint residue of freshly cast spells.
"Your Majesty! Reise!" Ron called out, relief evident in his voice.
"We didn't expect you back so soon," Ray added, falling into step beside his brother. "We thought you'd stay at least a day or two."
"Oh my, look at these two brothers." Queen Euphelia's smile was warm, indulgent. "Such worrywarts."
They exited the teleportation platform, the mages returning to their duties behind them.
"The Temple is busy with their rites," G6 answered, her voice flat, matter-of-fact. She glanced at the Queen—a flicker, barely perceptible—and the ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "And Her Majesty has... lots of things to do."
"I see." Ray nodded, though his eyes lingered on his sister. "Then please, Your Majesty, don't let us keep you."
Ron, less willing to let her go so easily, stepped forward. "Reise, sweetie, what about having at lea—"
G6 walked between them.
Not around. Between. A deliberate, dismissive movement that cut off whatever invitation Ron was about to offer.
"We're all seeing each other at the estate in a few days anyway." She didn't bother looking back. "I want to rest. I'm tired."
Ron's face crumpled into a pout. Ray's expression flickered with something that might have been hurt, quickly suppressed.
Queen Euphelia touched each brother's shoulder in turn, her voice soft. "Why don't you think of something Lady Reise might like and have it ready at the estate? A small welcome. It might cheer her up."
Ray's brow furrowed. "It's barely been two months since she arrived at the Palace, Your Majesty. And she's already this exhausted..."
"Palace life is indeed taxing," the Queen agreed diplomatically.
"Or rather, your son is," Ron muttered under his breath.
Ray's lips twitched. He turned to the Queen with a smile that made her inwardly brace herself—a smile she knew too well. The smile of a Worthon about to strike.
"As my godmother," Ray began, his voice light, almost casual, "strange rumors have reached our ears here at the Sanctum."
"What... rumors?" The Queen's composure didn't crack, but something in her eyes sharpened.
"Rumors say they saw your son—Prince Dio—in bed with our sister." Ray's smile widened, sweet and utterly terrifying. "Ha. Ha. Ha."
"I just remembered I have many documents to process—"
"Your Majesty." Ron's smile mirrored his brother's. "You surely wouldn't want Father to hear such rumors. Right?"
Queen Euphelia closed her eyes briefly, a silent prayer for patience ascending to whatever gods might be listening. "Fine. What do you want?"
The brothers exchanged a glance—quick, knowing, triumphant.
"Why don't we have some tea, hmm?" Ray offered, all innocence.
The Queen nodded in defeat, already calculating how many favors this would cost her.
As they walked out of the room, she found herself thinking: These siblings are indeed sly foxes. They are, without question, her brothers.
Behind them, unnoticed, a single figure lingered at the corridor's shadowed edge.
G6 had not gone far.
She watched her brothers flank the Queen like twin blades sheathed in velvet, watched her mother-by-law fold under their gentle siege, and something flickered across her face—too fast to name, too brief to catch.
Then she turned and walked the other way, her footsteps silent on the stone floor.
The game continued. But for once, she wasn't the only one playing.
「WEST VILLA」
Instead of going directly to her room, G6 felt the need to pivot. She walked and walked along the corridor that opened into the gardens, until she reached the gazebo.
The first place she met Prince Dio. Earl. Keith. Eliza.
It felt distant, but it had only been two months.
A ghost of a smirk touched her lips, remembering her performance that day—the tantrum, the theatrics, the way she'd played them all so easily. The smirk faded.
She kept walking, leaving the gazebo behind. The path narrowed, the manicured hedges giving way to something wilder, something forgotten. A secluded stone path, barely visible beneath overgrown vines. A path she had walked before.
She took it.
At the end, hidden from the rest of the gardens, lay the fountain. The bench. The statue she remembered from a day that felt like another lifetime.
She sat on the bench, crossed her arms, and listened to the water spilling from the statue's harp.
The woman carved in stone was blindfolded. Her fingers frozen mid-strum, her face tilted toward a sky she could not see. Water cascaded from the harp's strings in endless, patient arcs.
"Was this really the statue I saw before?" G6 murmured.
She looked at the flowers—wild now, untended, growing where they pleased. The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting everything in shades of amber and gold. The air was warm. The water was soft.
Serene.
"Fuck." She massaged the bridge of her nose. "Now I find this peaceful?"
A wisp of smoke materialized in front of her, curling into familiar form. Daunt sat beside her feet, his massive head level with her knee.
"What's wrong with that?" he rumbled.
G6's eyes slid to him. "Shut up."
He snorted but didn't move. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the water.
"Are you happy now?" Daunt asked.
"I don't understand what you mean."
"You know the Queen will hand you the Black Ledger now, Reise." Daunt's gaze drifted to the fountain, watching the endless fall of water. "Didn't you say it yourself? After the Queen left your room that night?"
G6's lips curved.
It was true. The night the Queen came to bargain—the night the Queen unknowingly fall in her trap.
She had known, then. Known that the Queen was holding out. Known that the ledger was useless until the Queen chose to unlock it. And she had let the Queen keep her secret—because a trick revealed too early was a weapon wasted.
"Right." G6's voice was dry. "We did invade her study. That woman."
"Now that you're establishing this organization, it will solve the problem you've been carrying." Daunt looked up at her, his ancient eyes holding something almost gentle. "You'll be invisible, Reise. Even in the dead zones."
"It benefits both of us."
"Don't forget you are here for a reason."
"A reason you won't tell me."
"I am not in a position to tell you that." Daunt's voice was low, patient, infuriating. "When the heavens deem it perfect, it will be revealed."
"Fine." G6's jaw tightened. "Just shut the hell up."
Daunt grunted but fell silent.
The water continued its endless song. The light shifted, gold deepening to copper, copper to rose.
G6 stared at the blindfolded statue. A woman playing music for no one, seeing nothing, hidden from the world. Carved in stone. Frozen in place.
She looked away.
"Tomorrow," she said, her voice flat again, all softness burned away. "Go check the villa. Make sure that rat is still alive."
Daunt's ears flicked. "Don't worry."
He didn't move to leave. Neither did she.
The sun sank lower. The shadows stretched long fingers across the forgotten garden, and for one strange, suspended moment, G6 sat on a stone bench beside a mythical beast, watching water fall from a blind woman's harp, and thought:
Maybe this is what peace feels like.
She didn't know whether to hate it or hold it close.
In the end, she did neither. She sat until the light was gone, until Daunt dissolved back into shadow, until the only sound was the water and the wind.
Then she stood, straightened her gown, and walked back inside the Villa.
❈G6's Bedroom❈
"Don't tell anyone yet that I'm home," G6 said, already reaching for the fastenings of her gown.
Tina, who had only just returned from the Royal Collegium herself, moved to help her mistress with practiced hands. "They're already aware of your schedule, my lady," she said, working the silk free from its stays. "Word travels fast in the Palace."
She paused, glancing at G6's reflection in the mirror. "How was your visit to the Grand Temple? I wasn't expecting you and Her Majesty to return so hastily."
"There was nothing to do there anyway."
"And the prayer?" Tina's fingers moved to the corset laces, pulling gently. "I was relieved to hear you weren't causing any more headaches."
G6 was quiet for a moment. Tina, risking a glance, caught something strange in her mistress's expression—a softness, a memory, something that looked almost like satisfaction.
"The prayer was..." G6's lips curved. "Exquisite."
"Is that so?" Tina finished with the last of the fastenings and stepped back. "Your bath is ready, my lady. What would you like for dinner?"
"Just bring me some alcohol from the storage."
Tina's hands stilled. "No can do. I cannot allow that."
G6 stopped at the bathroom threshold, turning just enough for Tina to see the weary set of her jaw. "I don't want to argue with you, Tina."
The maid's frown deepened, but she bowed. "Alright, then."
G6 disappeared into the steam-filled bathroom, letting her robe fall. The tub waited, its surface scattered with fragrant bubbles, the water perfectly heated. She lowered herself in slowly, letting the heat claim her muscles, her bones, the knots she hadn't realized she'd been carrying.
She stared at the ceiling. Her fingers found the porcelain edge, tapping a rhythm without thought.
"Build the home of cleaners, and your body shall be perfect."
The line surfaced from the book of Witherby—that ancient, cryptic text that had been her companion since the first strange days in this world. She had read it a hundred times, memorized passages she still didn't fully understand. But this one...
Home of cleaners.
In her old world, Gemcardia was exactly that. An organization built on the bones of the corrupt, a house of assassins who cleaned what the law couldn't touch. Her ancestors had built it. A generation after one of her family had bled for it. And G6—Akira, then, not yet Reaper—had been raised in its halls, baptized in its purpose, forged into its finest weapon.
Build the home of cleaners, and your body shall be perfect.
She flexed her fingers underwater, watching the distortion. In her old life, her body had been a machine. Precise. Obedient. It never trembled, never faltered, never betrayed her. She had been perfect because she had been made for one thing, and she had done it better than anyone.
Now? This body—Reise's body—was a stranger. Soft where it should be hard. Slow where it should be fast. It ached for no reason, tired without cause, carried the ghost of a girl who had cried herself to sleep in this very room.
"That stupid book really likes to boss me around," she muttered.
She massaged her neck, rolling tension from her shoulders.
If I build Gemcardia here... does that mean my body will finally stop fighting me?
The thought settled in her chest, heavy and warm and terrible all at once.
Does it want me to kill in exchange for a stable body? she murmured, then scoffed.
Like I have a choice.
She sank lower, letting the water cover her shoulders, her collarbone, her chin. Bubbles brushed her jaw.
Fucking mess.
She closed her eyes.
The water was warm. The room was quiet. Somewhere outside, the Palace was settling into evening, its intrigues and ceremonies continuing without her.
But now, just for now, there was only this: steam rising, water cooling, and a girl who had been many things—weapon, monster, lady, daughter—trying to remember what it felt like to simply be.
She didn't find the answer.
Because she never was.
—To Be Continued…—