Itsuki stared blankly at the ceiling, unmoving, as he lay on the stiff hospital mattress. The arm he had stabbed was wrapped neatly in thick bandages, resting beside him.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows behind the row of beds, spreading across the room in soft, pale sheets of gold. The warmth melted across his skin, almost mocking in how gentle it felt.
About one million, two hundred thousand seconds…
Exactly Fourteen days.
The bastard system put me in a timeless time-out for fourteen fucking days…
His jaw tightened as he dragged a hand slowly through his hair, his eyes narrowing at the ceiling as though trying to burn a hole straight through it.
And time didn't pass here at all. So everything… must've happened in my head.
He let his arm fall to the side and lifted his bandaged hand slightly, inspecting the careful wrapping. A quiet sigh escaped him before he let himself sink back into the bed.
It doesn't even hurt anymore…
…I need to pee.
Before he could get up, the familiar chime rang sharply in his mind.
The HUD of the system materialized with sterile clarity.
[System Notice — Punishment Complete]
[System Notice — Level Up]
Level up?
So all of that suffering was just the True Light reminding me exactly where he stood in this twisted game he's playing...
Then another notification slid into place.
[System Notice — A significant alteration to public fate has been recorded]
[Reputation Unlocked]
[Reputation Class — The Obscured Destructor]
Reputation…?
The notice dissolved, replaced by his full status display.
[Hero: Adrien De Clairmont
Title: The Silent Judge
Title Description: The one who redeems through silent justice
Primary Archetype: Assassin
Archetype Mastery: Level 9
Secondary Archetype: Locked
Archetype Mastery: Locked
Skills Acquired: Locked
Reputation: The Obscured Destructor
Memory Fragments Received:
— Language Barrier (LVL 1)
— Relations]
Up two levels?
I didn't even do any actual fighting…
His eyes moved down the interface until he reached the bottom.
The Obscured Destructor…?
At that moment, the door creaked open and two men stepped through.
The first wore a dark three-piece suit—jacket fitted perfectly to the shoulders, waistcoat buttoned with precise symmetry, and checkered trousers pressed so sharply they could cut air. A stiff-collared white shirt gleamed beneath, the knot of his tie immaculate.
The second man—the same one Itsuki saw earlier that day and speculated as the captain—followed behind.
You….
At first glance, it was clear the attire he wore could've belonged to a senior clerk or some government inspector: an immaculate black coat with faint embroidery, a spotless white shirt underneath, and gloves polished enough to catch the sun. Something you'd expect in an old timely photograph to reflect formality, rigidity and authority.
But the longer Itsuki stared, the more wrong it felt.
The coat didn't crease when he moved. Not even slightly.
Every shift of his shoulders flowed too smoothly—like the fabric wasn't fabric at all.
And the embroidery along the sleeves shimmered faintly, almost metallic.
Is he wearing armour? No… it's definitely something else.
Whatever it was, the thing exuded rank...
No ordinary awakener should've been able afford something like that.
Itsuki tore his gaze away, but the image clung to his mind:
a man dressed like an aristocrat, yet wrapped in subtle armour ready for war.
The first man closed the door behind him with a soft click, and together they approached the side of his bed—collected and composed, as if they owned the room.
"Adrien de Clairmont?"
His voice was smooth. Clearly reflecting that he was a man who had spoken his whole life with certainty.
"That's me," Itsuki answered, forcing his posture to be calm.
The man extended his hand and Itsuki returned the gesture.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Victor."
He inclined his head toward the silent figure standing besides him.
"And this is Captain Léon."
The captain offered his hand as well to which Itsuki shook it.
His expression and dark blue eyes completely blank..
Was he, forced to be here?
Or is this just how arrogant he's built?
Once the greeting was done, Léon withdrew to the corner of the room, leaning casually against the wall.
You could at least pretend you're not a complete ass.
Victor let out a low cough as he attempted to break the silence.
He unclipped the papers in his hand with careful precision and laid them on the bedside table one by one, forming a neat row.
"Our superiors at the Obsidian Tongue were informed of the incident inside the rift where you worked," he said. "They instructed us to pay you a visit, Monsieur de Clairmont."
Itsuki blinked.
Obsidian Tongue?
"I'd prefer if you called me Adrien," he cut in quickly.
Victor's brow rose — in curiosity, not offence. Reflecting a silent request for context...
"My father is the one usually addressed as 'Clairmont,'" Itsuki continued, he's tone steady. "He's done far more for our family than I ever have. I'd rather not take a title I haven't yet earned… if you don't mind."
What the hell am I even saying…
"Of course," Victor replied smoothly. "Then—Adrien—would you mind telling me what happened in the rift? Before, during, and after your injury?"
He slid a small pad and pen from his inner pocket.
Is this some sort of intimidation tactic to get information out of me?..
Adrien cast a brief glance toward Captain Léon. The man hadn't moved. Still leaning against the wall. Still watching over nothing and everything.
His gaze drifted back to Victor before he started speaking.
"Well… I entered the rift as usual early today with a friend. I'd had an accident the previous day, so the supervisor put me on low-duty. But I wanted to make up for the pay I lost, so I stayed behind while the others left."
Victor jotted down a few quick notes.
"And after that?"
"I finished my section of the cavern," Adrien continued. "I was just about to leave when the Abyssal came charging out of the darker part of the tunnels. I couldn't call for help, so I ran—"
He paused momentarily.
A single, momentarily sharp realization slid through his mind like a blade:
Crap. If I say I ran back toward the tunnels, and they already know multiple Abyssals were planted there, I'm done. They'll think I know something—Unless…
Adrien let his voice drop slightly, adding just enough certainty to sound believable.
"Um...Deeper—toward where it came from. I… I thought I could lose it in the dark. Luckily, I found a crevice it couldn't reach. When it lowered its guard, I used a pickaxe and a crystal I grabbed off the ground and managed to kill it before it tore me apart."
Victor's pen slowed.
Then stopped.
He raised his head with a faint, satisfied expression.
"I see. That aligns with what our mages discovered at the site. Thank you for your cooperation."
That's it?
Victor slipped the pad back into his suit, placed the pen atop the documents he had arranged earlier, and clasped his hands into his pockets.
"That aside," he continued, "we understand you endured a very… unfortunate incident because of what happened. The last thing we want is for any news about all that happened in there to cause any unnecessary turmoil among the civilians outside the rift."
He reached into his coat and produced a thick band of currency notes, neatly wrapped and tied together, and set them on the bedside table atop the stack of papers.
"We would appreciate it if you signed these documents," he said lightly, as if discussing weather. "And we would also like you to accept this as an apology—from all of us at the Obsidian Tongue. It is disgraceful that such poor precautions were taken in rift safety.
Your life was almost lost… and others could have been as well, had you not killed the Abyssal."
Adrien stared at the notes.
Am I being bribed?
So I was right all along. That much Abbysals being there really wasn't a coincidence…