Zachary opened his eyes and sighed tiredly.
He hadn't slept that well. He wasn't exhausted, but he wasn't rested either. It felt more like waking up after a long day of work only to realize there were still half a week left before your day off.
It was going to be a long day.
Yet Zachary couldn't help but appreciate having a bed under him. Sleeping on one was something he'd been used to in the Other World, but after arriving at the Forgotten Shore, it had become something he truly cherished.
Sighing again, he stood and stretched his arms behind his back with a low yawn. Turning around, he finally took in the room he had glossed over the previous night. After a few more stretches, Zachary walked toward the full-body bronze mirror.
He stared at the reflection—then frowned slightly, a melancholic expression appeared in his face. A face Zachary couldn't recognize.
After spending months in this world, Zachary had grown used to living in the Original One's body, but seeing it directly reminded him of what he had lost: his past identity, his Name. This was only the third time he had looked at himself—the first at the police station, the second at the Academy. He had avoided mirrors ever since, unable to face this truth.
But now he had to accept it.
With a small shake of his head, Zachary studied the reflection more carefully. The first thing he focused on were his crimson eyes—and suddenly Nephis's words made perfect sense. They really had changed.
Before, they had been the color of blood. Now they were brighter—like two rubies smoldering behind low flames. And there was something else within them: a wild glow, almost primal, animalistic. They radiated a dangerous air that would make any mundane human recoil, an instinctive answer to avoid a natural threat.
And deep inside, golden threads shimmered faintly.
Zachary lowered his gaze to his naked torso. Back at the Academy, he had spent his time gaining weight and building muscle. But two months in the Forgotten Shore—fighting Nightmare Creatures, burning Essence into his flesh—had tempered his body beyond training alone. He was lean rather than bulky, but every muscle was defined and purposeful. The type of body a martial artist would forge for survival and strife.
"Now that I notice, my hair is longer than before," Zachary muttered, brushing a few strands away from his eyes. "I'm not really a fan of long hair… I wonder if someone in the Bright Castle could cut it. Probably a Handmaiden…"
He paused, then shook his head with dry amusement. "I'd rather spend my Soul Shards on something more important."
He dipped his hand into the water vase and combed his hair back. Then he summoned the Witness' Testament. The mantle appeared as good as new—the cuts, tears, and the gaping hole over his abdomen gone, along with the flakes of dried blood. Knowing its Enchantment, Zachary understood he'd need solid armor to pair with it.
A small pang of regret surfaced for giving the Starlight Legion Armor to Nephis—but he dismissed it quickly, it belonged to her. More importantly...
'Silver is not my color.' He thought with renewed humor.
Zachary walked to the window and unlatched it. The first thing he saw was the Crimson Spire. With the rising sun behind it, the colossal structure cast a shadow over everything.
The sight humbled him. A shaky breath slipped past his lips as he took it in. But knowing he would eventually march toward it, Zachary understood he had to grow familiar with it sooner or later.
A knock on the door pulled Zachary out of his thoughts, and before he could even respond, it swung open. Nephis and Cassie entered. The girls were literally glowing — clearly, a night of rest and proper self-care had done more for them than it ever would for him.
"You shouldn't enter someone's room unannounced, Neph. What would you have done if I wasn't decent?" Zachary asked with a raised eyebrow.
Nephis looked him up and down, completely unfazed. "But you are."
"I did warn her," Cassie said with a pout from behind her. "She didn't listen to me."
"How are we going to do this?" Nephis asked, completely ignoring Cassie's complaint. The pout deepened.
"For now, let's go have breakfast," Zachary said, heading toward the door. "See how the atmosphere is, then decide after that. I'm actually excited to see what we're going to eat."
They walked through the corridors, chatting lightly. Marble passed beneath their feet as they crossed arched hallways and open courtyards. The Castle was well maintained — even dotted with cozy plazas and benches — but Zachary's attention didn't linger on any of that. Instead, he silently noted every banner, engraving, plate, and insignia marked with the golden snake.
They finally reached the main hall. The moment they stepped inside, Cinder Eyes flared.
{^}
Countless gazes turned toward them. The Sleepers of the Bright Castle stared openly, especially at Nephis and Cassie.
Zachary leaned in to whisper—but Nephis simply continued walking, completely indifferent. Zachary chuckled at himself, of course she didn't care about attention. They took food and drinks, then found an empty table.
"It's some kind of… stew," Zachary narrated for Cassie before taking a cautious spoonful. His eyes went wide — pleasantly wide.
"It's pretty good," he said, already scooping another bite. Nephis' cooking was phenomenal, but after two months of nothing but roasted meat seasoned with salt, actual spices felt like salvation.
'I mean, that's why people fought wars over spices. Trade routes to the East, controlling the market…' Zachary took a sip of tea.
'Potatoes.' The texture was soft, perfect. 'Truly the best vegetable. Is it even a vegetable?'
"Are potatoes vegetables?" he asked without looking up.
"No, they're tubers," Nephis replied without raising her eyes from her plate. She was fully focused on her meal.
'Potatoes… best tubers ever. They've been the diet of rising and falling empires… I heard they even helped a guy survive on Mars.' His thoughts were interrupted by two gazes pressing against him. Unlike the others, these carried open hostility.
Zachary reluctantly tore his attention away from his meal and followed the stare. Two young Sleepers were walking toward them. Their eyes flicked between him and the girls, puffing their shoulders as if trying to make themselves look bigger, also intentionally revealing their weapons.
But what caught Zachary's attention most was the blue armband tied around each of their shoulders.
This detail had been missed in the novel — a change that he hadn't expected. The Host marked faction members by color. And right now, two Castle Guards were headed straight for them.
More precisely: straight for the girls.
Seeing the two approaching, Zachary sighed in resignation. 'Why are there always this kind of people? Is youth always like this, or is it just… parental neglect?'
He laughed inwardly, then lampooned himself. 'Listen to me, talking like I'm some old man. Now… how to deal with this?'
A quick glance to his side told him everything he needed to know. Nephis had also noticed the men and was already frowning, displeasure radiating off her in waves.
He had to be careful. Nephis had been getting better socially — slightly — but after yesterday's revelations about Gunlaug and Harper's explanations, letting her talk right now was absolutely not the smartest choice.
'I'll let them talk first.' He concluded. 'And before Nephis has a chance to blow things up, I'll follow. Fortunately, I have enough social skill to keep things from spiraling.'
The guards arrived. They gave Zachary a wary look tinged with poorly concealed contempt… then shifted their gaze to the girls, dark smiles forming.
"Hello there," said the guard on the left — a scar cutting beneath one eye. He didn't even try to hide the ogling.
Zachary was already parting his lips to speak—
But Nephis, with perfect, emotionless seriousness, annihilated his entire plan in one sentence:
"General Kenobi."
The table fell into instant, suffocating silence. Cassie slowly turned toward her friend with an awkward frown. Even the guards froze, caught completely off guard. And then Zachary exploded.
"Hahahahaha!" He doubled over, clutching his stomach with shaking hands as laughter poured out of him.
"You— You actually remembered—!"
He had forgotten he'd explained the interaction to her during their first meeting in the Crimson Labyrinth, a throwaway comment he assumed she'd dismissed as random nonsense. Yet…
"I can't believe you actually said that," he managed between gasps. "Hahaha— you—"
Everyone was staring at him now. Nephis, thankfully, was no longer the center of attention — which was good, because a faint blush had begun to climb the edges of her ears. Realizing her mistake, she quickly masked her embarrassment with a sharp, icy scowl.
Zachary finally managed to calm himself, though a faint tremor in his shoulders betrayed the remnants of his laughter. With a final sigh, he turned to face the guards.
They were glaring at him now, anger written plainly on their faces—but beneath it, Zachary caught something else.
Wariness.
That was all he needed. Standing up, Zachary placed a hand on the first guard's shoulder.
"Hey, man," he said in an apologetic tone. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the situation."
"Do you think that makes sense?" the guard snapped through clenched teeth, brushing Zachary's hand away. "Do—"
"Do you even know who we are?" the second guard interrupted, raising his voice. Around them, the rest of the hall had gone conspicuously quiet—everyone suddenly very interested in not looking their way. "We're—"
"Oh," Zachary cut in brightly, "you were trying to introduce yourselves. How kind."
He smiled, open and friendly. "Well then. I'm Zachary. And these"—he gestured lightly—"are my companions."
Once again, he rested his hand on the guard's shoulder.
To any onlooker, his voice, expression, and demeanor were disarmingly friendly. But to those standing at the table, the message was unmistakable. Zachary put subtle emphasis on his last words—and the slow increase of pressure in his grip made the meaning clear.
The guard locked eyes with him, carefully keeping his face neutral. Still, the faint tremble in his jaw betrayed what he felt.
Beside him, the second guard's hand drifted toward the pommel of his sword.
Zachary cursed inwardly. 'I gave them an out.'
Unlike the original novel, compared to Sunny he had avoided antagonizing them. To the rest of the Sleepers in the hall, Zachary had been nothing but polite—friendly, even. There was no justification for escalation. If the guards pushed this further, the fault would be unmistakably theirs.
Zachary was just about to step back when a familiar voice cut in from the side.
"Hello, Zachary." Caster approached with an easy smile, gently but firmly removing Zachary's hand from the guard's shoulder.
"I see you're out making friends again," the Legacy scion added, his tone overly pleasant.
Zachary withdrew his hand and released a quiet breath of relief. He turned toward Caster, his expression complicated. He wasn't surprised to see him—he'd expected it, eventually. What did surprise him was the friendliness.
Zachary's opinion of Caster was… complicated. Despite what he knew about him from the novel, his interactions with Caster had been too few to count, and most of them had been under the influence of Mara's Whisper.
"You know him Caster?" one of the guards asked, frowning.
"Yes," Caster replied smoothly. "We trained together at the Academy. Give him some leeway—he's a bit rough to deal with at first."
The guards glanced at Zachary, clearly debating whether to say more. After a tense pause, they clicked their tongues and turned away.
Caster watched them go before sighing softly. "You look calmer."
Zachary snorted inwardly. It seemed their first encounter still lingered in Caster's mind.
"Not completely," he replied with a wry chuckle. There was no harm in keeping Caster on his toes.
Caster flinched almost imperceptibly—but Cinder Eyes caught it. Acting as if he hadn't heard Zachary, Caster turned toward the girls with a polite expression.
"Lady Nephis. And you're… Cassia, correct?" he asked with a courteous smile.
Cassie nodded with a soft smile, while Nephis simply gave a curt nod in return.
"Lady Nephis, it's a relief to see that you're safe," Caster said calmly. "And a shame that it's in such a place."
"May I sit?" he added, already leaning toward the table as if ready to take a seat.
"No—" Nephis began, and Zachary couldn't help but chuckle.
She had done the exact same thing to Sunny—and to him—back in the labyrinth. But contrary to his expectations, instead of finishing her sentence, Nephis simply continued eating, as if that were the end of the conversation.
"I see," Caster coughed awkwardly, then turned toward Zachary. "Be careful. You might have angered those guards. They probably won't act against you, but there's no harm in being cautious."
With that, he left.
Zachary nodded and sat back down with a quiet sigh of relief. He had avoided attracting more attention than necessary—but that relief was quickly replaced by confusion. This interaction had gone very differently than he'd expected.
First, Nephis's outright refusal. And second, Caster's immediate acceptance of it. Unable to make sense of it, Zachary decided to ask directly.
"Why did you refuse?" he asked.
Nephis turned toward him with a strange look. "Aren't you against him?"
"Huh?" Zachary was genuinely caught off guard.
"Back at the Academy, your first interaction with him was pretty heated," Nephis said evenly. "Then, during Combat Class, you injured one of his companions. After that, we heard you weren't allowed to attend class with the rest of us."
Zachary was deeply surprised—first, because he hadn't expected Nephis to be this observant, already tracking potential threats even back then. And second, because she had acted with him in mind.
"But that was at the Academy," Zachary said carefully. "Here, in the Dream Realm… it wouldn't be bad to rely on others."
Nephis nodded and returned to her food. Zachary, meanwhile, felt conflicted. Now that things were aligning more closely with the novel's timeline—and with the rest of the characters present—he had to tread carefully. Extremely carefully.
Whether he liked it or not, Caster was necessary to reach the Hollow Mountains. And truthfully… Zachary didn't harbor that much bad blood toward him.
Yes, Caster had been ordered to kill Nephis. That wouldn't change. But those were orders, not personal malice. His actions were born of loyalty and duty—values drilled into him since childhood as a Legacy.
Was it fair to blame a child-soldier for that?
'He is a classist motherfucker though,' Zachary muttered with dry amusement. 'But then again, that's how he was raised. Is it really fair to blame him for things he never had a choice in?'
'Look at me… I might actually be a Caster apologist.' He couldn't help to lampoon.
They finished breakfast in silence. Without drawing further attention, they returned to their rooms in the Tower of Dusk. Zachary opened his door and stepped inside—but this time, Nephis and Cassie followed.
Cassie sat on the bed. Nephis took the wooden chair near the desk. Zachary walked past them both, rested his back against the window, and stared at the Crimson Spire. Things were clear now.
The goal was clear: reach the Crimson Spire—and escape this hellhole.
The question was how.
To his quiet shame, the novel couldn't serve as a perfect walkthrough. It showed how the original cast escaped, yes—but Zachary wasn't a fool...
Well—he indeed was one—but with a capital letter. Yet Zachary wasn't foolish enough to ignore the changes already unfolding around him. Things were shifting.
And he was at the center of it.
'The only thing I can do is keep moving forward,' Zachary thought, steel settling into his resolve. 'And be ready to face whatever changes come.'
A voice pulled him back to the present.
"So?" Nephis said, stretching her arms behind her.
"Well…" Zachary swallowed dryly before continuing. "Moving forward, you two should avoid going out too much. Mostly just come down for breakfast and meals, then return to your room."
Nephis arched an eyebrow questioningly.
Zachary exhaled through his nose at her reaction. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you attract too much attention."
"Attention?" Cassie asked, oblivious.
"Oh come on, now you're just fishing for compliments," Zachary said with some exasperation. "You two are extremely beautiful, and there are a lot of impolite fellows out there. We managed to avoid trouble earlier, but let's not raise the odds by going out too much. Who knows—there might be worse guys around."
The girls remained silent, so Zachary continued.
"I'll stay outside and try to gather as much information as I can. Once the week is over, we'll go out and see how things are in the Outer Settlement. After that, we decide how to move forward, alright?"
Nephis thought for a few seconds. Finally, with a sigh, she answered, "Fine."
With that, Zachary left his room, and the girls returned to theirs.
Once again, he walked through the marble hallways in silence. After a while, he found a small, empty courtyard with a broken fountain at its center. The grass was unkempt, ivy climbing over a cracked stone bench. With a sigh, Zachary sat down.
"Now what?" he muttered, resting his chin on his hand.
The truth was… he didn't know where to begin.
He had spoken confidently about gathering information, but in reality, he had no clear plan. Once again, the difference between his abilities and Sunny's became painfully clear.
'I mean, thanks to the novel, I know most of the important things about the Host—maybe even more,' Zachary thought. 'The Handmaidens, Seishan, the relationship between Artisans and Hunters, their rivalry with the Castle Guards, the Lieutenants and their abilities…'
'Yet… I lack all the miscellaneous information,' he continued bitterly. 'The everyday details. The inner workings of the castle. The personal relationships between characters—fuck… between people.'
"What to do, what to do…"
Just then, Zachary noticed three people entering the courtyard. They glanced in his direction briefly before returning to their conversation, paying him little attention.
Zachary observed them discreetly. More precisely, he focused on the armbands tied around their shoulders. Green armbands, embroidered with black leaves.
Artisans.
A rough plan began forming in his mind—but hesitation followed.
'I don't like this…' he thought with quiet reluctance. 'This is basically a gamble.'
Still, Zachary stood up and walked in their direction—not directly toward them, but toward the exit they had come from. As he passed by, he muttered just loudly enough for them to hear:
"Fucking Castle Guards… always acting like they're so mighty…"
As if nothing had happened, Zachary continued walking—silently praying his plan would work. Then a voice called out from behind him.
"You there. What did you just say?"
Zachary stopped mid-step. His mouth felt dry—not from fear, but from the familiar sensation that came just before a well-prepared presentation. With measured movements, he turned to face the Artisans, who were watching him with unreadable expressions.
This was the gamble.
He had just insulted the Host in front of members of the Host. Still… if things moved the way he expected, based on what he knew of the Host's inner dynamics, then—
"Shit—sorry!" Zachary exclaimed, feigning surprise and shame. "I—I shouldn't have said that. I'm really sorry!"
"I didn't ask you to apologize," the man in front said seriously. "I asked you to repeat what you said."
He looked young—maybe around twenty. His hair was dirty and brushed carelessly back, dark circles hanging under his brown eyes. From his tone alone, Zachary could tell he was the leader of this group.
Zachary hesitated, then spoke with reluctant defeat.
"I'm really sorry. I just had a bad experience with some Castle Guards, and I guess I'm still heated. But please try to understand—they were acting so high and mighty, like they deserved all the praise in the world."
He fidgeted slightly, watching their reactions. Thankfully, Cinder Eyes didn't detect any hostility.
Then the man shifted—but before he could speak, the guy to his left blurted out:
"I know, right? Fucking bastards."
Zachary immediately focused on him. The man had very short hair, his shirt sloppily tucked into his pants. Zachary silently thanked him as the man spat on the ground.
"Don't worry, man. They're always like that."
Before he could continue, the third man elbowed him sharply, cutting him off. The leader shot the short-haired guy an annoyed glare, then sighed in tired resignation.
Turning back to Zachary, he said, "I get where you're coming from. But be careful—you can't go around insulting the Host. Especially not in front of its members."
Zachary widened his eyes in feigned shock. "You're members of the Host? I should've known. That was stupid of me."
Then, with genuine-sounding curiosity, he asked, "So… what group do you belong to?"
The short-haired guy answered proudly, "We're Artisans."
"Artisans?" Zachary's eyes lit up. "Damn, that's actually really cool. I seriously admire you guys—most of the comforts I enjoy exist thanks to your work."
The group smiled.
"No, really," Zachary continued. "You're the real deal. After all you know what they say: the working class is the backbone of any society."
"That's right, that's righ—working class?" the short-haired guy started enthusiastically, only to pause as the words caught up to him.
"Anyway," the third man interrupted, placing a hand on Zachary's shoulder. "Why don't you tell us more about those guards? Honestly, I don't like them much either."
Smiling weakly, Zachary said, "It's nothing much, really. It's just their everyday behavior. They walk around like everyone should do their bidding—"
"I always say that, dude!" the short-haired guy cut in, already forgetting Zachary's description. "It's the same problem with them. Every time."
Zachary was delighted. This was exactly what he had been aiming for.
'Befriending technique #11: Curse at a commonly hated coworker together,' Zachary thought with amusement. 'Works even better if you're cursing a hated boss.'
He had learned that one during his shitty part-time jobs.
Gaining confidence, Zachary continued, "I know, right? Like, give me a fucking break. This place is already shitty enough—I don't need you pestering me about how shiny your sword is."
"You don't even use it!" the third guy added, bursting into laughter.
"And don't even ask them about their other sword," Zachary said, raising his pinky finger. "They use that one even less!"
"Hahahahaha!" The group erupted into laughter. Even the leader chuckled slightly—he had clearly given up on controlling the conversation.
Once things settled down, Zachary finally asked, "So… what are your names? I'm here laughing with you guys and I don't even know who you are."
"I'm Lester," the leader said, extending his hand.
"Mauro," the short-haired guy added.
"And Arlo," the third one said calmly, fist-bumping Zachary.
"Zachary. Nice to meet y'all."
"Say, Zachary," Lester said, inspecting him carefully, "I haven't seen you around before. Are you new?"
"Yeah. I entered the Castle yesterday," Zachary replied, scratching the back of his neck. "Might be why I'm still pretty oblivious about certain things. Sorry about that."
"Don't fret about it," Arlo said with a chuckle.
"So yeah," Zachary continued, "I'm trying to learn the ropes around here. What places I can go to, which ones I can't… and, you know—where I can spend some extra shards I've got."
At his words, the trio exchanged quick glances. A knowing smile spread across their faces—the kind you wore when you were about to do something you weren't particularly proud of.
"Oh my," Arlo said, placing a hand on Zachary's shoulder. "Who would've thought?"
"We were actually on our way to a gambling den." He grinned.
"Wanna come?"