Chapter 87: 74 - Ritual
Next, we finally sat side-by-side on the tiny bed—Kairi’s bed—in the small, almost too-clean flat, a place that seemed to keep its bloody history at bay.
The blanket was neatly folded, and a faint scent of soap emanated from the pillowcases. To the right, an owl-shaped wall clock ticked softly.
Ayaka looked at me, then opened the conversation again with a faint smile.
"By the way, you still haven’t told me about Doctor Satoko."
I turned slowly. "Hm? What do you mean, Mom?"
"He told me a lot when you were in a coma. He said you even willingly covered his night shifts when he was sick."
"You told him, ’If I can help him get back to health, that’s more important than sleep.’"
I nearly choked on my breath.
That... wasn’t something easily made up, was it?
My brain immediately connected the dots. The image was clear.
Satoko—exhausted, coughing, barely able to stand for long. And Kairi, usually so aloof, probably just waved a hand and said nonchalantly,
"Fine, I’ll do it then."
But deep down... she cared.
Yet this body—Kairi’s body—didn’t react according to my logic.
My cheeks flushed. My heart hammered wildly.
God, this body was like a servant that knew its master.
"So..." Ayaka nudged me gently,
"Don’t act so indifferent. Doctor Satoko is a good person. You know that too."
I fell silent. A faint smile played on my lips, partly because I couldn’t deny it, partly because... maybe I was starting to understand.
They knew each other, cared for each other, covered for each other.
And Kairi... had it hidden even from herself.
But before I could reply, the atmosphere suddenly grew tense in the silence.
I straightened up. "Ayaka, can I ask about... him?"
Ayaka froze.
She knew what ’him’ meant. It’s Kairi’s vague implication to depict her father.
Her eyes lost focus for a few seconds, as if rewinding an old tape that hadn’t been played in a long time.
"Hiroshi Izumi... your father?" she murmured softly.
I nodded.
"He respected your decision. I mean... when you decided to leave that house and live independently, he never stopped you. But... I know he was sad."
Ayaka looked down, her hands wringing the edge of the blanket.
"I once... saw him secretly crying while holding your childhood photo. He was sitting in his study, lights off. Only the desk lamp was on. He stared at your photo for a very long time. Then he said, ’I’m sorry... I failed as a father.’"
My chest tightened.
Not mine—but Kairi’s.
And I felt that burden, which wasn’t mine, pressing down on my back.
I took a breath. "If he truly regretted it... why didn’t he look for me?"
Ayaka turned, smiling gently. "Perhaps because he knew... you wouldn’t want to be found. You’re too stubborn. And he’s too proud to beg."
Silence.
Then I spoke, in a lower voice, "I... won’t go back there."
Ayaka simply nodded. "I know, dear."
And that was it.
No tears, no coercion.
Just a quiet understanding, and the soft embrace of the night that slowly enveloped us.
Ayaka hugged me from the side.
We lay side by side on that small bed.
It felt... peaceful.
However, that peace was short-lived.
Because just as my eyelids began to droop, a single flash of memory struck.
...
"Oh, right..."
My body trembled slightly. The memory flashed again... clearer than before.
Yes, indeed I was conscious.
And no, I wasn’t sleeping in Kairi’s room.
Instead, I was tied to a cold metal chair.
Naked.
Without uniform.
Without magic.
Without honor, let alone protection.
In the center of a deadly circle.
"No... no...!" I hissed softly.
Flashes of memory poured in—the clang of metal bells. My breath hitched.
I saw Arthur Shakespeare’s face—cold, satisfied.
He hummed softly.
"Finally awake, are we?" he said quietly.
I narrowed my eyes. "Are you... enjoying all this, you sadistic two-faced hypocrite?"
He didn’t answer. He just walked around me, his steps slow, his tone as if he were bargaining for an expensive painting.
"Selene Eryndell Veylith. Do you know why you are here?"
I snarled. "Because you didn’t have the guts to face me when I was fully-dressed?"
He ignored me and hummed.
His hand waved gently, creating a projection of Mytheia suspended in the air. T
he object—an obsidian-colored crystal with broken runic inscriptions—floated as if guarded by an invisible eye.
"You know yourself, don’t you? That this thing... it’s truly extraordinary," he whispered.
"You know that it’s a creation that can even cleave time and fate itself. Yours, yes. But you shouldn’t monopolize it for personal gain, should you?"
I spat on the floor.
"I’d rather die naked, burned as a wicked witch, than give that thing to an opportunistic rat like you."
His smile remained, but this time there was a slight tension.
"Ah... I thought we could negotiate."
I stared straight at him.
"Save your negotiations for the low-level demons whose pride can be bought."
He was silent for a moment, then let out a long sigh as if disappointed.
"What a pity. You are indeed as stubborn as they say—"
"—who said that?" I cut him off.
"Those lowlifes you bribed to stage this cheap drama?"
That was me behind my recklessness and foolishness—my tongue was still sharp, even when my body had no protection but sheer will.
Arthur stopped walking.
And in a quiet, but utterly triumphant tone, he spoke a single name:
"Cienna Alenka Serfort. Come forward, darling."
My world instantly crumbled.
Tall strides slowly echoed from behind the ritualistic mist.
A girl emerged from the darkness—her hair as soft as snow, her eyes like cold, unfeeling full-moon crystals.
I couldn’t suppress my shocked gasp.
"...You even used the Punisher Aethelgarten for this? You’re mad!"
"You refused diplomacy. So, the purification ritual is unavoidable."
Arthur nodded then looked at Cienna.
"What are you waiting for? Come on, Cienna, my dear..."
"Execute her."
Kairi, just for once... prove it to me that I was wrong about you.
No, too late.
Cienna already raised a spiral-shaped, rune-encrusted staff. Purple fire enveloped its tip, trembling, as if eager to consume my very soul.
I stared at her.
Cienna didn’t utter a single word.
No. She didn’t need to as she would punish students equally.
As she only had to incinerate the existence of my soul from within.
I could only surrender myself.
Because I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t run.
Couldn’t scream.
But before the staff could even touch my skin—
THUD
Cienna’s body swayed—and fell.
Followed by Echidna.
And... even Arthur stumbled to the floor, hitting the hard tiles with a surprising thump.
My eyes widened.
"What...?"
The mist began to thin.
Footsteps approached—slow, calm, full of confidence.
But I couldn’t see his face.
However, what I could be certain about was...
...this entire room had been silenced by one person.
