Shunjiro drew in a slow breath and let the golden feeling inside him stir again. He did not release it all at once. That would have been too wild, too desperate, too easy for someone like Amaya to punish. Instead, he opened the path little by little. A few grains slipped from beneath his sleeve first, small enough that they almost vanished against the falling snow. Then more gathered near his wrist, glowing faintly as they circled his hand in a thin stream. The sand moved awkwardly at first, sluggish beneath the cold air, each grain resisting the weather in a way that made Shunjiro’s brow tighten.

Amaya’s eyes narrowed.

So she had not expected this.

That gave him one small piece of satisfaction.

The sand continued to gather, curling around his forearm before spilling toward the ground in a slow golden ribbon. Snowflakes touched the surface and disappeared into the moving grains, either melting from the spiritual heat threaded through them or being swallowed before they could settle. Shunjiro felt the resistance immediately. The air was wet and cold, nothing like the dry control he had managed inside Malachi’s training field. The sand wanted to clump. It wanted to drag. He had to feed more spiritual energy into it just to keep the grains separate and responsive.

So this is going to be annoying.

Amaya’s gaze moved from the sand to his face. “That is what you were hiding.”

“One of the things,” Shunjiro said before he could think better of it.

Her expression cooled further. “You should choose your answers more carefully.”

The sand thickened around him, forming two loose streams at either side of his body. Shunjiro kept the dagger in his right hand and raised his left slightly, testing how quickly the grains answered. They moved, but slower than he wanted. The snow was not stopping them, but it was forcing him to work harder for every motion. In a real fight, that delay could become the difference between landing a hit and losing an arm.

Amaya shifted her saber, the blade angled downward in a relaxed guard that somehow looked more threatening than an attack stance.

Shunjiro stepped forward.

The first volley was small. Five pellets formed from the sand near his left side and shot toward Amaya in a staggered pattern while he rushed in behind them. He did not make the projectiles sharp enough to pierce deeply. This was still a spar, even if Amaya’s definition of sparring involved bruising every mistake into his bones. The pellets snapped through the snow, coming from slightly different angles as Shunjiro closed the distance with his dagger ready.

Amaya moved before the first pellet reached her.

Her saber cut through two of them with a clean silver arc. The third broke against a thin layer of spiritual energy around her shoulder. She leaned away from the fourth and stepped over the fifth, all while turning just enough to meet Shunjiro’s dagger as he came in from the side. Their blades clashed. Shunjiro pushed, sent another stream of sand around her back, and tried to force her into choosing between his weapon and the attack behind her.

She chose both.

Amaya deflected his dagger, pivoted, and let the rear projectiles pass close enough to stir her cloak without touching it. Her footwork was exact, every movement taking her through the narrowest safe space. Shunjiro twisted with the parry and sent three blade-like shards from the ground near her feet. Amaya’s saber stabbed downward and broke the first, her heel crushed the second, and the third struck the spiritual coating along her leg before scattering harmlessly.

Shunjiro clicked his tongue and retreated before her counter could land.

The flat of Amaya’s saber struck his shoulder hard enough to numb his arm, and he stumbled sideways, teeth clenched against the pain. His sand rushed to intercept her next step, forming a low wave meant to slow her, but she did not step there. She had already moved around it. The wave rose through empty air, and Amaya’s elbow drove toward his chest.

Shunjiro barely blocked with his forearm.

The impact shoved him backward.

He dug his boots into the wet stone and sent more sand outward, this time splitting the grains into smaller streams. Pellets, shards, and thin cords of sand moved from different directions, some coming straight for Amaya, others curving wide before bending back in. He attacked with the dagger at the same time, forcing himself to ignore the ache in his shoulder. If one direction failed, then he would use six. If she could read his blade, then he would add attacks his body did not have to make.

Amaya still answered.

That was when it became impossible to ignore.

Her saber moved to meet projectiles that should have been hidden behind her. She stepped away from sand lines before they fully formed. She turned her wrist to deflect Shunjiro’s dagger at the exact instant he changed the angle, even when he made the decision too late for ordinary reaction. A blunt pellet came from behind her shoulder while Shunjiro lunged low, and Amaya shifted her head before the pellet entered his own line of sight. She did not look back. She did not sense the sand with her eyes. She simply moved as though the future had already whispered every path into her ear.

Shunjiro’s frustration sharpened into focus.

He sent a faster burst from above, forming the grains into small needles that dropped through the snowfall. Amaya raised her saber and cut through the first wave, then bent sideways before the second wave curved toward her from behind. Her cloak snapped in the wind as she spun, and her blade met Shunjiro’s dagger again with perfect timing.

He stared at her over the crossed weapons.

“You can see the future.”

For the first time since the spar began, Amaya’s composure cracked.

It was small. A widening of her eyes. A brief pause in the pressure against his dagger. A flicker of shock that vanished almost as soon as it appeared. But Shunjiro saw it, and the sight sent a rush of certainty through him.

He was right.

Amaya shoved him back with her saber and stepped away, her expression closing again into cold discipline. “Knowing will not change anything.”

Shunjiro slid a few feet through melting snow, caught himself, and lifted the dagger again. “Maybe not by itself.”

Her blue eyes sharpened. “Then prove it.”

The words settled over the yard.

Shunjiro breathed through the cold and forced his mind to move faster than his frustration. If Amaya could see what was coming, then surprising her in the normal way was useless. Feints did not matter if she saw the real attack before the false one finished. Speed did not matter if she saw where he would be. Projectiles did not matter if she saw their paths before they arrived. Her ability turned every decision into something already answered.

But it still had limits.

It had to.

Amaya could see the future, but she was still standing in the present. She still needed her body to move. She still needed to know where she was, what she could reach, and what her eyes could make sense of. Even if her future sight showed the next few seconds, the vision was still filled with the battlefield as it would be. Snow falling. Sand moving. Dagger flashing. Her own body reacting. If he could flood that future with too much interference, maybe her advantage would shrink from perfect certainty into survival.

The memory of the blizzard rose inside him.

The storm outside the Stellar Empire had swallowed everything. It had erased distance, direction, even sound. Jayiden had vanished a few steps away unless Shunjiro kept his eyes locked on him. The snow had nearly killed him, but before that, it had taught him something. A battlefield did not need to be clear. Sometimes the thing that blinded you could blind everyone else too.

Shunjiro looked at the sand moving sluggishly around his feet.

If snow can hide a wall, then sand can hide me.

He pulled the grains inward.

Amaya’s saber lifted slightly.

Shunjiro released the sand all at once.

A golden storm exploded around them.

It did not cover the entire Bastion. It did not swallow the watching knights or tear across the military district. Shunjiro kept it tight, forcing the sand into a violent rotating sphere around only himself and Amaya. The grains surged upward in a thick wall, rising higher than both of them before curling overhead and folding inward. Snow vanished against it, blocked from entering as the sand spun faster and faster, filling the space with a roaring hiss that drowned out the distant yard.

Outside, the knights could only see a golden cyclone turning in the center of the training ground.

Inside, the world became sand.

Amaya disappeared from Shunjiro’s sight immediately, and he knew he had vanished from hers as well. The air was packed with moving grains, each one carrying a thread of his spiritual energy. He felt the strain at once. Keeping the storm dry, fast, and controlled in the cold took more effort than he expected. The sand wanted to spread. It wanted to collapse under its own motion. He clenched his jaw and shaped it tighter, turning the storm into a shifting wall that circled them both.

Amaya did not panic.

Of course she did not.

Through the storm, Shunjiro heard her saber cut. A burst of sand shattered where she struck, clearing a narrow gap for less than a second before more grains filled it. He sent projectiles from three directions, two blunt, one sharpened. Amaya’s blade flashed inside the haze. 

She could still see them coming.

Not normally. Not early enough to make the defense effortless. But just enough. Somewhere behind that wall of sand, Amaya was looking into the next few seconds and seeing what the storm would do. She saw pellets reach her shoulder before they arrived. She saw blades of sand form behind her before they struck. She saw the grains fall, spin, collide, and scatter. Every piece of the future that unfolded within her sight became a warning.

But she could not find him.

Before, Amaya’s movements had answered his whole body. Now they answered only the attacks. Her saber cut at projectiles, her guard shifted to block, her steps moved her away from danger, but she was no longer turning toward him before he chose a path. The sand filled every direction with his energy, masking the shape of his body among thousands of moving grains. Then Shunjiro took the final step and let his spiritual presence vanish.

He turned himself off.

The strain of maintaining the sandstorm without letting his own presence rise was brutal. His body wanted to flare. The sand wanted more energy. The cold bit through the absence, sinking into his skin now that he was not using spiritual reinforcement to warm himself properly. But the moment his presence disappeared, the storm became more than cover. It became a lie the battlefield told for him.

Amaya’s head turned sharply inside the haze.

For the first time, she did not know where he was.

Shunjiro moved.

He kept low, boots sliding over the warmed stone, and sent another volley without letting his own energy return. The projectiles formed from sand already moving inside the storm, so there was no obvious starting point, no clean line back to his position. Amaya cut through them at the last second, saber flashing in brief silver fragments through the gold. He shifted behind her and sent a curved blade toward her side. She caught it with spiritual energy along her forearm, but the defense came late enough that the impact pushed her half a step.

That half step mattered.

Shunjiro circled wider.

His breath stayed quiet. His presence remained gone. The dagger rested in his hand, dark and steady, while the storm carried every sound into chaos. He sent pellets high. Shards low. A thin whip of sand from behind. Amaya answered all of it, but each defense demanded more of her attention. The future showed her too much now. Sand filled every possible line, every falling grain a piece of motion in the next three seconds. She could see the attacks coming, but seeing was not the same as choosing instantly when the entire world around her had become a moving weapon.

Shunjiro felt the opening before he saw it.

Amaya turned to break a cluster of blade-like shards coming for her left shoulder. At the same time, she angled her body to avoid a blunt strike from behind. Her future sight had shown her both. Her body could answer both. But the motion placed her weight exactly where Shunjiro needed it.

He let his energy return in one focused pulse.

Not everywhere.

Only through his legs, arm, and dagger hand.

Shunjiro burst from the sandstorm at her side.

Amaya’s eyes snapped toward him.

She saw him then. Maybe she had seen this exact moment a second before it arrived. Maybe the future had shown his shape cutting through the gold, dagger low, body driving forward through the storm he had made. But the sand projectiles still filled the space around her, and her saber was already committed to breaking the last attack. She began to turn, impossibly fast, but this time Shunjiro was close enough.

The Devil’s Luck Dagger crossed her armor.

The dark blade cut through the white material and the protective layer beneath it, drawing a clean, shallow line across her side. It was controlled. Deliberate. Not deep enough to do real damage, but real enough that a thin streak of blood followed the cut.

The sandstorm collapsed.

Gold fell away from the air in heavy streams, sinking back toward Shunjiro’s side as the snow returned between them. The training yard reappeared in pieces: the heated stone, the raised platforms, the distant knights staring openly now, the pale buildings of South Star Bastion behind the curtain of morning snowfall. 

Amaya stood a few feet away, saber still raised.

Her eyes were on the cut.

For a fraction of a second, her body shifted like she was about to counter. Shunjiro saw it in her stance and tightened his grip on the dagger, ready to be thrown across the yard again if that was what came next. But Amaya stopped herself. She lowered the saber slowly, then looked at him.

Blood touched the torn line in her armor.

Her expression was not impressed.

It was colder than that.

Annoyed.

“That is enough,” she said.

Shunjiro kept his stance for another moment, unsure if the spar had truly ended. “Enough?”

“I saw what I needed to see.”

He lowered the dagger carefully. The sand hovered near his boots, restless and ready, but he let it settle.

Amaya wiped one gloved finger across the faint line of blood at her side and looked at the stain as if Shunjiro had inconvenienced her more than injured her. Then she sheathed her saber with a clean motion.

Shunjiro waited for the correction.

It did not come.

No explanation about his footwork. No comment about the sandstorm. No answer about her future sight. No approval for landing a strike. Amaya only turned away, white cloak shifting behind her as she began walking toward the covered path that led back into the Bastion.

Shunjiro frowned. “That is it?”

Amaya did not stop. “You wanted to train. Train.”

“I thought you were going to help.”

“I did.”

“How?”

She paused then, but only long enough to glance back at him over her shoulder. Her blue eyes held him with open irritation, as if his confusion confirmed something unpleasant about him. “Figure it out.”

Then she walked away.

Shunjiro stood alone in the training yard, dagger in hand, while the last of his sand curled around his boots and the snow continued falling softly over South Star Bastion.

For several seconds, he only stared after her.

“That was not helpful,” he muttered.

The distant knights quickly found other things to look at.

Shunjiro let out a tired breath and sheathed the Devil’s Luck Dagger. His body hurt everywhere Amaya had hit him, and several places she had not. The sandstorm had drained more energy than he expected, leaving a deep warmth in his core that felt close to exhaustion but not quite there. His control in the snow was rough. The sand had fought him at every stage, and holding the storm while shutting off his presence had nearly broken his concentration more than once.

He looked down at the golden grains gathered near his feet.

At first, frustration rose again. Amaya had left without telling him what he had done right, what he had done wrong, or what he was supposed to practice next. She had dragged him through a spar, beaten him across half the yard, forced him to reveal his sand, gotten cut, and then walked away as if all of that explained itself.

Then Shunjiro slowly frowned.

Maybe it did.

He looked back over the marked training ground.

The answer was scattered everywhere in front of him. The scuffed snow where his footing had slipped. The places where Amaya had thrown him because he relied too much on movement she could read. The melted streaks where his spiritual energy had flared too strongly. The fading circle where the sandstorm had blocked the snow, hidden his body, and turned the battlefield itself into cover. He had not simply used a new technique. He had created one because he had been forced to think around someone he could not outspeed, outfeint, or overpower.

A sandstorm.

Not just an attack. A field.

A way to blind sight, distort distance, hide projectiles, and cover his own movement. Against Amaya, it had only worked because he combined it with the impossible absence Malachi had taught him. Against someone else, it could do even more. It could separate enemies. Protect allies. Break formations. Hide wounded people. Turn open ground into his territory.

The thought made his chest tighten with something different from pain.

He had learned more than he realized.

Amaya had not explained because she wanted him to find it himself. Or maybe she simply did not like him enough to bother. Either way, the result was the same. He had walked into the Bastion with a power that struggled against the snow. He was standing in it now with a new way to fight.

Shunjiro looked toward the covered path where Amaya had disappeared.

A small, tired smile formed despite everything.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, though she was already gone.

The snow continued falling over the training yard, softer than the storm from the day before, but no longer only an obstacle in his mind. Shunjiro drew the sand up again, slower this time, letting it circle around him in a controlled stream as he studied the cold air, the wet stone, and the space where the storm had been.

He had more work to do.

At first, he told himself he was only going to test the sandstorm a few more times, just enough to understand what had happened during the spar before returning to his room. But once the first circle of golden sand rose around him and pushed back the falling snow, that thought disappeared. His body still ached from Amaya’s strikes, and his breathing carried the leftover weight of the fight, yet there was something strangely calming about standing alone in the open yard with the snow falling around him and the sand answering his will.

He had already shown it.

That changed things.

There was no point pretending the sand did not exist anymore, at least not in the Bastion. Amaya had seen it, the distant knights had seen it, and if Aurelius had arranged this entire situation as carefully as Shunjiro suspected, then the king would know soon enough too. Hiding the ability completely had already failed. What mattered now was making sure the next time he used it, it was sharper, faster, and harder to break apart.

Shunjiro raised one hand, and the sand stirred at his feet.

A thin stream lifted from the ground and circled his wrist. Snowflakes struck the outer edge of the grains and vanished into the motion, but the sand dragged slightly, heavier than it should have been. The cold moisture in the air still fought him. It was not enough to stop the ability, but it forced him to think about every shape instead of trusting instinct alone. When he tried to form bullets, some came together cleanly while others clumped at the edges. When he shaped blades, the tips dulled unless he poured extra spiritual energy through them. When he tried to spread the sand outward, the wind caught the lighter grains and pulled against his control.

Shunjiro frowned, then lowered his hand.

So I cannot treat this like Radiance.

That was the first lesson.

The sand was his, but the battlefield was not. The Cosmic Continent had its own rules. Snow, wind, wet stone, and freezing air all pushed against him. If he ignored that, his power would become slower than he expected at the worst possible moment. Amaya had already shown him what happened when a single delay opened a weakness.

He began again.

This time, he did not try to force the sand to behave as if the weather did not exist. He let the wind touch it. He let the snow press against it. He studied where the stream thinned, where the grains dragged, and where the storm’s movement naturally became stronger. Instead of building a full cyclone immediately, he created a narrow veil that moved in front of him like a curtain. It rose from the ground, swept across his body, and collapsed on the other side before reforming again. A quick blind. Not enough to trap someone. Not enough to defend against a real attack. But in the right second, it could hide a step, a shift of the dagger, or the beginning of a retreat.

He practiced that until the motion became smoother.

Then he made the veil smaller.

Then faster.

The next form was a burst. He compressed the sand into a tight knot near his feet, then released it outward in a sudden flash of gold. The first attempt scattered too wide and wasted half the grains into the air. The second struck too low, more like dust kicked from the ground than a technique. By the fifth attempt, the burst rose at chest height, wide enough to fill someone’s vision for a single heartbeat before folding back toward him.

Shunjiro smiled faintly.

That one felt useful.

He imagined Jayiden rushing through a portal, twin katanas already swinging. He imagined a Ghoul lunging from darkness. He imagined Suzu’s blood blades cutting through the air. A single second would not solve any of those problems, but a single second could change where a blade landed. It could hide his hand. It could give him the room to move someone else out of danger.

He moved to the sandstorm last.

That technique was the hardest. Not because he could not create it, but because keeping it controlled demanded too much at once. It needed speed to blind. Density to block vision. Enough spiritual energy to keep the snow from dragging it down. Enough awareness to prevent it from spreading over the entire yard. And if he wanted to hide inside it properly, he had to manage all of that while lowering or erasing his own presence.

The first storm collapsed after ten seconds.

The second lasted longer but spun unevenly, thick on one side and thin on the other.

The third held its shape, but Shunjiro lost track of where the outer edge was and nearly sent a wave of sand into one of the practice dummies hard enough to crack it in half.

He stopped, exhaled, and rubbed the back of his neck.

A few knights still watched from a distance. They were trying to look as though they had important reasons to remain near the yard, but Shunjiro could tell the difference between routine duty and curiosity. One of them spoke quietly to another, both glancing toward the fading gold around his boots. Shunjiro pretended not to notice. If they wanted to stare, that was fine. He was too tired to be embarrassed by it.

Another hour passed.

Then another.

By the time he finally let the sand settle completely, his body felt heavy in a different way than after the spar. The bruises Amaya had left still throbbed, but beneath that pain was the deeper exhaustion of real progress. He had not mastered the sandstorm. Not even close. But it no longer felt like an accident created out of desperation. It had shape now. A veil, a burst, and a full storm. Three ways to use the same idea.

That was enough for one morning.

Shunjiro drew the remaining sand back toward himself, letting the grains disappear beneath his sleeves and into the quiet places inside his body where the ability waited. The training yard looked almost normal once the gold vanished, except for the scuffed snow, cracked stone, and damp circles where the storm had kept the snowfall from settling. He gave the field one last glance, then turned toward the covered passage leading back into Starheart Fortress.

The walk inside felt warm.

He passed through the Bastion corridors slowly, one hand resting near the Devil’s Luck Dagger. The fortress was active now, alive with the steady movement of attendants and soldiers. Knights crossed the halls carrying reports. A pair of younger soldiers hurried past with practice spears under their arms. Somewhere deeper in the Bastion, a bell rang once, low and clear, its sound swallowed by the thick stone walls.

Shunjiro’s mind stayed behind in the yard.

He kept replaying the moment the sandstorm had worked against Amaya. Not because it meant he could beat her. He knew better than that. Amaya had ended the spar because she wanted to, not because he had won in any true sense. But for one instant, he had taken an impossible opponent and found a path through her advantage. Someone who could see the future had still been forced to react.

He was turning the idea over again when someone called out behind him.

“Um… Shunjiro?”

The voice was hesitant but familiar enough to make him stop.

He turned.

A girl stood a few steps down the hall, looking at him with wide blue eyes and a small, uncertain smile. She had long silver-grey hair that fell smoothly over her shoulders, and her pointed ears peeked through the strands, making her identity clear before she said anything else. She wore a mage-like outfit, white and soft in shape, but over it rested a cloak marked with the Crimson Lotus insignia. The symbol stood out against the fabric, a red lotus blooming across darker thread.

For a second, Shunjiro only stared.

Then the memory clicked.

“You’re Emi,” he said.

Her face brightened a little with relief. “You remember?”

“I remember seeing you in Radiance. During the entrance exam period.” He paused, then added honestly, “I do not think we ever officially met, though.”

Emi gave a small laugh, shy but not as fragile as he remembered from the brief glimpses of her. “No, we didn’t. I saw you with your group back then, but there were a lot of people around. And you look… different now.”

Shunjiro glanced down at himself. The warm Stellar clothing, the dagger at his waist, the bruises he could feel even if most were hidden, and whatever expression the past month had carved into his face probably made him look nothing like the boy who had walked through Radiance on his first day as an adventurer.

“That is fair,” he said. “A lot happened.”

“I heard a little,” Emi said, then quickly looked embarrassed by how that sounded. “Not everything. Just that you were the Radiance adventurer we’re supposed to escort back.”

“Right. Crimson Lotus.”

She nodded, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of her cloak. There was confidence in the way she stood now, more than he remembered, but she still carried a softness that made her seem like she was always half a step away from apologizing for taking up space. “I’m Emi Tsuda.”

“Shunjiro,” he said. “Just Shunjiro.”

Emi tilted her head slightly, as if she noticed the missing last name but chose not to touch it. “Nice to officially meet you, Just Shunjiro.”

He blinked, then smiled despite himself. “That one is new.”

Her cheeks turned faintly pink, but she seemed pleased that the joke worked. “Sorry.”

“No, it was good.”

She relaxed a little.

They began walking together through the hall, heading in the same direction without needing to discuss it. Emi kept her hands folded loosely in front of her, the sleeves of her mage outfit shifting with each step. Shunjiro noticed that people glanced at her differently than they glanced at him. With him, the looks were curious, suspicious, or interested. With her, there was recognition. Crimson Lotus clearly carried weight even inside the Stellar Empire.

“The storm is dying down,” Emi said after a moment.

Shunjiro looked toward her. “It is?”

“Yes. It’s still snowing, but the outer winds are weakening. Satoshi said there’s a good chance we leave tomorrow morning if the route clears enough.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s not confirmed yet, though.”

Tomorrow.

For days, returning to Radiance had felt like something always pushed just out of reach. First the Shadow Realm, then Tsubasa, then Jayiden, then the blizzard, then the Stellar Empire itself. Every time he thought he had found a road back, something twisted it away from him. Now Emi was saying tomorrow like it was possible. Like the distance between him and his friends had finally started shrinking.

He looked ahead, his expression tightening with quiet hope. “That is good.”

“You really want to go back,” Emi said.

“I do.”

“To your friends?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Emi glanced at him with gentle curiosity. “How has your journey been?”

Shunjiro almost laughed.

Not because it was funny, but because there was no simple answer to that question. He could not explain what it felt like to fight in the Coastal Kingdom and watch everything break apart. He could not explain the Shadow Realm in a way that would not raise too many questions. He could not explain Malachi properly, or the mansion, or Tsubasa’s portal, or Jayiden walking beside him through a storm that wanted them both dead. Any true answer would drag too many secrets into the hallway.

So he gave her pieces.

“It started in the Coastal Kingdom,” he said. “Things went badly there.”

Emi’s expression sobered. “I heard there was trouble.”

“That is one way to say it.” His hand brushed the dagger at his waist. “After that, I ended up in the Shadow Realm for about a month.”

Emi stopped walking for half a second, then hurried to keep pace. “A month?”

“Yes.”

“In the Shadow Realm?”

“Yes.”

Her blue eyes widened. “How are you alive?”

Shunjiro thought of Malachi’s mansion, the dead forest, the black eclipse sky, the training field, the forge, the fire, and the giant man who had somehow become his teacher in the worst place imaginable.

“I had help,” he said.

Emi seemed to understand that he would not say more. “And then you came here?”

“Not on purpose.” Shunjiro gave a tired smile. “There was a portal. It went wrong. I landed outside the Stellar Empire during the storm and found the South Gate.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was not my favorite day.”

Emi looked at him, then laughed softly. “You say that like there are a lot of bad days competing for the title.”

“There are.”

The humor faded gently, leaving something quieter behind. Emi’s gaze lowered for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

Shunjiro shook his head. “I made it here. And now I might leave tomorrow. That is enough for now.”

“You’re ready to go back.”

“More than ready.” He looked down the hall, seeing Radiance in his mind instead of Starheart Fortress. “I need to see my friends again.”

Emi did not push. She only nodded, and Shunjiro appreciated that. Some people asked questions because they wanted answers. Others asked because they wanted to understand whether someone needed room to breathe. Emi seemed closer to the second kind.

They reached a wider passage where the scent of cooked food drifted through the air. Voices echoed faintly from somewhere ahead, low and scattered, the kind of sound that came from a hall large enough to hold many people but quiet enough that individual conversations still mattered. Emi glanced toward the opening at the end of the corridor, then back at him.

“Have you eaten since this morning?”

Shunjiro thought about it. “No.”

“You should.”

“I was planning to go back to my room.”

“You could,” Emi said, then hesitated in a way that made the next words sound both casual and carefully offered. “Or you could have dinner with us. Crimson Lotus, I mean. Satoshi and the others are probably already there.”

Shunjiro’s thoughts immediately went to Yuuna.

He kept his face still.

Dinner with Crimson Lotus meant Yuuna would probably be there. After the balcony, after the kiss, after leaving her without an answer to whether they could still be friends, seeing her again so soon felt complicated. But avoiding her would only make the situation worse, and he was not sure he wanted to avoid her anyway. Awkward did not mean impossible. She had been kind to him. He had hurt her by being honest, but he still meant what he said. He hoped they could be friends.

Besides, Crimson Lotus would be escorting him back to Radiance. He needed to meet them properly.

“That would be great,” he said.

Emi smiled, visibly relieved. “Good. They can be a little much at first, but they’re kind.”

“That sounds like most guilds.”

“Maybe.” Her smile grew slightly. “Satoshi especially.”

“He is the leader, right?”

“Yes.”

“I have heard his name twice now and know nothing about him.”

“You’ll understand quickly.”

“That sounds like a warning.”

“It might be.”

They entered the food hall together.

The room was large. Long tables stretched across the polished floor, and warm light hung from star-shaped fixtures above. Knights, attendants, and a few guests ate in small groups throughout the hall, their conversations blending into a steady hum beneath the scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spiced vegetables. Tall windows lined one wall, showing the snowfall beyond the glass, thinner now than it had been that morning.

Emi guided him toward a table near the side of the hall.

Three people were already seated there.

Shunjiro saw Yuuna first.

She sat with her hands folded near her plate, long black hair falling over the shoulders of her white cloak, yellow eyes lowered toward the table as if she had been listening more than speaking. Across from her sat a young man in a white uniform with a black-and-red cloak draped around his shoulders. His blackish-blue hair framed sharp blue eyes, and even seated, he carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly how strong he was and had never needed to shout it first. Beside him sat another young man with long black hair and black eyes, quiet and reserved, his posture calm enough that he almost seemed separate from the noise of the hall.

Emi slowed beside Shunjiro.

“There they are,” she said softly. “That’s Crimson Lotus.”

Shunjiro looked at the three waiting at the table, feeling the strange turn of the day settle over him all at once. Morning had brought Amaya’s blade, snow, sand, and the discovery of a new way to fight. Evening had brought Radiance adventurers, a dying storm, and the possibility of leaving at dawn.

He followed Emi toward the table.

Satoshi noticed Emi first.

His blue eyes lifted from the table the moment she approached, and the easy confidence on his face warmed into a grin that looked almost too comfortable for someone wearing the cloak of an SS-ranked guild. The black-and-red fabric rested over his white uniform like it belonged there, the Crimson Lotus insignia stitched cleanly into one side. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, looking less like a formal guild leader and more like someone who had decided every room he entered would eventually adjust to him.

“There she is,” Satoshi said. “We were starting to think the fortress swallowed you.”

Emi’s cheeks colored lightly. “I was not gone that long.”

“You were gone long enough for Kojiro to speak twice.”

The quiet young man beside him looked up. Long black hair framed his calm face, and his black eyes moved from Satoshi to Emi with a patience that suggested he had heard this kind of comment too many times to be bothered by it. “Once,” Kojiro corrected.

Satoshi pointed at him. “See? Historic.”

Emi let out a small laugh, then stepped aside enough for Shunjiro to stand with her near the table. Satoshi’s attention shifted immediately. His gaze moved over Shunjiro in one quick, assessing sweep, from the plain Stellar clothes to the Devil’s Luck Dagger at his waist, then back to his face. The grin did not disappear, but something sharper settled beneath it.

“And I’m guessing this is Shunjiro.”

Shunjiro gave a small nod. “That is me.”

“Good. Saves me the trouble of guessing wrong.” Satoshi stood then, and Shunjiro realized he was taller than he had looked while sitting, with the relaxed posture of someone who could move quickly if needed but saw no reason to announce it. “Satoshi. Leader of Crimson Lotus.”

“I know,” Shunjiro said. “Emi told me.”

Satoshi’s grin widened. “Only good things, I hope.”

“She mostly warned me.”

“Also good.”

Emi looked embarrassed. “I did not warn him.”

“You implied,” Shunjiro said.

“That is different,” Emi replied.

Satoshi looked pleased already. “I like him.”

Shunjiro was not sure if that was reassuring.

Kojiro stood next, quieter than Satoshi, but not unfriendly. He gave Shunjiro a small nod, his voice calm when he spoke. “Kojiro.”

“Nice to meet you,” Shunjiro said.

Kojiro nodded again and sat back down.

Satoshi gestured toward him. “That is about as warm as he gets with strangers. Treasure it.”

Kojiro’s eyes moved back to his plate. “You talk enough for both of us.”

“There it is,” Satoshi said proudly. “Three sentences. Emi, mark the date.”

Yuuna sat across from them, hands folded neatly near her plate. She had been quiet since Shunjiro arrived, but when his gaze finally reached her, she lifted her eyes with perfect composure. If there was any trace of the balcony in her expression, she hid it so well that for a moment Shunjiro wondered if he had imagined how hurt she had been. Her yellow eyes met his, steady and polite, with none of the softness or uncertainty that had lingered in the snowfall.

Before Shunjiro could decide what to say, Yuuna spoke first.

“Nice to see you again, Shunjiro. How has your stay in the empire been?”

The words were smooth. Controlled. Casual enough that anyone listening would assume they had only met when she brought him food to his room. Shunjiro understood what she was doing immediately, and for that, he was grateful. He was also not nearly as good at hiding it as she was.

His shoulders stiffened before he could stop them. “It has been… interesting.”

Satoshi’s eyes flicked between them.

A dangerous sort of amusement entered his face.

“I know she’s pretty,” Satoshi said, “but relax.”

Emi made a small startled sound, Yuuna’s expression remained impressively calm, and Shunjiro felt his face warm so quickly that he wanted to blame the food hall’s heat.

“I am relaxed,” Shunjiro said.

“You answered like a man standing in front of a judge.”

“I was questioned by a Great King yesterday. Maybe that is just how I talk now.”

Satoshi laughed, loud enough to draw a glance from a nearby table. “Alright. Good answer. Sit down before you make Yuuna uncomfortable by pretending you are not uncomfortable.”

Yuuna looked at Satoshi with a faintly flat expression. “I am not uncomfortable.”

“Of course not.”

“I brought him food yesterday. That is all.”

“I did not ask.”

“You were going to.”

Satoshi placed a hand over his chest. “Wounded by distrust from my own guild.”

Kojiro took a quiet sip from his cup. “Deserved.”

This time even Yuuna’s mouth twitched slightly.

Shunjiro sat beside Emi because it was the easiest open seat and because sitting too close to Yuuna felt like it would create problems he did not know how to handle. Emi settled beside him, still smiling faintly from the exchange. Plates had already been set out, and the table held a generous spread of warm food: roasted meat with dark glaze, thick bread, steamed vegetables, bowls of soup, and a few dishes Shunjiro did not recognize but was very willing to try after spending half the day being beaten across a snowy training ground.

Before eating, he looked at the group and bowed his head slightly. “Thank you for letting me join you.”

Satoshi waved him off. “You are the one we are escorting. You might as well eat with us before we drag you across the Shadow Realm.”

“That is a comforting way to put it.”

“I could lie and say it will be pleasant.”

“Please do not.”

“Good. I hate overselling bad travel.”

Shunjiro picked up a piece of bread, then paused. “Still, thank you. For dinner. And for taking me back to Radiance.”

The table quieted a little. Not awkwardly, but enough that the words were allowed to mean something. Emi gave him a gentle smile. Kojiro nodded once. Yuuna lowered her gaze to her cup for half a second, and Satoshi’s grin softened into something more leader-like.

“That is the job,” Satoshi said. “And from what I hear, you have had a rough road.”

Shunjiro gave a small laugh under his breath. “That is also one way to put it.”

Satoshi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Coastal Kingdom, Shadow Realm, Cosmic Continent. That is a strange route for a C-rank.”

Shunjiro took a bite of bread before answering, partly because he was hungry and partly because he needed a moment. “I did not plan the route.”

“That makes it even stranger.”

“Most things lately have been strange.”

Yuuna looked at him then, but did not speak.

Satoshi studied him with open curiosity. “We were told you were in the Shadow Realm for a month.”

“I was.”

Kojiro’s gaze sharpened slightly. It was a small reaction, but from him it felt almost loud.

Satoshi whistled. “A month is not exactly a short visit.”

“I stayed in one place for most of it,” Shunjiro said carefully. “So I still know almost nothing about traveling through the realm.”

“One place?” Satoshi repeated.

Shunjiro nodded and kept his expression neutral. “I had shelter.”

The answer was vague enough that all four members of Crimson Lotus seemed to notice. Satoshi especially. His eyes held on Shunjiro for another second, weighing the shape of the secret without trying to force it open. Then he leaned back again, grin returning.

“Lucky shelter.”

“Very lucky,” Shunjiro said.

He thought of Malachi’s mansion, the forge, the training field, the fire, and the giant man’s laugh echoing through halls that should never have felt safe. Then he thought of Malachi somewhere out there, searching through dead forests and mist with no idea where Tsubasa’s broken portal had thrown him. The thought pulled at three feelings at once. Worry, because Malachi was probably furious enough to tear half the Shadow Realm apart. Guilt, because Shunjiro had vanished from his side after all the man had done for him. And, strangely, amusement, because if Malachi ever found out Shunjiro might reach Radiance in a week after insisting the trip could be done faster, the look on his face would be priceless.

A small laugh escaped before Shunjiro could stop it.

Emi blinked. “What is funny?”

Shunjiro shook his head, still smiling faintly. “Nothing. I just remembered something.”

Satoshi’s brows rose. “That sounded like a suspicious nothing.”

“It was a private nothing.”

“Those are always suspicious.”

Shunjiro picked up his cup. “Then it fits the week I have had.”

The conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm after that, though Shunjiro could tell almost immediately that Satoshi was better at asking questions than most people.

“So,” Satoshi said, tearing a piece of bread in half, “you said you became an adventurer recently?”

Shunjiro nodded. “Recently enough that people keep looking surprised when I say it.”

“That is because you keep saying things that do not sound recent. Shadow Realm for a month, Cosmic Continent, South Gate during a storm.” Satoshi pointed the bread at him. “Most new adventurers start with something smaller. Lost cats. Missing bags. Maybe a goblin if they are unlucky.”

“I skipped a few steps.”

“A few?”

Emi smiled faintly from beside him. “He was in the same entrance exam period as me.”

Satoshi’s attention shifted to her. “Really?”

Emi nodded, her hands wrapped around her cup. “I remember seeing him with his group. I did not know him then, but they stood out.”

Shunjiro glanced at her. “We stood out?”

“A little.”

“That sounds polite.”

“It is polite,” Emi admitted, cheeks coloring faintly. “But it is also true.”

Satoshi grinned. “Now I want details.”

“There are no details,” Shunjiro said.

“That means there are definitely details.”

Kojiro looked up from his plate. “A new guild?”

Shunjiro turned toward him, grateful for a question that sounded normal. “Yeah. Illumina.”

Kojiro gave a small nod, as if storing the name somewhere carefully. “How many members?”

“Six right now,” Shunjiro said, then paused because the number felt heavier than it should have. “Me, Yoshinori, Tetsuo, Aiko, Ryuji, and Itsuki.”

Yuuna’s eyes flicked toward him when he said Itsuki’s name, but she said nothing.

Satoshi noticed the pause, though he did not press on it directly. “Six is a good size. Small enough to move fast, big enough that one person making a stupid decision does not doom everyone.”

“That sounds like experience.”

“It is.” Satoshi took another bite of bread. “Usually I am the one making the stupid decision.”

Emi looked at him with quiet disbelief. “That is not something you should say proudly.”

“I did not say proudly. I said honestly.”

Yuuna lifted her cup. “You sounded proud.”

Kojiro nodded once. “Very proud.”

Satoshi stared at the three of them. “Betrayal at my own dinner table.”

Shunjiro laughed before he could stop himself. The sound surprised him. It came easier than he expected, and for a moment the weight of the day loosened around his shoulders.

Satoshi looked back at him, pleased. “There. See? We are not that frightening.”

“I did not say you were frightening.”

“You looked like you were preparing for another royal interrogation when you sat down.”

“I was preparing for dinner.”

“Same thing, depending on the people.”

“That is fair.”

Emi smiled softly, then looked at Shunjiro with genuine curiosity. “What is Illumina like?”

The question was simple, but it reached him more deeply than he expected. Shunjiro looked down at his plate for a moment, thinking of the guild room, the chaos, the arguments, the laughter, and how far away all of it felt from this fortress of stars and snow.

“They are loud,” he said at last.

Satoshi’s grin returned. “Good start.”

“Yoshinori is serious about almost everything, but he is dependable. Tetsuo acts like nothing scares him, even when it probably should. Aiko gets annoyed easily, mostly because people give her good reasons to be annoyed. Ryuji is calm. He keeps people steady without making a big deal out of it.” His voice softened before he could fully control it. “And Itsuki is kind. She worries about everyone.”

Emi listened with a gentle expression. “You sound like you miss them.”

“I do.”

Yuuna lowered her gaze to her plate, her face still composed, but her fingers stilled near her cup.

Satoshi did not joke this time. “Then we will get you back to them.”

Shunjiro looked at him.

There was no teasing in Satoshi’s voice now. No test hidden behind the words. Just the quiet confidence of a leader making a promise he expected himself to keep.

“Thank you,” Shunjiro said.

Satoshi nodded once, then let the mood lighten again with practiced ease. “But before that, I need to know something important.”

Shunjiro waited.

“How bad are you at traveling?”

Shunjiro blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means do you complain, do you get lost, do you forget supplies, do you walk too slow, do you eat too much, or do you do something strange like challenge monsters because they looked at you wrong?”

“I do not do most of those things.”

“Most?”

“I got lost recently, but I blame the portal.”

Kojiro looked at him. “That is reasonable.”

Satoshi pointed at Kojiro. “If Kojiro says it is reasonable, I will allow it.”

“I am glad my survival has been approved,” Shunjiro said.

Emi let out a small laugh, then quickly covered it with her hand. She seemed more relaxed here than she had in the hallway, surrounded by people who clearly knew when to tease and when to leave her space. “You should be fine traveling with us,” she said. “Satoshi complains enough for everyone.”

“I organize morale,” Satoshi corrected.

“You complain about cold food.”

“Cold food lowers morale.”

Yuuna finally smiled faintly. “You complained once because your cloak froze to a chair.”

“That was an ambush by furniture.”

Shunjiro looked at him. “Furniture?”

Satoshi’s expression turned solemn. “The Cosmic Continent is dangerous.”

For a second, Shunjiro tried to hold back his smile. He failed.

Kojiro glanced toward Shunjiro, then spoke in his usual calm voice. “Can you fight while moving?”

The question cut cleanly through the lighter mood, not harshly, but with purpose.

Shunjiro met his gaze. “I can.”

“In bad terrain?”

“I am learning.”

Kojiro nodded. “Good.”

Satoshi leaned back, looking satisfied. “That is Kojiro’s way of saying he is glad you will not collapse the moment the ground stops being polite.”

“I understood.”

“You are adapting quickly.”

“I have had a lot of practice.”

Yuuna remained composed, speaking when spoken to, never once revealing that she and Shunjiro had spent three hours sneaking through the empire the night before.

Shunjiro respected how well she hid it.

He also felt guilty every time he noticed.

Eventually, the talk turned toward the route home.

Satoshi pushed his empty plate slightly aside and traced a simple path on the tabletop with one finger. “If the weather continues clearing, we leave from the western route at first light. We head west until we reach the nearest Shadow Realm entry, cross through, and then move toward the Light Continent.”

“How long?” Shunjiro asked.

“Four days, if nothing goes wrong.”

Shunjiro stilled slightly.

Four days.

His mind immediately returned to Malachi on the road outside the mansion, estimating two weeks to Radiance while Shunjiro insisted he could make it in one. At the time, it had been partly impatience and partly hope. Now, somehow, after being dragged through a broken portal, nearly freezing outside the Stellar Empire, and getting pulled into Aurelius’s careful hospitality, he might actually reach Radiance within that same impossible window.

He looked down at his cup, unable to keep the faint smile from returning.

I told you one week.

Then the smile faded at the edges.

I will write to you when I get back. Somehow.

He did not know how letters reached the Shadow Realm, or if they could reach Malachi at all. He did not know whether Malachi had contacts in Radiance, or whether a message could be left somewhere that would eventually find him. But he would try. After everything Malachi had done, disappearing without a word felt wrong, even if it had not been his choice.

Yuuna’s voice drew him back.

“Are we stopping at a Shadow Inn?”

Satoshi shook his head. “No. We avoid it.”

Emi’s expression turned uncertain. “Because of the goblins?”

“Goblins are part of it.” Satoshi’s tone became more serious now, the cockiness easing into command. “There has been more activity near the route lately. Too much. Shadow Inns are safer than sleeping in the open, but they also attract people who want shelter, information, or targets. Merchants, criminals, bounty hunters, desperate travelers, all of them know where the inns are.”

“Bounty hunters?” Shunjiro asked.

Satoshi glanced at him. “The Shadow Realm is a useful place for people who do not want witnesses. If someone is looking for coin, revenge, or a name on a list, inns are good places to listen.”

Shunjiro thought of Eclipsed Abyss. Of their reach twisting through places it should not have touched. Avoiding crowded shelters sounded extremely reasonable.

“I like the idea of avoiding it,” he said.

Yuuna’s gaze flicked toward him. “Even after a month there?”

“I was in one place,” he reminded her. “And right now, fast sounds better than comfortable.”

Satoshi nodded. “Good. Then we travel light, sleep short, avoid major gathering points, and move through the Shadow Realm as quickly as possible.”

“That works for me,” Shunjiro said. “I want to return as fast as possible.”

Satoshi’s grin returned slightly. “Eager C-rank.”

Shunjiro looked at him. “Officially.”

“Oh, I love that answer.”

“It is true.”

“That makes it better.” Satoshi leaned back, eyes bright with the sort of playful testing Shunjiro had seen from people who liked poking at someone just to see where the edges were. “So tell me, Shrimpy, do all C-ranks survive a month in the Shadow Realm, or are you just unusually stubborn?”

The word hit Shunjiro harder than it should have.

For one terrible second, Sora’s face appeared in his mind with absolute clarity. That same sharp grin. That same annoying tone. Shrimpy. Always said like he was trying to dig under Shunjiro’s skin because he knew it worked.

Shunjiro’s expression flattened.

“No.”

Satoshi paused. “No?”

“No one else can call me Shrimpy.”

The table went quiet for half a beat.

Then Emi covered her mouth, clearly fighting a laugh. Yuuna’s eyes lowered toward her plate, but Shunjiro could see the faintest movement at the corner of her lips. Kojiro looked at Satoshi as if waiting to see whether his leader valued survival.

Satoshi lifted both hands in surrender. “Understood. Boundaries respected.”

“Good.”

“Is there a story there?”

“Yes.”

“Do I get to hear it?”

“No.”

Satoshi grinned. “Fair.”

The rest of dinner passed more easily after that. Satoshi did not use the nickname again, which Shunjiro appreciated more than he expected. The teasing continued, but it never crossed the same line twice. That told him something important about Satoshi. He pushed, tested, joked, and carried himself like someone who enjoyed being difficult, but he paid attention. He noticed reactions. He adjusted. That was probably part of why Crimson Lotus followed him.

By the time the plates were mostly empty, Shunjiro felt strangely comfortable.

Then two attendants approached the table.

Their uniforms were clean and pale, marked with small star patterns along the cuffs. Both bowed slightly, and the taller one spoke with practiced calm.

“Crimson Lotus has been requested in the throne room. His Majesty asks that Shunjiro accompany you as well.”

Satoshi’s expression did not change much, but the relaxed air around him shifted. “Now?”

“Yes.”

He stood without complaint. “Then we should not keep the king waiting.”

The others rose with him. Shunjiro followed, his earlier comfort cooling at the edges. He had known Aurelius would likely confirm the travel plans himself, but being summoned to the throne room still made his instincts sharpen. After the previous night, after Yuuna, after Takeshi’s name slipping from his mouth, Shunjiro could not shake the uneasy feeling that walking through Starheart Fortress meant walking inside Aurelius’s hand.

The attendants led them through the halls.

No one spoke much on the way. Satoshi walked at the front with easy confidence, though his eyes moved occasionally, noting turns, guards, doors, and exits. Kojiro stayed quiet beside Emi. Yuuna walked near the rear, not far from Shunjiro, but not close enough to invite conversation. The silence between them was not hostile. It was simply careful.

The throne room doors opened before them.

The hall was vast and coldly beautiful beneath its constellation-like ceiling. Pale lights shimmered overhead, casting the polished floor in a glow that made the entire room feel half-real. Tonight, however, the throne room was nearly empty. No cluster of officials. No line of guards near the center. Only King Aurelius stood near the throne, dressed in royal white and pale blue, his fur-lined cloak resting across his broad shoulders and his white crown gleaming beneath the starry ceiling.

He smiled when they entered.

“Crimson Lotus,” Aurelius said. “Thank you for coming.”

Satoshi bowed with enough respect to be proper, but not enough to look intimidated. “Your Majesty.”

The others bowed as well. Shunjiro followed their lead.

Aurelius’s gaze moved across the guild, then settled on Shunjiro for one brief second longer than necessary. Nothing in his expression changed. 

“The storm has cleared enough for travel,” Aurelius said. “The outer roads remain difficult, but passable for a capable guild. You are permitted to leave in the morning.”

Relief moved through Shunjiro before he could fully guard against it.

Morning.

It was real now.

Satoshi nodded. “We will be ready at first light.”

“I expected as much.” Aurelius turned his attention slightly toward Shunjiro. “You will be in good hands. Crimson Lotus has traveled dangerous routes before.”

Shunjiro met the king’s gaze. “Thank you. For sheltering me.”

Aurelius’s smile deepened, pleasant and unreadable. “You arrived at my gate half-frozen and wounded. Turning you away would have been poor hospitality.”

Shunjiro did not know what to say to that, so he only bowed his head.

Aurelius continued, “I will see you out in the morning.”

Satoshi’s brow lifted slightly, but he recovered quickly. “That is generous, Your Majesty.”

“It is not every day a Radiance adventurer arrives at my South Gate through a storm,” Aurelius said lightly. “I would like to make sure he leaves under better circumstances.”

The words were kind on the surface.

Shunjiro’s unease sharpened anyway.

“You may rest for the night,” Aurelius said. “The route ahead will not be gentle.”

Satoshi bowed once more. “Understood.”

The audience ended as smoothly as it began.

The attendants guided them out, and the throne room doors closed behind them with a deep, quiet sound. Shunjiro glanced back once before he could stop himself, but the doors revealed nothing. Only carved wood, metal, and the star emblem worked into the surface.

Satoshi noticed the look.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Shunjiro said. “Just thinking.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“I hear that a lot.”

“Good. Then people are paying attention.”

They continued down the hall, and once they were far enough from the throne room, Satoshi rolled his shoulders as if shaking off the formality. “Since we are leaving early, you should stay with us tonight.”

Shunjiro looked at him. “With Crimson Lotus?”

“We have a guest suite. Separate beds, enough space, and an extra one open. Easier to move if everyone is in one place before dawn.”

Emi nodded. “It would be practical.”

Kojiro added quietly, “Less chance of delay.”

Shunjiro accepted before he could overthink Yuuna being part of that same room. “That is fine.”

Satoshi grinned. “Good. Look at that. Cooperative already.”

“I can be cooperative.”

“Sure you can.”

“I agreed immediately.”

“That is why I said already.”

Shunjiro narrowed his eyes slightly. “You are annoying.”

Satoshi looked delighted. “And honest too. This escort mission is improving by the minute.”

Yuuna walked quietly beside them, her expression controlled, but Shunjiro thought he saw the smallest hint of amusement in her eyes. It was not forgiveness. Not an answer to what had happened on the balcony. But it was something lighter than the silence she had left him with the night before, and for now, that was enough.

They reached the guest wing after several turns. Satoshi opened a wide door at the end of a warm corridor and stepped inside first, holding it open with one hand as the others entered. The room beyond was larger than Shunjiro expected, built like a shared suite rather than a simple sleeping room. Several beds lined the walls with enough space between them for privacy, and a low table sat near the center beneath a hanging star-shaped lamp. Cloaks, travel bags, weapons, and supplies had already been arranged with the neat readiness of a guild used to moving at a moment’s notice.

Shunjiro paused just inside the doorway.

Tomorrow, he would leave the Stellar Empire.

Tomorrow, he would enter the Shadow Realm again.

Tomorrow, the road back to Radiance would finally begin.

Behind him, Satoshi closed the door.