She looked to the right and saw the Holy Warriors of Clan Francis in their golden suits. They were standing as bodyguards.
Her hand instinctively went to the hat, making sure it was still there.
To her left, far from anyone’s ears, a few Sages of Clan Kris were whispering.
Mizuki couldn’t hear the conversation. But by the look on their faces, they were angry and annoyed.
Out of curiosity, Mizuki tried to sneak up on them before a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. The weight and power put behind this grip made her stop, as she shakily turned her head back.
It was her father. He wore a smile that looked more menacing than any monster out there.
Mizuki felt something crawling under her skin.
“Ah, Mizuki, my dear daughter,” he said, his sharp eyes examining her body, as if looking for something. By the sigh that followed, he was satisfied with what he saw. “Our room is this way.” He gestured to one of the rooms at the far end of the hall.
It was the one with the Clan Yumaki emblem embedded into the wood: a man surrounded by flora and fauna, representing the harmony between humans and nature.
As they walked, Mizuki stole a glance back at the Sages, but their hushed conversation was already lost in the ambient noise of the corridor. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever awaited inside the room.
The door clicked shut, sealing out the hum of the corridor.
The room was a contradiction. The walls were unmistakably Spire—cold, translucent crystal that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light. But the air smelled of wet earth and pine needles.
Clan Yumaki had tried to bleed their identity into the stone. Lush tapestries depicting mountain forests hung over the sharp angles of the crystal walls, and potted ferns sat on floating glass shelves.
It was a sanctuary, but the tension inside was thick enough to choke on.
Mizuki had barely taken a breath before a blur of silver and white filled her vision.
"Mizuki!"
She flinched, her hand darting for her bat, but the impact was soft. Arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a hug that was tight and genuinely relieved.
It was Genichiro.
"You’re safe," he breathed, his voice vibrating against her shoulder. "Thank Goddess. I thought the worst when I got the letter. Thought you were made to write it like that.”
He pulled back, his hands gripping her shoulders. His eyes—usually so composed, the eyes of a future Clan Head—were searching her face with brotherly concern.
"I’m fine, Brother," Mizuki managed, the words feeling clumsy in her throat. She wasn't used to this. Genichiro was a statue, a symbol. Statues didn’t hug. "The Outpost is… manageable."
"Manageable?" Genichiro let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair—a gesture so uncharacteristically frazzled it made Mizuki’s stomach twist. "We lost contact, Mizuki. Twice."
He began to pace the room, his boots clicking sharply on the crystal floor.
"The crow," he said, gesturing vaguely to the air. "When I sent the letter, the connection… snapped. Just for a second. It wasn't like the bird died or the magic faded. It was like someone put a bag over my head."
He stopped and looked at her, his expression darkening.
"I was blind. And then, a moment later, the vision returned. The bird was flying as if nothing had happened. The same thing happened when you sent the reply. A blink of total darkness."
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Mizuki felt the blood drain from her face.
Her mind flashed back to Noll’s room. The way he knew about the letter and how she didn’t sell him out. He said he had eyes and ears everywhere. But that was only half of the story…
A cold sweat pricked at her hairline. If Noll could hijack a Clan Heir’s vision without leaving a trace, then there were no secrets. Every letter, every whisper, every thought she had thought was private was just another file in his notepad.
Genichiro studied her and tilted his head in confusion.
“New dress? Looks very good. It suits your hat.”
The mundane comment jarred Mizuki out of her spiral. She blinked, forcing the image of Noll’s terrifying reach to the back of her mind. Noll and X didn’t even compliment me when I was trying it out. Just a plain and monotone ‘Okay’. At least Noll paid for it.
“Thanks…” Mizuki’s eyes darted around as a faint blush colored her cheeks.
"Genichiro," a heavy voice cut through.
Satoru Yumaki sat in a high-backed chair carved from obsidian. He didn't look angry; he looked exhausted. The lines around his eyes were deeper than Mizuki remembered, the weight of the situation pressing down on his shoulders.
"Sit, Mizuki, Genichiro."
It was a command, but a weary one. Mizuki sat on the edge of a plush velvet sofa. Genichiro took his place beside his father, his expression shifting from brother to advisor.
Satoru sighed. “This is classified information. Genichiro was against telling it to you, but I thought you could provide some… fresh perspective. Around eight days ago, Krinden sent… artifices with specific abilities to counter our top five. Four out of five were attacked.”
Satoru briefly outlined the grim reality. He spoke of the Krinden Artifices, the impossible precision of the counters, and the undeniable fact that the enemy knew their warriors' weaknesses better than they did. Genichiro filled in the gaps, mentioning the sole exception: Bella Percival, and her suspicious defense regarding why she was spared.
Then it hit her. The conversation with X a week before. Where he gave the ‘impossible’ hypothesis. She remembered his words echoing through her mind.
“If Noll is a spy, show me proof—like Krinden somehow sending perfect counters tailor-made for our top fighters.”
Mizuki felt the air leave the room. It wasn’t a theory anymore, but a fact.
“So, you are suspecting someone is feeding information to Krinden?” Mizuki asked, her voice trembling slightly.
She forced herself to breathe, channeling the critical thinking Noll had drilled into her over the last week. He had her plan everything, even the mundane stuff, with copious details.
“Considering the timing of the letter and the attack… someone knew exactly who would be in Outpost Eleven. They would need to have access to rosters, loadouts, and patrol schedules. Which means they are high up. A General Level access. At least.”
Satoru’s eyebrow shot up. He looked satisfied, even impressed. Genichiro looked surprised.
“That’s exactly what we thought,” Satoru said. “The Council is in an uproar. Everyone is at each other’s throats, trying to find who to blame.”
He leaned forward, looking at her not with suspicion, but with a need for answers.
"So tell me, Mizuki. What is your read on the boy? Noll."
Mizuki froze. They weren't accusing her. Were they asking for her judgment?
"This conversation stays in this room," Satoru assured her. "The Council will not know. But we need to know who we are dealing with."
You are one-tenth of the Council, father…
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to defend him, but she had to be smart about it.
"It doesn't fit," she said, voicing the logic that was racing through her head. "Noll was in the cave with me during the attacks. He wouldn't know who is stationed at Outpost Eleven. And logically… why would a spy train me, his enemy? That is just not logical."
“Resource for trust…” Satoru scratched his chin. “Smart.”
“Are you not listening to me?” Mizuki retorted. “He lives in the outskirts as a Nameless. He helps children.”
“Good cover.” Genichiro nodded. “Mizuki. He would be a bad spy if he was obvious. Plus, information can be stolen, bought, or…” his eyes glinted. “Can be seen through the eyes of the others.”
Mizuki went cold.
"You said he is 'not our enemy,’" Satoru said, leaning back into the shadows. "And yet, my son tells me he was blinded by a force he couldn't identify. A force that moved unseen."
He picked up a teacup from the table, the porcelain delicate in his scarred hand.
"Do not let your affection for a stray dog cloud your judgment, Mizuki. We will find the truth. And if the boy is innocent, he has nothing to fear."
He took a sip.
"But in this world, innocence is a very rare commodity."
Satoru looked at her, his eyes moved up and down. “Is there anything you are not telling?”
Noll was using tech. Krinden was also using tech. The connection screamed to be made.
But is that really true? Did he really get her fellow Named in danger. She had no way to know for sure.
Council just wants someone to blame; they would take the first opportunity they get. Why am I even protecting him? Because of how he helped me? How he saved my life by shielding me with his body?
The mere fact that he uses tech already betrays him. And if it is known that a Krinden Heretic has an Altavian sacred weapon… this whole thing would be blown out of proportions!
Mizuki remembered Noll’s instructions. “Don’t burn yourself for me.”
She exhaled and, with an iron voice void of any fluctuations, said. “That’s everything I had on him. There is nothing else I know.”
Satoru studied her for a long time, searching the stony face of his beloved daughter. Finally, he smiled.
“Good. Then you are free to go.” He stood, handed Genichiro a piece of paper, and left the room.
Mizuki let out a jagged sigh of relief. She looked toward the balcony door. After that "family talk," she desperately needed fresh air. She stepped out, expecting the distant swell of the gala's orchestra—only to be met with a strange, heavy silence.
The music had stopped. In its place, a growing commotion rose from the hall below.
"In this world, innocence is a very rare commodity."
The "Iron Voice": Mizuki’s lie was perfect.
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everything.
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The Cliffhanger: The music stopped.
Next Chapter: We find out why the music died. And it probably involves a certain Nameless.
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