"But I don't mind."
The man tapped his foot once on the floor, muttering something gently under his breath, a slightly white mist appearing as it fogged a low level of the flooring.
As if alive, the white mist moved like a snake at the areas where the red color had stained, before gently settling down, the red color disappearing, and with it the red-stained drops.
The man continued walking forward, a frown appearing on Pepa's features as she crossed her arms in resignation and dismissal.
The man merely burst out laughing at her behavior as he finally entered the open room, sitting on the black leather sofa across from Pepa, the sofa slightly deforming.
"I don't welcome uninvited guests, Exile."
Out of a black pouch around his waist, he pulled out two crystal glasses, placing them on a black obsidian marble table between them with faint white lines, a clanking sound echoing as he adjusted the glasses on the solid table.
"There is no need to be so formal, Lady. I've gotten a gift for you as well as a souvenir. There really is no need to treat me so indifferently when I've come to present you a gift. I even learned a new trick just for you, Lady."
Exile pursed his dry lips as he brought the two glasses and cupped their entrances together before shaking them.
"I don't have time for your plays, Exile. Show me the gift. My patience is not as much as my magnanimity," Pepa insisted with impatience, but her eyes were drawn to the action Exile was about to perform.
"Then… behold!"
He took a quick exhale before he flexed his forearm's ulnar and radial muscles, his scarred fingers grasping the glasses tightly.
He shook them for a few moments, and at first, there was no sound other than the slight rubbing of the entrances of the cups against each other. However, after a subtle few moments, a clanking sound was heard from the glasses, and the sound started to increase.
A loud sound occurred as Exile harshly placed the two glasses on the table, with a few ice cubes inside them, their shape betraying the true definition of what a 'cube' could be considered.
"Prana? It seems you have taken care of your aptitude on the playground. You seem to have grown quite a bit from the last time I have seen you, Exile. Was it a week ago? You grew quite a bit."
Taking off his holster, Exile held a small silver revolver in his hand as he discharged it of its ammunition, returning the cylinder to its rightful place before placing it on the table and taking off his military uniform, his countless colored medals dangling.
"Indeed, indeed, but a week ago? I recall it was a decade ago that I last met you. Has your memory not returned as usual? It seems to be the same as a decade ago, I dare say, Lady. You are still as beautiful as back then, but your memory seems quite lacking."
"Hmph, my memory is good as it always has been, forget-me— ahem. It is still good. And Exile, you should know best that I don't drink. You know what I like. It seems your memory is what has weakened with your age." Hastily changing the subject from the fact that she had a weak memory, she delved into the topic of the gift she was waiting for.
A rule she always had: take, and never be the one to give.
Noel, who had observed that he was excluded from the conversation entirely, decided to leave the open room silently and search for a chair that he could sit on and listen, lest he learn a piece of information or two.
'Quite an issue.'
As his eyes scanned the room, he found that there was not a single other piece of furniture he could relax his tensed vastus lateralis on. When Pepa had changed the structure of the room, so too had the things inside it.
Playing with his monocle in his pocket, he delved into thought at the sudden uninvited guest, as per Pepa's description. His thoughts were unclear, as if fog had accumulated in his mind, his understanding of this odd world diminishing.
'I still cannot determine whether I am living in reality or under the influence of something else. Had I truly fallen off a skyscraper?'
Thinking about it now was outright foolish; he had been in this setting for more time than a dream should include, but his mind was in outright denial.
He looked back to the so-called 'Exile,' a man that Noel himself thought seemed to possess something he couldn't quite grasp or make shape of its angles.
Something profoundly loyal.
And yet something that by no means was human at all.
As if the man was a—
"Stay standing. Don't move. The conversation will soon start. So don't be impatient, forge— ahem. Be patient. You will need this much stamina to see tomorrow."
Noel gave a slight tilt of his head as he gazed at Pepa, who did not spare him a glance.
Was his presence truly required at this stage?
Couldn't she just call him when she was done with her talking? But even then, her words carried something that unnerved Noel.
'Stamina? See tomorrow? What does she mean by that?'
Her phrasing hinted at something deeper than he could have thought, and his thoughts drifted to different possibilities, yet it remained too early to determine.
A man with high position. A sudden meeting.
Perhaps—no—would he be sent to the battlefield? Is that why she mentioned the importance of stamina? By how he would learn how this world operated?
No. That doesn't seem probable. For all he knew, he was an individual with no credibility to either of them. Working in an army? Ridiculous. What purpose would he even serve other than being a lamb sent to a den of violent lions?
Noel nodded his head, displaying his acceptance, yet she offered him no further response.
"Yes, Lady, however this time, I've brought a sweet drink that has been officially recognized in the North as a luxury—an astounding 630 years in the depths of the Ocean of Collapse, buried since the twilight of the Third King under the snow sands. I present you with the 'Francois IX L. Manuver'!"
Taking out a 500 ml black bottle from his pouch, embroidered with white roses on glass that seemed to be made of the finest dark crystal, he threw his pouch—which seemed to have endless space inside it—beside him onto the couch.
Ignoring Noel's existence entirely, as if it did not require his comment at all.
With a content smile, he used his index and middle fingers to dip them into the rims of the glasses, pulling them toward him. He pulled out an elegant cork-opener, exerting effort into the cap before rotating it.
The cap came out with a pop as he tilted a glass forward, pouring the dark brownish drink inside, the dark color of the bottle slightly lightening as half the bottle emptied into one of the see-through crystals.
"This one is for me."
The liquid trembled from the aftereffect of being served just as Exile removed the lips of the bottle from one and brought the other glass to serve the second.
However, before he served the second glass, the glass shattered in an instant along with the bottle of alcohol, the shards floating in the air momentarily.
Exile, however, remained silent as he leisurely brought the crystal glass to his lips, slowly sipping the drink as the fragments flew through the air toward a wall, forming a portrait that bore a striking resemblance to Pepa with her little cap on her head.
"Exile. Why are you here? Last time you came to me, it was because you needed something from me. What is it again?"
Taking an excellently luxurious rectangular box from one of the drawers of her transparent table, she opened it, taking out an oddly shaped cigar rolled in an unusual form. She cleanly cleaved the front of it before smoke billowed from it automatically.
Noel's gaze was naturally drawn to the intricate shape as he let out an internal sigh, his nicotine cravings murmuring to him unconsciously.
"It seems your memory is as clear as ever, Lady. Perhaps you've undergone training for mental improvement? It truly is a miracle," he remarked as he took another sip from his drink, the ice cubes sinking for a moment before surfacing, his finger tracing one of the medals on his white, folded uniform on the table.
"Exile."
"Very well. Do not mind me, then."
Exile's leisurely gaze rapidly grew indifferent as he leaned forward onto the table, settling the quarter glass left before straightening his back.
"The front lines. We've been notified that the front lines of Kryindovaria have been breached by the Alliance. After the pact with the North was made, smaller nations were suddenly bombarded by vehicles unseen for the first time since the Great Battle of Athebaska three hundred years ago. It seems the antithesis of the Empire has decided to finally move."
Noel, who did not have a single ounce of information about the world, blinked as his eyes grew dry, moistening them.
For all he knew, he was a dead man walking at this pace.
"And?"
"The higher-ups are running amok. The situation has spiraled out of control. In accordance with the Empire's will, we are requesting assistance from you as an emergency request."
"I see."
Silence followed for a few moments as Exile observed Pepa, yet she merely picked up a book from her transparent drawer, drawing wonder from Noel, who questioned how such objects could appear from something visibly transparent.
"Is it valid to take that as a yes?"
Putting the book down, Pepa raised her eyes to him once again.
"Can you repeat that again? Why did you just say it once more?"
Exile's features remained as they were, stoic as he repeated his inquiry.
"The Empire is requesting your assistance in accordance with the Emperor's wishes."
"I see," she replied, her eye color slowly changing, the colors of the iris blending like a drop of food coloring in milk.
'Elias.'
Noting her change, Noel was able to conclude that she had shifted back to that character. Something had triggered that change.
Concern for the Empire?
Judging from her attitude, that was the last of her worries. Elias was becoming further from Noel's expectations more and more.
"And… that is a no," she replied, with no change in feature or expression.
Yet there was no expected anger from Exile, nor any irritation at her method of speaking; he merely finished his drink silently before placing his glass into his pouch and extending his arms, standing up as he wore his uniform.
He reloaded his cylinder chamber with ammunition before placing it in his waist holster.
An unexpected surprise to Noel, who had anticipated a heated debate or retaliation from Elias. It seemed there was more to the story.
"Then it seems I will be leaving. Speaking any more is unnecessary. The Emperor will surely be distressed by this news."
"Have I done speaking?"
Exile went silent as he watched her with his gray-bluish eyes, his indifferent expression in contrast to Elias, who used her index finger to trace the edges of a strand of her hair on the table.
"What more is there to speak about, Lady?"
She inhaled her half cigar before dark frost crept in from her fingertips, extinguishing the small, dim orange embers before setting it on the table.
"Take him with you when you leave."