"Why are you smiling like that?"
A familiar voice burst Lorelei's little bubble. The figure's voice had been dying out like a firecracker burning slowly down its fuse—and she hadn't noticed this new arrival at all. Even the door, opening and closing with a loud creak, hadn't managed to pull her from her thoughts.
"Were you talking to yourself?" Shiniel asked, sarcasm threaded lightly through her words as she shut the door behind her.
She wore her oversized black trousers, but her shirt and grey jacket still hung loose from her arms as she crossed toward the bed. Without her black military boots, Shiniel's pants covered her feet all the way to the toes. Every step made the excess fabric rub against itself, a distinctive little whisper that carried easily through the small room. Through the wet strands of her own hair clinging to her back, Lorelei caught uneven patches of white—too white to be skin, too messy to be flesh. From where she sat, they looked like ragged cloth wrapped around her body. But when Shiniel sat down facing her and dropped both jacket and shirt beside her hat in the furthest corner of the bed, Lorelei saw clearly: not ragged clothes, but aged bandages, stained with sweat, water, and the deep creases of exaggerated movement. It was obvious Shiniel had wrapped them sloppily after her shower, caring little about their condition. The horizontal ends bent outward, revealing a mesh-like texture, and against their near-white exterior, the underside ran brown, edging toward red.
"Kind of? I was just trying to remember something."
Shiniel clearly didn't buy the lie. The silence settling between them said everything. But she spared her the explanation and redirected the conversation instead.
"Let's do a little information exchange, per the first point of our contract. Is there anything you want to ask me?"
As she spoke, Shiniel tore through the tucked end of the bandage and began unwrapping her body the way one might unwrap a present. Lorelei waited, still weighing what to ask. Too many things crowded her mind, and for most of them she had little to offer Shiniel in return. For now, she would focus on what mattered most—the Order.
"Why is the Order looking for me?" she asked, exaggerating the conflict in her voice even though she knew the answer perfectly well.
Shiniel raised her arms gently and peeled away the last fragments of bandage clinging to her skin. The fully unwound strip collapsed into a small, messy pile at her feet. Taking her time, she rose and rummaged through a small bag at the back of the bed, retrieving a fresh bandage—just as white, just as long as the one before.
"You know why," she answered simply, peeling off the sealant and holding one end between her teeth.
The atmosphere tightened as the flame flickered softly. Alone in that empty room, Lorelei's heart pulsed against her ribs as she fixed her gaze on Shiniel.
"Answer me. Why is the Order looking for me?"
Her gaze was unwavering, her tone firm, her posture authoritative. If there was one thing she would never let go, it was anything touching her powers. She despised them from the bottom of her lonely being—both the ability to return to life and the ability to take it from others. Or rather, to take their existence, their memories. Lorelei couldn't accept that others knew. No one could know about this vulnerability of hers. If she had once hesitated to silence those who knew, now she wouldn't think twice. For this power she hated, she was willing to kill the whole world if it came to know.
"They say you're the reincarnation of the first angel."
My predecessor?
The figure had spoken briefly of the first angel—her so-called predecessor. Someone who had wielded a power like hers. The power to destroy not existence, but life.
"They probably want to use you as a weapon in the coming war. Honestly, I don't know much more than that."
"Then how do you know they're looking for me?"
Shiniel sighed as she wound the fresh bandage around herself. On the first pass across her back, it slipped from her hands. As naturally as anyone would, she bent to retrieve it. Her hair parted down her back, obeying some natural law. The blue flame wavered and burned brighter as her exposed back caught its warm light. For that split instant, Lorelei saw it: a huge crest engraved the full length of her back, almost like a horse brand. Its wing-like shape spread across her, wrapping her entirely, while its center extended symmetrically down the base of her spine. Realizing her mistake, Shiniel froze mid-reach. The bandage had unwound itself and begun its course, drifting until it bumped against Lorelei's foot.
"Could you… pass me that?"
Lorelei glanced down and picked up the bandage. Her gaze still fixed on the floor, Shiniel rose sluggishly and grabbed Lorelei's arm. With a single touch, Lorelei's body was seized by intense fear—the fear of being slaughtered without the chance to react. Shiniel's hand locked around her arm. The force of it, even through her long sleeve, flashed a thin memory before her eyes, a tiny fragment of her past. Someone had held her like this once before. Someone had gripped her arm so tightly it seemed it would snap at any moment. How could she have forgotten such a thing? How could she have forgotten the reason she wanted to grow stronger? It was all for revenge. But… Did that revenge mean anything now? Clovis hadn't died because of her, or even because of them, but by none other than Iria. Lorelei's mind wavered, shaken awake by sudden flashes of early memories—memories buried beneath piles of others, left dusted at the edges of her consciousness. Signs of weakness that dragged her down. She wanted to forget them, to be free of them, but they wouldn't let her. They never would. After all, they were the only thing that made her who she was—Lorelei… Rei.
Let go…
Let go of me…
"I said let go of me!"
Shiniel's mind seemed to return to reason. Her hand darted to the bandage in Lorelei's grip, snatched it, and retreated to her bed. Softly, she pulled the blanket open and nestled inside.
"I'm sorry."
Lorelei shook out her arm and tugged down her sleeve. The marks of Shiniel's fingers were boldly imprinted on her soft beige skin, deepening to red at that spot. Without turning from the wall, Shiniel spoke quietly.
"I don't recall telling you this, but I stalked you after our duel at the tournament. That's when I saw them. Just like me, they were watching you. Probably have been for a long time. Longer than you'd think. Even now, I'm sure they know we're here."
Lorelei's body twitched—from the ache in her arm, and from the revelation.
"What happens if they capture… me?" she asked hesitantly.
"I don't know. Probably brainwash you, or something like that. Just like they did to the first angel."
Brainwash? They brainwashed him?
Lorelei knew a fair amount about the first angel. The figure had once called his power defective—leaving blood and guts split and exposed, dying a miserable death with nothing left of the shell he'd lived in. That was the power of the first angel. A power Vileth had tamed by brainwashing him.
"That's why we're leaving Vileth tomorrow. We're basically wanted."
The blanket rose and fell gently; from the rustle of unwrapping, Lorelei could tell Shiniel was binding herself again. It seemed this was her weak spot, just as Lorelei had hers—a secret she didn't want revealed. A past she wanted to leave behind, blank and untouched. Lorelei understood her better than anyone, having something of her own she longed to erase.
"Does that answer your question?"
"Yeah…"
Slumping back onto her bed, Lorelei took off her jacket and hung it over the headrest.
"Then tell me—what makes you so special?"
Shiniel had turned to stare into Lorelei's eyes. Instinctively, Lorelei held the gaze. Even though Shiniel was blind, it seemed as though her eyes looked at her the way any normal person's would. And perhaps deeper than that. Her stare stripped Lorelei down to her simplest form, to the unsightly version of herself—as if those eyes pried deep inside her body, past the physical realm.
"What do you mean…?"
"Why are they watching you?"
Lorelei tilted her head, confused.
They?
Is she talking about an Arbiter, or the Higher-ups?
"The Higher-ups are watching you. Two or three of them. Why?"
Lorelei knew she had caught the attention of those beings—the figure had said as much—but she had no idea why they watched her. The question she asked herself now was different: How does she know they're interested in me? It was strange, given the figure had made these beings sound as though they existed far apart from mortals. The Higher-ups couldn't be described in words or speech. They couldn't be seen by an ordinary human. But was Shiniel, by definition, ordinary? Their eyes stayed locked, each scrutinizing the other's next move—giving away as little as possible while drawing out as much as they could. Speech became a game, and the light arbitrated the match. That was the true nature of the contract's first point: information exchange.
"I don't know why myself. If I'm lying, you have your ways of confirming it, don't you?"
A gamble, even if she didn't know the reason they watched her. The figure certainly did. Lorelei believed that she and the figure were linked by the same mind, the same soul. If that were true—and if Shiniel really could see the disruption stress caused in that flow, or the shift in the energy particles it emitted—then she would surely know whether it was a lie. Either way, it would confirm Lorelei's theory or disprove it. And in both cases, she still came away with more from Shiniel than she'd given.
But…
"You're lying," Shiniel declared confidently, without a hint of doubt.
When it came to emotion and lies, the color of energy exposed it all. A person might hide their feelings physically, controlling every small element tied to a lie, but not the flow of their energy.
"It's fine. I don't have anything to exchange for that information anyway."
Shiniel's words blurred in Lorelei's mind. Which meant… the figure hadn't been lying. She hadn't lied about them being one and the same.
One and the same… right?
"Now then, let me ask my equivalent for telling you about the Order."
Her body stiffened at once. The brief warmth she'd felt vanished like the smoke curling from the blue lamp, swallowed whole by the corner's darkness.
"…Never mind…"
"Huh?"
"It's getting late. We have a long journey tomorrow, so make sure you sleep well. Oh—and don't forget, I still have a question I can ask."
She turned to the wall and lowered the blanket from her neck, exposing her back, whitened by the fresh bandage. Lorelei did the same, taking a quick shower before burrowing into her own blanket.
"Goodnight."
The blue light flickered once before giving out, plunging them into midnight's darkness.
"Good…night."
A slight hesitation in her words kept Shiniel from sinking fully into rest.
"Is there still something you want to say?"
It was clear Lorelei did. Even without any proper education in morals or ethics, she knew her question wasn't meant to be answered. Still, she let her thoughts wander and asked anyway:
"Why do you live?"
It was the kind of question most people would shrug off, dodge, or dismiss as childish and out of place. Shiniel felt none of that. It was a question she had asked herself, examining over and over why she kept striving despite the strain piling on her. She was among the lucky ones—those who had found their answer, a single phrase spoken from the heart.
"I want to find my father."
Simple as it was, it was the reason she kept moving forward. The reason she refused to crumble beneath the weight of those she'd already killed to get this far. After all, her path was paved with blood and flesh, just as Lorelei's was with memories and flowers. If she didn't want to become part of what made this road through hell, she had to be the one stepping on it—swallowing anything that might make her heart falter. On this one-way journey, to accomplish what they strived for, there was no room for remorse.
"Lan. My father—the person you people named Lan."