Noa and Vionette walked toward the counter, looking refreshed from their morning. Noa was in his usual outfit—the black shirt, black jacket, and slim pants that he favored for their comfort and ease of movement. Beside him, Vionette wore her signature black and crimson dress, the silver bracelets going up and down at her rythm. Kaelen and Rose followed a few paces behind, their presence silent but attentive.
Near the counter, Jain and her knights were already gathered. As the duo approached, Jain noticed a flicker in their eyes—not the usual playfulness, but a strange, dancing fire that seemed to consume the morning light.
"Same usual meeting spot, I see," Noa said, offering a smile that was as bright as it was empty. He stopped before the group, his hands buried deep in his pockets. "So, how's our favorite old man holding up? Is he still looking at the horizon?"
"He's much livelier than when we first met him," Jain replied, her smile radiating a genuine, heart-aching satisfaction. "The light has returned to his eyes. In fact, I have to go see how he's doing today. A promise is a promise, after all."
"On that note, Jain, I actually want you to go and see him right now," Vionette interrupted, her face suddenly shifting into a mask of profound worry. "I have this nagging, terrible feeling—like a cold needle in my heart—that something bad is going to happen today. Please, just go check on him, for my peace of mind."
"Something bad? If you feel it, then it must be serious. I'll go right now!" Jain's devotion was a straight line; she didn't question the sudden shift.
"Perfect," Vionette said, placing both hands beside her cheeks as a radiant, almost too-perfect smile bloomed across her face. "Please, do hurry."
With a swift, respectful bow, Jain stepped out of the inn, her armor clinking a frantic rhythm as Nill and the knights followed her into the bustling street. As the door swung shut, the atmosphere in the room didn't just drop; it curdled.
"Man, what a beautiful day it is," Vionette said, her voice dropping into a low, melodic purr as she turned toward the clerk behind the counter. "Wouldn't you agree, dear?"
"…Yes, ma'am?" the clerk replied, her voice cautious and confused.
"I was just wondering," Vionette's crimson eyes sharpened, the irises glowing like dying embers. "Did you ever get that book you wanted so badly… Rin?"
The clerk's breath hitched. "Rin? What are you—"
"Or should I call you the little kid who wanted to bet his last copper? Or maybe that golden-haired woman from the archive?" Vionette leaned closer, her face inches from the clerk's, her breath a ghost of a whisper. "Or should I simply call you… It?"
The tension in the room snapped like a violin string under too much pressure. The clerk's face went pale, the color draining away like water into sand. She backed away with slow, mechanical steps, her lips twitching in a frantic, silent prayer. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her hands reached behind her back, searching for the cold comfort of hidden daggers.
"Now, now. Don't make a scene just yet," Vionette said, wagging a finger with playful reprimand. "We need to wait until the saint is far enough away, right? It wouldn't do to have her interrupt our little heart-to-heart."
"What do you want?" the clerk hissed, her eyes narrowing into slits. "How do you know all this?"
"Don't worry, just take a seat," Vionette said, gesturing toward the chair. "We can talk until the saint's light fades from the street."
Noa, ever the gentleman, grabbed the back of the chair in front of the counter and pulled it out with a flourish. He stepped back, his eyes dancing with amusement as he ceded the stage entirely to Vionette.
What is she even on about? the clerk thought, her mind a frantic beehive of panic. And how does she know I'm not a 'self'?
The clerk stared at Vionette's seated form, then at the chair, before finally lowering herself onto the seat like a condemned woman.
"Not so aggressive after all, are we?" Vionette placed her hands below her chin, looking like a cat that had successfully cornered a particularly interesting mouse. "This makes it easier. Since we have a few minutes of borrowed time, I'll give you the explanation your little mind is begging for."
"Get on with it," the clerk spat, her eyes darting toward the exits. "Quickly!"
If she doesn't interfere with my plans, I'll just end this quietly and vanish, the entity thought, trying to maintain the crumbling mask of the clerk's personality.
"When people go missing, the common mind jumps to trafficking," Vionette began, her voice airy, like a lullaby told to a dying man. "But Jain's reports mentioned an 'emotional disorder' in the victims. That suggested something abnormal, something that leaves a residue on the psyche. And seeing how things are moving in this city-state, I figured that little side effect must have been caused by someone other than you, right?"
"…Yes," the clerk replied, her chin lowering as her unblinking eyes remained fixed on Vionette's. "It wasn't me."
"So, I took a gamble. I told the knights to spread rumors—intentional, messy lies with conflicting details. If we were dealing with a large organization, those rumors would have left footprints. There would have been reactions, suppression, or at least a leak. But there was only silence." Vionette raised a single, slender finger. "That silence was too clean. It told me I wasn't fighting a group; I was fighting a single entity—a parasite. And the only reason a parasite comes to a place like Cirelith is—"
"To get information," Noa chimed in, leaning against the counter with a carefree smirk.
Snap!
"Exactly!" Vionette snapped her fingers, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet inn. "And where does one go for information? The libraries. But what if someone was trailing the infiltrator? Like in this case?"
"…I kept an eye on them for safety," the clerk admitted, her face twisting into a mask of practiced, hollow annoyance.
"And you, the clerk," Vionette pointed a delicate finger. "You're one of the few who knows exactly who comes and goes in this inn. When I first asked if you recognized me, you gave the perfect response of a stranger. You didn't just look like a different person; you were a different person. Which meant you weren't just pretending… you were consuming the victim's memories."
"That's just how any normal person would react!" the clerk argued, a single bead of sweat finally rolling down her cheek like a tear.
"Yes, you're right," Vionette nodded, her eyes wide with mock-agreement. "But do you remember when I asked you the same question again? You answered in exactly the same way."
"That doesn't mean anything—"
"Listen to me. Elves, humans, demons, angels, dragons—all 'selves,' without exception, experience a moment and learn from it. We evolve. If I ask a sentient being the same question twice, they get annoyed, or they change their tone. But you? You didn't evolve. You didn't even recreate the answer—you replayed a recording. Same cadence, same pause, same phrasing. You weren't speaking; you were just playing back a file."
The clerk remained silent, her existence laid bare like a dissected insect.
"Then we went to the fourth floor," Vionette continued, her smile widening into something truly predatory. "We met Umel, Rin, and that other woman. I set the same trap for the woman, and she glitched just like you did. No evolution. But then it got interesting. Noa spoke with Rin, and at that exact moment, I asked the woman for the time. She answered immediately, despite having no watch and there being no clocks in the whole floor. Yet, looking through Noa's eyes, I saw Rin checking her watch at that exact second. Coincidence? I think not. I didn't make Noa ask the same question twice from a kuudere like Rin, because they answer the same way anyway"
She can see through his eyes? the clerk thought, her gaze flickering to Noa, who looked equally surprised.
Wait, Rin was her? And she was the Rin? Noa's mind was a whirlwind of confusion, though he kept his carefree expression locked in place.
"This means a lot of things," Vionette said, her voice dropping into a cold, analytical register. "You entered as the woman to serve as a distraction while you searched the shelves as Rin. Your lack of a 'self' is confirmed. It could be one person controlling two bodies, but since Rin's kuudere demeanor remained unchanged even when the woman became enraged, it indicates that these are two distinct individuals. If not, it suggests that you can access others' emotions and even divide them among clones. This also implies that those clones can communicate with each other, or that you can simply see through them."
The clerk—or perhaps, It—stood frozen as the young woman, who looked like a fragile girl with a doll-like body, slowly revealed every power it had. It thought it had perfectly blended in by absorbing the memories and even the emotions of the people it consumed, but somehow, this woman still had layers to uncover.
"Jain said that there were no dead bodies to be found, and there were no two same people appearing either. That means you have to consume the body to shapeshift to them, right?"
"…"
"After sensing I was a threat on the fourth floor, you shifted into that child to test Noa's strength. You realized then that you couldn't win—which is the only reason you haven't tried to kill me yet. Even after Noa gave that child money, causing a surge of 'joy,' your response to his question later remained a stagnant, perfect loop."
Vionette stood up from her chair and walked toward the frozen It. She ran her fingers through the clerk's hair, her touch as light as a spider's silk, and wore an unsettling, almost predatory smile. Her crimson eyes felt as if they were piercing through It's very heart. It's eyes widened, the face remaining a motionless mask, though sweat continued to pool on its skin.
"Let's see... you can shapeshift, and only by consuming someone. You can get the victim's memories and even their emotions. You can body double to a small extent, separate emotions according to those clones, and fully share information between them." Vionette placed her hands below the clerk's chin, tilting the motionless face up toward her. "It's the most perfect mimic I've ever heard of. Taking the body, the memory, the emotions, and even being able to divide and control them fully. Truly… what even are you?"
Self… self… self! It's always about the self!
As Vionette spoke, the entity was reminded of the singular reason it had done all of this—and the irony that the very thing it sought was the reason it had been caught. Its sclera began to pulse with red vines, its eyes widening as the pupils thinned into needles. It gritted its teeth, the sound of grinding bone echoing through the inn like a structural collapse.
At this point… none of it matters anymore.
Suddenly, the smooth, pale skin Vionette was touching hardened and darkened, turning into a rough, muscular hide. The clerk vanished, replaced by a towering, muscular man who drew a massive greatsword with a roar that shook the rafters.
Clang!
"Guess this is where I come in?" Noa said, his voice brimming with a carefree, combat-hungry energy.
Infusing his blade with [Echo Reclamation], Noa parried the heavy slash aimed at Vionette. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, the two blades screaming as they ground together. The entity jumped back, absorbing the momentum with practiced ease.
The time for talking had passed; the Saint was gone, the masks were off, and now, only the cold logic of power remained.
---
Jain, Nill, and the knights stood before the old man's weathered front door.
"Feil! Feil!" Jain called out, her voice echoing in the quiet street. "Are you home? It's Jain!"
They waited in the heavy silence, but no response came from within. Jain stared at the iron handle, Vionette's warning about a 'bad day' echoing in her mind like a funeral bell.
Tap.
She gripped the handle, and to her horror, it turned without resistance. The door wasn't locked.
"We're coming in, Feil," she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Creak.
The door swung open, and the air that escaped was thick with the copper tang of fresh blood. Jain's face went white as she lost her grip on the handle, the door slamming against the wall. Behind her, Nill clapped a hand over his mouth, and the knights recoiled in visceral disgust.
The old man, Feil, sat in his favorite chair. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, his fingers crossed in a peaceful gesture. And resting on top of those palms… was his own head.
Blood had painted the room in a grotesque, crimson mural. His body was a ruin of slashes and blunt-force trauma, his mouth frozen open in a silent, eternal scream. Jain stared at the hollow remains of the man she had promised to protect, her world tilting on its axis.
Then, her eyes drifted to the wall behind the chair. Someone had used Feil's own blood to write a message in large, jagged letters.
'He will go see his daughter now, right, saint Jain?'
'-Your dear friends, Noa and Vionette :)'