Three Years Later.
"…and based on that, the current membership of the three seasons has reached ten thousand. From the list you gave to Rose, 70% have been successfully recruited into the organization, and their locations are all accounted for. Roady has also gathered more information to identify their weaknesses, though it seems they would have been interested in joining even without that, given our current popularity—"
Mujun read the report from his small notebook in a tone thick with exhaustion and disinterest, as if embodying how much he loathed his job—or more accurately, the boss sitting across from him.
Shiki, sitting with her legs crossed, paid no mind to Mujun's pointed gaze. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her mind drifting elsewhere. Her long, flowing hair fell softly over the back of the plush leather chair. Her white school uniform looked tight; the buttons across her chest seemed barely able to contain her breasts, which had grown more full with time. Her dark blue skirt rode up slightly as she crossed her legs, revealing skin as white as milk. Any normal man would have salivated and stared at her with lust were they in front of her right now. However, Shiki didn't feel bothered by Mujun's gaze; it held no trace of lust—only pure, unadulterated boredom.
In her two lifetimes, perhaps only Mujun and the violet-eyed man had never looked at her with desire. Yet, Shiki was certain they were not the same person.
The reason?
Even though Shiki could not clearly remember the violet-eyed man's face, she could still feel the radiance of his gaze and his overwhelming aura. Those violet eyes viewed the world like a giant playground, as if his life were never burdened by anything—unfettered, free, and unbound by worldly rules.
To Shiki, that man did not seem like an ordinary human. He was more akin to a god who treated everything as a joke, while the world was merely a theme park he had created for his own amusement. Suffering, sorrow, happiness, even destruction—it was all just a game to him. And his smile—a smile always full of jest—never faded from his face, as if he were laughing at everything.
That aura of freedom and indifference made Shiki envious. The feeling seeped so deep that it birthed an obsession within her—an obsession to cage that man. Shiki wanted to wipe that smile from his lips, or at the very least, find a way to laugh as freely and wildly as he did.
As for Mujun?
His gaze emitted an aura of boredom so thick it felt as if nothing in this world could ever catch his attention. He lived merely to exist, with no desire to fight the current, let alone follow it. He was like a faint shadow that could vanish into a crowd without anyone ever noticing his presence.
To Mujun, the world likely looked like a grainy, old black-and-white film. Even if the plot were interesting, he could never sit still to watch it because his mind was always empty, incapable of grasping meaning. The sound of the world seemed to fade, replaced by the hollowness filling his mind. Unwittingly, his attention was easily diverted by trivial things—a butterfly flying in search of a flower, or perhaps one caught in a spider's web.
Yet, even such sights evoked no joy, curiosity, or sadness within him. There was only that dense boredom, extinguishing the light in his eyes. His eyes were vacant, like those of a fish that had died of thirst—devoid of spark, devoid of soul.
Both men were indeed unique, but Shiki knew all too well they were not the same person.
It was truly a shame they weren't the same. Had the violet-eyed man been Mujun, Shiki wouldn't feel this frustrated and disappointed. Her search over the last three years to find the violet-eyed man had ended in futility. Mr. Thompson had searched every country in Ignisira, checking every civilian record—both the living and the deceased. His confidence had been immense; he believed that if the man existed in any nation, he would have been found, even if he were hiding under a rock. Yet, the results remained nil. Every candidate suspected of being the violet-eyed man turned out not to be the one Shiki sought.
Perhaps—just perhaps—if the search were expanded to the remote tribes rarely touched by the modern world, there might still be a chance. Unfortunately, the time Shiki had left in this world was almost up.
"…based on Johan's report, several foreign groups of unknown origin have begun interfering with our recruitment activities. They have also been seen investigating the reasoning behind our target selections. For now, their interference hasn't been much of a nuisance, but in the future—"
Shiki glanced at the wall clock. Only a few minutes remained before the teleportation began. She felt like letting out a long sigh, but she knew it would only make Mujun's brow furrow deeper. His flat yet grievance-filled face seemed to ask: "Why are you the one complaining, when I'm the one standing here exhausted, reporting to you?" or "Are you mocking me with that long sigh?" or even: "If you're so tired, why don't we just stop all this?"
But Shiki, as usual, ignored the complaints written clearly across Mujun's face.
To prepare herself for the Procession Tower, Shiki had not chosen a rushed path. Individual strength was never enough. What she needed were hands, eyes, and ears—a structure that could move without always requiring her direct involvement.
She named the organization The Four Seasons.
The name sounded soft, even beautiful, but behind it lay a cold and efficient mechanism. The Four Seasons was not merely a group; it was a system. Each season had a clear role, a fitting leader, and complementary functions.
Spring was on the front lines.
Led by Johan, this team handled matters that couldn't be resolved with words. Forced "pick-ups," the capture of those who refused to join, intimidation, and open threats—it all fell to Spring. Johan, with a body forged by battle and an unquestionable reputation, was the perfect figure. His mere presence was enough to make many targets reconsider before refusing.
If Spring was the hammer, then Summer was the eyes.
This team was led by Rose, a twenty-year-old woman who, in the Procession Tower, was known by one moniker: the Queen of the Black Market. Rose was the leader of the Black Canary, the largest information network there. To the Nagawira, the Black Canary were not just news peddlers—they were the source of truth that often arrived faster than reality itself.
Rose did not work alone. At her side was Roady, her deputy and lover. While Rose excelled at gathering information, Roady was the one who made that information useful. He was capable of sifting the noise from the facts, assembling fragments of data into a big picture that could be used for strategy. Together, they made the Black Canary an organization that was both feared and indispensable.
Yet, it was for that very reason that their fate had ended in tragedy.
When the Bride War began, the enemies of the Nagawira understood one thing: whoever controlled information, controlled the war. The Black Canary became the first target. They were attacked with full force, annihilated before other factions could even react. Rose and Roady died on the same day, their bodies torn apart, their final breaths spent in each other's arms.
That experience was what led Shiki to overhaul the structure of The Four Seasons.
Autumn was now led by Roady, in the time before that tragedy could occur. This team's task was no longer to gather information, but to process it. All data from Summer was filtered, analyzed, and transformed into actionable decisions. Autumn was the brain behind the movements of The Four Seasons.
Finally, there was Winter.
Officially, this team was led by Mujun. In reality, however, Winter consisted of only one person.
Mujun.
Initially, Shiki had no intention of giving him a major role. She only wanted to satisfy her curiosity toward the gloomy youth. But over time, she realized something more important: Mujun was the only person she could trust without needing to supervise him.
Winter had one function—and only one.
To be Shiki's extended hand.
As someone who had once stood at the peak of the Procession Tower, Shiki knew one unwritten rule: a faction leader must not get too close to their subordinates. Proximity breeds false loyalty, posturing, and biased decisions. Worse still, if the leader falls, the faction collapses with them.
Therefore, Shiki kept her distance.
All orders, clarifications, and strategic decisions were channeled through Mujun. He became the link between Shiki and the other three seasons—a protective layer and a counterbalance.
Shiki's trust in Mujun grew in a way she couldn't even explain to herself. There were no oaths of fealty, no heroic moments, nor any dramatic sacrifices. The trust simply appeared—quiet, natural, and disruptive to her logic.
Perhaps it was because Mujun was completely uninterested in her.
Something that was exceedingly rare.
Or perhaps it was because Mujun was too simple for a world so full of ambition. He never showed a desire to rise in rank, let alone usurp Shiki's position. To Mujun, being the head of an organization as large as The Four Seasons was not an honor; it was an exhausting job that wasn't worth the time and energy spent. A nuisance that, if given the choice, he would avoid without hesitation.
He did complain often, but his complaints were not born of envy or dissatisfaction with his position under Shiki. His grievance was always the same: too much work. Too many affairs. Too much trouble.
If one day Shiki told Mujun to stand still in a corner and do absolutely nothing, Shiki was certain Mujun would resign as head of Winter before she even finished speaking. Not out of anger or offense—but because standing still without a purpose felt like a far more pleasant job to him than being the head of Winter.
Facing someone like Mujun, Shiki was often left speechless.
A man without ambition. Without a lust for power. Without interest in grandeur or influence.
Perhaps that was exactly the reason.
Despite his constant grumbling, Mujun always completed his tasks neatly and precisely. Not out of blind loyalty, but because he didn't want to be bothered twice by the same mistake. Doing the job right the first time was the fastest way to return to tranquility—that was Mujun's principle.
The Four Seasons itself was not just an organization.
To Shiki, it was the foundation of a grand faction that would eventually rule the Procession Tower and lead all Nagawira. A framework of power built long before the war began.
Yet until now, no one knew its true purpose.
Including Mujun.
Shiki realized Mujun probably wouldn't care even if he did know. But the same did not apply to the others. The team heads—especially those who were brilliant and influential—surely harbored their own doubts.
And that was natural.
A princess from the world's most powerful noble family suddenly gathers people, forms a massive organization, yet refuses to explain the end goal. Anyone sane would be suspicious.
But Shiki chose silence.
She let the doubts settle, letting the questions hang without answers. Not forever—only until the time was right.
Soon, everyone would understand.
"...That is the report from Johan regarding the recruitment in Kojulin City—" Mujun stopped reading when Shiki interrupted.
"Mujun," she called.
Mujun frowned, the lines on his forehead sharpening. His voice was reluctant as he answered, "What?"
Shiki glanced at her digital watch. 11:58:15. She knew the teleportation would begin exactly at 12 noon today.
"What do you think of a world where monsters prey on anyone who enters, and that world also connects you to other worlds you've never imagined before?" Shiki asked suddenly.
"If you want to fantasize or write some weird story, you'd better—"
"Can you just answer my question?"
"..."
"..."
Shiki's digital watch now showed 11:59:05.
"Ugh... that would be incredibly annoying," Mujun finally answered. "I struggle enough to survive in this world just by breathing. I don't have to worry about money, shelter, or food, thanks to my late parents leaving enough money to last until I'm a decrepit old man. So if such a world existed, I would choose not to get involved. I'd even erase the information about that world from my head as quickly as possible."
"Hmm..." Shiki offered a thin smile.
The watch showed 11:59:50.
"Unfortunately, you have no choice but to enter that world."
11:59:55.
"And from now on, I'll be asking for your cooperation too, Mujun." A wide grin spread across Shiki's face.
11:59:58.
"Huh?"
Suddenly, their bodies were enveloped in a blindingly bright light. So blinding that their entire field of vision turned white.
12:00:00.
Their bodies suddenly felt as if they were floating, like being inside a car plunging to the bottom of a ravine. Nausea, dizziness, and visual distortion attacked without mercy. When their vision finally returned to normal, what they saw was not the room they had been in moments before.
12:00:01.
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The world collapsed—at least, that's what it felt like.
In a single blink, the sky changed color, the ground shifted, and the air Shiki inhaled was no longer the air of Ignisira. Space seemed to fold, squeezed tight, and then forcibly released. Her body felt simultaneously light and heavy, as if being pulled from within and crushed from without at the exact same time.
Around her, people froze.
Some stumbled and fell to their knees; some let out half-strangled screams; others simply stood paralyzed with wide eyes, their breath hitched in their throats. Some clutched their heads as if fearing their thoughts would spill out, while others gripped the arms of the nearest person, seeking proof that this wasn't a nightmare born of mass panic.
Those faces were uniform in one thing: disbelief.
The world they had known for nearly two decades had simply vanished, replaced by a reality too alien for common sense to grasp. Confusion hung in the air, thick and heavy, waiting for one small spark to ignite into total chaos.
Shiki took a deep breath and lifted her gaze.
The sight before her was not entirely unfamiliar.
A dragon monument loomed in the distance, so massive it obscured a portion of the sky. Its scales were carved with exquisite detail, its claws gripping the earth as if ready to pounce on anyone who approached. Surrounding it lay a sprawling city with thick walls that seemed impossible to breach—sturdier than any modern fortress she had ever seen in Ignisira. Ancient-style buildings stood in rows, grand and silent, like witnesses to a long-dead civilization.
The Starting City.
The place where it all started.
The safest place in this world—perhaps too safe.
Shiki knew exactly what "too safe" meant. In her previous life, the safety of this city had transformed into a gilded cage. She had imprisoned herself here, letting fear masquerade as caution, until finally, the world outside decided to drag her out by force.
The Procession Tower had no use for the weak.
And this city would not protect them forever.
When the Bride War began, these walls would be nothing more than an illusion of comfort. Sooner or later, those hiding would be forced to step out—becoming prey for those already prepared to kill.
But this time was different.
For the past three years, Shiki had waited for this moment.
The Starting City was no longer a prison to her.
She would make it her first foothold.
She would dominate it, controlling the flow of Nagawira within, driving her influence into every corner of the city. This city would be hers—and from here, her power would grow.
And here, too, she would find that violet-eyed man.
Cage him. Bind him. Make him hers, forever.
Shiki swore it in her heart.
"Mujun, listen to me!" her voice was firm, cutting through the low roar of confusion around them. "We must gather with the others immediately. Don't move on your own. Wait for me at the base of the left foot, second claw of that dragon monument. Do you understand? Mujun?"
There was no answer.
"Mujun?"
Shiki turned—and her breath caught.
Something was wrong.
Mujun's face, usually flat and drenched in boredom, was now entirely different. His eyes sparkled, reflecting a light that didn't originate from anywhere nearby. His lips curled into a wide grin—too vibrant, too genuine for a situation like this. His white fangs were clearly visible as he let out a soft chuckle.
It wasn't the smile of someone terrified.
Nor was it the smile of someone confused.
Instead... it was the smile of someone who had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.
With a light voice full of excitement—like a child finally allowed to open a gift—Mujun said:
"Ah~ at last, it begins."
Shiki felt a cold chill creep down her spine.