A man cold enough not to place meaning even on himself. Or rather, a man capable of feigning that coldness as true whenever he wished—such were his words.

Yuder did not respond. Instead, he changed the subject.

“…Once, I asked directly if this place was the afterlife, or beyond the rift. At that time, you only said my guesses were ‘almost’ not wrong.”

This answer now wasn’t so different. But taken altogether, there were subtle differences in each.

“If the reason one mustn’t jump into a rift is because this place isn’t meant for the living, then that still means this ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) place lies beyond it, doesn’t it?”

If it wasn’t for the living, then it was for the dead. Most would call that the afterlife.

“Looked at that way, it seems my words were hardly wrong at all. Yet you only said ‘almost’ and never gave a definite answer. Which means… there must be some hidden nature here beyond that. Do you know what it is?”

No reply. Still, Yuder pressed on.

“You’ve been here all along, so you must know this place better than I do. What exactly is this space? What is it, that monsters exist here, and you exist here too?”

No reaction. He shifted topics again.

“The Commander as he is now suspected your existence might have been created by that… ‘inexplicable connection’ we experienced. Is that true? Is that why you described yourself as leftover fragments of power that couldn’t burn away even at the end of causality?”

More precisely, as Yuder had reasoned: when their beings had been patchworked together and Kishiar, on the brink of death, forcibly used his ability to separate them, some residue remained. Perhaps what lingered here was a piece drawn out of Yuder that belonged to Kishiar.

“Are you truly the only self-aware existence here? Or have you searched for others? If you’re the only one, how do you spend your time here? Is it not uncomfortable, being alone?”

“……”

“When you’re here, can you sense the outside world, or watch me?”

The present Kishiar had once seen, in a dream, the execution of Yuder from his first life. It wasn’t Yuder’s own dream, nor were they connected then, yet he had observed it as a third party. Truly strange. He had guessed perhaps it was the gaze of some being connected to both of them.

That is—this very existence before him.

Had the man who had long since died truly watched Yudrain from here?

And if that were possible, had he been able to hint at the coming Southern earthquake to Yuder, preventing it?

Could such a thing be?

‘…….’

He poured out every question, yet the white gloves remained silent. The missing little finger of the right hand dangled gloomily in the dark.

No further questions came to mind. Even a single word would suffice, anything at all. But he had no idea what words might coax more of an answer. With a heavy face, Yuder muttered,

“Even the smallest thing would do. Not an answer to my questions, anything at all… Please, say something. Soon enough you’ll cast me out from here anyway.”

He wanted to know. And he wanted to rescue him from this darkness.

With desperate heart, Yuder whispered,

“…Kishiar.”

The white gloves stirred.

Yuder’s eyes traced the letters written across his palm.

‘It would be good if I could say I know all, that I can answer all.’

‘But that’s not so.’

‘What remains here is nothing more than an accidental leftover shard.’

‘Moments like this are nothing but fleeting instants.’

“……”

Even traced with a finger, the elegance of the hand was palpable. Perhaps because Yuder knew Kishiar’s handwriting, he felt it all the more keenly.

As Yuder stared blankly down, the white finger kept moving.

‘There is only one thing I can say for certain.’

‘God is not here.’

A short, heavy phrase struck him like a blow to the head.

‘Everything here has flowed in from somewhere, jumbled together into chaos.’

‘When cracks form, they strain to escape somehow.’

‘I am not much different from them.’

‘All I can do is push you out through the gaps.’

‘I don’t even know where the end of this place lies.’

Yuder glanced at the boundless darkness without a glimmer of light. As he said, could such a place even have an end? With no light, no ground, who could say.

After a silence, the cool feel of leather traced again across his palm.

‘However—’

‘In this meaningless place,’

‘If you still wish to seek something,’

‘If you need it,’

‘I can at least give you that much help.’

‘Yudrain.’

All that remained was a hand, and now even that lacked ten whole fingers. And yet the faint warmth this being extended toward him was so vivid he could not fail to sense it.

How had he not known before? It was so clear now that just seeing it made the unseen bruises inside him ache and throb.

He refused to speak of himself, and yet—why, then, did he……

Before Yuder could voice it, the gloved hand brushed his cheek. Passing by his ear, it slid through his hair, clenched faintly as if to grasp something, then released.

Yuder instinctively realized that hand meant to withdraw again.

“…Wait. Please, just wait. A little longer…!”

Thud. The white glove pushed his shoulder. A light touch, yet it unleashed a current Yuder could not resist, pulling his body downward, downward.

‘Ah…….’

As he fell, Yuder looked always at the receding gloves. But today, for the first time, he saw what lay in the direction he was plummeting toward.

He had thought it only endless darkness. But there was something faint.

Like a fracture in the void.

A thin, pale-white crack.

…

“……”

Yuder suddenly shook his head and opened his eyes. He was seated inside the carriage. The gifts at his side, the clothes he wore—nothing had changed.

All he had just seen, felt, and spoken seemed like nothing but a dream.

‘No… Was it really a dream?’

As if waiting for his awakening, the carriage smoothly stopped and the door opened. The familiar gate of the Sun Palace was before him.

“Welcome, Baron Aile.”

The Emperor’s chamberlain greeted him with a polite smile.

“Oh, you’ve brought baggage. Is it for today’s lesson?”

“No. This is……”

Yuder had been about to absentmindedly say “a gift,” when he stopped short.

‘If I dreamed of Kishiar in the white gloves, then somewhere there must already be, or soon will be, a precursor to an anomaly.’

If it had been any other appointment, he would have rushed straight back to the Cavalry to check for new reports and respond in person. But this was the Imperial Palace, and he was soon to meet the Emperor and Empress.

An anomaly’s appearance did not mean a disaster would strike immediately. In this situation, perhaps it was better to remain by the Emperor and Empress’s side. If anything happened, there were few places where news would reach him faster than here beside Emperor Keillusa.

‘Still… I must inform Kishiar right away.’

Gathering his thoughts, Yuder spoke.

“Before I enter the lesson, might I send a messenger bird to the Cavalry?”

“Did something occur on the way here?”

Tension and concern flickered on the chamberlain’s face.

“It’s nothing Their Majesties need worry about.”

Yuder only said it was a matter connected to the Cavalry. The chamberlain, reassured, gave a small whistle. At once, a tiny messenger bird flew in.

“If you’d like it sent quickly, you can write here on the spot.”

“Thank you.”

On the slip handed to him, Yuder wrote a single line.

— I dreamed of the white gloves. Please check the surroundings.

If not Kishiar, no one would ever understand the meaning. Watching the chamberlain tie the note to the bird’s leg and send it off, Yuder quietly let out a breath.