Her voice grew distant, fading like an echo down a long hallway. The last thing Lucian felt was the warmth of her tears against his cheek—and then, darkness swallowed everything whole.
Sinking. Deeper.
At the edge of the light, lines of text flickered into being—too many, too fast. Lucian no longer had the strength left to read them.
✦ [CRITICAL FAILURE DETECTED: Conductor’s vitals falling below survival threshold.]
...
???
═══[ EMERGENCY PROTOCOL INITIATED ]═══
[Transferring Conductor to Sanctuary Layer...]
✦ [HARMONY: REJECTED]
✦ [GODDESS INTERVENTION DETECTED: █████]
[ ⁂ UNKNOWN PROCESS DETECTED ⁂ ]
Something has bypassed the Harmony authority.
Lucian’s body convulsed violently, stripped of all awareness. And then—a voice, soft as silk, wrapped around him.
" You shouldn’t be sleeping right now, little conductor. "
The voice felt strangely familiar, resonating somewhere deep in his mind. It burned through him like fire beneath his skin. His breath, which had all but vanished, began to return. His heartbeat found its rhythm again, slow and uneven at first, then steadier.
Some time later, in a large, unfamiliar bedroom—
"I..."
Ah... I can feel a faint ache through my body.
Slowly, Lucian tried to move his body, yet it felt utterly rigid, refusing to respond to his will.
Sigh... wasn’t I stabbed just a moment ago?
A sound reached him again. But this one wasn’t inside his mind. This one belonged to the living world.
Someone’s voice?
Someone screaming. Begging for mercy.
Who is that?
Though his body still refused to move, his hearing slowly sharpened, returning piece by piece. What he heard next left him stunned.
"Hurry up and give him the antidote, Wyatt." A voice he knew all too well
Holy crap, I’m still in the same damn room as them after all this?
"Isabella... ha... ha... you already know the Antropa poison has no cure. It’s pointless—he’s been unresponsive for over seventeen hours.
CRACK!—
The crisp, sickening sound of bone snapping.
"ARGHH!" Wyatt’s scream tore through the room.
Damn... are all the women from the Order of Lumielle this terrifying?! I pray for the poor souls who marry them—god forbid they ever make their wives mad...
"Huff... huff..." His breathing came ragged. "I don’t understand why the Saintess cares so much about that boy... it’s not like you, is it. Or is he just your newest toy?"
"Sounds like you’re eager to see your friend again."
"Wait, Isabella—" A pause. "Where did you get this poison, Wyatt? There’s no way the Kingdom of Castilla or Cardinal Miranda supplied it."
Wyatt’s body began to shake, as though the Saintess had already seen straight through whatever he was hiding.
"Saintess, what are you implying?"
Lumina didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted the very blade that had once run through Lucian’s chest and turned it slowly in her hands, examining it as she stood before Wyatt.
"You might have fooled the Cardinal’s eyes—she rarely handles a blade herself. But not me. I know this shape far too well. "
"The hilt bears the Calistia crest, true. But I recognize the blade itself. Do you know why? This blade was crafted by the Lorte family, forged exclusively for the BarvenHeart Imperial Family."
Wyatt only shook his head, as if genuinely lost.
At Lumina’s silent gesture, Isabella spun Wyatt around, forcing his back toward her.
SLASH!— "Grghh."
The blade tore across his back.
Huhh did she just slash his body?! Lucian trembled at the sickening sound of the strike.
"Almost identical, isn’t it?" Lumina mused. "So tell me, Wyatt—who exactly have you been working with?"
The wound matched, almost perfectly, the one Lucian had suffered days before. Lumina tilted her head, studying it—then smiled, a smile far too pleased with itself, as if some larger plan had just clicked into place.
"Saintess, is this only for your amusement, or—"
"No. I’ve had enough of that already."
"But Lucian hasn’t recovered yet—" Isabella started, but Lumina cut her off.
"I already drew the poison out of him. Now it’s only a matter of time before he wakes."
Wyatt let out a bark of laughter. "Hahaha... how absurd. You, of the Crimson Clan, hiding behind Dark Mana all this time—there’s no way you could ever wield sacred magic. Not like a true Saintess."
Lumina raised her pendant, releasing a wave of holy magic from within it. A blinding light erupted from her instead. Wyatt’s eyes widened in disbelief—someone who wielded dark mana shouldn’t have been able to summon pure mana as well. It defied everything he understood to be possible.
"There is no way...!" his voice trembling in sheer disbelief.
"I saw it with my own eyes! You controlled my comrade’s body, wielded their power as if it were your own, and twisted their mind! That’s a cursed art—pure heresy! How can someone like you cast holy magic?!"
"Why so surprised? Did you think my title as Saintess was a lie?"
He swallowed hard, his eyes wide with horror. "Who... who are you, really?"
Lumina paused, looking down at him with a faint, almost pitying smile.
"Care to answer a simple question first?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm. "Who gave you this poison and this blade? Honestly, sifting through a corpse’s memories is such a chore. Tell me now, and I might just ask Isabella to grant you a painless death."
"You vile, demonic woman!" the man spat, grinding his teeth in desperate rage. "You tricked Goddess Lumielle! You must have!"
"Ah, a lost sheep denying reality to the very end," Lumina sighed softly, her smile never fading. "Do you truly believe a mere mortal could pull the wool over a Goddess’s eyes?"
Lumina only smiled. "Foolish little servant. It’s because I am Lumina Augusta. Chosen by the Goddess Lumielle herself."
"No... there’s no way the Goddess would ever choose someone as vile as you."
But his words meant nothing against the truth—the light pouring from her was undeniably pure. A Saintess’s light.
THUD!—
Isabella drove her boot into Wyatt’s stomach, and he crumpled, unconscious.
"One more thing, Isabella. Send word to the Central Order in Virelle—report the betrayal within Cardinal Miranda’s Shadow Hunters. We’ll use this to put pressure on her." A faint smile crossed Lumina’s lips. "Ngh, I can hardly wait to see her face when she learns her own hunters have already been compromised."
"Are you saying Wyatt’s group answers to someone beyond Cardinal Miranda as well?"
"Wouldn’t it be more interesting to use your Crimson Soul on him? You’ll get the full story that way—and have your fun besides."
Is Lumina seriously a member of the Crimson Clan after all?! He never expected this. To think that his best friend—the one person who had been completely honest with him—actually belonged to that cursed, bloodthirsty clan..
"Am I truly permitted to take this body, Saintess?"
Lumina simply nodded.
"Thank you, Saintess."
A flicker of something like delight crossed Isabella’s face—anticipation for whatever came next.
"But Saintess," Isabella stepped closer, bowing her head as the air quieted. "Your body is still drained. Shall I bring another vessel to replenish your mana? Besides..."
She lifted her hand, delicately biting down on her fingertip as her eyes glinted with a subtle, predatory amusement.
"...I think I might actually enjoy this one."
A sudden, icy chill shot straight down Lucian’s spine.
Ugh... wait, wait, wait. This feeling... She doesn’t mean me, right?!
"A wise choice..." Isabella bowed deeper, a small, knowing smile touching her lips. "Lord Lucian is indeed the ideal match for you. Please... enjoy yourself, Saintess."
Stop it, I’m not your Lord
Lucian’s heart plummeted into a deep, dark abyss.
Oh Goddess... She REALLY means me!
She lifted Wyatt’s limp body and swept out of the room. The door shut firmly behind her.
Lucian had heard all of it. And now, with his sight slowly sharpening, he could see the full weight of what Lumina had just done.
I’ve barely woken up, and already I’m buried under this.
A weight shifted onto the bed beside him, gentle, unmistakable.
"My Lucian... it’s just the two of us now. Haven’t we waited long enough for this? I can’t hold back any longer."
She’s already on top of me. Damn it—if I move now, she’ll know I heard everything
Lumina cupped his face in her hands, her expression soft, almost tender, as though savoring the closeness
Someone. Anyone. Please help me.
Holly...Please don’t touch that!