Noa and Vionette approached the counter, looking refreshed after a good night's sleep. Noa wore his usual attire, while Vionette donned her signature black and crimson dress, her silver bracelets chiming. Kaelen and Rose followed a few paces behind.
Near the counter, Jain and her knights had already gathered. As the duo drew near, Jain noticed a flicker in their eyes—gone was the usual playfulness, replaced by a strange, dancing fire.
“Same usual meeting spot, I see,” Noa remarked, offering a smile as bright as it was hollow. “So, how’s your favorite old man holding up? Still staring at the horizon?”
“He’s much livelier than when I first met him,” Jain replied, her smile radiating genuine warmth. “The light has returned to his eyes. In fact, I need 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 expression marred by worry. “I have a terrible feeling that something bad is going to happen today. Please, just check on him, for my peace of mind.”
“…Something bad? If you feel it, then it must be serious. I’ll go right now.”
“Perfect,” Vionette said, a radiant smile blooming across her face. “Please, do hurry.”
With a curt nod, Jain stepped out of the inn, her armor clinking as Nill and the knights trailed her into the bustling street. The moment the door swung shut, the atmosphere in the room shifted entirely.
“Man, what a beautiful day it is,” Vionette murmured, her voice dropping into a melodic purr as she turned toward the clerk behind the counter. “Wouldn’t you agree, dear?”
“…Yes, ma’am?” the clerk replied, visibly confused.
“I was just wondering.” Vionette’s crimson eyes narrowed, the irises glowing like dying embers. “Did you ever get that book you wanted… Rin?”
The clerk’s breath hitched. “Rin? What are you—”
“Or should I call you the little kid who wanted Noa to participate in the tournament? Or maybe the golden-haired woman from the library?” Vionette leaned closer, her face mere inches from the clerk’s as she whispered, “No… addressing you as a ‘self’ isn’t quite right. Should I simply call you… It?”
The clerk’s face went pale, the color draining away like water into sand. She backed away with slow, cautious steps, her lips twitching in a silent prayer. Her hands slid behind her back, searching for her hidden daggers.
“Now, now. Don’t crash out just yet,” Vionette chided, waving a playful finger. “We need to wait until the Saint is far enough away, right? It wouldn’t do to have her interrupt our little conversation.”
“What do you want?” the clerk hissed, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “How do you know all this?”
“Don’t worry, just sit down,” Vionette said, gesturing toward a nearby chair. “We can chat until the Saint finds her gift.”
Vionette pulled a chair up and gracefully took a seat. Crossing her legs, she interlaced her fingers in her lap, watching the clerk with deep amusement.
What is she even on about? the clerk thought frantically. And how does she know I’m not a real ‘self’?
The clerk stared at Vionette’s seated form, then at the oblivious citizens around them, before finally lowering herself onto the stool.
“Not so aggressive after all, are we?” Vionette tilted her head, her smile sickeningly sweet. “This makes it easier. Since we have a few minutes, 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.
“When people go missing, trafficking is usually the first assumption,” Vionette began, her expression sobering. “But Jain’s reports also mentioned an ‘emotional disorder’ sweeping the kingdoms. That suggested something anomalous—something that inflicted damage upon the Astral Body. However, seeing as that effect is completely absent here, I figured that little side effect must have been caused by someone other than you, right?”
“…Yes, it wasn’t my doing,” the clerk replied. Her chin lowered, but her unblinking eyes remained anchored to Vionette’s.
“So, I took a gamble. I ordered the knights to spread rumors across different areas—each weaving a different story, but pointing to the same cause. If we were dealing with a large organization, there would have been reactions: suppressions, or at least a leak. But there was nothing.” Vionette raised a single finger. “That silence was too clean. It told me this wasn’t a group; it was a singular entity. A parasite. And the only reason a parasite comes to a place like Cirelith is—”
“To gather information,” Noa chimed in, leaning casually against the counter.
“Exactly.” Vionette snapped her fingers. “And where does one go for information in this city-state? The libraries. But what if someone was already trailing them? Just like in this case.”
“…I have to keep a constant eye on them,” the clerk admitted, her features twisting in annoyance.
“Assuming that you tracked down Jain's inn and took the form of a clerk—one of the few people who knows exactly who comes and goes inside an inn—I asked if you recognized me.” Vionette pointed a delicate finger. “To that, you gave the response a normal person would give. This told me you weren’t merely wearing an outer disguise… you actually possess your victims' memories.”
“That’s how any normal person would react!” the clerk shouted, drawing curious glances from the other patrons in the tavern.
“You could argue that. The possibility of you simply being a regular clerk was still high.” Vionette nodded slowly. “But do you remember when I asked you the same question the next day? Your answer was identical.”
The clerk’s brows knitted together. “What the hell does that even—”
“Listen to me. Elves, humans, demons, angels, dragons—all ‘selves,’ without exception, experience a moment and learn from it. We evolve. If I ask someone the same question twice, they get annoyed, or they at least change their tone. But you? You didn't change. It was the same expression, the same pause, and the same phrasing. You were just playing back a recording from the memories you possess.”
The clerk remained dead silent. Her very existence was laid bare like a dissected insect, and her white-knuckled grip on the concealed dagger tightened.
“At that point, I marked the clerk as a suspect and headed to the libraries,” Vionette continued, her fingers idly twirling a pen resting on the counter. “On the fourth floor of one of those libraries, we met Umel, Rin, and that blonde woman. I laid the same conversational trap for a few others, and the only one who failed the test was the golden-haired woman. She answered exactly like you did.”
Vionette flipped the pen, pointing its nib toward the wooden surface. As her smile twisted into something more wicked, she drove the pen into the desk, burying it into the wood.
“But you know, that isn’t even the best part! While Noa was with Rin, I asked the blonde woman for the time. She answered immediately, despite wearing no watch and there being no clocks on the entire floor. But looking through Noa’s eyes, I saw Rin checking her own watch at that exact second. Coincidence? I think not. FYI, I didn’t make Noa ask the same question twice to a kuudere like Rin, because those types always answer the same way anyway.”
What is ‘FYI’...? More importantly, she can see through his eyes? the clerk thought, her gaze flickering toward Noa, who looked equally caught off guard.
Wait, Rin was her? And she was Rin? What the fuck?
“This revealed quite a bit.” Vionette effortlessly reclaimed the clerk’s attention. “You entered as the woman to serve as a distraction while you scoured the restricted shelves as Rin. It could have been one person controlling two bodies, but since Rin’s kuudere demeanor remained completely undisturbed even while the blonde woman grew enraged at me, it indicated that they were two individuals… If not, it suggested something far worse: that you can absorb not only a victim's memories, but also their emotions, and perfectly divide them among your clones. It also implied that your clones can communicate telepathically, or that you can simply share their vision, much like Noa and I.”
The clerk—or rather, It—sat frozen. This fragile-looking woman was dissecting every ability it had possessed, yet somehow, she still had more layers to uncover.
“Then came that kid. The odds of a stranger randomly asking someone to participate in a tournament like that are so fucking low. Already suspicious, I put the pieces together: unlike with Jain and the others, you couldn’t see Noa’s strength because of his skill. So, you shifted into a child and tried to bait Noa into fighting to test his strength. I let Noa go along with it, but I told him to ask the kid the same question twice at different times. Even after Noa handed the child money—triggering a surge of ‘joy’—your response to the repeated question was the same. That put the kid into the list as well. You realized then that you couldn’t win against him, which is the only reason you haven’t tried to kill me yet, right?”
Vionette waited for a few seconds, her piercing gaze locked onto the entity, but It remained dead silent.
“Jain mentioned that no corpses were found in the previous kingdoms. Combine that with the reports I gathered by sending Kaelen and Jain to tail the suspects every day—reports confirming no two identical people ever appeared in the same place—and the conclusion is obvious. You have to actually consume the original body to shapeshift into them, don't you?”
Vionette stood from her chair and glided toward the paralyzed creature. She ran her fingers through the clerk’s hair, her touch as terrifyingly light as spider’s silk. Her crimson eyes felt as though they were piercing straight through the entity's heart.
“Let’s summarize... you can shapeshift, but only by consuming your prey. You absorb the victim’s memories, their emotions, and even their ego. You can duplicate your body to a certain extent, divide emotions and ego according to the identity each clone assumes, and share information between them.”
Vionette gently cupped the clerk’s chin, tilting the rigid face upward to meet her amused smile.
“It’s the most perfect mimicry I’ve ever heard of—stealing the body, the memories, the emotions, and the ego, then dividing and orchestrating them with perfect control. Truly… what even are you?”
Self… self… self! It’s always about the self!
As Vionette spoke, the entity was reminded of the singular motivation behind its endless consumption—and the bitter irony that the very individuality it sought was exactly what had exposed it.
Red veins pulsed across its sclera as it gritted its teeth so hard the sound of grinding bone echoed through the inn.
At this point… none of it matters anymore.
Suddenly, the smooth, pale skin beneath Vionette’s fingertips hardened and darkened, transmuting into a thick hide. The guise of the frail clerk shattered, replaced by a towering man that drew a massive greatsword with a roar.
“Guess this is where I come in?” Noa grinned, his voice vibrating with a combat-hungry thrill.
Infusing his blade with [Echo Reclamation], Noa intercepted the overhead swing aimed at Vionette. The impact sent a concussive shockwave ripping through the room, the two blades screaming as steel ground against steel.
The entity vaulted backward, absorbing the momentum with practiced ease.
The time for words had passed. the Saint was gone, the masks had fallen, and now, only the logic of power remained.
***
Down the cobblestone streets, Jain, Nill, and the knights stood before the old man’s front door.
“Feil! Feil!” Jain called out, her voice echoing against the quiet streets. “Are you home? It’s Jain!”
They waited in the tense silence, but no response came from within. Jain stared at the iron handle, Vionette’s ominous warning echoing in her mind. Gripping the cold metal, her stomach dropped as the handle turned without the slightest resistance. The door had been left unlocked.
“We’re coming in, Feil,” she whispered, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
The wooden door creaked open, exhaling a wave of air thick with the metallic tang of fresh blood. Jain’s face drained of color as her numb fingers slipped from the handle.
Behind her, Nill clamped a hand over his mouth, while the seasoned knights instinctively recoiled in visceral horror.
The old man, Feil, sat positioned in his favorite chair. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, his fingers interlaced in a peaceful, serene gesture. And resting atop those upturned palms… was his own severed head.
Blood painted the modest living room in a crimson mural. His torso was a ruin of slashes and blunt-force trauma, while the mouth on his severed head remained frozen in a silent, eternal scream.
Jain stared at the mutilated remains of the man she had sworn to protect, her entire world tilting on its axis. No… not again…
Then, her hollow gaze drifted to the wall behind the chair. Someone had used Feil’s own blood to smear a message in large, jagged letters across the wood.
“He will go see his daughter now, right, Saint Jain?”
“—Your dear friends, Noa and Vionette :)”
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