Moonlight spilled through the window as William rose from bed. The cool night air carried the scent of jasmine when he opened the glass pane. His eyes swept across the manicured gardens below - the empty driveway, the still hedgerows, the guards' distant torchlights.
*"I hope they didn't see anything,"* he breathed into the darkness.
The room showed no trace of the night's violence. The floors gleamed where Seven had scrubbed away all evidence. William closed the window with a quiet click and returned to sleep.
---
### **Saya Estate - Viscount's Study**
Viscount Saya's fingers drummed an erratic rhythm on his lacquered desk. His violet eyes burned holes in the unsigned letter before him. The family's ancestral seal - broken by his own hand - lay discarded like a worthless trinket.
A knock shattered his thoughts.
"Enter."
The door revealed his younger brother, the Vice Head. Though they shared the same sharp features and dark hair, the Vice Head's eyes lacked their family's distinctive violet hue - a fact the Viscount had never let him forget.
"Brother," the Vice Head began cautiously, "any progress tracing the letter?"
Viscount Saya's tapping ceased. His silence was answer enough.
"It's not the Medici boy's death request that concerns me," the Viscount finally said, voice deceptively soft. "But how did this stranger know we sought *Supreme Shadow Beast*? Who else knows our family's lost arts?" His fingernails scraped the desk's surface.
The Viscount's eyes darkened as new suspicions took root. "And how strong is this shadow patron? As strong as the Duke of Milan? Stronger?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "What connection could they possibly have with House Medici to risk such a bold move?"
The Vice Head shifted uncomfortably. "Then what do we—"
"There's only one way to answer these questions," the Viscount interrupted, his violet eyes gleaming in the lamplight. "We must meet this person directly." He leaned back, the wood creaking beneath his weight. "And for that... we'll have to wait for his next signal."
William opened his eyes to infinite whiteness—a world without horizon, without end. Just an endless void of pale nothingness stretching in every direction.
*"Where...am I?"* His voice disappeared into the emptiness.
He looked down—and froze.
The body he saw was *his*, but not the one he wore now. Broad shoulders filled out an impeccably tailored three-piece suit, the dark fabric stark against the white void. Strong hands, the hands of a man in his prime—hands that had once wielded power effortlessly.
Then he saw *her*.
A girl sat curled in the distance, her form the only break in the endless white. She couldn't have been more than twenty, her beauty so devastating it felt like a physical blow.
A solitary yew tree loomed above her, its gnarled branches casting a long shadow that stretched across the endless white—falling not on her, but on William
Her skin was porcelain-pale, so flawless it made the moon seem dull in comparison. Long, ink-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night itself, so dark it seemed to swallow the light around her. Her lips, slightly parted, were the softest shade of rose—just a breath away from trembling.
But it was her *eyes* that shattered him.
Large, luminous, brimming with unshed tears. Even obscured by the delicate curtain of her bangs, they held a sorrow so deep it carved into William's chest like a blade.
A single tear fell.
Then another.
William's breath hitched. His heart *lurched*, a desperate, clawing need surging through him—*he had to wipe those tears away.* He *needed* to.
But his body wouldn't move.
She looked up, her tear-streaked face tilting toward him. Another droplet traced the curve of her cheek.
*"###$$$##@@"*
The words were nonsense—and yet they sent a jolt of *recognition* through him, like a half-remembered name on the tip of his tongue.
His pulse roared in his ears. His hands twitched, useless. His throat tightened until he couldn't breathe—
—and then he *woke up.*
---
### **The Aftermath**
William bolted upright, gasping.
His chambers. The familiar bed. The quiet hum of predawn light filtering through the curtains.
*Just a dream.*
But his skin was clammy with sweat. His heart still pounded as if he'd run for miles. And worst of all—
—that *ache* lingered.
The desperate, clawing need to reach her. To *fix* whatever had made her cry.
William pressed a hand to his sternum, as if he could physically push the feeling away.
*"What the hell was that...?"*
But deep down, he already knew.
That wasn't just a dream.
That was a *memory.*
A memory that refuses to fade.
But he had no time to linger on the past. Not today . William's heart still raced as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and reached out to pull back the heavy curtains.
Sunlight spilled into the room, warm and golden, washing over his face and chasing away the last shadows of his dream.
He took a slow breath and whispered, "Today, we leave for the dwarves' continent. A beautiful journey awaits."
His eyes drifted to the mirror near the window. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightening each strand with quiet care.
"Seven hasn't left the mansion since my warning," he murmured, his expression hardening. "I don't want him to die—not yet. He still has use for me."
"William spent the morning in the manor, the hours slipping by as he prepared for the journey ahead. With the help of his maid, he dressed quickly and ate a simple meal before setting out.
The sun dipped lower as William stood before the Gate—a towering circle of stone and magic, thrumming with energy. Its center shimmered like glass, completely transparent, revealing nothing but the faint distortion of space. At the base, a glowing essence stone pulsed steadily, embedded in a core watched over by several operators in dark uniforms.
Grey brick tiles lined the ground, polished and perfectly laid, matching the Gate's solemn aesthetic. Nearby, servants unloaded carriages in brisk silence.
Behind them, the ocean stretched endlessly, a vast sheet of dark blue beneath the cloudless sky. Even with magical barriers lining the bay, William could feel the weight of its pressure pressing against his skin like a silent warning.
"You're staring pretty hard," Count Anjou said, stepping beside him.
William turned. "It's... impressive."
The Count gave a knowing smile. "Do you know what it is?"
William blinked. "The Gate?"
"Exactly." He nodded. "It connects us to the other continents. Without it, we'd be stranded. The ocean's pressure, the chaotic energy above it—it's impossible to travel by air or sea. That's why the Magic Tower built these."
William glanced again at the swirling portal. "So every continent has one?"
"Yes," the Count said. "And each is operated by the dominant race in that land."
William tilted his head. "Then who runs this one?"
A flicker of pride lit the Count's eyes. "Anjou County."
"Oh," William said, feigning surprise. "So that's why we came south."
"Exactly," the Count said with a chuckle.
"It's time," Edgar announced.
The operators tapped glowing runes along the console. The Gate's center shimmered, rippling like disturbed water—then opened, revealing a swirling tunnel with flashes of copper and stone architecture on the other side.
Without a word, William stepped forward. A hum filled his ears. Then—
A blink.
A shift in light.
The air changed.
They had arrived.
A new world—red stone arches, steel towers, and a strange, metallic scent—stood before him