The silence between them lingered, thick as smoke. The kind that made every sound—every breath—feel like it echoed too loud.
Iri stepped forward slightly, her expression unreadable. The soft flick of her cloak revealed her outfit—looser than usual, worn from travel. Her shorts exposed the long scar that traced her right thigh, ugly and faded, but unmistakable.
Hana's eyes drifted downward.
"…Is the scar any better?" she asked quietly, almost gently.
Iri glanced down at it, then nodded once. "It's healed."
That word healed hung in the air longer than it should have.
Another pause.
Niko shifted, wincing. His breathing was shallow, but he still had enough presence to glance between them, confused but curious. The poison in his system still danced under his skin, but his mind stayed sharp.
He broke the tension with a question—blunt and honest.
"…How are you so strong?" His voice was dry, but steady. "You're just a kid."
Hana blinked.
And then she burst out laughing.
The sound was jarring, echoing too loud against the broken corridor walls.
Her laughter slowly settled into a grin, almost teasing.
"I'm realistically about fifty," she said, brushing some of her blonde hair back. "My body just doesn't age. Not since the contract."
Niko's brow furrowed slightly.
Iri raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
"…You've changed," she said. Her voice had softened now. "From the last time I saw you."
The grin faded from Hana's face.
Her smile didn't drop—but something in her eyes dimmed. A flicker of regret passed over her face like a shadow.
"I know."
For a moment, she looked… not like a killer. Not like the girl who just crushed a blood demon into broken, mangled pieces. But like someone who had seen too much. Carried too much. And was tired of holding it.
She looked down at the chains wrapped loosely around her fingers, the rust staining her small hands.
And didn't say another word.
Hana looked back at them one last time—expression unreadable—and gently unraveled the rusted chains from her fingers.
"My deed is done," she said softly, her tone now void of emotion. "Allow me to leave."
Neither Niko nor Iri said anything as she turned and walked off, her small frame disappearing into the corridor's darkness, the faint sound of chains clinking with every step. There was something eerie about how her presence faded—like the moment she was gone, the air got lighter.
Iri let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"…Come on," she muttered, brushing the dust off her shorts. "Let's get you back."
Niko nodded wordlessly, limping beside her as they made their way through hallway. His shirt was torn and soaked in sweat, and blood crusted over some of his deeper wounds. The pain throbbed in dull pulses down his side, but the worst of it was the sickness still stirring in his veins—residue of the poison.
They walked in silence for a while, weaving back toward the sector of the House Iri called "home."
Eventually, Niko broke the silence, still a bit winded.
"…Who was that?"
Iri didn't look at him right away. She kept walking, but her tone changed—flatter, cautious.
"Hana," she said. "One of the Ten."
Niko's head tilted. "She's… one of them?"
Iri nodded. "Judger of the Ten. Ranked Seven."
Niko's expression twisted into disbelief. "Wait—that kid?"
"Don't let the height fool you," Iri muttered. "She's been like that for decades. Her body doesn't age. Something about her contract—might be immortality, might be something worse."
Niko whistled low under his breath, still half-limping. "She was there during the fight with Morrow?"
Iri nodded again. "She didn't help. Not directly. She just… watched. Judged. Destroyed anything she felt deserved it. Morrow's soldiers, rebels, even architects' servants—she tore through them all like paper." Her voice got quieter. "I thought she was enjoying it."
Niko blinked.
And then cracked a small, tired grin.
"…I'm lucky I survived that meeting, huh?"
Iri turned sharply toward him, eyes narrowing. "You think?"
But then her eyes locked on something—his side.
She stopped walking.
"Wait."
Niko paused mid-step. "What?"
She stepped closer, squinting. "Is that… poison?"
He blinked. "Huh? I mean… yeah? Probably. He scratched me earlier and—"
"You idiot," Iri snapped, eyes wide. "Why didn't you say anything?!"
Niko winced, then shrugged sheepishly. "My bad. Kinda forgot with the whole flying fifty feet into a wall and stabbed through the chin thing."
"Sit," she ordered, pointing at a flat rock embedded in the corridor.
Niko obeyed with a groan, plopping down and leaning against the wall. Iri rolled up her sleeve and drew a short, glowing symbol across her palm with her finger—white energy trailing her movements like light smoke. She pressed her hand gently against his side.
The rune lit up. "Purify."
A warmth spread from her hand into his torso—slow at first, then surging. Niko clenched his teeth as the poison inside him reacted, writhing like snakes under his skin. His veins glowed faintly, the corruption pulsing against the purifying light.
Then it started to fade.
Within seconds, his headache dulled. His nausea vanished. The burning in his blood turned to cold, then to nothing at all.
"…Whoa," Niko muttered.
"Better?" Iri asked, not looking at him as she let the rune fade from her skin.
"Yeah," he exhaled, rolling his shoulder. "Still hurts like hell, though."
"You're lucky he didn't melt your insides," Iri muttered. "Canden's poison isn't normal. That stuff's mixed with blood art. You'd have been a corpse in twenty minutes."
"Well, thanks for the save."
"Don't mention it," she muttered—then added sharply, "But next time you get poisoned, say something before we walk an entire mile."
Niko smirked. "You're scary when you care."
She shot him a side glance. "And you're dumb when you bleed."
He laughed, resting his head back against the wall as the flicker of calm finally settled between them.
For the first time since the fight started… he could breathe again.
As they neared the final corridor, the path curved upward into darkness, ending at a rusting ladder bolted into a cracked stone wall. It stretched endlessly into the ceiling above—a jagged wound in the structure that led to one of the higher sectors. Niko looked up, shading his eyes from the faint shimmer of glowing runes nearby.
And then, just like that, Iri was gone.
No sound. No wind. Just—vanished.
He gave a half-laugh. "She jumped again…"
Moments later, a rune descended like a falling leaf. He caught it as it glowed with soft, familiar energy.
"Teleport to Iri."
The air folded in on itself like paper, and Niko's body warped through the rune's power. A sudden pulse—then stillness.
He stood now in the high sector.
But unlike the illusion below, there was no sky here—no stars, no sun, not even a ceiling. Just an endless void stretching above, gray and rippling like murky water. It gave the illusion of openness, but it was a lie. The House had no sky. It never had. What you saw above was just a mask.
And somehow, Niko knew this place was old—older than the rest. More real.
Iri stood a few feet ahead, already walking toward her shelter as if nothing happened. Her pace was steady, her posture calm, but her eyes flicked in every direction, always reading the environment.
He walked beside her in silence for a bit, taking in the strange stillness. Cracked stone tiles stretched across the floor, broken furniture scattered in corners, and glowing sigils marked walls like celestial graffiti. Her shelter, tucked beneath a half-collapsed archway, was simple: an old mattress, melted candle stumps, and a chipped basin filled with dust and dried blood. More than anything, it felt lived in—defended.
There was something odd about her. Iri didn't look much older than him. Maybe early twenties. But the way she moved—the way she watched everything—felt like someone who'd been here much longer. Her body moved like a survivor. Her eyes scanned like a predator.
He finally asked, almost too timidly, "…How old are you?"
Iri raised a brow at the question but answered calmly. "Nineteen."
He blinked. "Seriously?"
She nodded, stepping over a shattered table leg. "Been here since I was seven."
Niko stopped in his tracks.
"Seven?" he repeated, stunned.
"I barely made it," she said, still walking. "I didn't get a power like most do when they first arrive. I was just… normal. Weak."
He caught up beside her, jaw clenched. "But… how'd you survive?"
Iri exhaled quietly. Her voice dropped lower.
"I didn't. Not really. I starved. Hid. Nearly bled out more times than I can count. Saw people scream, disappear, turn into things I can't describe. For a while, I just… wandered. Then I found something."
She stopped near a large, rotting bookshelf built into the wall. With a soft touch, she brushed away dust, revealing faded carvings behind the top shelf.
"It was a false wall. I fell into it by accident. Behind it, I found something ancient—inscriptions I couldn't read. Symbols that felt alive."
She traced a finger across one of the symbols. A rune flared to life in midair, swirling with soft silver light.
"When I touched one of them, it burned into me. Not just on my skin—inside. And after that… I could make these."
Niko stared. "So you… found a power?"
"Not just any power," she said quietly. "A generational one. Something passed down. Something hidden. This wasn't meant to be found by just anyone."
She let the rune dissolve and sat down on the edge of her mattress.
"It didn't come with a name. But it lets me write reality in small doses. And it wants to grow. Every time I survive something new, the runes change. They adapt. But it took years just to figure out how not to kill myself with them."
Niko sat across from her slowly, still stunned. "So… while everyone else got powers handed to them, you earned yours."
"I bled for mine," she said simply.
He gave a low whistle. "Damn. And I thought I had it rough."
Iri gave the faintest smirk. "Everyone here has it rough. But I'm still breathing. That means I'm winning."
He looked up toward the fake sky again, realizing now how false it truly felt—like a painted ceiling hiding the abyss.
"There's no sky in this place, huh?"
Iri shook her head. "There never was. Just the illusion of one. The House doesn't give you the real sky. It gives you what it wants you to see."
Niko exhaled and leaned back against the wall.
"And here I was… thinking I understood this place."
"You don't," Iri said. "None of us do. We just survive long enough to pretend we do."
They both sat in silence after that. But this time, it wasn't empty. It was quiet like the calm after a storm. Two survivors, shoulder to shoulder, in a House that should've swallowed them long ago.
And still—they breathed.