The warmth from last night's lap still seemed to linger around the right side of his head. Physically, it made no sense. He'd already slept in his own bed and woken to morning. But for Kenji, that sensation—Lina's soft knees and that strangely vivid feeling of being worried over, which he'd felt while regaining consciousness after collapsing in the erosion zone—was still caught somewhere inside him. Like the lingering unease after taking an awkward nap during a convenience store night shift. He decided to think of it that way. After wolfing down half of breakfast at the Sumigarama Pavilion, Kenji stepped into the corridor of the residential wing. This morning, the fortress's sanitation officer had issued something called a "mandatory medical examination following unconsciousness due to Foresight overload." A notice demanding his appearance at the Medical Wing—"The Chamber of Silence," a recovery facility in one corner of the fortress's stone section where healers were always stationed—had been slipped under his door when he woke. "I'll go with you!" Lina Valte called out. Lina came bounding toward him from the end of the corridor. Her light blue short bob swayed, and her golden eyes sparkled. This morning's clothes had fewer burn holes than usual. She'd probably had Hana mend them, or changed into fresh ones last night. "Thank you. But it's just a checkup," Kenji said. "I know. But I'm worried anyway," Lina replied. "By the way, Lina, have you ever been inside the Chamber of Silence?" Kenji asked. Lina's face froze for just a moment. "...Yes, I have," she said. "Good. Could you show me the way?" Kenji asked. "That's not what I meant—" Lina mumbled as she started walking down the corridor. Her shoes made a regular rhythm against the stone pavement. A sharp, disinfectant-like smell drifted from deeper in the hallway. Kenji found himself vaguely recalling the lonely late-night hours after restocking at the convenience store. The smell was a bit different, but the underlying feeling was similar. The scent of a facility where someone moves quietly through the night. A sanitation officer stood in front of the Chamber of Silence's entrance. A man in his thirties with a serious expression. The moment he saw Lina's face, his eyebrows rose slightly. "Lady Valte," the officer said. "Y-yes?" Lina replied. "The entry of a lightning mage into the Chamber of Silence—" the officer began. "Um, I'm just here to accompany him—" Lina interjected. "—is prohibited due to the risk of magical runaway caused by emotional agitation," the officer finished, apologizing but firm. Lina froze. Kenji glanced at her profile. She opened her mouth slightly, tried to say something, then stopped. "...It happened once, yes," Lina admitted quietly. "Wait, it really happened?" Kenji asked. "It was just a small fire! A minor fire!" Lina protested. "A fire isn't minor," Kenji said. Lina stamped her feet in the corridor. Cute. Kenji thought it silently but didn't say it aloud. "Please wait here. It won't take long," Kenji said. "...Okay," Lina replied, moving to the side of the corridor wall, crossing her arms and turning away. Her cheeks were slightly puffed out. Kenji smiled wryly and pushed open the door. --- Beyond the door was another world. Sound disappeared. Or rather, it didn't disappear so much as become distant, as if wrapped in cotton. The footsteps in the corridor, the metallic sounds ringing somewhere in the fortress, even the sense that Lina was still pouting—all of it seemed to have passed through a thick membrane and gone to the other side. Kenji had once experienced the origin of the name "Silent Forest" deep within the forest itself. This was somewhat similar. But this wasn't the silence of nature. It was something more intentional, like a prayer. Hospital beds lined the room. White-draped beds, six or seven of them arranged along the wall. Today only two were in use; the rest were empty. The smell of disinfectant mixed with something faintly sweet—perhaps the sap of a healing tree. Kenji walked slowly deeper in. A work table stood at the far end of the bed section. On the stone surface lay what appeared to be medicinal herb leaves. Beside the table, in a chair, sat a small figure. A girl in white clothes. Her long hair was silver-white, loosely gathered. When it caught the light, it seemed to shimmer with a faint iridescence. Her face wasn't turned toward him. She was looking down. In her palm lay something fine and leafy, which she touched carefully with her fingertips. Kenji's shoe made a faint sound against the stone floor. The girl's movements stopped. Slowly, her face lifted. She turned toward Kenji. Her eyelids remained closed. Completely closed, yet she faced his position with perfect accuracy. Her eyes were clouded white. Eyes that had lost their light, quiet eyes. But her expression held no confusion, no fear. A soft, gentle smile played at her lips. "You're the transferred one, aren't you?" Mishia Arcadia said. Her voice dissolved into the quiet space. It was a slow voice. An unhurried voice. "The one who possesses the gift of Foresight," she continued. Kenji froze. She hadn't introduced herself. She'd identified him by footsteps alone, even naming the type of his gift. Whether that was remarkable or whether there was something else entirely at work, Kenji couldn't judge. But the serene aura emanating from the girl before him wasn't frightening. "...Yes. I'm Kenji Sato," Kenji said. "I am Mishia Arcadia. I handle the healing prayers here—prayers rooted in the Weaver faith that guide the body back to its original state," Mishia said. "I collapsed yesterday, so I'm here for the mandatory examination," Kenji explained. "I'm aware. Please, sit," Mishia said. Mishia rose from the work table. She was small. More than a head shorter than Kenji. Her white garments swayed softly. She walked across the fortress's stone floor with barely a sound. Kenji sat in a nearby chair. Mishia stood before him and extended a slender hand. She said nothing, simply offering her hand. Kenji reflexively extended his right hand. Their fingers touched. It was cold. A chill like stone corridors, cool and crisp. But— Mishia's slender fingers began to move slowly across Kenji's palm. Following the lines of his hand, her fingertips traced along them. One line, then another. Her fingertips traced what seemed to be his lifeline, then moved sideways to trace a different line. Slowly, carefully, as if reading something precious. Cold as it was, something beneath his skin responded. A sweet sensation ran up his spine from bottom to top. Like electricity, but painless, spreading in a gentle warmth. Kenji forgot to breathe for a moment. The impulse to pull away and the desire to stay clashed within his palm. Both were real. They contradicted each other. In the end, Kenji did neither, simply remaining frozen, continuing to feel the movement of Mishia's fingertips. "There's no pain," Mishia said slowly. Her hand didn't stop. "Your body seems to have no major issues. But—" she continued. There was a brief pause. "—your gift may have a somewhat different nature," Mishia said. Kenji started to speak, then closed his mouth. The Foresight—a gift that allowed him to glimpse fragments of two seconds into the future during combat—had always felt off. When he'd encountered the Void in that erosion zone, it had expanded once, showing him more than ten seconds ahead. That wasn't normal. Celia had sensed it too. "So it's not just seeing two seconds ahead?" Kenji asked. "It may not be quite that," Mishia replied. Mishia's fingers paused for just a moment. Then they began moving again, slowly. "It might be the ability to sense branching points of possibility. To touch, in some form, the very laws of the world itself," Mishia said. It was spoken with certainty, but without any sense of imposition. Not "this is how it is," but "this might be how it is." Kenji noticed the difference in tone. (World's laws...?) He'd told Celia, "I'm convinced the Void is an entity with the will to rewrite the world's laws." He couldn't prove it. He'd said it without proof. But now, this girl before him—the girl who'd identified his gift's type from footsteps alone, without him even introducing himself—was speaking in the same direction. "How could something like that dwell in a man who accomplished nothing in forty years?" Kenji said. It came out naturally, but it was honest. Fifteen years reading inventory waves at a convenience store night shift. Before that, after that—nothing remarkable. He couldn't see any connection between himself and something as grand as resonating with the world's laws. Mishia paused briefly. Then she laughed quietly. "I believe that time accumulated without accomplishment can also develop sensitivity to the laws of the world," Mishia said. Kenji's chest filled simultaneously with doubt and strange certainty. The doubt was his usual reflex of "that can't be right," but the certainty was—he couldn't quite articulate it—a sense that maybe it could be. It was completely different from the warmth of last night's lap. That had been the warmth of "being worried over." This was deeper, more fundamental, a strange tremor as if the world itself might be acknowledging Kenji's existence. "However," Mishia said. Her voice's tone shifted slightly. "If you push yourself too hard, you might break," Mishia said. It wasn't a lecture. Not even a warning. It was purely concern in her voice. That was all that rode on those words. Kenji received it. He didn't brace himself strangely. He didn't defend himself. That was the distance between them. For now, that was the distance. Somewhere along the way, his fingers had gently—very gently—squeezed Mishia's hand in return. He'd done it without realizing. Mishia's fingertips were cold, but her palm held a faint warmth. Kenji was slightly surprised by that temperature. (What is this?) It wasn't romantic feelings or anything like that. It was something else entirely. Impossible to put into words. Impossible to know if it needed to be. But it existed, certain and real, in his palm. Then— DONG, DONG, DONG—!!! Three heavy, low bells rang from the fortress's outer wall, shaking the stone walls of the Chamber of Silence. Kenji reflexively stood up. Mishia's hand slipped away. The cold remained. He rushed into the corridor— "Hey, wait, excuse me!!" Lina called out. Lina was in the middle of the corridor, flailing her arms, trying to intercept the stream of running soldiers. But all the soldiers in their clanking armor simply passed right through. Lina kept waving her arms frantically, but no one caught her. She was completely ignored. "Hey, what happened?! Someone! Just a moment!!" Lina called after them. They kept passing, kept passing, kept passing. Lina's light blue hair was left behind, alone. "...No one will tell me," Lina said, looking at Kenji with an expression that was somewhere between tears and laughter. Kenji paused for just a moment, mentally replaying the image of Lina standing alone in the corridor, waving her arms at everyone who passed right by her, then returned to his serious expression. Just then, a messenger soldier who'd rushed in shouted: "The erosion zone in the western forest—approximately thirty kilometers southwest of the fortress—is rapidly expanding! The erosion front is approaching within three kilometers of the fortress's outer wall!!" The corridor fell silent for just a moment. An erosion zone—an area where reality's laws had been altered due to a high concentration of Void—was closing in to three kilometers from the fortress. Three kilometers was bad. Kenji had been here long enough to feel that distance viscerally. Footsteps echoed. A figure approached from the direction of the Dawn Tower, silver hair swaying. Celia Astrid. 175 centimeters tall, silver hair braided back, sharp ice-blu