The candle flame trembled, thin and faint. Leaning against the wall, Leon Crawford stared intently at his own palm. The faint indigo light lingering at his fingertips still hadn't completely faded since last night's rampage. (What is this power?) He couldn't shake the visions he'd seen in that illusion the night before. People bound in chains. Indigo eyes. Silent screams crying out for help. And above all, the image of Refia standing in the darkness, sword in hand. She knows something. And yet, she says nothing. A tight, crushing pressure gripped his chest. During the day, she had smiled at him as always. She brought freshly baked bread and herbal tea, pressed her hand to his forehead to check for fever, and gently said, "Take care of yourself." But the light dwelling deep within those violet eyes—he couldn't believe it was the same as it had been until yesterday. (I want to trust her. But I'm afraid.) Leon rose to his feet. He blew out the flickering candle with a soft breath. Tonight, he had to confirm everything. All of it. --- —Late night. The stone corridor leading to the underground levels of the Palais d'Étoile's north wing lay sunken in darkness. Leon's footsteps echoed with a steady click, click, click as he walked along the wall. In his hand, he carried only a small phosphorescent stone, its faint bluish-white glow the sole light illuminating his path. The cold air bit into his skin. Before long, he stood before the sealed stone wall he had identified the previous night. Ancient patterns carved across its entire surface—geometric designs modeled after the seven planets—drifted dimly out of the darkness. Only the outermost pattern, that of Neptune, bled with a faint indigo hue. "[whispers]...Here it is." He took a deep breath. Leon pressed his trembling fingertips against the center of the wall. In that instant, indigo light seeped from his knuckles, resonating with the patterns on the stone surface. The stone rippled as if undulating, and with a heavy grinding sound, a section of the wall collapsed inward. What appeared was a dark staircase. A damp wind blew up from below. The smell of mold and old paper. And something deeper—something like the scent of blood. Leon took a step forward. The stairs were steep, the stone steps slick as if wet. He descended one step, then another. The bluish-white light of the phosphorescent stone swayed across the narrow walls like a crawling thing. He was approaching the third landing when it happened. —Footsteps. Leon's body went rigid. Heavy footsteps accompanied by torchlight approached from the floor above. Two of them. Guards. Who would pass through here at this hour? His heart pounded so violently it felt ready to burst deep within his ears. (If they find me, it's over.) Anyone approaching the forbidden archives without authorization faces execution—the article flashed through his mind. On impulse, Leon slipped his body into a recess in the wall. He pressed his back against the cold stone and covered his mouth with both hands. He killed his breath. The torchlight passed right before his eyes. "[cold]...Did you hear something?" "[serious]Must be your imagination. Who would come here at this hour?" "[serious]I'll check, just in case." The footsteps drew closer. Leon closed his eyes. His entire body trembled. In this darkness, only his own heartbeat sounded terribly loud. (Stop. Don't come any closer.) —Then. A soft drip of water echoed from somewhere far away. "[surprised]...The cistern?" "[cold]Sound always carries from the underground waterways. Let's head back." The footsteps receded. Dozens of seconds that felt like an eternity passed before the torchlight vanished completely and only darkness returned. Leon finally exhaled. Cold sweat ran down his back, and his knees trembled uncontrollably. (Not yet. I can still go on.) He pushed himself off the wall and descended the stairs even deeper. At last, a heavy iron door appeared before him. The forbidden archives. The door was sealed with the golden stamp of the Celestia Conclave in beeswax. Beneath it, a warning was carved: *"He who opens this door without the Conclave's permission shall atone with his life."* Leon stopped for a moment. (After coming this far, can I really turn back?) But what surfaced in his mind were the visions from last night. People bound in chains. Indigo eyes. Silent screams crying out for help. And the question that continued to burn deep in his chest—was his power truly limited to illusions? "[whispers]...I want to believe." That his power wasn't worthless. Leon pressed his fingertip against the keyhole. Indigo light flowed in, and with a small click, the lock disengaged. He peeled away the beeswax seal with his fingers. He pushed the door open. --- The forbidden archives were a stone chamber filled with frigid air and the stench of mold. Every shelf was packed tight with handwritten manuscripts and leather-bound ancient tomes. Centuries of dust weighed down the very air itself. Leon raised his phosphorescent stone and walked, illuminating the titles on the spines one by one. *Preliminary Proceedings of the Star-Tier System*, *Aqua-Star Lineage Registry of Nobility*, *Records of the Star Manifestation Rite (Volume 3)*—all of them crucial documents forming the very foundation of the kingdom. But what he sought lay deeper still. Eventually, at the very back shelf, Leon's hand stopped. *The Purge of the Star-Calamity—Original Records. Designated for Permanent Sealing by the Conclave.* A single volume bound in blackened leather. When he picked it up, it was heavy. Leon knelt on the spot and opened the first page with trembling hands. —What was recorded there was the truth of four hundred years ago. The power of Neptune was not illusion and deception. It was the power to touch the wounds and memories of others' hearts and reflect the truth. The power to manifest the past scenes of those touched as visions, to make visible chains that could not be seen. (The power—of truth.) Leon's breathing grew shallow. And then, the records of House Lumina, who possessed that power. They had learned that the very basis of the Star-Tier System was a lie fabricated by the kingdom, and they had tried to expose it publicly. As a result— His hand stopped turning the pages. *"Seventeen members of House Lumina executed as rebels."* *"Note: The main family members made no accusations contrary to the teachings of the stars. However, preemptive elimination to prevent the spread of knowledge was deemed absolutely necessary."* *"All records pertaining to this matter are to be permanently sealed. Enhanced surveillance of those bearing the power of Neptune shall henceforth be continued in perpetuity."* —Preemptive elimination. Leon's vision warped and distorted. They weren't killed because they tried to expose the truth. They were killed because they knew the truth. Even those who had made no accusations yet. Even the children. Even the elderly. Simply because they were born with the power of Neptune. All seventeen of them. (Something like this—) No voice came out. (My power... wasn't a curse.) (The kingdom was just afraid.) (Afraid that this power would expose their lies.) Tears overflowed endlessly. They dripped onto the aged pages, staining them. Leon bit his lip. The taste of iron seeped through the gaps in his teeth. For so many years, he had cursed this power. He had been made to believe it was useless, that it was unsettling, that his very existence was a blemish. But all of that had been a lie planted by the kingdom. House Lumina was killed because they knew the truth. And he, too, possessed that same power. —Thud, thud, thud. Heavy footsteps began to echo from above. The guards had started their patrol again. (I have to hurry.) Leon burned the crucial pages into his memory and returned the manuscript to the shelf. He rose on trembling legs and hurried back the way he had come. When he returned to the surface, his entire body was covered in cold sweat and faint remnants of indigo light, his breathing ragged and wild. But his mind was unnervingly clear. He had certainty. There was someone he had to tell this truth to before anyone else. —Refia. She alone would truly listen to his words. He believed that. And he felt that only by telling her would this truth become a real power. Leon ran through the dark corridors from the north wing to the servants' quarters. Click, click, click. Before the door to Refia's private room, without even catching his breath, he knocked with his knuckles. A moment of silence. Then, with a creak, the door opened. Refia stood there, wearing only a white nightgown with a thin overgarment draped over her shoulders. Her long silver hair was undone, falling softly over her shoulders. Leon had never seen her like this—she who was always so meticulously put together. Her violet eyes widened in surprise. "[surprised]Leon... my lord...?" Her voice trembled. A shaken tone he could never have imagined from her usual composed self. "[urgent]Can I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, Leon slipped his body inside. The room was sparse. A small bed, a wooden desk, a long coat propped against the wall. Moonlight streamed through the window, faintly illuminating her silver hair and white nightgown. Refia stepped back. Her right hand moved slightly near her waist. The slender sword for assassination was not in its usual place. She was unarmed right now. His own expression stiffened for a moment as he realized that fact. "[whispers]...What is the matter? At this hour." Her usual soft and polite tone. But Leon couldn't sense the faint wariness lurking beneath it. All that pierced his heart was the tremor in her voice. "[serious]Refia, I need you to listen." Leon took a step closer to her. Then, he wrapped both hands around hers, as if enveloping them. Her fingers were cool and slender. Her hand twitched, trembling. "[serious]I went there. To the forbidden archives." For an instant, all expression vanished from Refia's violet eyes. Expressionless—no, that wasn't it. It was the face of someone upon whom too many emotions had crashed at once, leaving her unsure which one to show. "[whispers]...The forbidden archives." "[serious]And there, I found it." Leon's voice shook with emotion. "[serious]My power wasn't just illusions. The power of Neptune is—the power of truth. The power to touch the wounds and memories of others' hearts and reflect what is real." Refia's hand stiffened within Leon's grasp. "[crying]Four hundred years ago, there was a family—House Lumina—who learned this. A family who tried to expose the kingdom's lies. But they—all seventeen of them were killed. The children, the elderly, all of them. Before they could even speak the truth, just for knowing it, they were slaughtered." Tears spilled from Leon's eyes. They fell, one by one, onto the back of Refia's hand that he held so tightly. "[crying]I... always thought my power was a curse. That it was useless, just the power of a liar. But I was wrong. The kingdom was afraid. Afraid that this power would expose the truth. So they drilled lies into us, and all this time—" His voice caught. Leon gripped her hand tighter. "[crying]Refia, I—I want to end this lie. Together with you." He raised his tear-streaked face and looked straight into her violet eyes. "[whispers]You're the only one who truly listens to my words. Who believes in me. So—" In that moment. He saw something break within Refia's eyes. She did not pull her hand away from his. It was the opposite. Her fingers gently intertwined with Leon's. An act that she, as an assassin, should never have committed. Holding the hand of her target in return—it was absolutely unforgivable. And yet—she couldn't help it. Her fingers were unbelievably warm. "[whispers]...Why, my lord?" Refia's voice trembled faintly. "[sad]Why...