At dusk, the river surface burned a slow, molten orange. From the factory chimney across the water, a thin white plume rose and dissolved into the breeze. Misaki watched it idly. The iron railing held the last warmth of the sun, passing it gently into her palms. 　The river had a smell — salt and mud and something faintly sweet, a scent that belonged to this city alone. 　Three years since she'd come here. 　She exhaled slowly. The breath vanished into the amber air. The deeper into the abandoned mine shaft's tunnels one descended, the heavier the air became. 　As Kafka moved through the stone corridor, she felt it continuously. Not so much weight as pressure. From the stone beneath her feet, from the walls, from the ceiling—something seemed to seep outward, dissolving into the very fabric of her skin. 　The pulse of the Eternal Freeze's core. 　The energy released from Jarilo-6's star nucleus—the heart of the star itself—traveled through the bedrock and reached this place. It was far more concentrated than what she'd sensed at the waste disposal facility. It grew stronger with each step downward. That much was certain. 　Kafka turned her awareness inward, toward her chest. 　（...I'm being interfered with.） 　The Chaos Flame—her power that touched the mind directly—felt as though something was pushing back against it. The night before, after subduing four patrol soldiers, a headache had come. That was recoil. But what she felt now was slightly different. Even without activating her ability, the outline of her power felt blurred. Like trying to light a flame underwater—that same uncertain quality. 　If she activated it at this depth, the recoil wouldn't be merely doubled. 　Kafka quietly buried that judgment deep within her mind and turned forward without speaking. 　Behind her, Silverwolf's footsteps continued. Regular, efficient. One hand held a terminal, scanning the corridor walls as she advanced. Her silver ponytail caught the faint light from the low wall fixtures, glimmering softly. Her left eye silver, her right eye violet—those heterochromatic eyes were clearly visible even in the darkness. 　"[gentle]The deeper we go, the more electromagnetic noise increases," said quietly, eyes on the terminal screen. "Communications will become somewhat unstable." 　"[cold]It doesn't matter," replied. 　Beyond where the corridor turned, the path was blocked. 　The ceiling had collapsed. Rock and stone piled upon each other, sealing the main passage. An old collapse—rust bloomed on the fractured surfaces, evidence of years passing. Kafka glanced at the wall once and searched for a detour. A narrow passage opened to the left. Narrower than the main path, the ceiling lower too. Barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. 　"[serious]This way," said. 　The moment she stepped forward, footsteps came from ahead. 　Two sets. Heavy. The sound of armor. 　Kafka stopped immediately. She confirmed the direction of the approaching footsteps—straight ahead. Distance, perhaps fifteen meters. No room to hide against the walls. The passage was too narrow. 　Two figures rounded the corner: underground security officers of the Architects. Large men in heavy thermal armor, weapons like batons in their hands. One looked startled at the sight of Kafka. 　"—Who are you two?!" 　Kafka formed a smile. Her usual, composed smile. 　Then she ran. 　Before the first officer could raise his weapon, Kafka kicked off the wall with her right foot. Her body launched diagonally upward. Grazing the ceiling. As she fell, her left heel drove into the officer's jaw. A dry impact sound. The officer's body crumpled backward. 　The other reacted, reaching out his arm. Kafka grabbed it with both hands. Rather than pulling, she added her weight smoothly, changing direction. Centrifugal force spun her body, and the officer was slammed against the stone floor. A low thud echoed through the passage. 　Both men lay motionless. 　Less than five seconds had passed. 　Kafka steadied her breathing and checked the fallen officers. They were conscious. Not in any condition to get up, but not dead. 　Behind her, Silverwolf stood quietly. 　The girl said nothing. She simply watched Kafka. Her eyes moved as if confirming something—Kafka's hands, her movements, and the officers' eyes. 　That Kafka had never once looked directly into the officers' eyes. 　The two men were dragged to the wall and restrained with equipment straps. Efficiently, silently. When that was done, Silverwolf slowly opened her mouth. 　"[gentle]Sister," 　"What," 　"...You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?" 　Kafka didn't turn around. She checked the restraint knots, then paused for a beat. 　That beat was slightly longer than it should have been. 　"[cold]I'm fine," 　There was a faint hesitation before the smile appeared. Silverwolf saw it. She said nothing, but she saw it. 　They continued deeper into the detour. The stone beneath their feet grew older. The walls were constructed with greater care than the newer sections—ancient decorative inscriptions resembling old language monuments were carved along the passage edges. 　As they walked, Kafka began to speak, almost to herself. 　"At Naburis Starport—there were frequent blackouts," 　Silverwolf fell silent for a moment. Then she answered quietly, "Yes." 　"Since there's no star nucleus there, all power depends on machinery. Machines break. Blackouts were everyday occurrences. In the middle of the night, without warning, entire city blocks would go completely dark," 　Kafka's voice was low and flat. Not so much speaking as remembering. 　"On one of those nights, someone told me—the stars belong to no one. The stars are free," 　One step. Then another. Footsteps were absorbed into the stone walls. 　"I've been searching for that person ever since. Though I don't remember their face clearly anymore," 　Silverwolf glanced at Kafka's profile for just a second. 　Something shifted in her expression—a subtle tremor that could have been recognition or reluctance to know. It vanished in that single second, and the girl turned forward again. 　"...About that person, if you could tell me a little more—" Silverwolf began, then stopped. 　She didn't continue. 　A brief silence fell between them. Not heavy. Simply present. Only footsteps remained, and the passage stretched ahead. ─────────────────────── 　Where the passage opened wider, the two came to a halt. 　A massive wall of ice stood before them. 　More than ten meters thick, perhaps. Its transparency was high—they could see through it. And beyond, something was glowing. A pale blue light, pulsing with regularity, slowly. Once per second. Like a vast living thing breathing gently— 　The Eternal Freeze's core. 　Jarilo-6's star nucleus was there. 　Kafka didn't move. 　Until now, she had only sensed it. Felt the pulse, received it as pressure, confirmed its existence in her mind. But actually seeing it—this was the first time. 　Each time the pale blue light pulsed, the entire ice wall glowed faintly. Light sealed within the wall. Beyond that light lay this star's "heart." One million two hundred thousand people on Jarilo-6 lived alongside it, unaware, their emotions leveled, for seven hundred years. 　The smile vanished from Kafka's face. 　Not anger. Not fear. Something she couldn't quite name moved within her chest. She had thought she would direct hatred toward that light. But seeing it actually, it wasn't like that. She didn't understand what it was herself. Only that she couldn't look away. 　"[gentle]...It's beautiful, isn't it," said quietly. Not an observation, but a confirmation. 　"[cold]Yes," answered briefly. 　That was the moment. 　Footsteps sounded. 　From within the facility—beyond the ice wall, from the passage beyond, multiple footsteps approached. Uniform, fast. More than one person. Two, three, more than that— 　And from behind as well. From the direction they'd come, another set of footsteps began to echo. 　A complete pincer movement. 　Kafka calculated the situation in an instant. The approaching force from ahead would be an Architect unit. They'd gotten ahead of them. The rear was another squad moving to cut off their escape. In this passage width, there was no room to engage both simultaneously. And—in her current state, if she activated the Chaos Flame, she didn't know what would happen. 　"[serious]Fall back," 　She pushed Silverwolf's shoulder toward the wall behind them. Her voice was low and clear. "Wait at the rendezvous point." 　"[surprised]Sister, you—" 　There was no time to answer. Kafka was already running forward. 　Toward the facility passage. She would be the decoy. That was her decision. 　The inscription record data Silverwolf carried and the electronic jamming device couldn't be lost here. That was the reason for her judgment. A rational judgment. That was all—Kafka chose to think so. Whether the desire to keep Silverwolf away from danger was part of that judgment, she chose not to consider. 　Light appeared from the forward passage. Terminal lights, and the charging sound of weapon energy systems. 　"[serious]Stop!" 　Kafka didn't stop. 　A restraint round—a weapon that fired adhesive energy projectiles—flew toward her. It hit the wall, scattering orange light. She pivoted left, grazing the next round with her shoulder. 　Hot. 　Her thermal coat's shoulder singed. A burning pain shot through her skin. She didn't fall. She recovered her stance and kept running. Her left shoulder throbbed. But it moved. That was enough. 　The smile didn't break—though maintaining it required slightly more effort than usual. Kafka was aware it was strained. 　"[angry]Why can you still smile?! You're trying to kill the star!" 　The pursuing voice echoed through the passage. A man's voice, shouting as he chased. 　Kafka stopped. 　Just for a moment. She turned around. 　The smile vanished. 　"[serious]I'm not killing it," 　Her voice was quiet. No composure, no performance—just the words as they came. "I'm freeing it." 　The Architect squad leader stopped for a moment. 　Something mixed in his expression—anger, confusion, and something that couldn't be put into words. Kafka's response wasn't what he'd expected. He'd thought she'd either snap back with "I am," or simply flee in silence. But this woman, with a serious face, quietly said "I'm freeing it." 　In that instant— 　BOOM. 　A roar that shook the entire facility, and all the lights went out. 　Complete darkness. 　The Architects' terminals all emitted error sounds at once. An electromagnetic pulse—a time-delayed EMP that Silverwolf had planted beforehand detonated, and the facility's electronic systems failed across the board. Weapon targeting systems, communications, lights—everything went dark. 　"[angry]Restore the lights! Don't let her escape!" 　The shout dissolved into the darkness. The sound of his men moving, hands groping along walls. 　Kafka placed her hand against the wall. She confirmed the pain in her left shoulder. It moved. Using the wall's texture as a guide, she advanced through the passage. Right, then right again, around a corner. Moving without sound, but never stopping. In darkness, those who hide their presence win. 　（Silverwolf, did you make it out?） 　There was no way to confirm. Now she could only trust. That girl didn't hesitate in moments like this. Her judgment was fast. She would be at the rendezvous point already— 　The Architect squad leader stood motionless in the darkness. 　Even as he ordered his men to restore the lights, the words kept catching in his mind. 　—I'm not killing it. I'm freeing it. 　Not the words of someone trying to destroy the star, he'd thought. But he was wrong. That woman was serious. The smile had vanished; that expression wasn't an act. Then what did "freeing" mean? What about this star, and where to— 　The lights began to flicker back on slowly. The passage filled with white light.