Night had not yet ended. The air in the solitary cell was cold, and a chill crawling up from the stone floor pierced through the restraint cuffs on her wrists, reaching all the way to the bone. Kafka leaned her back against the wall, breathing quietly. Beneath the visor, her eyelids were swollen. The traces of tears shed in a place no one could see still lingered on her skin. Silverwolf's voice had reached her through that ventilation shaft. It was only a single word, but it had been enough. ——She was alive. Holding only that fact at the center of her chest, Kafka waited for dawn. The sound of footsteps in the corridor changed just before daybreak. Not the usual guards. Heavy. Yet unhurried. Each step pressed against the floor with intention. That sound carried authority——the quiet pressure that only those who had spent their lives standing on the side that issued commands could possess. Kafka strained to listen. Two sets of escort footsteps followed behind. But now, it was the single figure at the front who dominated the corridor. The lock disengaged. The door opened. The visor was removed from Kafka's face. Unaccustomed light stabbed at her eyelids. She blinked. Her vision returned. Standing before her was a woman with deep crimson semi-long hair tied back. She was tall——a full head taller than Kafka. Cold golden eyes looked straight down at her, all emotion stripped away. A thin scar on her left cheek that resembled frost crystals. The shoulders draped in the formal vestments of a Stellaron Guardian bore the emblem of Jarilo-VI stitched into the fabric. Bronya Koczek. Jarilo-VI's supreme military commander. This star's Stellaron Guardian. She had removed the visor with her own hands——knowing that sight could be exchanged. Understanding the danger of Chaos Flame, yet still choosing to meet her gaze. That meaning reached Kafka before any words could. (This person came to talk in earnest.) "[cold]I have a fact to tell you," Bronya's voice was low and dry. Not a voice that carried emotion, but one that bore the weight of fact itself. "[cold]I have the authority to execute you immediately. Stellaron Protection Treaty, Article Seven——anyone who attempts to attack a Stellaron is subject to summary execution. The procedure takes less than a minute," Kafka said nothing. She kept her eyes on the other woman's. She was searching for what lay behind those golden irises. After a brief pause, Bronya continued. "[serious]The Eternal Freeze's core is running wild," Something moved within Kafka at those words. "[serious]An abnormal fluctuation for the first time in seven hundred years. Our technicians have been working to contain it for three days, but they cannot control it. If left unchecked, the Stellaron's energy runaway will spread across all of Belobog. From upper levels to lower——one million two hundred thousand people will freeze to death within this star," Silence fell. "[cold]Use your ability to stabilize it. If you can do that, you may leave this star alive. This is the deal," Kafka did not look away. The Stellaron Guardian had come here herself, removed the visor herself, and was doing something equivalent to lowering her head without actually doing so——Kafka understood precisely what that weight meant. What this meant for this woman. The absolute enforcer of the Stellaron Protection Treaty was proposing a deal to a Stellaron Hunter. Kafka remained silent for a moment. Then she opened her mouth. "[cold]There is one condition," Bronya's jaw tightened slightly. "[cold]Move all the lower-level residents to the upper-level evacuation facilities. Right now," For a while, no one moved. Bronya's eyes narrowed. The clenching of her teeth was visible in the tightness of her jaw line. Kafka understood what this woman was feeling now——humiliation. A person who had guarded the order of the Stellaron, who had valued the pride of a Stellaron Guardian above her own life, was now being forced to accept conditions from someone she despised. Bronya herself understood that contradiction better than anyone. And yet. "[serious]……I will issue the order," It was a short statement. As her gaze turned to the escort standing behind her, the escort immediately left the corridor. Footsteps receded. The order was being executed. The people from the lower levels——those who had warmed themselves by a single outdated heat exchanger——were now beginning to move upward. Kafka rose quietly to her feet. The moment the restraints were removed, blood rushed back into her numb wrists. ──── When she emerged into the facility's emergency passage, a figure appeared from around the corner. Silver-white ponytail caught the faint light of the corridor, gleaming. Her clothes were stained with dirt and machine oil. Scrapes marked her face in several places. Odd eyes——silver on the left, violet on the right——looked straight at Kafka. The wolf pattern around her eyes seemed more vivid than usual. It was Silverwolf. Kafka took a step closer. She said nothing. Silverwolf said nothing either. Kafka placed her hand on the girl's head. The silver-white hair settled between her fingers. That hand trembled slightly. Silverwolf looked up, confirming Kafka's eyes. The fact that she had been crying beneath the visor could no longer be hidden now. Swollen eyelids. Dried tear marks. The girl said nothing. She did not call her "sister." She simply stood there. Quietly, beside her. That was enough. ──── When the three of them began walking through the underground passage, the air grew heavy. Klint Valov, walking behind Kafka, had been silent the entire time. His short purple hair with cyan streaks was tilted slightly forward. Burning red eyes were fixed on Kafka's back. The metal piercing in his right ear caught the light from the passage wall, glinting faintly. It was the gait of a sixteen-year-old boy. Earnest, straight, moving his feet while pushing something down inside. "[serious]Can I ask something," Kafka did not turn around. "[serious]After you stabilize the Stellaron, you're going to another star again, right. To destroy the next Stellaron. Even if you stop one this time, your goal doesn't change. That's how it is, isn't it," "[cold]Maybe," She answered while facing forward. Silverwolf continued walking in silence. "[cold]But let me ask you——does the Stellaron you're protecting extend the lifespan of the elderly in the lower levels? Does it properly warm the rooms of the people working in the engine district?" Klint's footsteps faltered for a moment. He quickly steadied himself. "[serious]……That's a separate issue," "[cold]Is it? It looks like the same issue to me," Silence continued for a while. Cold air seeped from the passage walls. Somewhere, water dripped. "[angry]But if you destroy it, more people will die! If the Stellaron disappears, the environment will collapse. You call it liberation, but that's no different from destruction!" Kafka stopped walking. She turned around. There was no smile. "[serious]I don't think destruction is the only answer anymore," At those words, Klint fell silent. "[serious]But I don't think doing nothing is right either. ——That's all I know for now," Klint had no response. His face showed he was searching for words to counter with. But nothing came. Perhaps Kafka's words had touched something within him. Kafka turned forward and began walking again. Klint followed behind her once more. ──── When they reached the entrance to the Stellaron facility, everyone stopped. From beyond the iron door, pale blue light pulsed and leaked through. That light was not regular. It was erratic. Swelling, contracting, swelling again. Like the breathing of a creature whose breath had grown ragged. The floor vibrated faintly. If you touched the wall, the tremor would transmit to your fingertips. The air was charged with electricity. The fine hairs on her cheeks stood on end——a strange sensation. The Eternal Freeze's core——the energy crystal that had protected this star for seven hundred years at Jarilo-VI's center——had lost control. Kafka stood before the door. She opened her eyes. Chaos Flame normally required visual contact. To capture the target with sight, to interfere directly with the spirit——that was the standard application. But now, facing the unseen Stellaron beyond the door, Kafka needed to expand her ability to its maximum. To interfere with the wave itself. To grasp the energy's disturbance directly through the door. She had never used her power in such a way. But there was no choice. Purple-black light ignited in Kafka's eyes. The air warped. The floor's vibration stilled for just a moment. Kafka's spirit touched the wave beyond the door——it was cold. Not merely cold, but turbulent. Seven hundred years of something was trying to overflow in this very instant. It felt like pressing it down with both hands. For the first few seconds, they were in equilibrium. But the Eternal Freeze's core's energy exceeded all expectations. Pain shot through her head. Not a sharp pain, but a crushing, heavy one. The area beneath her nose grew warm. A thin line of red touched the corner of her lip. A nosebleed. Her knees buckled slightly. She held her ground. Images flashed at the edge of her vision——the night of Naburis Starport. A blacked-out district. A pitch-dark alley. The smell of metal. The sky she had seen as a child suddenly became vivid. Next——silver-white hair swaying. The scene of when she first met Silverwolf. Its outline began to dissolve. Memories were being erased. (If I close them, it ends.) Kafka did not close her eyes. If she did, the interference with the wave would break. The Stellaron's runaway would resume. These one million two hundred thousand people would freeze. So she would not close them. That was all. Silverwolf moved forward. Kafka's left hand rose. A gesture of restraint. She had not fallen. She was still standing. Silverwolf's feet stopped. Something rare appeared in her eyes——something wordless wavered in the depths of those quiet odd eyes. Kafka's body tilted to the right. Someone moved. It was Klint. Without thinking, he had stepped forward. Both his arms supported Kafka's shoulders and back. The heat of his palms transmitted through her winter coat. The unhesitating strength of a sixteen-year-old boy. Klint realized, a beat later, what he was doing. Supporting the person he had cornered. The person he had restrained as an enemy. Now holding her up with his own arms. Realizing that contradiction, he tried to pull his hands away. ——He could not. If Kafka fell now, someone would die. That was all. That alone remained unchanged, no matter how differently they thought. Klint did not pull his hands away. In Kafka's eyes, the purple-black light continued to flicker. The struggle with the wave continued. How long her memories would hold, she did not know. She had to complete this interference before she forgot who she was. But——the warmth she felt against her back remained clear. Silverwolf stood two steps ahead, watching Kafka. She said nothing. She simply watched. With those quiet eyes, without leaving. The pale blue light pulsed violently beyond the door.