The night air was calm, the cicadas humming somewhere beyond the fields.

  Matsu sat on the porch, the small seed resting in his palm, its surface catching the soft moonlight. His eyes were distant — as though he could see something far beyond the horizon through it.

  “Slacking off, are we?”

  Hans’ voice startled him.

  “Wah—!” Matsu flinched, juggling the seed in a desperate panic before tumbling to the ground, catching it at the last second. He sighed in relief, clutching it close to his chest.

  Hans raised an eyebrow. “You’re a weird one, you know that?”

  “Sorry,” Matsu muttered, brushing the dirt off. “I lose track of time when I look into this thing.”

  Hans leaned against the porch rail, squinting. “Why don’t you just plant it?”

  Matsu looked down at the seed again, a faint, almost tragic smile forming on his lips.

  “It was my grandpa’s. So… I can’t. Not yet.”

  Hans studied him quietly. That look — that hollow ache sitting just behind the eyes — was something he knew all too well, it was an expression you can’t explain.

  He sat beside Matsu, letting the silence breathe for a moment before speaking.

  “When Lin lost her mother,” Hans began, voice low, “I was a terrible mess. Came home drunk almost every night. I thought I’d never stand again after losing the woman I loved.”

  Matsu looked over, listening.

  “But Lin…” Hans chuckled weakly. “She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just went quiet. Stopped talking to people. Even stopped smiling.”

  His eyes softened, heavy with the weight of memory.

  “One night, I came home late again. I wanted to check on her, maybe… just see her face. But when I peeked in to her room, I saw her sitting there — with an expression so sad that it broke me. It was the same expression you just had.”

  Matsu’s gaze fell to the seed again.

  Hans swallowed hard, forcing a faint laugh. “That look hit me like a damn truck. It made me stop drinking, made me want to be better. I thought if I worked hard enough… maybe I’d make her smile again.”

  He smiled through tears now. “But I never did — not until you came around. That was the first time I saw her truly smile in years. And for that… I’m so grateful.”

  Matsu turned to him, startled — then, slowly, a genuine smile spread across his face.

  It wasn’t his usual polite grin or the fake reassurance he gave Lin. It was a real smile.

  “Thanks, Hans.”

  The two sat there in silence, the sound of the wind through the grass filling the space between them — the porch bathed in quiet, silver moonlight.

  Hans wiped his tears with the back of his hand, sniffling. Then, his voice turned serious.

  “I heard from Lin that you wanted to go to Level 3?”

  Matsu blinked in surprise but nodded. “Yeah… that’s right.”

  Hans’ gaze hardened. “Then follow me inside. I think I can help.”

  Matsu tilted his head, confused, but followed as Hans limped toward the door.

  Outside, around the corner, Knife cracked one eye open. He’d been leaning against the wall, pretending to rest—but every word had reached him.

  He didn’t say a thing. Just listened.

  ***

  Inside, Hans flicked on a small lamp, the golden light spilling across the table. He pulled open a drawer and dragged out a massive rolled-up blueprint, setting it down with a heavy thump.

  With careful hands, he spread it open, the paper crackling.

  Lines, diagrams, and symbols sprawled across the parchment — a massive structure with layered chambers, spiraling corridors, and a single enormous tower running through the middle.

  “What’s this…?” Matsu murmured, eyes wide.

  “This,” Hans said, tapping the paper proudly, “is the inside of the Level 3 Main Gate. The Parapet.”

  “The Parapet…?” Matsu repeated under his breath.

  Knife stepped in through the doorway, arms crossed. “That’s a blueprint. How the hell did you get this?”

  Hans looked up at him, unbothered. “I didn’t ‘get’ it. I made it.”

  Knife’s expression shifted slightly.

  “I worked as an engineer inside the Parapet for most of my life,” Hans said, gesturing toward his bandaged leg. “Before this old injury forced me to retire.”

  Knife frowned. “You worked for the knights then?”

  Hans’ face darkened. “The knights?” He gave a bitter laugh. “No. I worked under them.”

  He gripped the table’s edge, knuckles white. “There’s a difference. Those bastards treated us like dirt. We built their precious machines, repaired their walls, kept their gates running—and still they looked at us like we were less than human.”

  He turned back to Matsu, eyes burning with conviction. “If you really plan on reaching Level 3, then you’ll need to go through the Parapet. And trust me—without this blueprint, you wouldn’t make it five steps inside.”

  Matsu stared down at the detailed sketch, tracing the lines with his finger.

  “So this is our way in.”

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  Hans nodded gravely. “Exactly.”

  Hans ran a calloused hand over the old blueprint spread across the table. The paper was yellowed and creased, but every line was drawn with precision.

  “The Parapet,” he said, tapping the center with a finger. “The only structure connecting Level 2 to Level 3. Think of it as a fortress with one massive elevator that goes straight up for miles.”

  He traced a circle around the center shaft.

  “It takes a full week to reach the next level. Not because it’s slow—but because of the distance. The Levels aren’t stacked neatly. Each one stretches for miles of terrain.”

  Matsu whistled. “That long, huh?”

  Hans nodded. “And the price shows it. Thirty-thousand for an adult ticket, five-thousand for kids.”

  “Lucky for you, Knife,” Matsu said with a smirk.

  Knife twitched. “What’d you say!?”

  Hans ignored them and went on, his voice firm.

  “The elevator itself is one enormous room. Migrants, soldiers, cargo, even prisoners—everyone shares the same lift. Every two weeks, one journey goes up.

  He looked up at them. “And the next departure is tomorrow.”

  Matsu blinked, frozen. “…Good! Then I just need to gather thirty-thousand by tomorrow.”

  “That’s impossible!” Hans barked. “You’d need to rob a bank—maybe two!”

  Matsu sighed, pulling out his wallet and opening it. A single fly fluttered out.

  Knife groaned. “Figures.” Then he added, “Besides, you wouldn’t even be able to enter. You’re a wanted criminal on the run.”

  “WHAT?! Then what am I supposed to do?” Matsu said, scratching his head.

  “Aren’t you also a wanted criminal?” Hans slipped in, glancing at Knife.

  Knife looked at him in confusion—then his face reddened. “I knew that.”

  Hans blinked in surprise. He absolutely had not known that. It was obvious he’d forgotten.

  Hans rubbed his chin. “There is still another way,”

  Matsu and Knife looked at him, intrigued

  “Since no one has ever thought of breaching a Main Gate, communication within the Parapet is notoriously poor,” Hans said. “It can take at least an hour for information to travel through those walls. That’s your window.”

  He leaned forward. “When the gate is closing—slip in with the last crowd before it seals.”

  Matsu scratched his head, steam practically rising from it. “That sounds… complicated.”

  “There’s one flaw to your plan,” Knife said darkly. “Captain Iron.”

  The room went quiet.

  “Yeah…” Hans admitted, beads of sweat forming on his temple. “Iron wouldn’t leave even a crack open. His security’s airtight.”

  Matsu remembered the way Captain Erber had looked at him back then—like he could crush him with a thought. His stomach twisted.

  Hans raised a finger suddenly, eyes lighting up. “But—luck’s on our side. Word is, tomorrow there’s going to be a ceremony. They’re officially promoting Captain Iron to a Tenka-Goken.”

  Matsu blinked. “Tenka-what now?”

  “The Tenka-Goken, also known as the Five Swords under heaven,” Hans explained. “Five Captains—each one governs an entire Level. They’re the highest authority under the King himself. Since the last one from Level 2 stepped down, Iron is the chosen successor.”

  Hans grinned faintly. “So while he is preoccupied with the ceremony…”

  Matsu’s smile returned. “…we’ll be slipping through the cracks.”

  Knife grimaced. He pushed off the wall, stepped into the lamplight, and folded his arms.

  “Do as you please,” he said flatly. “But I won’t follow. I’ll enter through illegal passageways—there are more dangerous routes, but they cost about the same.”

  He turned and started for the door.

  Matsu chuckled. “Are you that afraid of taking risks?”

  The grin dropped from Knife’s face like a curtain. He closed the distance in two steps and shoved his forehead against Matsu’s. Up close, Knife smelled of iron and old fights.

  “You keep on reminding me to kill you,” Knife muttered, breath hot.

  They stood nose to nose, the room holding its breath.

  “Remember — no fighting,” Hans barked, slamming a hand down on the table. The lamp jumped; the blueprint rattled.

  Knife didn’t step back. He spoke slowly, each word deliberate. “Listen here, farmboy. I’m no stranger to risk. I know what misfortune follows some choices. I won’t throw myself at something half-baked—some old man’s schematics and a farmer’s optimism come up with. I choose my fights.”

  Matsu’s anger flared, heat coloring his features.“What did you just say?"

  Knife’s jaw tightened. “I set out to reach my goal no matter what. I won’t let you—or anyone else—decide how I get there.”

  Matsu’s eyes flashed. “And what is that? Continuing to kill innocent people?”

  Knife’s gaze drifted somewhere distant, cold, and still. “The one I’m after is no innocent man.” His voice sounded like a verdict. “I am after the one who built this world’s pathetic system.”

  He turned his head slightly. “I’m going to kill the King.”

  Silence slammed into the room. Hans’s hand froze on the blueprint. The lamp hissed.

  “The King?!” Hans croaked, mouth suddenly dry. “You— that’s— impossible. That— you can’t be serious.”

  Matsu looked on clueless and didn't respond, just stared angrily into Knife's eyes.

  Knife stared back clenching his fist, but then turned around and walked out, going to sleep somewhere, leaving the damp room.

  Hans broke the silence, “Matsu, I do agree with him, this is may be too reckless, even for someone like you, maybe we shou-”

  “I'll do it.”

  Matsu spoke, leaving Hans confused, “Huh?”

  Matsu then gave Hans another expression he couldn't explain, an expression of determination.

  “I said, I'll do it.”

  ***

  Outside the house, moonlight shimmered through the trees, casting pale reflections across the ground. Heavy, ragged breathing broke the silence.

  He dragged himself forward, one leg useless, carving a trail through a widening pool of blood beneath him. In his trembling hand, a compass quivered—its needle fixed, unwavering, pointing toward the house.

  A smile crept across his bloodied face. Twisted. Triumphant.

  “Found you…”

  Asio had found them. Truly found them.

  His body was in ruins—torn, broken, blood spilling from countless wounds—but the mission was complete. And the reward… oh, the reward would be glorious.

  With a shaking hand, he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled weakly.

  From the darkness, an owl descended, silent as death, a small messenger box strapped to its leg. Asio fumbled it open and tore out a slip of paper. he began to write from the blood on his finger—each letter smeared and trembling.

  “I will become a lieutenant. And after that… a captain,” he said.

  A hoarse laugh escaped his throat.

  “Me… Asio Stryx,” he whispered, voice cracking, “will be known throughout the heavens…”

  He tucked the message into the box and fastened it shut. The owl took flight, disappearing into the night.

  Asio’s strength finally gave out.

  His body collapsed onto the cold earth, the compass slipping from his hand. The smile remained on his face as his breath stilled.

  And beneath the moonlit trees, Asio Stryx took his final breath.