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  [54]

  WHAT THE WEAPON WANTS

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  The room grew colder still.

  The Queen's blue eyes flickered to the frosted windows, then back to G6's unwavering grey gaze. So this is Cryomancy, she thought. Elegant. Beautiful.

  She is getting out of control.

  No—she was never under my control to begin with.

  "I am not trying to trick you, Reise." The Queen's voice remained steady despite the ice knives circling her throat like patient wolves. "I am merely saying—if you simply go and kill every name on that list, you'll create a political mess with no structure to contain it."

  G6 said nothing. Only watched.

  "I know you despise politics." The Queen rose slowly, deliberately, and walked toward the frosted window. Each step carried her closer to the blades, yet she showed no fear. "But no one in this kingdom truly understands me. Not even the King. He believes iron ruling is never the answer." Her eyes grew grim, reflecting the storm gathering outside. "I need shadows. A literal darkness governing. Those who hunt only the corrupt. A proper gardener for this rotted garden."

  "How is that my problem?"

  The Queen turned, and despite the cold steel orbiting her throat, she smiled. "Because you're craving those thorns in this garden."

  She took a breath—visible in the frozen air.

  "I'm offering you a proper, official deal. Not as my subordinate. As my partner. Business partners, if you will." Her voice dropped, became something ancient and knowing. "You rule the underworld. I rule the surface. You clean up after me, and I clean up after you."

  The three men in the room exchanged glances. They understood immediately what this meant.

  A conspiracy between a Queen and a monster.

  "The King is a good ruler," the Queen continued, "but a good ruler is not always the answer in this black and white world."

  "You speak as if you know anything beyond your pampered noble etiquette," G6 said, the words carrying neither venom nor interest—just flat observation.

  The Queen scoffed. "Right? Until the dreams started. When I was first engaged to His Majesty." Her gaze grew distant. "I dreamed of vulture nobles laughing while a sword pierced the King's chest as he sat on his throne. That's when I decided—I have to snap the rotten branches from my beautiful tree."

  "Make me." G6's voice was ice. "What can you give me beyond those names? I can find people anywhere."

  "What else do you want? Besides the names. Besides the engagement annulment."

  Silence.

  G6's breath caught.

  What do I want?

  For the first time in longer than she could remember, she had no answer.

  She searched. Dug deep. Past the walls, past the conditioning, past the endless litany of mission objectives and target priorities.

  Nothing came.

  Only fragments.

  Her hands, too small for the knife they held. Blood—not hers—slick on her fingers.

  A suffocating basement. The smell of iron and fear.

  Her father's cold eyes. His colder voice: "You are the weapon. Nothing more."

  Standing before the organization, being praised. Being feared. Being G6—not a name, a designation. A code.

  The satisfaction of a completed mission. A name crossed off. A life ended.

  A world where there were no gowns. No tea parties. No pretentious smiles hiding daggers.

  A world where she was a shadow.

  Known by few.

  Feared by many.

  Alive.

  "I want my identity back."

  The words escaped before she could stop them. They sounded strange in her own ears—foreign, vulnerable, wrong.

  The four people in the room frowned in confusion.

  She looked up at the Queen, and for a moment—just a moment—there was something almost human in those grey eyes.

  "I just want my identity back."

  "Whatever do you mean, Reise?"

  G6 didn't answer directly. Instead: "I agree to your deal. One condition."

  The Queen's eyes flickered with something—hope? caution? both?—"Name it."

  "Form a Pact of Promise with me."

  The Queen nodded slowly. "In exchange for what?"

  G6 tilted her head. Outside, as if the heavens themselves were listening, thunder cracked—a sound so violent it shook the windows. Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating her face in stark white light.

  Those grey eyes. Ancient. Empty. Hungry.

  "Let me build my own world here."

  The words fell like stones into still water.

  "The dark governance you want. Let me build it. Let me be it."

  The Queen studied her for a long, terrible moment. Outside, rain began to fall—heavy, desperate, as if the sky itself was weeping.

  "Very well." The Queen's voice was quiet, but absolute. "Tomorrow. We go to the Temple."

  The ice knives dissolved into mist. The frost retreated from the windows. The room warmed.

  But no one moved.

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  Rain hammered the glass. Thunder rolled across the sky like drums of war. Lightning illuminated the two women standing before each other—one in silk and jewels, one in bloodstained crimson and gold.

  Two worlds, about to collide.

  And in that moment, watching them, something became painfully clear to everyone in the room:

  Whatever could it be… Reise—Akira—no, G6.

  G6 could never walk away.

  She could never be one of them. Could never settle into gowns and teas and polite conversation. Could never be Reise Worthon, noble daughter, future princess.

  Because even here—in a different world, a different body, a different name—she was still G6.

  Still the Reaper.

  Still the weapon her father forged.

  Her soul had been carved into that shape so long ago, so deeply, that no amount of distance, no change of circumstance, could ever reshape it.

  She would never be normal.

  She would never be free.

  She would only ever be what she was made to be.

  And somewhere in the deepest part of her—the part that still remembered being Akira, being small, being human—that truth settled like frost on a grave.

  Cold.

  Permanent.

  Alone.

  「OUTSIDE THE QUEEN'S STUDY」

  A black butterfly emerged from the shadows beneath the window, its wings drinking the heavy rain as if the water were air. It fluttered once—twice—then caught a current invisible to mortal eyes and soared into the storm.

  It flew.

  Past the palace walls. Through the sleeping city. Over fields and forests drenched in midnight rain.

  It flew until it reached the back garden of House Worthon.

  There, untouched by the downpour, stood the Messenger of the All-Seers—ancient stone carved in the shape of something that had never been human. Rain slid around it, deflected by nothing at all, as if the water itself refused to touch its surface.

  The butterfly landed on its outstretched hand.

  The statue hummed.

  A sound not heard but felt—a vibration in the bones, a whisper in the blood. Deep. Ancient. Awake.

  "I see..." The voice came from nowhere and everywhere, stone lips never moving. "So our dear divine child is finally back on track."

  A pause. The rain fell harder.

  "Seems like..." The hum deepened, almost playful. Almost hungry. "There will be bloodshed before ours."

  The black butterfly circled the statue once—a slow, deliberate dance—then dissolved into smoke that the wind snatched away.

  Silence.

  Only the rain remained.

  And the statue, watching.

  Always watching.

  「KING'S ROOM — NEXT MORNING」

  The King looked up from his breakfast as the doors opened.

  His wife entered first—composed, regal, every inch the monarch. But behind her, trailing like a shadow wearing silk, came Reise Worthon. The young woman's grey eyes were clear, her rose-gold hair perfectly arranged, her gown immaculate.

  If she had spent the night torturing men in mountain basements, it didn't show.

  What a terrifying creature, the Queen thought, not for the first time.

  "Mother? Lady Reise?" Prince Amir rose from his seat, confusion flickering across his features. "What brings you both here so early?"

  The Queen merely smiled at him. She walked directly to the King and offered a shallow bow—the bow of an equal, not a subject.

  G6's eyes swept over the scene in a three-second audit. The King, warm and open at his breakfast. Prince Amir, curious and polite. The trappings of a family that actually functioned. A father who looked at his children like they were treasures, not tools.

  She bowed her head. Not with a smile. She couldn't manage that.

  "My husband." The Queen's voice was honey and steel. "I have a request."

  The King's brow furrowed. "Speak."

  "I wish to travel to the Grain Town Temple. To pay respects to God Eldrin and seek his blessing for the upcoming official engagement announcement."

  The King glanced between his wife and his son's betrothed. The girl stood perfectly still, her face offering nothing.

  "A worthy undertaking," the King said slowly. "But why Grain Town? If it is just God Eldrin, we have our own temple here in the Capital."

  "The Grain Town Temple holds a relic of Eldrin's first blessing," the Queen interrupted smoothly. "And the Archbishop's blessing carries great weight. For an announcement of this importance, I want the most potent blessing available." She placed a hand over her heart. "A mother's instinct."

  The King considered this. Then: "Take Prince Dio with you. He should be present for—"

  "No."

  The word cut through the morning air like a blade.

  Prince Amir's head snapped toward his mother. The King's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.

  The Queen's expression didn't waver. "This is a women's matter, my husband. The blessing before an engagement announcement is traditionally sought by the bride's future mother-in-law. Alone. With only her attendants."

  She smiled—warm, patient, absolutely immovable.

  "You wouldn't want to break tradition, would you?"

  The King opened his mouth. Closed it. He knew that smile. It was the smile she wore when she had already won and was simply waiting for him to realize it.

  "Very well," he sighed. "Take Leo. Take whatever attendants you need. But return within the week."

  "Of course, my husband."

  The two women bowed for the last time. As G6 turned to leave, her gaze caught on the King one final moment—watching him reach for his wife's hand, watching Prince Amir laugh at something his father said, watching the easy warmth flow between them like sunlight through clean windows.

  What a disgusting sight.

  She looked away and followed the Queen out.

  「SANCTUM — TELEPORTATION ROOM」

  The room hummed with contained power.

  Magitech circles glowed beneath their feet, ancient runes pulsing in sequence as the teleportation array warmed. Leo and Edmund stood at attention—both in formal butler attire, both carrying themselves like soldiers wearing civilian clothes, both acutely aware of the true nature of this "pilgrimage."

  Ray Worthon and Ron Worthon stood nearby, resplendent in their formal mage robes. Their presence was a final layer of legitimacy, family witnesses to an innocent departure.

  "This is so sudden," Ray said, genuine curiosity in his voice. "If this is a women's matter, Mother could have joined too."

  "Oh dear, you're right." The Queen's regret was perfectly calibrated—enough to seem genuine, not enough to raise suspicion. "However, this is a matter between mother-in-law and bride. Our next visit, I will ensure to invite Duchess Worthon personally."

  "I understand, Your Majesty." Ray bowed. "We will deliver the news to Mother."

  Both brothers turned to their sister.

  "My dear sister," Ron said, his smile warm and unguarded, "do not forget that we must return home next week. It is time to pay respects to the Messenger statue."

  The Messenger statue. G6 filed the information away. Another piece of this world's puzzle. Another obligation to juggle.

  "Alright, brother," she said simply.

  "The knights will follow you there shortly," Ray added. "Please travel safely. Not that the Temple of the Holy Kingdom is unsafe. Archbishop Tolentino has been informed—he is likely waiting on the other side."

  The Queen nodded. She and G6 stepped onto the teleportation circle.

  "Then, in God Eldrin's name, we pray for your safe travel."

  Ray and Ron touched the circle simultaneously. Light erupted, climbing toward the ceiling in a column of pure radiance.

  When it faded, they stood in the Temple's teleportation room.

  The space was smaller than the Sanctum's, but no less sacred. Ancient stone. Flickering candles. The faint scent of incense clinging to everything.

  And waiting for them: Archbishop Tolentino. Priest Dane at his side.

  Neither man looked flustered. Neither looked confused or caught off guard. They stood with the calm of those who had been expecting this moment—who had been dreading it.

  Their eyes landed on G6.

  She looked different now. Pristine. Beautiful. A noble daughter in silk and rose-gold, every inch the future princess. No blood on her hands. No shadows in her posture.

  But they knew.

  They knew this was the woman who had pressed a sword to an Archbishop's throat. Who had forced a sacred pact at blade-point.

  Recognition passed between them—silent, absolute, terrified.

  The Queen smiled her public smile. "Archbishop Tolentino. Thank you for receiving us on such short notice."

  Tolentino's eyes didn't leave G6.

  "Your Majesty," he said slowly, "the Temple is always honored by your presence."

  His voice was steady. His hands were not.

  G6 met his gaze for one heartbeat—two—

  Then smiled.

  It was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen.

  —To Be Continued…—