Behind him, a coffin-like silence reigned in the shop. The men who had wanted to rob him were now too afraid to even blink.
“We’re closing for today,” the shopkeeper muttered.
“Boss… we just opened…”
“I said, we are closing for today!”
Mark swallowed hard. Those eyes… Cursed, empty, blue eyes. Not malice, not rage—something worse. There was nothing there. It was as if something that only pretended to be human was looking at him. And the longer he looked, the more he wanted to look away. To forget. To hide.
***
Mizuki stood outside the window, motionless. Her heart was beating fast. Everything about Noll—his movements, his voice, his intonation—seemed… frighteningly confident. And something else…
Who are you really, Noll? the thought flashed through her mind.
And it wasn't fear. It was confusion. And an uneasy admiration.
After leaving the artifact shop, Noll turned into an alley, unhurried. He tucked the heavy bag of money inside his pink cube, but kept a few copper and silver coins in his hand—just a small fraction of the sum he had just received.
Mizuki, hiding around the corner, followed. He walked without haste, as if he knew exactly where he was going.
A few minutes later, he stopped at an inconspicuous building with a faded sign: "Orphanage No. 3." A small, modest house with three windows, peeling paint on the doors, and a quiet yard with clotheslines. And children.
About two dozen kids of various ages rushed toward him the moment he opened the gate.
“Noll!” a freckled girl screamed, hugging him around the waist. “You came back!”
Someone else clutched his sleeve.
Mizuki watched from behind the wall, her eyes narrowing. Just moments ago, this same person had threatened a man with his family—and now he was patting children, smiling as if he were one of them.
He didn't say a word. He simply took out those coins—and started performing tricks. He tossed them, caught them, pretended to pull them from behind a child's ear. The children squealed with delight; someone demanded an encore. And then he gave a coin to each one—“for luck,” as he put it.
When evening fell and the caretakers began ushering the little ones inside, one of the women—short-haired, with a tired face—stepped closer to Noll. Mizuki didn't hear everything, but she caught parts of it:
“If not for your help… We wouldn't have lasted this month.”
“You’re like a guardian angel to us, Noll…”
He shook his head slightly and looked toward the entrance where the last pair of small feet had just disappeared.
“I just do what I must. I wouldn't forgive myself if I let this place die.”
He didn't wait for gratitude. He didn't try to impress anyone. He just popped his collar, turned around, and left—as quietly as he had arrived.
But Mizuki remained standing around the corner, unable to move immediately. Something inside her shifted. This wasn't a cold technician, not a mysterious psycho, not a potential killer.
This was… a human being.
When Noll exited the orphanage, he paused briefly by the roadside. He quickly scanned the street, cross-referenced something in his mind, and walked confidently toward the other side of the city.
Mizuki, watching him from the alley, immediately followed, keeping a safe distance. This district was no better than the last—worn signs, faded walls, broken streetlights, and people who preferred not to notice each other. But Noll moved as if following a familiar map.
Soon, he turned a corner and stopped in front of a shop with a dim sign: "Parts. Everything and More." He stood before the door for a few seconds, then stepped inside.
Mizuki approached the window and peeked through the glass. The shopkeeper—a gaunt, grey-haired man wearing lenses that magnified his eyes—recognized the guest immediately. He didn't even say a word; he simply pulled an open box from under the counter and hoisted it onto the surface. Noll gave a slight nod of appreciation and headed down the aisles, picking out parts: wires, crystals, mechanisms, metal rods, and strange components Mizuki couldn't even name.
The box was filling up slowly but surely. And all this time, Mizuki could only think of one thing: how is he going to carry all of this? He was barely holding himself upright with that cane. Summoning a construct big enough to carry the crate would probably knock him unconscious right here in the aisle.
But when she looked back at the shelves, he was gone.
What?!
Before panic could rise to her throat, a sound came from right behind her ear. Quiet, wet, and incredibly annoying.
Sluuuurp.
She spun around.
And, of course, he was standing right behind her. In one hand—a massive chocolate milkshake; in the other—the lid. His lips curled into a lazy smirk.
At some point, while she’d been glued to the window, he’d managed to both vanish and procure a milkshake.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Oh… Noll,” she squeezed out. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
He didn’t even blink.
“Strange,” he replied, almost playfully. “I was actually expecting you.”
He jutted his chin toward the nearly full box by the counter.
“Since you’re here… help me carry that.”
Mizuki exhaled slowly through her teeth.
“Fine. But don’t think this will become a habit.”
“Too late,” he chuckled, taking another sip.
She suppressed a sneer.
***
After a short carriage ride, Mizuki, barely dragging the heavy box behind her, finally reached the base. Noll, as usual, didn’t offer to help—he just walked ahead, glancing back only to check if she had fallen behind.
When they entered the base, Noll walked confidently into his room. The same black door that she tried to break into just a day ago. Mizuki, grunting with effort, hauled the box in after him. He pointed to a large, scorched cross on the floor.
“Put it there.”
She dropped the box and looked around. A desk. A small library. A neat bed. It looked suspiciously ordinary.
Noll waved his hand dismissively:
“That’s it, you’re free to go. Shoo-shoo.”
Mizuki frowned.
“No. I’m staying. I want to know what—”
Noll turned back to her, and started counting.
“3…”
“Don’t you dare.”
“2…”
Mizuki narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists in tension.
“1.”
The barrier exploded from the center of the room like a bubble, expanding violently and throwing Mizuki out. She flew across the hallway, slammed back-first into the wall. She wasn’t injured, so she tried to charge back in. But the moment she touched the door handle, the barrier flared up again—locking her out.
Laughter drifted from the hallway.
X was leaning against the wall, a mug in his hands, barely holding himself together.
“It’s not funny.”
“Sure, and I am not laughing…”
He turned and beckoned to her.
“Come on, I made cocoa. You definitely earned it.”
Mizuki, muttering under her breath, dusted off her clothes and followed him. They sat at the kitchen table while X silently poured her a cup. Only after the warmth of the mug reached her hands did she speak.
“I saw him. In the city. I saw how he barters, how he threatens… And it’s like… he just switches gears. Like everything is calculated in advance.”
X nodded, slowly stirring his drink.
“That’s Noll,” X said, taking a sip. “Usually he doesn’t do that… but it seems he wasn’t in the mood. Besides, the owner started it.”
“Yeah, but… threatening his family?”
“That was a bluff,” X answered calmly.
“A bluff?”
“Even if he knows everything about those kids—and apparently, he does—he would never touch them. Adults? Easily. But children? No. He couldn’t do it. I’m sure the shopkeeper realized that too; he just didn’t want to risk it when he saw that face.”
Mizuki remembered how the shopkeeper had gone pale. Those empty blue eyes… She understood why the man hadn’t wanted to test if Noll was serious.
“But he spoke so confidently. Even I would have believed him…”
“He knows how to lie,” X sighed. “Frighteningly well.”
She nodded, looking down into the dark liquid of her cocoa.
“I followed him afterwards,” she admitted quietly. “He went into an orphanage. Played with the kids, showed them magic tricks. Then he spoke to the women who thanked him. They said if it wasn’t for him, the place wouldn’t exist anymore.”
X looked at her closely but said nothing.
“He’s… not at all who he tries to seem, is he?”
“No,” X finally answered. “He is who he needs to be. To survive. But sometimes—wearing that mask is heavy.”
“Why does he hide it all?”
“Because the moment you show you care—you become vulnerable.”
Mizuki stared silently into the cup, the steam and aroma rising to her face. She was lost in thoughts of Noll’s two faces until a sharp thud against the windowpane snapped her back.
Startled, she looked up.
A crow had just collided with the glass. It didn’t seem injured. It shook out its black feathers and settled on the ledge, staring at her with bright, intelligent eyes, waiting for the window to open.
Mizuki leaned closer. There was a letter tied to its leg with a strip of dark cord.
“Mail?” X blinked. “Why now?”
Mizuki opened the window and took the letter. The crow carefully examined Mizuki up and down, then X. The bird gave a small, approving nod and took off, circling once over the outpost before vanishing into the dark.
Mizuki studied the letter. The wax seal bore an emblem: a man standing in harmony with nature.
“This is from my father,” she murmured.
She left the kitchen and shut herself in her room, ignoring whatever X called after her.
She sat on the bed, staring at the seal as if afraid that breaking it would break something else, too.
She took a deep breath and opened the letter.
Mizuki, my dear daughter,
I hope you are well.
How are things going? Do you have anything you wish to share?
A great deal is happening here between Altavia and Krinden.
I am busy, which is why I cannot come in person. But do not worry: if needed, just send me a letter.
I await your reply. You can find the crow in the same place it delivered this one.
You may need to call it — it likes to circle.
With love,
Satoru Yumaki, your father.
Mizuki’s hands trembled as she read the letter again. And again. The room seemed to grow colder.
If needed, just send a letter? she thought. That’s basically him admitting he thinks I’m too weak to handle a few months in this place.
Okay. Breathe… She drew in a slow breath. He wants me to answer now.
Should I lie?
No. She shook her head. He’d realize it’s a lie.
Tell the truth?
Also no… someone might intercept and read it.
The mere thought of someone intercepting the crow and unfolding her words, studying them, judging them, filled her with panic. Again, she saw the Yumaki estate burning, her father and brother hanging from the walls. Frost dusted her skin.
She pressed her hands to her face. The frost bit at her cheeks.
What should I do?
A lie has short legs. Her father always said that.
But the naked truth was a blade that would cut everyone here.
Then I won’t lie, she decided, her breathing hitching. And I won’t tell the whole truth. I’ll walk the line between them. A half-truth. The most dangerous, yet most effective shield.
She grabbed a pen. Her fingers were stiff, powdered with white frost, but she forced them to move.
She didn’t write a report. She wrote a confession—stripped of all the details that mattered.
Father, I am safe.
The outpost is going about its life.
The captain here is… eccentric. Unorthodox. But he seems to know what he is doing.
There is also a local. He is infuriating and difficult to work with. He leans too heavily on his magic and lacks discipline.
We have encountered some local threats, but we handled them. I am learning to adapt. I will not fail you.
With respect,
Mizuki Yumaki, your daughter.
She read it over. It was perfect.
She hadn’t lied. X was eccentric. Noll was infuriating and hid behind his “magic.” They had handled threats.
But she left out that the “eccentric” captain was sheltering a heretic.
She left out that the “local” had a Nexus-Blade—and that he was something far worse than just undisciplined.
She had painted a picture of a mundane, mildly annoying outpost life.
He’ll read this and think I’m just complaining about my teammates, she thought, a wave of relief melting the frost on her arms. He won’t see the monsters in the ink.
She folded the paper and sealed it with wax before she could change her mind.
Back at the window, she unlatched it and leaned out. The sky above the outpost was a dull gray; a lone black shape circled high overhead. She whistled softly and lifted her arm.
The crow dipped its wings and swooped down to the ledge, talons clicking against the stone. It fixed her with those same bright eyes.
“Here,” she whispered, tying the letter to its leg. Her hands trembled—just a little.
The bird cawed once, bobbed its head, and launched itself into the sky, wings beating the cold air. Mizuki watched it until it became a speck, then nothing.
Only then did she close the window, slide down with her back to the wall, and finally let out the breath she’d been holding.
"I won’t lie. And I won’t tell the whole truth."
The Noll alignment chart: We saw three versions of him in twenty minutes:
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The Extortionist: Taking 100% of the profits from a greedy shopkeeper.
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The Saint: Giving all that money to an orphanage (and doing magic tricks!).
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The Troll: Sipping a chocolate milkshake while watching Mizuki struggle with a heavy box.
Question for the comments: Did Mizuki make the right call with the letter?
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Option A: Smart move. A "half-truth" keeps her father calm and buys them time.
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Option B: Terrible mistake. Satoru Yumaki is a Clan Head. He will read between the lines, and when he finds out she omitted the Heresy, he will come himself.
Personal Theory: I think Satoru already knows more than he is letting on. "If needed, just send a letter" sounds like he expects trouble.
Next Up: Noll has his supplies. Mizuki has sent her letter. Now we see what Noll is building in that room...
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