Tomoya leaned back against his car, his arms crossed defensively as though they might shield him from the piercing gaze of the woman standing before him.
Dryzza, a force to be reckoned with even on her worst days, stood opposite him, her face pale, her exhaustion evident. Dark shadows framed her eyes, betraying sleepless nights. Yet despite her weariness, her presence held an unyielding authority that made Tomoya’s discomfort intensify.
"What?" he asked, feigning nonchalance, though his mind raced. Knowing Rener had already entered this woman’s dreams made him uneasy. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with her—it could derail the delicate events set to unfold later that evening.
"You tell me," Dryzza snapped, her tone sharp but laden with fatigue. She paused, as if assessing whether she truly had the energy to deal with him. "What are you doing here?"
Tomoya smirked, a feeble attempt to mask his anxiety. Pushing himself off the car slightly, he gestured to his vehicle. "Parking," he replied casually, his tone dripping with forced ease. "The coffee shop nearby is packed. No space left for me. So, here I am." He shrugged, as though the excuse could dissolve her suspicion.
Dryzza’s eyes narrowed, her sharp instincts sensing the lie immediately. She tilted her head, her penetrating gaze dissecting his every word. "This isn’t a parking space, mister…" she trailed off, waiting, her silence a challenge.
"Just Tomoya," he offered awkwardly, the confidence slipping from his voice.
"Tomoya," she repeated, her expression unreadable as she let the name linger in the air. "As far as I know, you’re not just some coffee enthusiast. Aren’t you friends with the owners?" Her raised eyebrow was a subtle, triumphant jab. "And for the record," she continued, stepping closer, "I know exactly who you are and what you’re capable of."
Tomoya’s smirk faltered. He straightened his posture, his mind racing to decipher her angle. But before he could respond, Dryzza closed the distance between them. Her voice dropped, laced with a quiet menace. "While I don’t have proof yet, consider this your warning: Stay out of our database. Otherwise—"
"Otherwise what?" Tomoya cut her off, his tone defiant. He scoffed, shaking his head. "You see, officer, detectives are trained to follow proper protocols, aren’t they? Accusing someone without evidence…" he let the word hang in the air, "isn’t that against the rules? C’mon, you know better."
Dryzza didn’t flinch. Instead, she took another step closer, her eyes locking onto his with a steely intensity. "Oh, believe me," she said softly, her voice dangerously calm, "I know far more than what I’m saying."
The weight of her words hung in the air. For a moment, neither moved. Then, as abruptly as she had arrived, Dryzza turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Tomoya frozen in place. Only when her figure disappeared into the distance did he exhale, the breath escaping him in a shaky rush.
He slid back in his car, leaned against his seat, feeling the tension drain as Dryzza walked away. The confrontation had left a bitter taste in his mouth, though he knew he'd narrowly escaped deeper trouble. He adjusted his side mirror out of habit, taking one last look at the street before turning the key in the ignition.
Unbeknownst to Tomoya, not far from where he sat, a young man stood concealed behind a nearby building, just out of sight of the station’s surveillance cameras. Rito lingered in the shadows, his movements restless, his breathing uneven.
In one trembling hand, he held a cheap burner phone, the faint glow of its screen illuminating his pale face. He had just made a call—a vague but urgent warning sent to people who might listen. But even now, as he replayed the conversation in his mind, uncertainty gnawed at him.
"Three days," he muttered under his breath, clutching the phone tightly. It was all he could piece together from the cryptic messages Dessa had given him. His gaze fell to the shards of a broken mirror near a trash bin, and his expression faltered.
Reflected in the shattered glass was Dessa—dressed in an elaborate pink gown, her appearance unnervingly pristine. Her wide, painted eyes seemed to follow him, framed by perfectly curled lashes. Glossy lips, an unnatural rose hue, parted slightly as though she might speak. Her doll-like features were flawless, almost eerily so, but her presence exuded an unsettling stillness that sent a chill down his spine.
Dessa had warned him repeatedly, her voice calm but firm: "Do not interfere directly. It’s not your place."
"But what if I’m wrong?" Rito whispered, his voice barely audible. He crouched by the shattered mirror, his fingers grazing one of the larger pieces. His reflection mingled with hers, their distorted images overlapping.
Dessa didn’t answer. She simply stared at him from her fractured world, her painted face as emotionless as ever. Yet Rito understood her silence—it was her way of showing restraint, of holding back from saying too much. She wanted him to act, but she wouldn’t push him further.
Sighing, Rito stood and tucked the phone into his pocket. He hesitated, glancing back at the broken mirror one last time before walking away. Though doubt lingered in his mind, he knew he couldn’t ignore Dessa’s warnings.
For now, the world outside remained calm, but Rito could feel the tension building beneath the surface, like a storm waiting to break. Whatever was coming, it was already in motion—and whether he was ready or not, he was part of it.
Hours seemed to slip through Tomoya's fingers like grains of sand, and now, his gaze was fixed on the figures of three individuals entering the gates of the Takahashi manor—the place that once sheltered his childhood.
Time had weathered the grandeur of the estate, but its eerie essence remained intact, casting a shadow over the unfolding night.
Tomoya hesitated for a moment, memories flickering in his mind like a dying candle. Did Takumi know about these uninvited guests? Perhaps. But Tomoya had kept silent, recalling Takumi's casual remark to "do as he pleased."
He hadn’t even mentioned Victor’s sudden appearance—partly out of forgetfulness and partly due to the whirlwind of mysteries piling up in his mind. Rener’s cryptic influence was beginning to feel like a curse on his memory.
Dryzza, Esmeralda, and Sai moved with determination, their shadows stretching ominously under the faint glow of the moon. As they disappeared into the gates, Tomoya parked his car discreetly and adjusted his leather coat, whispering to himself, “This is it.”
He trailed behind them cautiously, keeping enough distance to avoid alerting the detectives, whose honed instincts could expose him with the slightest misstep.
The moment he crossed the threshold of the gates, a shiver coursed through his body. The air was thick, as though imbued with the weight of unspoken secrets and lingering dread. The Takahashi manor loomed ahead, its once-majestic facade now swallowed by the encroaching embrace of nature.
Vines snaked up its walls, intertwining with moss that painted the structure in shades of decay. The broken windows glinted like shards of forgotten sorrow, and the crumbling stone seemed to whisper of tragedies buried in its foundation.
Tomoya’s steps faltered as the memories surged, unbidden and relentless. He could almost hear the laughter of maids he used to play with echoing through the halls, mingling with cries of anguish that no one dared to address.
The scent of old wood and damp earth clawed at his senses, pulling him into a past he had long tried to bury. The weight of those memories pressed against his chest until he shook his head, forcing himself back into the present. He couldn't afford to lose focus.
Recomposing himself, he crept toward the manor and positioned himself near a shattered window, his movements calculated and silent. Peering inside, he saw the trio moving with purpose. Dryzza took the lead, her posture exuding a confidence that seemed almost unnatural. Yet Tomoya detected an undercurrent of unease in her steps, as though she was navigating a maze of uncertainties.
“Has she already traveled back in time?” Tomoya muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed. The question gnawed at him. Rener’s 'proposal' had been vague, leaving gaps that now felt critical. Did it matter, though? Perhaps not. What mattered was the present—the scene unfolding before him.
Inside, tension was palpable. Esmeralda’s usually composed demeanor was beginning to crack, her eyes darting around the room as though expecting the walls themselves to come alive. Sai, ever the impatient yet skeptic, was muttering under his breath, his words dripping with thinly veiled criticism. “Are we even sure that thing is here?” he demanded, his voice laced with frustration.
Dryzza turned sharply, her gaze cutting through the room. “It is. We just have to keep looking,” she snapped, though her voice betrayed a hint of doubt.
Anxiety hung in the air like a storm cloud, and Tomoya could feel it seeping into his own thoughts. He watched as their search grew increasingly frantic, papers and objects scattered carelessly in their wake.
From his vantage point, Tomoya could sense their growing desperation. The Mistress's grimoire was no ordinary artifact, and its retrieval was crucial. Yet, as time dragged on, his confidence in Dryzza’s ability to find it before dawn began to waver. He leaned against the cold stone, his mind racing with questions. Was this search destined to succeed?
Rener only instructed him to retrieve the grimoire when Dryzza finds it. That should be a confirmation, right?
A flicker of movement caught Tomoya’s eye, pulling him from his thoughts. Dryzza’s shoulders tensed, and for a fleeting moment, her gaze shifted toward the window—toward him. Tomoya held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Had she sensed his presence? The tension was almost unbearable, but she quickly turned away, resuming her search.
"That woman really," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation. He knew the moment he revealed himself to Dryzza after she found the grimoire, their paths would become inseparably intertwined.
The mere thought of it weighed heavily on him, knowing their conflicting natures would soon lead to endless confrontations.
He moved from one window to another, careful not to make any sound as he shadowed Dryzza, Esmeralda, and Sai. Their movements were deliberate yet cautious, each step revealing their intent to uncover the secrets hidden within the crumbled manor.
The silence was thick, broken only by Esmeralda's sigh. Her voice, though hushed, reached Tomoya with clarity.
"I think we should call it a night," she said, her tone heavy with concern. "It would be dangerous to linger here longer than we planned."
Tomoya could see the disappointment etched on Dryzza's face. She remained silent, her posture rigid, before nodding reluctantly in agreement. But just as they turned toward the exit, her gaze locked onto a hidden passageway. Tomoya's stomach twisted in recognition.
"The dungeon," he whispered, a bitter chuckle escaping him. That cursed place was etched deeply in his memory—the very spot where he had been imprisoned, awaiting sacrifice.
The memory, though blurred by Rener's deliberate interference, remained seared into Tomoya’s consciousness with a clarity that defied time. Takumi’s desperate bid to save Tomoya came at an unthinkable cost—the lives of countless others, including his own parents.
This devastating consequence drove Takumi to make an even graver decision: forging another pact with Rener to create a portal, hoping to reunite with his lost family. It was a somber truth, veiled in secrecy, one that Tomoya remained painfully unaware of, his ignorance a reflection of the deep and tangled sacrifices that had defined their intertwined fates.
As Dryzza descended into the dungeon, Tomoya stiffened. He couldn’t hear her exact words as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Sai and Esmeralda behind. For minutes, Tomoya remained frozen, his instincts screaming for him to retreat.
Yet curiosity anchored him in place. When Sai and Esmeralda finally decided to follow Dryzza, their hushed voices reached him, though their words were inaudible. A sudden surge of panic gripped Tomoya as he nearly revealed himself, the fear of confrontation gnawing at his resolve—but what if something happened to Dryzza?
"No, no, no," he whispered, clutching the cold stone wall for support. Relief washed over him when the trio emerged from the dungeon minutes later, their expressions shadowed by a mix of concern and horror.
Dryzza looked so pale, but there was something in her eyes that screamed success, but she's holding no grimoire yet? What happened?!
The question lingered in his mind, but Tomoya resisted the urge to find out, turning to leave instead.
As he approached his car, a strange intuition halted him. His gut churned, urging him to stay. Despite his internal protests, he decided to linger, retreating to the gate where he could observe from a safe distance.
It was then he noticed a faint red glow emanating from the manor's entrance. The light pulsed gently, resonating with a rhythm that seemed to echo within his chest.
Tomoya's breath hitched as a strange sensation washed over him—a lightness in his chest that felt almost... familiar. The connection was undeniable, as though the grimoire itself was reaching out to him, calling him in a language only his soul could understand. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, the kind of pull that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed resolve.
He stood frozen, lost in contemplation, until three silhouettes emerged from the shadows of the manor. Their figures were distorted by the glow of the red light, which seemed to wrap around them like a living entity and then slowly dematerialized.
Tomoya's heart raced as a thought struck him: They have it. They’ve found the grimoire. The realization sent shivers down his spine, and he could feel the weight of its power pressing against the air.
Unable to hold back any longer, Tomoya stepped out of the shadows. His boots crunched against the gravel, a deliberate sound meant to announce his presence. The three figures froze, their attention snapping toward him. Sai immediately moved to shield Dryzza, his stance defensive, ready for a confrontation.
"Tomoya?" Dryzza whispered, her voice barely audible but laced with disbelief.
Tomoya's lips curved into a knowing smile. "So, you really found it," he said, his tone calm.
There was no surprise in his voice, no curiosity—only a quiet certainty, as though he had always known that Dryzza would succeed in finding the grimoire.
Dryzza stood there, caught between relief and suspicion. She had met Tomoya in the past—the young Tomoya—he had been part of a different time, a different era.