「 episode 26; arc 6.4 」 —first respite (b-side)//future memory (part ii)— 「 yerim iv 」

“To be honest, Kahei, this isn’t exactly what I was expecting when you asked us to meet you here in that text. I didn’t think we’d ever be tested on this stuff. It’s a little nerve-wracking...”

“Whatever grade you receive will have no bearing on anything, Yeojin. In truth, it may be more accurate to think of it more as a formal review of sorts.”

Surrounded by densely packed bookshelves which rose several feet well above their heads, a small group was assembled in the particularly expansive library. Akin to the gymnasium four floors above it, the entirety of the BBC’s third floor was a sector of space entirely devoted to its singular purpose—a neatly organized collection of seemingly infinite knowledge, evidenced by the absurd number of tomes that littered the maze-like passageways of the enormous library. Placed throughout the area were a fair amount of easily accessed rest areas decorated with couches, tables, chairs, water coolers, and related amenities, one of which hosted five sorceresses spaced out in a circle.

Night was beginning to fall as the sun started to dip beneath the horizon outside the library’s windowed walls. Not long after their return from their exploration of Mobius and lunch at Eyedi’s, Yeojin and Yerim had found themselves summoned by Kahei alongside Hyejoo. As they had come to expect, the girl of darkness was accompanied by her anchor of light, her fingers interlocked with Chaewon as they always were. Seated in a chair before her juniors, a bespectacled amber-haired sorceress turned tutor regarded her newly assigned students with a warm smile that was, as always, pleasantly soothing. 

Kahei’s mixed hues followed her running finger across the pages of an open spiral notebook on her lap, and she nodded to herself as she spoke again. “Sudden though it may seem, your exam tomorrow is nothing terribly serious. Archmagus Lee made that very clear in her notes here,” she said. “It appears that she simply wishes to gauge your understanding of what you’ve learned so far after completing both the two-week introductory lessons you received from her and Grandmaster Hyuna and your first proper excursions yesterday.”

“Okay, so it’s like a knowledge check, then,” Yeojin said to herself with a nod. It came with a sigh of relief as she sunk further into a comfortably oversized bean bag chair, her eyes leisurely scanning pages of her own somewhat messy handwriting in an orange notebook in her hands. “That’s, uh...a little less anxiety-inducing, I think.”

“So we really don’t have to worry about failing…?” a quiet voice asked in response. Lifting her focus from the journal in her lap, Hyejoo’s heterochromatic glance met Kahei’s. A faint grimace tarnished her face, her own nerves present in the slight tightening of her grasp on Chaewon’s hand.

With the hopes of reassuring her peers, the final of the Neophytes spoke up. “If it’s just to measure how we’re coming along, I would assume not. Right, Kahei?”

Eyes came to the studious violet-haired girl of fire as she flipped through one of three notebooks open on the floor before her. Clear handwriting was beautifully formatted across each page, bearing a treasure trove of information which was thoroughly detailed yet easy to digest through its organized bullet points and lists. Kahei confirmed her sister’s thoughts with a firm nod, fully dispelling the worries stewing in Yeojin and Hyejoo’s minds. “Correct, Yerim. As I said, this assessment’s grading will be a formality over all else. Archmagus Lee will only use it to help you see what areas you might need to focus on. Now, with that being said, if you would all please put away your notes and—”

“Wait, this isn’t an open book kinda deal?!” Yeojin said, her eyes widening. “Okay, anxiety levels are on the rise again...”

Her smile taking on shades of pity, Kahei did her best to let Yeojin down as easily as she could. “You certainly won’t be engaging in any bout of combat with your notebooks at the ready, so I’m afraid not.”

With a hard blink, Yeojin forfeited her stance and closed her notes alongside Yerim and Hyejoo. “Okay, that unfortunately makes a whole lot of sense, so I guess that’s fair…”

“We’ll only be covering things that you’ve already come to learn, so there’s nothing to fear,” Kahei informed the group. Before she could continue, she found herself cut off by a thoughtful concern brought forward by her sister.

“Hyejoo, are you sure you’re well?” Yerim had suddenly asked, bringing all eyes to her. “If you’re not feeling up to it, I’m sure Archmagus Lee would be fine postponing the test for you.”

Powering through the remaining traces of bodily aches still afflicting her, Hyejoo dissolved Yerim’s fears without hesitation. She managed a small smile which was reinforced by Chaewon’s free hand coming to rest atop their crossed fingers. “I’m alright. Just a little bit of pain. Most of it’s gone now...thanks, though.”

“If we’re all ready, then, let’s begin with a simple question to start us off.”

A silent breath from the Master sorceress saw the lesson plan begin.

Her altered mahogany iris gently flashed with a pulse of light as she made a slow, deliberate show of it coming to life in front of her—earthen dust which took the form of a vertically standing circle between her and the others. Outlined in full, the dust grew dense until it flashed into existence: a runic circle of earth, smaller circles and triangles within it bearing a number of hieroglyphic-like symbols and letters from a language far removed from time itself. Glowing faintly, it rotated in place at a snail’s pace. 

While Yerim and Hyejoo didn’t seem particularly taken by the sight of it, Yeojin was becoming consumed by the notice of something which struck her curiosity as she peered at it. Knowing full well they wouldn’t need very long at all, Kahei was quick to call upon one of the Neophytes for an answer. “Yerim, can you tell me what this is?”

“An effect container,” her sister answered with confidence. “Outside of immediately manifested effects, it’s the single most common form a magus will have their mana assume. ”

“Correct. Can you explain the specifics behind their purpose?”

“As the name might suggest, they can store effects. However, in most cases, they’re severed not long after their creation in order to cast their inscribed effects, if not immediately,” Yerim clarified. “That’s the most standard application, but…”

Yerim’s voice trailed off for a moment. 

Ever since she witnessed Heejin’s strictly defensive usage of them, Yerim had been reevaluating the concept in her mind. Their introductory lessons and all the supplemental text she had researched on her own only ever briefly touched upon the idea. This had led Yerim to believe that defensive utilization of effect containers wasn’t exactly a worthwhile endeavor, and watching Sooyoung’s calculated sabotage of Heejin’s plan during their sparring match only supported that belief. Hyunjin made it quite clear, however—it had worked in the past. Twice, even. As such, in line with her viewpoint beginning to shift, the open-minded arcanist was now finding it prudent to consider it a valid option.

“...well, there’s undeniable utility in an effect container left untouched, only to be activated at a later time for a preemptively planned defensive effect,” Yerim continued. True to the nature of her sisters, she spoke with composed eloquence even in the midst of building her thoughts. “Though it bears the risks of them being activated before you mean to do so yourself, if the situation plays out according to plan, you can create a significant advantage for yourself even in the middle of a disadvantageous situation.”

Kahei found it difficult to veil the tender pride her sister’s thorough answer instilled in her. Her smile grew ever so slightly as she nodded. “Yes, that’s quite true. Whether it be for instant offense or delayed defense, effect containers have their uses in almost any situation imaginable. Now, there’s two reasons which explain why a magus would choose to produce an effect through a processed container in the first place as opposed to simply manifesting it outright through raw mana.”

Following the explanation, Hyejoo was the subject of Kahei’s shifting gaze. “Can you tell me one of those reasons, Hyejoo?”

“Speed.” 

Quiet though she was, Hyejoo answered promptly, inciting a smile from Chaewon next to her. “Creating an effect container takes less time than casting an effect through unprocessed mana, and that time isn’t affected too much by the degree of its stored effect. A small container holding a basic effect and a big container holding a complex effect can both be crafted at roughly the same speed.”

“Spot on,” Kahei said, extending praise to the soft-spoken necromancer. “Indeed, when it comes to raw mana versus processed containers, there may only be a minor difference in cast times for basic effects. Larger, more intense effects, however, greatly benefit from what becomes a massive increase in speed of casting. Sadly, though, that benefit comes with an important drawback. Could you elaborate further on that, Hyejoo?”

“Mana cost,” Hyejoo said without delay, showing the fruits of her own studies. “Processing an effect into a container calls for extra mana, increasing it’s total mana cost. Use unprocessed mana, you trade slower cast times to save resources. Use a container, you give up more mana for a quicker cast. The extra cost to process the effect into a container scales with how big the container needs to be, too. Bigger effect, bigger container, bigger added cost.”

Kahei’s confirmation came with a nod. “Precisely. As such, knowing when you do or don’t require an effect container’s faster cast time ultimately plays a critical role in managing your mana reserves. At times, it can be a split-second decision, and with experience you’ll find it easier to properly judge whether or not you should process your mana into a container.”

The Master sorceress’ gaze continued down the group towards Yeojin. The girl of wind’s intense focus on Kahei’s runic circle was abruptly broken as she was called. “Now, Yeojin, can you tell me the other reason why you’d prefer to utilize an effect container over unprocessed mana?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah,” Yeojin stammered, settling back into reality. Instinctively reaching for the notebook in her lap, she caught herself at the last second. Shaking her head, she tried to play it off as she awkwardly drummed her fingers atop the cover. “Right, uh...Hyejoo mentioned cast times, so that should leave...dual-casting, I think.”

Kahei’s smile widened as she watched Yeojin provide a satisfactory answer without the need of her study material. “An effect container can store multiple effects. When it’s broken, it’ll release all of them at once. That’s how we can dual-cast or triple-cast effects,” Yeojin explained, nodding to herself more than anyone else. “Hell, if you’re really serious, you could probably quadra-cast…”

Her mind’s eye supplemented her answer with clear memories of the advanced technique in action—Sooyoung’s spar against Heejin and Jinsol the previous night and Taeyong’s tournament match against Eunbi that afternoon, both of whom had dual-casted with conversions to light. “Obviously, packing extra effects inside it makes a container’s already pricier mana cost even higher. Producing two or more effects at once from raw mana is something you’d need a pretty good opening for, though, so it’s still worth it most times,” Yeojin reasoned. “We just gotta be careful not to overdo it.”

“Exactly right. Though you can technically dual-cast and even triple-cast effects without one, a container will make it several magnitudes easier to execute properly,” Kahei lectured. In a not so subtle celebration, Yeojin quietly cheered herself on with a silent fist pump. “As you gain levels and find your manastreams developing, employing such techniques will become easier. For now, I would advise not going beyond a dual-cast. Now, moving on…”

With a mere thought, Kahei willed her effect container out of existence. The group watched it steadily fade to nothing without incident, though Yeojin stared at it harder than the rest. Perturbed, her still present fixation on the space it occupied even after it vanished was driven by an unusual sense of familiarity that the sight of its runes had managed to call forth within her. 

The area between them cleared, Kahei continued her review with another noiseless exhale. A small pocket of her mahogany dust took shape above the floor, nonchalantly coalescing into a collection of floating stalactites. The Neophytes stared at them quietly, waiting for an indication of something to happen that would propel the lesson to its next point.

They found it strange, then, that nothing followed. 

Kahei simply allowed her rocks to hover in the air for a moment, and then, without warning, they began to dissipate with abrupt haste. Unlike her effect container prior, their disappearance was sudden and markedly messy. It lacked the refined uniformity and control that the Neophytes had come to expect from a Master sorceress, especially Kahei of all people. Her soft voice rose into being afterwards, probing her juniors’ minds for an answer. “Can someone explain to me what just happened?”

“You lost focus.”

By means of personal relation to what she had just witnessed, Hyejoo’s reply was nigh instant. A vivid memory of her duel against Jisoo took the forefront of her mind. She recalled her particularly potent effect in the form of a giant sawblade she had materialized and how its deadly assault came to an unforeseen halt as it unexpectedly turned back to dust—the unintentional result of self-inflicted pain canceling her focus, she realized, stemming from her extreme overexertion.  

“Effects only last as long as the thought of them persists in our minds,” the girl of darkness explained further, eliciting a nod from Kahei. “If our concentration breaks for any reason, they lose form.”

“That’s right. Whether you’re employing a longer-lasting effect or a quicker one meant to be used instantly, you must maintain a level-headed focus and keep the thought of it present in your mind,” Kahei said. “Containers are not exempt from this requirement, either—whether your effect was raw or processed into a yet-to-be activated container, you must always keep it consciously present in the back of your mind at a bare minimum.

“For this reason, until you’ve gained more combat experience as magi, it would be best to avoid doing too many different things at once with your mana,” she continued, her countenance growing solemn as she delivered heartfelt advice. “Not only would you make yourself run short of breath and accelerate a case of mana deprivation, you would stretch the limits of your memory. As you begin to forget about them, your effects and containers will vanish before you, resulting in nothing but a waste of your mana.”

The Master sorceresses’ words felt especially heavy to the budding Neophytes. All having now experienced proper combat and knowing full well how serious the notion was, they each nodded in earnest. Though she was merely tagging along as Hyejoo’s personal purifier, the reminder shook Chaewon all the same. Hyejoo had no memory of it, but it was a sight Chaewon would not soon forget—how Olivia went positively mad with mana in her attempt to end Jisoo’s life, and how the immense legion of acid-spitting void spheres at her command all but unceremoniously blinked out of reality when they had finally stopped her.

“Well, I must say that it seems you all have fully grasped the basics of mana, effect containers, and effect permanence. Wonderfully done, everyone,” Kahei announced after a cursory glance over the notebook in her lap. By her reserved demeanor, the smile she extended to the Neophytes did not contain the full depth of the respect she held for how seriously they had taken their studies. All the same, they could sense the almost maternal love coming from Kahei, and it caused her smile to become their own.

Her eyes returning to Sunmi’s notes as she pushed up her glasses with two fingers, Kahei proceeded with the lesson plan. “Now, it appears that the next segment calls for a refresher on the terminology we’ve adopted to classify critical threats and situations. With a proper excursion under each of your belts now, I’m sure you all can understand how accurately identifying these plays a crucial part in quickly and effectively communicating as a team in the chaos of battle. As such, Archmagus Lee wants to be certain that you’ve taken in this information properly.”

Looking back up to her students, Kahei’s eyes quickly traveled down the arranged line of them. “It might be easiest to simply go in a specific order for these...Yeojin, you can answer first, followed by Yerim and then Hyejoo. We can loop around like that. If everyone’s ready, then…?”

Hearing no objections, the Master sorceress nodded and returned her focus to the list printed on the sheet before her. “Alright, then. Yeojin, what are mid-bosses?”

A cold shiver rolled down Yeojin’s spine.

Painfully clear images of her near death experience with the crimson passenger resurfaced in her mind—moments that she was sure would be her last had LOONA’s Master sorceresses not saved her in the nick of time. Even with her life spared, however, she couldn’t help but remain forever disturbed by the sight of the plastic mannequin cutting down its partner without hesitation and absorbing its mana for itself.

“They’re fiends that are such rude jerks that they go and absorb their own party members just for some extra stats. Talk about friendship, huh?” Yeojin said, sighing lightly as she pushed the images out of her head. Her colorful commentary was duly appreciated, giving rise to a small round of laughs in response. “They’re way stronger than normal fiends. They’ve got a ton more mana at their disposal, they move much quicker, their bodies are way tougher and harder to break...some pretty serious buffs all around. We prioritize trying to stop them fusing together if we see one going for it. Things can get really messy really fast when they’re around...”

“Quite right. Strategies may very well change if a fiend manages to evolve into a mid-boss. Their presence alone can dictate the flow of battle,” Kahei said. “Now...Yerim, what does AOE stand for?”

Hugging her legs with her chin resting atop her knees, Yerim allowed herself to think for a moment. 

She had no history or personal interest in the video games that Jinsol had somehow managed to convince Sunmi to integrate into LOONA’s operations and functions—something that the concept of AOE was a direct result of. It was the clear disadvantage Yerim suffered, especially compared to the likes of Yeojin and Hyejoo who had settled into the system quite easily by means of their extensive experience with the concepts. Much like her sisters who adapted despite their equally absent interest in the subject matter, however, dutiful studying eventually saw the flourishing of Yerim’s understanding and memorization of it. Yet, it was not solely by her own efforts that she had managed to do so.

As Yerim answered with her eyes set on Kahei, she didn’t notice the smile that Yeojin was directing at her. Throughout their initial lessons, the girl of wind had gone to great lengths to assist her in grasping the otherwise foreign concepts. It was a fair trade, as Yerim held a deeper understanding of basics relating to mana and elementalism in general compared to Yeojin—an understanding she was more than happy to help her comprehend all the same. The two did combine their strengths, then, bringing them together and covering their weaknesses to create a well-rounded foundation of knowledge with each other’s assistance.

By the same token, it was only natural that Yeojin couldn’t help but feel a joyously snug sort of warmth sprouting within her, built by the sight of Yerim maintaining her usual poise and grace as she handily explained what once troubled her. 

“It stands for area of effect, which is a label for attacks and strategies focused on covering a large amount of space,” Yerim began, her thoughts collected. “Battles against several fiends tend to necessitate a more present focus on AOE damage to dispose of many of them at once, as we could be potentially overwhelmed otherwise. Likewise, if we group up too closely too frequently, we may suffer for it should our enemies use AOE effects themselves.”

“Well said. For as much as there is to gain from staying close to one another and moving as a tightly knit squadron, it carries the clear disadvantage of AOE attacks damaging the entire team at once,” Kahei said in agreement. “This is why all of our sub-units have at least one individual with a weapon or fighting style which specializes in long-range combat. Maintaining the proper balance of staying close enough to support your allies but far away enough to create safe space between everyone is vital. As with all things, it will become easier with experience.”

Chaewon felt the grip on her hand becoming more reinforced.

It was Hyejoo, unconsciously holding onto Chaewon a little more tightly with Kahei’s reminder. It was clear that it was something the necromancer was especially taking to heart, now more than ever after they had established that their tether was no longer a requirement for her safety.

With her point made, Kahei continued. “Right, then. Our next subject of interest would be raid encounters. Hyejoo, might you be able to go into detail on what they are?”

The term rang an immediate bell in Yerim’s mind. She distinctly remembered Hyunjin making mention of it when she went to retrieve Yeojin that morning. Hyejoo’s following explanation rang true with what she recalled of it. “Battles and situations that are more serious than any other. Much bigger in scale with a lot of enemies...sometimes too many to count,” Hyejoo said. “Our tactics shift to keeping our main tank and main healer safe at all costs by burning adds down fast with AOE damage before focusing on the mid-bosses.”

“Correct. Raid encounters are combat instances defined by the presence of an overwhelming amount of fiends which are accompanied by a minimum of two mid-bosses at once,” Kahei formally defined. “During a raid, additional enemy reinforcements—adds for short—may come in waves, most often from nearby sources of corruption actively birthing them. Raids have the potential to be long, drawn-out battles, and you’ll quickly find that they can be a rather trying test of both your physical stamina and your ability to appropriately manage your mana reserves in the long term.”

Behind her glasses, Kahei’s mismatched eyes returned to the brunette mystic. “While we’re on the subject, it’s primarily during raid encounters in which we see members of our sub-units take up the roles of off-tanks and off-healers. Can you tell me what that entails, Yeojin?”

Once again, Yerim heard another term that she remembered Hyunjin making mention of. Indeed, the concepts went hand in hand, leading to her practically expecting the follow-up question. “It’s when someone who normally doesn’t do either changes gears and starts doing so. Basically, they act as a secondary tank or healer,” Yeojin said, her answer aligned with Yerim’s thoughts. “If there’s too many fiends for one tank to handle or too much damage going around for one healer to deal with, the DPS start to help out with whichever they’re best suited for. They ease up on their damage-dealing focus and help take pressure off the main tank or healer. Just until the fight’s back under control, at least.”

“Quite so. In the end, our struggles are a team effort, and we must help each other out in any way we can,” Kahei stated. Her attention shifting to Yerim and Hyejoo alike, she addressed them directly. “As the DPS-focused members of our sub-units, we must be ready to share such responsibilities with our tanks and healers during raid encounters and other demanding battles. We cannot expect them to carry the burden alone.”

The girls of fire and darkness nodded in kind. In truth, Hyejoo had already seen an example of the concept in action, and her mind was already calling back to it—the clash against the fiends they fought alongside Joohyun and Seulgi in the church. Though the smaller scale of it and singular mid-boss made it difficult to consider it a genuine raid in the proper sense, the principles were much the same with Seulgi holding aggro on half of their targets alongside Jungeun while Kahei aided Chaewon in the responsibilities of healing.

Kahei’s finger moved down the page of the notebook she held. “Now, while we’re on the topic of tanking...Yerim, can you tell me what a corruption threshold is?”

Yerim’s answer was without delay. “It’s the limit of how much corruption a magus’ manastream can withstand before they start to suffer from side effects,” she explained. “It can vary wildly from person to person, with the only consistency being that darkness-aligned magi tend to have higher thresholds.”

“That’s right. How, then, does it relate to one’s capability to tank?”

“When we draw aggro from a fiend to establish enmity, we breathe in some of its corrupted mana,” Yerim said. “Due to the dangers of corruption sickness, we avoid taking in more than our thresholds allow us to. For that reason, tanks are usually individuals who have noticeably higher corruption thresholds—as DPS can unintentionally steal enmity by grabbing a fiends’ attention with their attacks, tanks may have to draw aggro more than once on the same target. Those with a higher threshold would find themselves safer doing so, then, as they wouldn’t begin to suffer corruption sickness nearly as quickly.

“Naturally, it also comes back to the concept of off-tanking, as we must consider the intake of multiple fiends’ mana as well,” Yerim added, bringing forth her final point. “Even if someone could physically handle being the focus of a large number of fiends at once, in the end, their corruption threshold acts as a hard limiter to how much enmity they can safely accumulate. Suffice it to say, off-tanking is a significant component to our success.”

Like a key clicking into place and prying open a dusty lock, the cogs of Yeojin’s memory twisted as she remembered something she had all but forgotten the specifics of.

Well, that short intermission didn’t make me lose enmity entirely. Want me to draw more aggro, Haseul?

Now remembering it in full, there was little doubt in her mind about it.

Please don’t, Sooyoung. We’ve defeated a lot of fiends in the past several hours. Not only are you very likely reaching your corruption threshold, but we might also be getting close to mana deprivation at this point.

With the topic reminding her of it and her own understanding of it now developed after studying with Yerim’s help, Yeojin was now able to make actual sense over much of what she had witnessed when LOONA’s Master sorceresses rescued her—something that she couldn’t help but perceive as self-improvement. Recalling all too well how downright dumbfounded the historic encounter had initially left her, it was difficult for her to not feel at least a little proud of herself.

As Kahei gave Yerim a nod paired with another satisfied smile, an immediately relevant question popped into Yeojin’s head. Her focus stolen from whatever Kahei was now saying to reinforce Yerim’s already thorough summation, Yeojin’s eyes found Hyejoo. She tilted her head in confusion as she regarded her for a moment. She brought her gaze to Kahei before very long, and somewhat awkwardly raised her hand before the woman of earth could move to her next point.

“Hm? Yes, Yeojin?” Kahei spoke up, noticing the girl’s summons for attention. “Do you have a question?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Yeojin quickly apologized, though a shake of Kahei’s head told her it was unnecessary. With her light brown eyes jumping between Kahei, Chaewon, and Hyejoo, Yeojin voiced her thoughts. “It’s just that...if darkness-aligned magi have naturally higher corruption thresholds, why is Jungeun tanking for you guys?”

“A valid inquiry,” Kahei said, complimenting Yeojin’s knack for perceptive observation. “To put it simply, we try to avoid leaving Neophytes with the role of a main tank. Though, given the oddity we encountered with Joohyun’s group and their elemental levels, perhaps I should say fresh Neophytes who have yet to fight many battles...in any case, the role of main tank is potentially the most crucial in our formations. For the safety of the sub-unit, it’s entrusted to someone who bears not only a significant corruption threshold, but also extensive training and combat experience—meaning, at a minimum, a magus of an Intermediate rank.”

Being given an entirely reasonable answer, Yeojin found her curiosity more than fulfilled. She was left to nod in understanding, but as Kahei returned her attention to Sunmi’s notes before her, the girl of wind’s own focus wandered back to Hyejoo.

Either as a result of Yeojin’s question, Kahei’s answer, or something else entirely that just so happened to be related to the current topic, the necromancer had become visibly bothered by something.

Yerim noticed it much the same. Shuffling in her seat for a moment with a nearly inaudible sigh, Hyejoo couldn’t seem to decide what to rest her sight upon. Chaewon inched closer to her companion, rubbing her free hand atop their intertwined fingers with a look of due concern in her eyes. She quietly murmured something to Hyejoo, and in response, Hyejoo meekly shook her head.

With how Hyejoo briefly locked eyes with Yeojin before returning her gaze to Kahei, Yeojin was left to blink in uncertainty. By how she was acting, Yeojin could only assume that she had something she wanted to share, but she had ultimately decided to keep her thoughts to herself. The question lied in whether or not she did so by her own choice or because of something else forcing her silence, and the girl of wind was in no position to guess which.

Seeking some sort of guidance or answer, Yeojin looked to Yerim. To her surprise, her best friend was already peering back at her. Yerim had only a slight grimace to offer, paired with a small shrug. With little clue as to the true meaning behind such vague motions, it was becoming clear that trying to make sense of it would be a waste of time. Much like other curious cases and strange questions she had found herself presented with over the past few days, Yeojin would once again have to settle with being left in the dark—something that, much to her discontent, she felt was unexpectedly starting to become a new reality for her as a member of LOONA.

Reclining backwards into her lofty bean bag chair, a quiet sigh born of frustration passed between Yeojin’s lips as she sank into it even further.

“Alright then, Hyejoo. Next we have…”

Kahei’s voice resumed shortly after, and the lesson continued on. Yeojin’s enthusiasm and general mood remained marred, her thoughts consumed by her other unanswered questions—matters that she was trying her best to simply lay to rest, but the sight of Hyejoo’s disturbance prodded her stubborn mind to resurrect them in full. She tried her best to mask it, but it proved insufficient enough to escape Yerim’s notice. The learned arcanist was all too aware of her friend’s sudden fidgeting, her shaking legs and feet indicating a lack of focus.

Continuing in full right up to the end of the lesson, Yeojin was still mentally displaced even as Kahei wrapped up the extensive study session over an hour later. The Master sorceress closed the notebook in her lap, resting her hands on top of it. “It appears that we’ve covered all the material that Archmagus Lee has laid out,” she announced after a light breath, scanning her audience with a smile. “Given how this little review went, I’m sure you have nothing to fear when it comes to the actual test. You’ve all been studying dutifully and it shows. With that being said, you’re all free to go now. My apologies for having to take up some of your time off.”

With a nod, Kahei formally dismissed her students. Sounds of ruffling papers and notebooks broke the serene silence of the library as the Neophytes began to pack up their belongings. Kahei made her leave first, saying her goodbyes before unhurriedly vanishing into the maze of bookshelves, though Yerim didn’t let her escape without one of her trademarked bear hugs. The pair and light and dark followed shortly after, parting hand-in-hand with waves towards Yeojin and Yerim.

As she saw all three off with a terribly half-hearted wave of her own, Yeojin was absent of a smile. 

Still entirely preoccupied by mysteries beyond her understanding, she felt the misgivings stirring within her intensify again as her vision settled on Hyejoo’s departure. Returning to where she was sitting on the floor, Yerim retrieved her purple bat-shaped backpack and slung it over her shoulders before directing her attention to Yeojin. She watched her friend silently for a moment—absorbed by the sight of Hyejoo’s gradually diminishing frame across the room on top of whatever thoughts were running wild in her head, Yeojin failed to realize that Yerim had approached her.

“Yeojin?”

“H-huh?”

Jolting back to reality, Yeojin shot up from the bean bag chair. She blinked hard, her head snapping to Yerim at her side. “Yeah...? What’s up?”

Though she controlled her reaction to the now visible distress claiming Yeojin’s countenance, beneath her own composed expression, Yerim was both confused and concerned by Yeojin’s current state of being. With something obviously troubling her best friend, Yerim wasted no time in acting to help her out in her own way. Extending a hand towards one of Yeojin’s own, the girl of fire managed a smile of her usual bright radiance as their fingers became locked. “C’mon! Let’s go.”

“Wait, what?” Yeojin asked. “Where are we—whoa!”

For what must have been the third or fourth time that day, Yeojin suddenly found herself being dragged by Yerim, being led to a yet-to-be revealed destination. 

「 ➤➤➤ ★ ➤➤➤ 」

“So, the Marvel Cinematic Universe was a series of films, then? And that’s where this Iron Man character you mentioned comes from?”

“Yeah, there were a whole bunch of them. I only watched up to Infinity War and Endgame, though. Those movies...really made me think.”

“How so?”

“Thanos, mostly. He was the villain. Though, in the end, whether or not he was actually a bad guy could kind of be argued in some ways. I mean, yeah, he did some messed up stuff, but...he actually had a pretty decent reason for it, and that was the scary part.”

Within the garden and rest area atop BBC’s roof, relaxed conversation was mixed amidst the whistling sound of a cool, calming night breeze flowing freely. 

At Yerim’s behest, she and Yeojin had found their way up there after a brief detour to a vending machine in one of the building’s many lounges. With an unexpectedly busy day of city exploring, socializing with friends, and an impromptu classroom review now behind them, they were reigning in the end of it with snacks in hand and crisp, fresh air shuffling their hair. Not unlike Jungeun and Sooyoung’s meeting the night prior, they rested their eyes upon the brightly illuminated skyline of Mobius on the horizon, its luminescence dominating the evening sky and veiling most of the stars above.

Her curiosity piqued, Yerim sought further explanation before biting into a vanilla-coated pastry. “What happened, then? What was Thanos all about?”

“You sure you wanna know?” Yeojin asked between bites of an oversized sugar cookie, looking at Yerim with raised brows. “It’s kinda spoiler heavy.”

Yeojin blinked as Yerim merely looked at her with patiently expectant eyes while taking another bite of her pastry. Realizing her error, the girl of wind gradually submitted an embarrassed smile, inciting a giggle from her friend. “Right, right. Not like there’s anyway for you to ever watch them for yourself, given, uh...yeah.”

“Sometimes it’s easy to forget, isn’t it? The fact you’ve crossed an entire timeline,” Yerim said. Her blue-gray hues regarded the mystic with kind understanding. “It certainly took me a while myself.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Yeojin agreed, shaking her head as her gaze drifted back to the grand metropolis across the river on the horizon. “Doesn’t help that I still can’t see Mobius as anything other than another version of New York City…”

Tearing off another chunk of her cookie, Yeojin gathered her thoughts for a moment before swallowing it down. “Well, there’s a lot I could get into about it. To abridge it and put it shortly, Thanos basically discovered that the whole universe was running out of resources. Overpopulation and stuff. So, he decided that should kill half of all existing life. And, uh...well, he kinda did just that.”

Yerim was helpless to fight the slight widening of her eyes. “Wait, really? Half of all life across an entire universe? How?”

“Ah, you know...superhero stuff, movie magic, suspension of disbelief,” Yeojin said with a small laugh and a shrug, downplaying the question. “Like I said, there was a lot that happened. That’s just the gist of it.”

“So then his reason for doing so was the overpopulation in and of itself that you mentioned? And presumably the scarcity of resources that stemmed from it?”

“Yeah. That’s what makes it kind of hard to see him as just another villain. In the end, it’s a pretty morally gray motivation, don’t you think?”

Yerim watched Yeojin’s smile fade away. In its place, a neutral expression seized her face. The only thing to be gleaned from it was the deep contemplation it was built from, as evidenced by the slight decline in her voice. “Sure, he killed half of all life in the universe, but in his mind, he was doing it for the right reason. It was just a necessary sacrifice to ensure life would go on, and one he didn’t exactly take enjoyment out of—fifty percent to save the other fifty instead of losing one hundred percent. It may not be an easy choice to make or the right thing to do, but...what if there really was no other option?”

Posed with a rather taxing moral dilemma, Yerim’s only answer was to take another bite of her pastry as she pondered the thought and considered it in full. 

She felt that Yeojin had made a fair point. Twisted though the act may have been, in the end, the intention behind it could certainly be seen as sound and well-meaning. The more she sat on it, however, the more it feverishly clashed with her own ideals and values. Raised by her sisters—women of science who valued all life equally—it was no surprise that she found herself unable to fully accept the concept as an answer to the problem.

“I suppose I can understand where he may have been coming from, and in some ways, I can respect it—the determination and sheer force of will required to do something like that in the name of the greater good,” Yerim said after finding her voice once more. Finding herself more and more disturbed by the idea, her eyes narrowed slightly as her expression fell, something Yeojin noticed with her attention shifting back to her. “But sacrificing any form of life, let alone that many at once...I would refuse to believe that to be the only option available. No matter how dire the situation, the loss of an innocent life couldn’t ever possibly be the answer. That’s what I think, at least.”

Conviction.

It bled through every word Yerim had spoken, and it continued to emanate from every inch of her being as another gentle gust whipped her hair about. Peering at her calm and collected form, Yeojin could make no mistake of it—Yerim held the miracle of life above all else, and to her, even the mere thought of abandoning it was blasphemous sacrilege.

Out of respect, Yeojin didn’t comment further. She had yet to find her own answer to the proposed moral conundrum, and matching such a well-formed and compelling belief with something of unequal faith seemed improper. As such, the silence of the night took hold of the space between them. 

“You know…”

It didn’t last for very long, however, as the sound of Yeojin’s voice soon brought the conversation back to life. 

“...thinking about the MCU again, I just remembered something.”

Yerim’s eyes found Yeojin’s profile. “What is it?”

“Well, in one of the movies, some of the characters traveled to an alternate reality,” Yeojin began. “They ended up meeting alternate versions of themselves. It’s just like this game I was playing back home before I was exiled. I remember telling Kahei about it when she was first explaining stuff about the multiverse to me, and ever since I hopped timelines and joined LOONA, it’s been making me think…”

“Making you think…? What about?”

Turning ninety degrees, Yerim brought one leg up onto the building’s edge as she faced Yeojin. “Did something in the game relate to your experience?”

“Kind of.”

Yeojin’s gaze had fallen from the distant Mobius to the city street a dozen stories below her. She absentmindedly swung her feet to and fro as she recalled the details once more. “It was a pretty standard RPG. The story was focused on exploring the multiverse, but there was this crazy twist—alternate versions of the main characters from a parallel reality showed up. It turned out that they were the villains the whole time, and for the rest of the game, you fought them pretty regularly. It was actually kinda neat, but when I think about it now, it makes me uncomfortable…”

A pout born of anxiety rose to prominence on Yeojin’s face. Yerim remained silent, allowing her friend to place her thoughts. “It’s just...we’re not from here, Yerim. You, me, your sisters...none of us in LOONA actually come from here. And I don’t mean just Mobius—I mean this entire timeline, this whole reality. Knowing that, and knowing that the multiverse theory involves every person having alternate versions of themselves native to their respective universes…”

Yeojin paused for a second. Taking a small bite of her cookie, she swallowed not only the piece of it in , but also the startling truth she was coming to realize.

“...doesn’t that mean that there’s another version of you and me running around here somewhere? Another version of all of us? And, as far as this timeline is concerned...wouldn’t they be the correct versions of us?”

“I suppose that is entirely possible, yes,” Yerim submitted, a grimace on her face now matching Yeojin’s. Seeing her friend’s anxiety beginning to intensify through the troubling sinking of her eyes, Yerim offered what she could in an attempt to relieve her worries. “However, do keep in mind that when we speak of this reality, we’re talking about an entire universe. The chances of this timeline’s versions of us being from this planet specifically, let alone being from Mobius...well, to call it infinitesimal still wouldn’t be enough.”

“So you think we’ll never meet them?”

“That’s right. Given the breadth of the universe, I’d say it’s not even remotely probable.”

“Then it’s about as likely as Sooyoung meeting a woman who looks and sounds pretty much exactly like her. But…” 

Yerim blinked as Yeojin turned her head, her light brown eyes settling in against her own blue-gray hues. 

“...that’s precisely what ended up happening, isn’t it?”

Unsure of what to make of the implication, she was left to uncharacteristically stumble on her words. “Yeojin, y-you...I don’t understand. Are you telling me you think that Archmagus Lee is…you think she’s an alternate version of Sooyoung?”

“How else could you possibly explain it?”

A distinctly deep sigh from Yeojin’s lips crashed against the cool breeze which ran into her face. Leaning back slightly, she placed her palms against the roof’s surface and tilted her head back to take in the sky. “I really thought they might have been related at first, but thinking about it now, I seriously can’t shake the feeling that they’re the same person,” she revealed. “It doesn’t help how they were acting when I asked them. Sooyoung was super weird about it, and Sunmi didn’t even say anything. Something’s obviously going on there, but all of you just ran with the idea that it was always just a coincidence of them looking alike, and I can’t for the life of me understand why.”

Struggling to make sense of Yeojin’s line of thought, Yerim offered what she and the others had always perceived to be the certain truth. “It’s just that, statistically speaking, it’s infinitely more likely that Archmagus Lee is someone who simply bears a striking resemblance to Sooyoung,” she explained. “Aside from the fact that there’s plenty of cases where entirely unrelated people look similar enough to be mistaken as twins, we never had any basis or reason to even begin to assume that Sunmi could possibly be Sooyoung from another reality.”

“And neither do I. After all, I only just met them two weeks ago. So if there’s zero reason for me to believe that as truth, then why the hell can’t I stop thinking about it? Why can’t I accept it…?”

With another gust of the night’s chilly wind passing her by, Yeojin was able to hide the true source of the chills running down her spine—the harrowing discomfort that her thoughts were instilling within her, and the haunting anxiety that wrung its hands around her neck whenever she considered laying them to rest. 

Leaning back even further, the addled mystic allowed herself to fall onto the floor of the roof. Balling one of her hands into a fist, Yerim watched her lightly slam it against the floor at a slow rhythm. Disturbed vexation flowed through Yeojin’s veins, clearly bewildered by her own inability to believe the answer that everyone else had no issue accepting. 

“Why? Why is it that I feel so absolutely certain that Sunmi is another version of Sooyoung…?” she asked herself more than anyone else, her voice nearly that of a whisper. “I’m just so sure of it and I don’t know why. It’s not a hunch or a feeling. It’s way more than that. To be honest, it’s...it’s more like…”

Death.

Yeojin’s heart slowed to a crawl as she felt it come back to life within her once more—

The thirteenth, drawn upright.

—the unknowable force that she couldn’t make out, pulling at the stretches of her subconscious. 

Just like when she was paused at the crossing in Mobius, she felt it beginning to paralyze her, its overbearingly ubiquitous presence bleeding into her unconscious. Her voice trailed off into nothing as her words withdrew into her headspace, and her unease multiplied exponentially as she finished piecing the thought together.

...it’s more like a memory. I’m remembering it. There’s no way I’m not.

At that moment, it happened—Sunmi’s single greatest nightmare came to life, and what little hope she had left of seeing the twelfth cycle run its preordained course snapped in half. 

I’m remembering the fact that they’re the same person. I’m absolutely sure of it. 

Experiencing it for the second time now, Yeojin could no longer write it off as a coincidence of no consequence.

But if that’s true...if I’m remembering something I don’t actually know yet, then that means…

Evolving beyond the mere vague feeling that she couldn’t properly identify during Jiwoo’s divination of Yerim’s arcana, there was now an astonishing degree of clarity present in her mind. It absolved her of all traces of doubt, leaving zero room for any form of misconception about it.

...I’m remembering the future...?

Yeojin had properly placed it, defining the phenomena in full and recognizing it for what it truly was.

Absolutely absurd though it may have been, there was simply no mistaking it—she was recalling something. Events that had yet to happen, information that she was still unaware of...she was remembering it, clear as crystal, just like any other memory.

It was through this newfound understanding, then, that Yeojin now properly comprehended why exactly her restless nervousness had once again suddenly transformed into a dreadful consternation.

The hairs on the back of her neck slowly started to rise. She could feel her stomach turning all sorts of ways, and every beat of her heart was forceful and pronounced in her chest. All too similar to her incident at the crossing in Mobius, Yeojin was quickly growing deathly afraid and tremendously unnerved. The difference now was that she had realized the true source of her fear—an experience anyone in their right mind would label completely impossible, something far beyond inconceivable in every way imaginable, assuredly happening to her without question.

“Yeojin…?”

History repeated itself, though only figuratively, as Yerim retrieved Yeojin from the depths of her ailed mind. “It’s more like what…?”

The gentle call of her best friend roused Yeojin back to reality. Realizing how strange her silence was undoubtedly coming across, the girl of wind quickly shook her head as she lifted herself off the floor. “Sorry. It’s, uh...I can’t put it into words right now. I sound insane enough in my own head as it is already,” she lamented.

Yeojin was free from judgment as Yerim accepted her words with a compassionate nod. “I understand. But...a question, if I might?”

“Yeah?”

“What does it matter?”

An inquiry Yeojin didn’t entirely expect forced her gaze upon Yerim. She watched the arcanist pensively twirl a loose end of her purple locks around her finger, her face scrunched as she considered it herself. “Let’s put aside probability and just assume that you’re correct in thinking that Archmagus Lee is another version of Sooyoung. Even in such a circumstance, what does that change about anything? I just can’t understand how it would matter in the end.”

“If life is what’s most important to you, Yerim, then for me, I’d have to say it’s the truth.”

Yerim fell silent.

Before her was a sight which took her a moment to fully process—the descent of Yeojin’s countenance into one of grave solemnity, matched with a shamelessly displayed frown. Separated from the anxiety-ridden face of fear she was equipped with moments ago, the girl of wind was now thoroughly displeased by something. With a despondent tone of voice unlike anything Yerim had ever heard her speak with before, Yeojin made clear what was most important to her.

“I don’t like lies, Yerim. I don’t like telling them and I don’t like them being told to me. I want to be a good person and I want to believe that my friends are good people...and good people don’t lie,” Yeojin declared, sharing her mantra with Yerim just as she had shared it with Haseul. “Not to say I don’t owe your sisters just as much, but if it weren’t for how fast Sooyoung jumped in ahead of them to save me, I wouldn’t be here right now. She didn’t hesitate. Hell, I’m not sure if she was even thinking. It was like she saved my life on instinct alone, as if it came as naturally as breathing to her. That means she’s a good person—someone I can trust and look up to, someone I’m happy to fight alongside with. But…”

Taking a moment to organize thoughts which were visibly bothering her, Yeojin shook her head as her gloomy grimace took on an aspect of incredulity. “If she and Sunmi really are different versions of each other, why are they lying about it? They’re both good people, so what reason would they have to lie to us? All of us have already accepted the reality of the multiverse. We know it’s real. After all, saving it is goal number one. So why would they hide something like that? If it’s not a case of it being impossible to believe, then why are they lying?”

Yerim could not provide an answer to Yeojin’s difficult question.

Even though it hinged on a statistical improbability—the tiniest fraction of the most least likely theory—Yerim found the concern to be valid in its own right. She knew that, realistically speaking, very little if anything would change should Sunmi’s existence actually be parallel to Sooyoung’s. Their mission would remain the same, as would their daily lives. So, on the off chance such was the case, what possible reason could they have for masking such a harmless truth away from everyone? 

Though Yerim didn’t voice it, a thought came to her mind. A possible explanation behind such secrecy, one that would see it forced no matter what. It was outright impossible to even begin imagining the specifics behind it and how things would have even arrived at such an outcome, but having known Sooyoung all of her life, there was one thing Yerim was certain of—even with her deeply ingrained resentment of non-magi, the Master sorceress would stop at nothing to save someone regardless of their humanity or not.

Yerim had no trouble visualizing the scene of Yeojin’s rescue. Her account of Sooyoung leaping into action without any form of thought or hesitation matched perfectly with Yerim’s memory of how people spoke of her back home. Those who saw Sooyoung do her part to protect Eden as a member of the Eden Defense Force always said the same thing: at the sight of a life to be lost, her entire world in that moment would revolve solely around seeing it protected. Such was Sooyoung’s nature, and should the life in question belong to someone she knew and cared for personally, it was amplified to an unthinkable extent.

It could only be for that exact reason, then, that even a perfectly excusable truth would necessitate being veiled by darkness.

Yerim considered it further. If the truth of their potential relation as parallel lives was somehow an inherent risk or danger to LOONA’s safety—the safety of the people Sooyoung cared for most—there was no question that the swordswoman would keep it hidden. Should concealing even the most plausible of truths somehow serve to save her friends, Yerim could not have been more positive in knowing that Sooyoung wouldn’t think twice about lying.

What remained, then, was the implied danger. 

Assuming Sooyoung and Sunmi’s lives were in fact mirrored, and assuming that awareness of such a fact was somehow a risk to everyone’s lives, thus inciting Sooyoung to lie about it in order to protect them...what could the risk in question possibly be? How exactly could simply knowing that they were alternate versions of each other result in such potential danger that they would see it hidden? 

Try as she might to speculate, with the information currently available to her, Yerim couldn’t even begin to fathom it. She more than well knew, however, that just because she couldn’t think of one didn’t mean that it didn’t exist.

“It’s not just that, either. There’s more.”

Yerim’s thoughts were paused as Yeojin summoned her voice again. Their faces caressed by another brisk breeze, Yeojin’s eyes were rife with scrutiny as she shifted her gaze to Yerim, swallowing the last of her cookie. “You noticed it, right? The way everyone avoided our questions at dinner today about the crazy stuff Sooyoung did during the spar?”

“Absolute, as Heejin put it,” Yerim recalled with a nod. “Yes, I very much noticed it. It was rather off-putting...I couldn’t help but feel there was more to it than they were letting on, given how blatantly the mood changed at the mere mention of the term.”

“And then there was how Sunmi had Jungeun, Sooyoung, Jiwoo, and your sisters stay behind after she introduced us to Joohyun and her friends,” Yeojin added. With her late night snack finished, her apprehensions poured outwards in how she crumpled its plastic wrapper into a ball with more force than necessary. “A private matter...whatever that means. Not the first time it’s happened, either—she did the same when she assigned us our teams yesterday morning. Remember how she held Hyejoo’s team back to talk to them?”

The memory was still fresh in Yerim’s mind, complete with the awkward pause and uncertain gazes that were directed towards the four sorceresses in question when Sunmi made her request. Yerim nodded again, this time more slowly. “Yes, I recall that as well. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when considered alongside everything else, and with how Hyejoo seemed to be bothered by something during the review...I’m not sure what to think.”

“I’m not sure either. All I know is that I feel like they’re hiding things from us.”

Signs of internal conflict were present on Yeojin’s face as she spoke her mind. With furrowed brows, she rubbed her temples as she tried to accept it. “I get it, seriously. Yeah, we’re inexperienced Neophytes. They want to protect us, and maybe this is their way of doing it. Maybe it really is for all the right reasons, and maybe it really is for our own good. But with how everyone’s been acting through these secret meetings and with how we keep being given the cold shoulder...I don’t know, man...”

A final sigh brought Yeojin’s point home, and with the understanding of what she valued most, Yerim now recognized just why she had been so distraught.

“...it just feels like I’m being lied to left and right. Even if it’s being done in my best interest, the fact of the matter is that the people I look up to are lying to me. We might be the newest recruits and we might still have a lot to learn, but we’re risking our lives just as much out there, aren’t we? So why, then?”

As it started to take root within her, Yeojin’s dismay became Yerim’s own. The arcanist’s eyes fell as Yeojin’s voice hit its lowest point, now dejectedly pained and void of vigor.

“Why the hell are they keeping secrets from us? Why the hell are we being lied to? Am I just supposed to sit here and accept that the people who consider us their family apparently think that we don’t deserve the truth...?”

Lacking an answer she felt worthy enough to handle Yeojin’s justified grievances, Yerim could do naught but allow the night’s silence to respond in her stead. All the while, deeper and deeper within the core of her soul itself, it started to blossom—the beginnings of doubt, and the question of trust. 

Strange though she had found Sunmi’s secretive tendencies and her seniors’ aversiveness to their queries, Yerim hadn’t thought terribly much of it at the time. Born in a society where the respect of one’s seniors stood above all else, she was entirely comfortable in always assuming the best out of her elders, sometimes without even being properly aware of it. For that reason, it would have been difficult to blame her for failing to view the situation in the light that Yeojin was now presenting.

However, before her position as a subservient arcanist of Eden who would readily accept the words of those bearing a higher rank, Yerim was one thing above all else: a girl with an open mind who did her best to consider all venues. An open mind which, fueled by the new shift in perspective she had been granted by Yeojin’s point of view, ultimately saw the possibility before her becoming much more damning the more she considered it. 

She was being lied to. 

She wasn’t entirely sure about what, but the signs were there, and they were painfully overt. Yeojin was right—even if it was being done in their best interest, a lie was still a lie, and while Yerim could not truly claim to be as driven by the nature of honesty as Yeojin clearly was, it horribly disheartened her all the same.

Haseul and Kahei, Yerim’s own sisters by blood and her most impactful role models by far, were lying to her. The thought alone made her heart sink in such a way that she could almost feel herself being dragged through the earth itself. Her mind came undone at the thought of it, only to hastily reconstruct itself so that it might begin assaulting her with questions that she couldn’t possibly know the answers to yet. 

She wasn’t left in the darkness of her headspace for long, however, as an out-of-place statement from Yeojin pulled her out of it.

“I’m sorry.”

A sudden apology left Yerim dumbstruck. “What for?”

“I know you dragged me up here and started shooting the breeze with me just to help me get my mind off stuff,” Yeojin admitted, revealing her perceptive edge once more. “You were just trying to help me out, but I still ended up unloading all of this crap on you. I guess it’s been bothering me more than I realized.”

“It’s fine, Yeojin. I don’t mind. I’d much prefer you talk about things troubling you as opposed to letting them bottle up inside you.”

“Yeah, I do feel a bit better after getting it off my chest. Thanks. For everything, I mean.”

The bleak melancholy that had consumed Yeojin’s demeanor was beginning to diminish. In its place arose a smile of undying gratitude, one that she directed towards Yerim as she locked eyes with her. “Aside from helping me study and putting up with my venting, thanks for being my friend, Yerim. I can’t remember the last time I felt this close to someone. I know it hasn’t even been a month since we met, and it’s probably a result of how I had to live all by myself as an exile, but I really feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime...maybe even several.”

Yeojin’s kindhearted words evoked a smile of Yerim’s own, though hers was more teasing in nature. “Hey, maybe you have. Eternal recurrence, remember? Who knows how many lives we’ve had together as friends, meeting up on this roof each time?”

“Oh, jeez, not this again. You’re gonna fry my brain bringing that idea up this late…”

Yerim couldn’t contain the giggle that Yeojin’s plea brought forth from her. With a sarcastically played up sigh, Yeojin dusted her knees before rising to her feet. As she relieved her body with a satisfying stretch, Yerim felt a sudden series of breezes pass her by.

Her left eye becoming washed over with her altered jade hue, Yeojin was gradually lifted off the floor by a gentle coat of swirling winds which had encompassed her body. Her hair whipping about lightly, she was carried by her just over the edge of the roof. Turning in place, she looked down towards Yerim and extended her hand, floating above her like a deity descending from the skies. “Let’s go.”

“Huh?”

Yerim’s mouth fell agape as she failed to understand Yeojin’s intentions. “Where would we even go at this hour?”

“What, you think you’re the only one who gets to drag their friends around without telling them your plans?” Yeojin playfully remarked, bringing back Yerim’s smile in full. “Truth be told, though, I don’t actually have a destination in mind. I just want to fly for a bit before heading back.”

“An evening joyride, is it?”

“Yeah, something like that. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“You know, I’m not entirely sure how legal this is,” Yerim said through another laugh. Her actions betrayed her words, however, as she rose to her feet and brought her hand to Yeojin’s. “On excursions, Haseul only ever does this when we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Pfft, who’s gonna stop us, the sky police?” Yeojin countered. Her smile widened as Yerim clasped onto her hand. Their fingers intertwining, a section of Yeojin’s calm whirlwind diverted outwards, enveloping the girl of fire and lifting her up to her level. Considering her own words for a moment, Yeojin backtracked on her statement. “Actually, why does it seem entirely plausible that Mobius would actually have something as crazy as sky police? After all, there’s magi dueling in sponsored tournaments in a giant coliseum with life bars and everything, for Christ’s sake…”

“Um, Yeojin?”

“Hm?”

“What’s a Christ…?”

Yeojin blinked.

Alongside a small roll of her eyes was the benign flash of green light from her contrasting iris, the winds surrounding her and Yerim intensifying. “You know what? That’s a great topic for this little flight. I’ll just explain all of my Earth lingo so I can stop sounding like a crazy person. Yeah, let’s do that.”

With a firm grip on each other’s hands and smiles on their faces, the duo of air and fire soared into the night sky above the outskirts of Mobius, led by Yeojin’s relaxed streams of wind guiding the way. 

Darkened through Yerim’s mind still was by the revelations brought forth to her regarding matters of truth and honesty, in much the same way that she had helped Yeojin, the girl of wind was now assisting her back in kind. In time, family would clash and lies would come undone. For now, however, Yerim could only think of the wondrous feeling of the wind in her hair, the breathtaking sight of Mobius from high up in the sky, and the company of the friend who she would continue to grow closer with than anyone else.

“Oh, Yeojin and Yerim...for such a fateful conversation, it’s a downright shame that I can never hear it play out for myself.”

On the edge of a nearby building, a well-dressed man holding a nondescript black book allowed his inner thoughts to escape the cage of his mind.

“Every time, I can only ponder if history was respected—if it went the way the Akashic records describe. Did the twelfth instance of it really go the same as all the rest, I wonder...?”

Though the book was open to a page nearly a fourth of the way through, his mismatched eyes of dark gray and light brown were trained on two airborne bodies leisurely gliding through the atmosphere above him a ways away. Stationed on the rooftop of an apartment building down the road which stood a few floors higher than the BBC’s headquarters, he had witnessed their arrival onto the top of the building and quietly observed their following conversation from afar even in spite of how undeniably out of earshot it was.

Seated on the edge of the roof with one leg dangling over it, he closed his tome and rested an arm atop his propped up knee. With the Neophytes now out of sight, he shifted his attention to a building he knew all too well. Several lights of the BBC’s headquarters were still on, promptly showcasing it as the most active establishment for several blocks even with the moon now rising high in the sky above.

“‘Jaden Jeong, you and your team are unnecessary. Do not interfere,’” he said to himself in a low, disgruntled sounding tone, mocking the excessively dedicated loremaster appointed by the Twelve themselves. He couldn’t help but laugh as the image of the ancient sorcerer came to mind, complete with his penchant for constantly checking his watch. “Goodness, Hyun-suk. You sure are confident in this instance going as smoothly as the others, aren’t you, friend? Given that your success thus far has truly been nothing short of a miracle, though, I really do think your confidence is rather arrogantly misplaced.”

Slowly, a smile crept onto Jaden’s face. Musing aloud to himself, he ran a hand through his neatly parted hair as he regarded the BBC’s headquarters with a gaze of utmost skepticism. “After all, all it takes is the tiniest bout of cosmic variance, and...poof. Everything you’ve worked so hard to maintain is all gone. From déjà vu to future memories, there’s simply oh so much that can go oh so wrong. And the funny part is, much as you’re loath to admit it, we’re completely powerless to stop it. Wonderful irony, I like to think, given what we’re capable of. Truly, it is rightly humbling.”

A forlorn sigh slipped between Jaden’s lips. Rising from his seat, he straightened his black blazer as he turned around and made way for the center of the roof. With a silent breath, an almost sinister flash of his odd eye broke free. A thick, tenebrous cloud of sickly dark gray mana was born ahead of him in an instant, hastily taking the shape of an oval. In the next moment, it coalesced into a rift carved into space-time, the destination on the other side hidden through its pitch black insides.

Approaching his portal, Jaden held his tome close to him as he shook his head. “Oh, Hyun-suk, my old, old friend...I do hope you’re correct in thinking that you won’t need my help in securing the solution to true eternity,” he thought aloud to himself. With every further word he spoke, his voice gradually descended into that of a dreary octave. “As it should go without saying, were anything to happen to your plan—or even worse, you yourself—I would simply have no choice but to step in and take over, and let me tell you...”

Crossing over, Jaden left an ominous warning to his audience of nobody as he vanished alongside his rift.

“...those poor girls deserve better than what I would have to do to them. Yes...regrettably, it would be a fate worse than death.”