- 05: Moving Forward -
It's more money than I've ever seen in one place.
Even after hours of staring at it—just sitting there, stacked like bricks in two black bags—it doesn't feel real. I tried counting once, but gave up after an hour. My brain couldn't keep track. The numbers blurred. I could spend three days straight doing nothing but counting, and still not know the exact amount.
So I just lie back on my hard couch, the springs poking into my spine, staring at the ceiling like it has answers.
I'm planning to use this money to pay off Valeria's hospital bill. That's the first thing. The only thing that matters.
But then what?
That's barely anything inside the bag.
There's enough here to cover rent for years. Buy food that isn't instant noodles. Clothes that don't have holes or smell like old sweat. Hell, maybe even a real bed. One that doesn't fold like a dying spider.
And suddenly, I realize something terrifying.
This is the kind of problem rich people have.
Am I one now?
I let that thought sit for five minutes. Let it sink in.
No.
I'm not. Not really.
First off, I can't use this money freely—even though Maria said I could. People will notice. A guy who used to eat expired bread every night suddenly showing up in a five-star restaurant? It'll raise questions. Questions I can't answer.
Like how I got this money.
Like who I killed.
Me. A normal guy.
If I want to survive this, I need a story.
A reason why I suddenly have so much money.
Something believable.
As if the universe heard me, a knock comes from my door.
Again.
The girl with white hair. She's back.
Unlike last time, she came alone.
"Hey," she says softly.
She bows slightly, her posture stiff but respectful.
Now that I look at her again, I see it—the resemblance. Her face, her voice, even the way she moves—it reminds me of Maria. They're related. Family, maybe. Mother and daughter?
I glance down at her cane, almost identical to Maria's. Same dark wood. Same faint etchings near the base. And those eyes—pale grey, unfocused, always watching without looking.
They give the same strange vibe: blind, yet seeing everything.
Her nametag confirms it.
Oriana Aloria | Knight | Oceanus Association
So they're connected.
Of course they are.
"Mister Steven."
I nod. I've been waiting since yesterday for someone from the Association to come back. Yesterday, Maria told me that if people found out who killed Pale Ghost—and took the bounty—I'd be in danger.
And yet, instead of killing me, they want me to play along.
Meaning I have to do whatever they say.
She hesitates, standing in the hallway like she's unsure whether to speak or wait.
"I was tasked to—"
I cut her off before she can start.
"But not right now."
I turn back inside, grab the small bag I packed earlier, and lock the door behind me.
"Mister Steven, the association—"
"Whatever it is, it'll have to wait. I have something more important to do."
She doesn't argue. Just stands there, quiet for a long moment.
Then finally—
"Is that so."
I start walking. She follows, tapping the floor with her cane like a heartbeat keeping pace behind me.
By the time we reach the hospital, it's already afternoon.
Oriana isn't waiting outside the entrance like I expected. She's off to the side, seated on a raised flowerbed—a curved stone ledge wrapped in cracked red bricks, surrounded by wilted daisies and dust-covered ivy. The kind of decoration meant to make hospitals look less like prisons.
She fits there too well.
Not because she looks sick or weak—but because she looks patient. Still. Like she belongs in places forgotten by time.
When she hears me approaching—or senses me, I can never tell exactly—she rises quickly.
"Mister Steven."
She's been waiting a while. I feel bad about that.
"I'm sorry. Thank you for waiting."
"It's all right," she says, stepping closer. "As you can probably tell already, the Association is expecting you to do something for them."
"And are you here to oversee... Ehem, supervise me?"She shakes her head. "My instructions are simple. Follow you. Answer any questions you have."
Any question? Then does this work...?
"What exactly does the Oceanus Association want from me?"
She clears her throat, hesitating like she's choosing her words carefully.
"Answer… answer the question I can give."
Of course.
I glance down at her name tag again.
"Maria… is she your mother?"
Oriana pauses. Longer than I expect.
"My aunt."
I nod slowly.
"So, what do you guys want from me?"
With that, Oriana reaches into her coat and pulls out a folded letter sealed with wax. The emblem pressed into it is unmistakable.
A crest shaped like a wave crashing against stone.
Oceanus Association.
She hands it to me, "they want you to send it to the nearby Omega Association's office within forty-eight hours."
No explanation. No details. Just a location and a time frame.
I blink.
"Is that it? Do they just want me to be their errand boy?"
Oriana hesitates again, but this time, she actually smiles—small, polite, unreadable.
"For that question… you'll find the answer soon enough."
I stare at the letter for a long moment.
Omega Association.
The number-one power across the Three Cities.
Not just another Agent organization. Not just another corporate shield.
They're the ones who rank Agents . Who classify threats . Who decide who gets labeled as dangerous enough to kill.
They run the system.
And now, they want me to go there.
Thankfully, I know where to go. Their building is so big I could've see from here.
"Well," she says, "We better get moving."
I nod.
She turns and leads the way as I follow the smell of rose that accompanied her all this time.