The room was still. The kind of silence that settled only in the deepest hour of night—when even the wind dared not whisper. Soft breathing filled the chamber, a blend of peace and exhaustion. Somewhere outside, an owl hooted lazily, and the gentle rustle of leaves brushed against the windowpane like a lullaby.
And then—movement.
From the darkest corner of the room, just behind the edge of the bed, a figure rose. Not with the clumsy rustle of a person waking, but with the effortless glide of something that had never been asleep at all. Shadows bent unnaturally around him, folding in and peeling away like old silk.
A voice followed. Smooth. Teasing. Familiar.
"Well, well… it seems you took my advice about a happy marriage very seriously."
Toki stirred.
His eyes blinked open, struggling to adjust in the dim light. For a moment, he said nothing—just breathed in, disoriented. Then—
"Bernard?!" he whispered sharply, trying and failing to keep his voice down. "What the hell are you doing here at this hour?"
Bernard stepped closer, arms crossed, a smirk dancing across his face. His sharp violet cloak shimmered subtly in the moonlight slipping through the window.
"I could ask you the same, Your Majesty," he said, gesturing toward the bed. "Sleeping like a proper emperor, I see."
Toki sat up slowly—only to freeze halfway as he looked down and took in his situation.
He was squarely in the center of the bed. On his right, Tora lay curled into his side, clutching her fox plush. Utsuki rested just beyond her, her head gently settled on his right shoulder, one arm draped around him, as if holding him in place even in sleep.
On his left, Kandaki had fallen asleep with his cheek against Toki's bicep, while Hana—had somehow draped her legs across his stomach, her tiny fists clinging to his tunic like he was her personal fortress.
Toki blinked. "I… I don't know how this happened."
Bernard let out a low, stifled laugh. "Oh, I believe you," he said, taking a silent step closer. "You clearly didn't plan it. But I must say… it's quite the royal image. All you're missing is a crown and a pet phoenix."
Toki's mouth opened, then shut. He carefully shifted his weight, moving as if defusing a trap. Inch by inch, he slid his arms out from under the children and peeled himself free from Utsuki's soft hold.
None of them stirred.
He stood, back cracking slightly, and exhaled.
"Let's take this outside before someone thinks I'm cheating at domestic bliss," he muttered.
With Bernard grinning behind him, Toki tiptoed through the room, collected his overcoat from the chair, and followed the nobleman down the creaky staircase.
The inn was quiet, save for the distant hum of a sleepy fire in the common room. The two stepped outside, into the crisp air of early dawn. The sky was ink-blue, stars fading into a horizon brushed with pale silver. The moon still hung high—bright and full, bathing the courtyard in its glow.
They reached a small table by the front steps—wrought iron with two matching chairs. Dew clung to the edges, shimmering faintly.
Toki sat, running a hand through his hair.
"All right," he said. "Now, tell me what you're doing in my room at four in the morning."
Bernard leaned back in his chair, stretching like a cat. "I apologize for the intrusion. I know tomorrow—well, tonight, now—is important. But I had unfinished business. And Elizabeth… threw me out."
Toki raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Bernard sighed dramatically. "Apparently, slipping away from her tea party to watch you break a tavern full of knights was a 'gross violation of etiquette.' I did tell her you were far more entertaining than sugared biscuits and stale gossip. She disagreed."
Toki smirked. "So she kicked you out."
"She exiled me. Told me not to come back until I remembered how to behave like a proper noble."
Toki shook his head, amused. "And so you decided to sneak into my room instead?"
"Well," Bernard said, producing something from within his coat, "I came with purpose."
He laid a small black-and-white chessboard on the table. The pieces were elegant—carved bone and obsidian, glinting under moonlight.
Toki blinked. "Really?"
Bernard nodded solemnly. "If you beat me, I'll give you your gift early. The one I prepared for you after your ritual tomorrow. If I win, well… we'll just say I get the joy of victory."
Toki narrowed his eyes. "You brought a chessboard. At four in the morning. To settle a wager."
"I did," Bernard said with a straight face. "Are you going to mock me, or make your move?"
Toki gave a tired chuckle, shaking his head. "Fine. Set the board."
As Bernard arranged the pieces, Toki leaned back. "Before we start—how did you even get into the room? I didn't hear a thing."
"Ah," Bernard said, brushing a bishop into place, "now that's a story."
He looked up with a glint in his eye.
"You remember I told you I was on the cusp of Phase Three in the Moon Division?"
Toki nodded slowly.
"Well, I completed it," Bernard said. "I can now walk the shadows cast by moonlight. As long as the moon's in the sky, I can step between any shadows its light touches. Even across miles."
Toki stared. "You're serious?"
Bernard lifted a finger. A flick of moonlight cast his shadow long across the table—and then, before Toki could blink, Bernard's form bent into the shadow, vanishing.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared behind Toki.
"Useful, isn't it?"
Toki turned, wide-eyed. "That's insane."
"Technically," Bernard said, grinning, "it's Phase Three. They call it The Night Singer. We don't need sleep anymore. We draw energy from lunar exposure. And during the day, we can channel that energy into song—verses that can stun enemies, strengthen allies, or cause illusions. Very poetic."
Toki stared. "You've become a moon-powered assassin bard."
"That's… not the worst way to describe it," Bernard mused.
Toki crossed his arms. "And the singing part? I've never heard you hum a single note."
"That's because I don't need to yet," Bernard replied smoothly. "But when the time comes… I want to be ready. That's why I read so much poetry. I'm stockpiling lyrics."
"You're weaponizing literature."
"As one should," Bernard said, beginning the game with a crisp pawn move. "Now stop stalling. Your turn."
Toki moved his knight without comment.
They played in silence for a few minutes, the light of the moon catching on their faces and the faint clinks of bone and stone marking the rhythm of battle.
Eventually, Toki broke the quiet.
"You still haven't told me what the gift is."
Bernard arched a brow. "Trying to psyche me out already? Poor sportsmanship, Commander."
Toki snorted.
Bernard leaned in, tone more serious now. "It's… something that might help you tomorrow night. I have a feeling you'd choose the Darkness Division."
Toki stared at him. "Why?"
"You were always reaching into shadow," Bernard said, shrugging. "Even when we first met. You wore grief like armor and hope like a knife. You walk between light and dark, Toki. You always have."
The words hung in the air a moment, heavier than before.
Toki broke the tension with a sudden move. "Check."
Bernard cursed under his breath. "Of course you'd say something poetic and then stab me with a rook."
"Just playing like a proper emperor," Toki said dryly.
The game went on. Slowly. Thoughtfully
Each move echoed with tension, the kind that lingered longer than strategy could explain. Somewhere far off, a rooster called—timid, testing the edge of dawn. Neither of them looked up.
Bernard finally broke the silence, voice lower than before.
"Toki," he said, watching the board carefully, "there's something I've been meaning to ask."
Toki glanced at him, one brow raised.
Bernard didn't meet his gaze right away. His fingers hovered over his knight but didn't move it. "Back in the alley. That woman. You sensed her before she made a sound. And the smoke—the black fog you conjured that night, when you defended that boy…"
He looked up now, eyes sharp and searching. "You shouldn't be able to do that. Not yet. Not without a ritual. And yet… you did."
Toki's eyes narrowed slightly.
Bernard leaned forward. "So tell me. How is that possible?"
Toki didn't answer right away. He stared at the board as if its tiny army could provide answers. Then, slowly, he spoke.
"I don't fully understand it either," he admitted. "But… strange things have happened around me since I was a child. Moments I can't explain. People I couldn't see, but could feel. Sounds in the dark, whispers that seemed to follow me. And sometimes... shadows that moved when they shouldn't."
Bernard said nothing, waiting.
Toki exhaled. "At first, I thought I was cursed. But Utsuki believed it was something else. Maybe... I am favored. By Moonlight herself."
He paused, remembering—the woman in the Mirror Palace. Pale skin like porcelain, hair like twilight. The shovel in her hand. The look in her eyes that seemed to see through everything he was and everything he could become.
Bernard folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "So you think your abilities are divine?"
Toki shook his head. "I don't think anything. I just know I feel something inside me… something old. Something waiting."
A brief silence.
"But I'm not chasing answers for myself," Toki continued. "I don't care if I'm blessed or cursed. I'll keep walking this path. For them."
He looked toward the window of the room above, where Utsuki and the children still slept.
"I'll keep fighting. To protect the ones I care about. And if that means embracing the unknown, then so be it. Even if I lose myself in the process…"
He smiled faintly, repeating the words Mr. Smith once told him.
"…I'll become someone new. With the same purpose."
Bernard stared at him for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, "Smith was right. You are… special, Toki."
The air shifted. A pause. A quiet checkmate moved onto the board with elegant finality.
Toki set down his queen with quiet precision.
Bernard stared at the board, a flicker of surprise and dismay crossing his face. "Damn."
He leaned back and groaned. "Checkmate. I can't believe it."
Toki smiled—tired, but real. "Just playing like a proper emperor."
Bernard looked at him, then sighed theatrically. "Fine. A deal's a deal."
He reached inside his coat once more, but this time, what he pulled out wasn't a scroll or relic or strange artifact. It was a revolver—sleek and old, with a bronze-golden finish that glinted beneath the pale moonlight. Etchings along the barrel caught the light with uncanny shimmer, and the ivory grip was smooth, worn by use.
He placed it gently on the table before Toki.
Toki's expression darkened. He didn't reach for it immediately.
"That's… a firearm."
Bernard nodded. "An old one. A classic six-shooter. Looks antique, right?"
Toki leaned forward slowly, eyes tracing every detail. "Three hundred years ago, the first models were just barrels filled with powder and prayer," he murmured. "Crude. Dangerous. But this one…"
He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. The weight felt familiar.
He popped the chamber open. All six chambers were full.
Bernard raised an eyebrow. "You seem awfully comfortable with a gun."
Toki's fingers twitched slightly. He masked it with a wry smile. "I've always been fascinated with revolvers. Something about them... feels honest. No enchantments. No tricks. Just steel, smoke, and decision."
Bernard didn't press the point, though his gaze lingered.
Toki looked up. "Why are you giving this to me?"
Bernard exhaled, a hint of weight behind the gesture.
"Because I know what comes next for you, Toki. And because I once made a mistake... and I promised myself I wouldn't let it happen again."
He leaned forward, voice quieter.
"A few years ago, there was someone in my division. His name was Corren. Talented. Sharp. Brave. He wanted to rise through the ranks faster than anyone before him. Thought he could jump straight into the Third Phase of the Darkness Division."
Toki listened, still holding the revolver.
"But something went wrong," Bernard continued. "The ritual... it twisted him. He lost control. He didn't just embrace darkness—he became it. Corren turned into a monster, a being of shadow and rage. It took ten of us to bring him down. And in the end... I had to be the one to kill him."
His fingers tapped lightly against the chessboard.
"This revolver was his. A parting gift, before the ritual. He gave it to me for luck."
Bernard looked at Toki again.
"It's an ordinary weapon. No runes. No spells. Just metal and memory. But after what happened… I believe it's more than that now."
Toki turned it over again, slower this time.
"You think it's become an artifact."
Bernard nodded. "I do. I've seen it react strangely in my hands. Moments where the barrel glowed faintly, where a single shot shattered illusions. I think… it absorbed something. Pain. Regret. Death."
He met Toki's gaze.
"In the right hands, that weight can become power. If you're going to walk through the dark, I want you armed. Consider it my welcome gift to the Order."
Toki looked at him, a hint of something vulnerable in his eyes.
"Thank you," he said. "Truly."
Bernard gave a small smile. "Don't thank me yet. I didn't give it just as a gesture."
Toki raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I want you to survive," Bernard said. "Which brings me to your next question, I'm sure—artifacts."
Toki nodded. "I've heard the term. Smith mentioned it once. But no one ever explained."
Bernard laced his fingers together. "Artifacts are what's left behind when a Star Collector dies—especially if they die violently or after pushing beyond their limits. The stronger their connection to their Division, the more likely something remains. A weapon. A book. A ring. Even a piece of clothing."
He glanced at the revolver again.
"Most are inert. Harmless. But sometimes... something lingers. Power. Memory. Emotion. The more unstable the Collector's end, the more potent the artifact."
Toki leaned forward. "How dangerous are they?"
Bernard's expression turned grave.
"They're ranked from one to twelve. One is barely magical. A blade that stays sharp. A stone that glows faintly in darkness. But twelve?"
He shook his head.
"No one has seen a twelve in centuries. But legends say they could level cities. Warp time. Bend minds. Possibly even open rifts into other worlds. We don't keep anything higher than a six. And even those are locked away deep in the vaults of the Western Watch."
Toki stared at the revolver again. "Where would this fall?"
Bernard shrugged. "Hard to say. Maybe a two. Maybe a four, in your hands. Depends on what you draw out of it. Some artifacts... resonate. They evolve. Especially when bonded with a new bearer."
Toki looked thoughtful.
Bernard's voice softened. "But remember—there's risk. Artifacts aren't just tools. They remember things. Echoes. If you're not strong enough, those memories can overwhelm you.
A long silence fell between them.
Then, Bernard said, almost gently, "Just stay calm. Whatever happens. Promise me that."
Toki gave a small nod. "I will."
Bernard leaned back with a tired smile. "Good. Because I don't want to lose another friend."
Toki looked at him. For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly, but with a true and rare smile, he replied, "I won't let you down."
The first rays of sun broke across the rooftops, washing the courtyard in gold. Birds began to stir in the trees, and the sky warmed to soft lavender and rose.
Bernard stood.
"Well, the spell's broken. I suppose I'll return before someone finds us and starts rumors."
Toki rose too, slipping the revolver into his coat with quiet care. "Thanks for the match."
"And the loss," Bernard added with a mock scowl.
Toki grinned.
They walked back toward the inn together. Before parting at the door, Bernard turned.
With a last nod, Bernard slipped into the shadows—literally. His form blurred into a passing strand of moonlight, vanishing between slats of darkness.
Toki stood alone for a moment, the weight of the revolver warm against his side. He looked up at the sky and let the first light of morning touch his face.
He didn't know what the ritual would bring.
But whatever it was—he would be ready.
For them.
For himself.
For the story only he could write