The midday light painted long lines across the tiled floor as Blanche and Vila made their way back into the Council building.
Their steps were measured, neither rushed nor hesitant—Blanche's mind already piecing together how she'd frame the request.
Vila remained silent, following like a ghost in silver threads.
As they entered the Council Chamber, Silas was already sorting through projection files, his face calm as ever.
He looked up.
"Blanche. Vila."
"We need to speak with Rea," Blanche said plainly. "Regarding the West Quarter."
Silas blinked once.
Then turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder—toward the large window overlooking the courtyard.
"She's already here."
Before either of them could ask—
tap—tap—tap.
From the outside of the third-story window came the light sound of shoes landing on a solid surface.
A shadow passed.
Then—
"Helloooo~!"
Rea Caelumotris dropped down from above.
Swinging from the edge of the balcony railing with one hand and a half-eaten red bean bun in the other, she landed perfectly on the window ledge like she'd rehearsed it in five timelines.
The breeze fluttered her twin tails and clock-patterned ribbons.
She smiled with all her teeth.
"Someone said my name, and my drama senses tingled."
Blanche covered her face with one hand.
"You've been outside this whole time?"
Rea casually hopped down from the window into the chamber like it was her bedroom.
"Well, not the whole time. I took a nap, ate a thing, talked to a bird who I think owes me money. Y'know. Lunch break."
Vila tilted her head slightly.
"This is the person we're trusting?"
Silas didn't even blink.
"She's the only one who already knows more than anyone else."
Rea clapped her hands together, still holding the mochi.
"Alright then! Who are we investigating today? Creepy faction boss? Missing students? Mysterious graffiti that glows at midnight?"
She paused.
"Oh! Or is it about Kael?"
Blanche and Vila stared at her.
Rea grinned wider.
"Yeah. Figured."
Blanche crossed her arms, her expression composed but edged with tension.
"We're looking into Kael Dymont. His recent movements, affiliations, and any connection to the disappearance of a student named Erin Vos."
Rea was already halfway through her mochi when Blanche finished the sentence.
She blinked once, then tilted her head.
"Kael, huh? Ohhh, I could write a whole ballad about that guy. Chaotic aura. Very punchable smile."
Blanche gave a patient nod.
"Just the facts will do."
"Got it," Rea said with a wink—then immediately ignored that instruction.
"So! Let's start with Monday. 06:12 AM. He exited Dorm Block West-5 with his usual jacket—but this time, unzipped. Why's that important? Because it means he didn't go to weight training that day. Which he never skips."
"Instead, he detoured through Hall B and took a mana-lift down to the sparring cells, where he met with a guy named Dorn. Big shoulders, bad breath, Enhancement-type Pacta. They argued. Something about missing shipments."
Blanche blinked.
"Shipments?"
"Probably illegal. Or snack-related. I didn't get close enough to sniff."
Rea didn't pause.
"Then Tuesday—he skipped his History of Pacta class, which is his usual time to nap. That tells us something's wrong. Why? Because Kael never misses nap time. Not even when he's bleeding."
Vila's brow twitched slightly.
"How do you know that?"
"I was in the ceiling vent. Don't worry about it."
Rea kept going like a machine gun.
"Wednesday: met with two new faces—one had a northern accent and an eye patch. Definitely not registered students. I tried to tail them but got distracted by a squirrel holding a mana crystal. Anyway, I marked their shoe prints. They wore different soles—non-academy issued. Boom. External contacts."
"Thursday, Kael spent exactly three hours and twenty-two minutes in the west boiler room. No heat regulation activity. Just waiting. For what? I don't know yet. The shadows were unusually thick, but I didn't detect astral distortion. Weird, right?"
Blanche raised one hand slowly.
"Rea—please—pause."
"Friday, he—"
"Rea."
She stopped mid-breath, blinking twice.
"Yes, Lady Blanche?"
"I'm going to need you to slow down by about… 70 percent."
Rea tilted her head.
"You didn't keep notes?"
Blanche exhaled through her nose, reaching for the edge of the table.
"How are you even gathering this much data?"
"I have hobbies."
Vila leaned in slightly toward Blanche and whispered, completely flat:
"She's either a genius or a problem."
Blanche rubbed her temples gently.
"Possibly both."
Blanche took a long breath, steadying herself.
"Alright, Rea. Let's slow down. One question."
Rea paused mid-sway, blinking expectantly.
"Do you know where Kael's base of operation is?"
The corners of Rea's lips curled upward like a cat catching a bird in its paws.
"Of course I do~."
Blanche gave a short nod.
"Then tell me the location."
Rea tilted her head, still grinning.
"Or I could just take you there."
"...That won't be necessary," Blanche replied smoothly. "I'd prefer to—"
"—to go alone? In a hostile territory? Without knowing the layout?
Without knowing the timing of patrols, hidden triggers, unspoken codes, structural weaknesses, underground shortcuts, who sells the best grilled tofu by the corner? You sure?"
Blanche froze mid-sentence.
"I—"
Rea stepped forward like a storm in human form, still somehow chewing her last bite of mochi.
"Because once you're in, you can't just walk around like you own the place. Kael's people watch everything. They've got lookouts, coded whistles, proximity glyphs. And that's just the outside. Want me to start on the inside?"
"I think—"
"You think you'll improvise? Good luck when you trigger the alarm system made of pact-linked sound shapers embedded into the walls—fun fact, they scream. Loudly."
Blanche's mouth opened slightly. Nothing came out.
Rea clapped her hands once with glee.
"So! Let's not make this harder than it has to be. I'll be your guide, shadow, and inconvenient narrator. Just say yes."
A beat of silence.
Blanche inhaled slowly, eyes half-closed.
"I suppose… refusing you would be counterproductive."
Rea beamed.
"That's not a yes, but I'll take it."
Vila blinked once.
"You're not used to people like her, are you?"
Blanche answered without looking.
"No. And I'm starting to see why Silas has stress lines."
The western halls felt heavier the deeper they went—stone walls rougher, lights dimmer, and mana lines along the ceiling pulsing erratically like a heartbeat under pressure.
Rea led the way with hands behind her back, humming softly like she was on a casual school tour.
"Alright, fun fact no. 44: Kael's faction isn't just rough because they like it—it's designed that way. They train in an old underground maintenance wing. Used to be for boiler repairs, now it's just fists, blood, and pipe echoes."
Blanche shot her a look.
"Rea, we don't need the full historical background—"
"Correction: you don't. But I've memorized the layout, entry cycles, guard rotations, and who fakes sick during patrol shifts."
They passed by a rusted maintenance door.
"This way," Rea whispered. "Duct cover's loose. Five seconds window before the left corridor sweep returns."
She crouched, flicked something loose under a crate, and a hidden latch popped open. A narrow stairway spiraled down.
Vila followed first, silent.
Blanche hesitated.
"You sure this leads to the actual Pit?"
"What do you think 'The Pit' stands for?" Rea smirked. "This isn't some poetic metaphor. It's a real damn pit."
Down Below – Entering The Iron Pit
The walls were blackened with soot and smeared sigils. Red glyph-lanterns cast a dull, oppressive glow. Somewhere deeper inside, the sound of metal-on-metal rang out.
Blanche's steps echoed cautiously.
"What are the odds this place collapses on us?"
"Oh, very low," Rea said cheerfully. "It's survived at least six brawls involving explosive Pacta. So far."
They reached a final hallway—long, with a faint red line along the left wall.
Rea raised a hand.
"From this point on, step only when I step. The guys guarding the real entry don't rely on sight. One of them uses mana pulse sense. Step wrong, breathe too loud, and he'll feel it."
She started forward, counting quietly.
"One… two… hold. Guard passing behind the wall. He's humming—bad sign. Means he's alert."
They paused.
The low sound of footsteps passed.
Rea resumed.
"Now—left foot on the vent line. Right on the drain tile. Avoid the center. That one's rigged to screech if pressured too fast."
Blanche whispered.
"How do you know this?"
"Because I messed it up last month."
"…What happened?"
"Let's just say I now know how many chairs Kael can throw in five seconds."
Vila blinked.
"Accurate."
At the Door
Finally, they arrived at a large circular door embedded into raw concrete. Etched into the wall beside it: a metal fist smashing into stone.
Blood smears trailed near the entrance.
Rea turned to them, now serious for the first time.
"From here on out, we don't speak unless we have to. The Pit is like a beast. You don't knock. You step in, and if you flinch, it eats you."
She looked at them both.
"So follow my lead. Eyes forward. Keep cool. And absolutely don't show weakness."
She gave a little two-finger salute.