Carl slumped against the wall, his shoulders sagging as if the stone itself were the only thing holding him upright. His eyes fixed on his own trembling hands. No matter how clean his skin looked on the outside—scrubbed, polished, even perfumed by palace servants—his mind still reeked of the black sludge of the Void. The memories clung like oil, impossible to wash away.
Kaela hadn't spoken in hours. She sat close enough for him to feel her warmth, her posture stiff but steady, like a tether planted in the present. Every so often, her fingers brushed his sleeve—light, tentative touches, as if afraid he might slip into darkness if she let go.
The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was heavy. A weighted blanket of unspoken fear. And Carl hated it.
He forced a grin, his lips cracking upward with more effort than honesty.
"Relax, maid-san. I'm fine. Just indigestion from hell."
Kaela's gaze softened, but she didn't move. She didn't believe him. She never did.
Then came the knock.
It was measured. Delicate. Yet sharp enough to slice the silence apart.
Carl groaned, letting his head roll back against the stone. "If that's the System trying to sell me an extended warranty, I'm not interested."
The door creaked open, and in swept the Princess. Normally, her presence radiated confidence—gown stitched with gold trim, hair shining like polished obsidian, chin tilted in noble arrogance. But tonight something was wrong. Her glow felt brittle, like a candle guttering against a draft. No teasing smile. No haughty smirk. Her hands shook as she closed the door behind her.
"Carl," she cried, her voice cracking in a way that startled him. "I need your help."
Carl blinked.
"…Did I hit my head harder than I thought, or did royalty just ask me for something?"
Kaela shot up instantly and bowed, but froze as her mistress staggered forward, lower… lower… until the Princess's knees hit the floor. Her lips curled as though the act disgusted her, but her eyes held no deception.
Carl's grin faltered. "Okay, hold up. This is weird. You're supposed to bark orders, not… beg."
Her voice trembled. "They call me paranoid. They laugh at me. But I've seen them—things crawling through the palace walls at night. Servants vanish. Nobles fall sick overnight. And no one believes me." She swallowed, her throat bobbing. "Recently, I feel like someone is watching me… and somehow, I know it's connected."
Carl's stomach dropped. The flickers he'd caught in the corners of his vision these past nights—the shadows that twisted when no torch burned near—weren't hallucinations. They were real.
"…Shit," he muttered.
The Princess pressed her hands together, knuckles whitening. "Please. If you don't help, the palace will fall—and so will the kingdom."
Carl opened his mouth to retort, but the System chimed, cold and unfeeling:
> [New Quest: Defend the Palace]
[Objective: Eradicate the Wraithspawn nest.]
[Failure Consequence: Classified.]
His blood ran cold. Classified. That couldn't possibly mean anything good.
Kaela's wide eyes darted to her mistress. "Milady?"
Carl dragged his palm down his face. "I'm not your royal exterminator. Call pest control."
The Princess's eyes glistened. "Pest control? I don't know what that is—but I know they cannot fight what they cannot see."
Carl muttered under his breath, "Right. Next time, maybe use terms from this century." Then, louder: "What makes you think I can see these supposed monsters?"
"I don't think you can," she admitted. Her voice trembled again, but it held a fragile strength. "But after watching you stand against one of the kingdom's best, I thought… perhaps you could do something."
Carl's laugh came out hollow. He wanted to say no. He wanted to walk out, close the door, and pretend none of this was happening. But the System had already locked the quest in. No loopholes. No escape.
He sighed. If he was trapped, he might as well squeeze something out of it.
"…Fine. But I don't work for free. If I'm risking my neck, I want compensation."
Kaela's head whipped toward him, eyes widening in horror, but the Princess leaned forward instantly. "Name it."
Carl blinked. Wait. No hesitation?
"…Uh—private room, decent meals, no more chores, freedom to move as I please… and maybe a personal guard or two. Just in case one of those things bites my face off."
"Done," the Princess replied without pause.
Carl's smirk twitched, his confidence wavering. "…Oh. Uh. Great."
Shit. Wasn't expecting that. Now I actually have to do it. Should've asked for something bloodier.
The Princess's desperation softened into something dangerously close to tenderness. "Carl, you are our last hope."
Kaela's fists clenched at her sides. Watching her mistress kneel before this man was something her heart had never been prepared for.
Carl tipped his head back, groaning. "Perfect. From unpaid intern to kingdom savior. Next thing you know, they'll have me marry a dragon."
The System struck again:
> [Quest begins at midnight. Prepare yourself.]
Carl froze. "…Midnight? Tonight?!"
Outside, beyond the thick stone walls of the palace, something stirred. The torches on the battlements flickered, their flames guttering as if choked by invisible hands. The air pressed down, unnaturally still—too still. Even the crickets had fallen silent.
For a fleeting heartbeat, Carl saw them. Thin, twisted figures phasing in and out of the ramparts, their limbs too long, too sharp, bending like broken bones. Their eyes glowed faintly, hollow embers smoldering in empty sockets. Their movements carried no sound, only a sickening shimmer as though reality itself rippled around them.
The Wraithspawn were already here.
And somewhere deep inside, Carl realized the Princess was right. If he didn't fight, the palace wouldn't last the night.
Carl dragged in a breath, the air sharp and metallic on his tongue. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a taste to the night now—like iron left too long in the rain. His gut twisted.
Kaela shifted closer to him, whispering so softly it was almost swallowed by the silence. "I felt it too… days ago. I thought it was only me." Her voice trembled, but her eyes stayed fixed on the window, on the shifting shadows beyond.
Carl rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a crooked grin. "Congratulations. Either we're both losing our minds, or monsters really do crawl through the palace at bedtime. I don't know which is worse."
No one laughed.
The Princess's fingers dug into her skirt until the fabric wrinkled. "Midnight," she said again, voice low, as if repeating it might make it less terrifying. "They grow bolder at midnight."
Carl swallowed, his throat dry. Midnight wasn't a countdown anymore. It was a death sentence with a clock.