The air in the room, once thick and heavy with silence, had subtly lightened without anyone noticing.
Hiltina's hand, resting at her waist, froze mid-motion. She stared at Rast before her, sensing that the role he now occupied felt oddly mismatched with the words he had spoken earlier.
"Honestly, there's nothing strange about it," Rast said, his expression calm.
"Since there are bars catering to men, it makes sense that there'd be places for women as well."
"A few hours ago, I met the owner of this establishment—and now, I'm the top attraction here."
"Of course, it's the kind of performance that sells skill, not flesh."
Hiltina paused, thinking. "So… the stories you told earlier were all just fabricated to amuse your clients?"
"Being a blogger, that's my current job," Rast replied, "but everything else I said is true."
"Then… why are you here, acting as a host… a companion?"
Hiltina's upbringing stopped her from saying the word aloud.
"If I must give a reason… it's probably just to entertain myself."
Rast rose smoothly and retrieved four wine bottles of different colors from the corner cabinet, along with two tall-stemmed glasses.
The next moment, the bottles began to dance between his fingers as if alive, spinning and twirling with precise rhythm.
"I'm a man without a tomorrow," he said. "This endlessly repeating Deep Blue Harbor has long since lost all sense of reality for me…"
"So whether I'm a sculptor or a host, it makes no difference."
"As long as it amuses me, gives me a spark of novelty, and keeps me from losing my mind over tens of thousands of loops… then even begging or being imprisoned is irrelevant."
His fingers paused.
Clink. A crisp sound echoed across the table.
In the silver goblet, the liquid was vivid red, clear as flame.
"Karma Fire Flowing Sand."
"I won't tell you the price. I assume you don't carry the local currency."
Rast set the goblets on the table and wiped his hands with a white handkerchief.
"Normally, I respect my craft. Breaking the rules of roleplay ruins its fun."
"But today… is an exception."
Hiltina did not take the goblet. She simply watched Rast's cocktail performance in silence.
Even as her instincts prompted her to deny his claims, the display before her clearly surpassed any reasonable explanation as coincidence.
Moreover, Rast had predicted her situation with unnerving accuracy—for example, she had truly brought not a single coin from Deep Blue Harbor.
And no flaw could be found in the logic of his words.
"But—" Hiltina lifted her head.
"Even if everything you said is true… why would you freely reveal your greatest secret, the infinite loop?"
"Even if everyone else in this world loses memory of speaking with you after a reset, you said I'm special—the one who's never appeared in your previous cycles."
"That is indeed my greatest secret—"
"But I no longer care."
Seeing Hiltina unwilling to drink, Rast didn't hesitate. He raised his own glass.
"I once thought that infinite time was a gift from God—a chance to become a hero celebrated by thousands, bathed in flowers, applause, and glory… or a lawless villain, unforgivable and vile. It was all just a matter of choice."
"Yet, it's not a blessing. It's the most desperate curse."
Rast stared into the goblet, the crimson liquid glowing like blood.
"No matter what mark you leave in this world, when dusk falls, it's erased."
"A jade piece carved halfway reverts to its raw stone the next day."
"Friends who met too late, lovers inseparable today, will be strangers tomorrow."
"Even training your body a thousand times leaves you powerless, just an ordinary human."
"Even to serve as a makeup artist at the opera house, I must repeat the interviews, hearing the director recite lines I already know, over and over again with each loop."
"Birth, growth, aging, death… joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, partings and reunions—this is the beauty unique to humanity, but it is nothing to me."
"I am a passerby in this world. Seemingly omnipotent, yet I possess nothing. I leave nothing behind but memory."
Rast drained the goblet of Karma Fire Flowing Sand.
"So—" he said, voice flat but resolute, "to end this hopeless, endless cycle…"
"The price I am willing to pay exceeds your imagination… no matter what stands in my way."
"Mundane laws, notions of good and evil…"
"Or perhaps… some existence that claims to be God."
Rast's tone was calm, almost emotionless.
Yet listening to him, Hiltina felt her body tense. This realization startled her—she was clearly not of the same dimension as this world's inhabitants, yet a few words from this native unsettled her.
Then, click.
A revolver appeared in Rast's left hand. Its silver-white body gleamed sharply, reflecting cold metallic light, like a forged moon.
Simultaneously, Hiltina's gaze snapped to a corner near the window—shadows hiding someone there.
"Impressive senses… for someone trained by royalty," a hoarse female voice called out across the spacious, silent room.
A full-figured woman, wearing a black iron mask, half her body cloaked in shadows, spoke.
"I didn't expect that the first thing you'd do upon entering the Night World would be coming here looking for a man."
"Of course, if one wants to vent desire, the Night World is an ideal choice."
"Safe, private, leaving no trace…"
The masked woman's laugh carried experience. She could see the role Rast played here with just a glance.
Her gaze lingered briefly on him, a hint of surprise flickering in her eyes. "I didn't expect to find such a native projection here… no wonder the heiress of Starry University has no regard for noble pride."
"A reward beyond the mission, one might say."
But her attention immediately shifted to the silver revolver in Rast's hand.
The laughter turned cold. "I don't like toys with thorns."
"Though a pity… letting those who toy with corpses refine it may offer other uses."
"Drop the gun!"
Hiltina's instincts had already detected danger, and she spoke hastily. But her warning was too late.
In the black iron mask, the woman's eyes—once obscured in shadow—suddenly flared with rose-red light.
Within her gaze, a beautiful, hazy humanoid figure coalesced, spinning, dancing, and expanding, until the radiant rose glow and the enchanting dance were reflected in Rast's eyes.
"Offer me your life."
The voice was soft yet irresistibly commanding.
As if compelled by this order, Rast's head lowered, his movements stiff, like a marionette. Slowly, he raised the silver revolver to his temple.