The next thing Tsuki remembered was the driver shaking her shoulder.
"Hey. Time to get up," he grunted. "We're here. APC doorstep. Not sure what business someone like you's got with them, but I ain't stickin' around to find out. Now hop off my cart so I can get the hell outta here—respectfully."
She blinked herself awake. Her back ached from the rough floor. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
"Right… Sorry."
She climbed out of the carriage and hoisted Gatch onto her shoulder. Jianka was still dead weight, slung across the other. She staggered toward the massive stone structure ahead—the APC Palace, its towering walls glowing under the morning sun.
The palace was breathtaking. Its pillars were carved from viora, the rarest wood in Alden—deep brown laced with veins of violet. Gold trim and stone murals lined the walkways. Even with exhaustion clouding her vision, Tsuki couldn't help but stare.
The gate to the palace steps loomed over her. A nearby guard stopped her before she could enter.
"Tsuki... Gatch and Jianka alright?"
She stepped towards the man, unloading the heavy cargo before answering.
"They're just fine. I have a meeting with the council. Care to hold them for me while I'm gone? Hopefully it won't be too long."
The guard eyed her as she walked past. Without a response, Tsuki spoke.
"Thank you! Be right back."
She continued past the grand gates of the APC's headquarters. With every step, she gained the courage to confront her impending situation. As she did, something caught the corner of her eye.
She stopped.
A poster fluttered on a nearby pole—faded, but still visible. A hooded figure with a grinning mask.
"The Ghost?" she murmured.
A guard nearby overheard and turned toward her.
"The Ghost," he said, nodding. "Supposedly the strongest ability user in Alden. Stronger than Lord Chaze, according to rumors. But no one's seen him, so who knows if he's even real."
He shrugged. "Memento propaganda, probably. Not that it matters. The war'll be over soon."
Tsuki stared at the poster.
Memento… traitors. Killers. The Council told us they slaughter innocents. I've watched them myself... right?
She turned away, forcing the thought from her head, and made her way up the grand staircase.
After a brief exchange with the palace guards, she was escorted through the enormous front doors.
The halls were immaculate. Chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings. Stained glass filtered golden light onto red carpets. Artifacts from Alden's ancient past lined the walls—blades from the founding era, preserved banners from district unions, and etched portraits of the Nine.
The Nine Council Members, Tsuki remembered. Each ruling one of the districts… with Alden Central above them all.
At the far end of the corridor stood a set of towering double doors, carved from the finest iron. Guards opened them slowly as she approached.
Inside was a vast, circular chamber. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, its stained glass dome casting a rainbow of color onto the floor below. At the center sat nine thrones, arranged in a crescent shape, each occupied by a figure cloaked in authority.
At the center—taller than the rest—stood Hoshuro Nara, Council Leader and head of the APC.
He rose as she entered.
"Ah. Commander Tsuki," he said, voice echoing through the chamber. "What is the meaning of this? I assume you've brought news of success?"
Tsuki froze in place. She hadn't prepared a speech. The weight of the room suffocated her.
One of the other councilors—an older woman in a flowing sash—spoke next.
"Is he wrong?"
Tsuki swallowed. "Actually… yes. He is."
The room shifted with intensity.
Hoshuro's face remained still, but his tone sharpened. "Explain yourself. Choose your words carefully. Many before you have not."
Tsuki looked down, her voice trembling. "We arrived at the target's location. We made entry. My squad was ready to finish the job, but… I hesitated. The boy's ability wasn't dangerous. He wasn't hurting anyone. I—I second guessed the order."
The council stirred.
"I'm telling you this because I respect the Council. I wouldn't lie to you. I made a mistake, and I let my emotions interfere. But it won't happen again. I swear it."
Hoshuro's eyes narrowed. "And the boy?"
"Alive," Tsuki admitted. "On the farm."
He glanced to one of the other councilors. "Dispatch a squad. Quietly. Finish what she couldn't."
Hoshuro stepped forward. His boots echoed across the marble.
"As for you, once is enough," he said coldly. "Especially from someone in your position."
He paced slowly in front of her. "What would it say about us if we allowed one of our top commanders to defy direct orders without punishment? What would it say to your comrades?"
"Sir, I—"
"Treason," he cut in, voice booming, "is punishable by death."
Tsuki's eyes widened. Her knees threatened to buckle.
Hoshuro's glare was merciless.
"You've placed this Council in a bind beyond your comprehension."
The room was deathly still.
And then, with a flick of his cloak, he turned away.
"However… we are not without mercy. Your life will be spared."
Tsuki exhaled shakily, shoulders sinking.
"But you will spend the remainder of your days in Takamoto Prison."
"No, wait—sir, please. I acknowledged my mistake. I—"
"SILENCE!"
The word cracked like a whip through the chamber. The guards by the door flinched.
Hoshuro's voice dropped to a chilling hush.
"We are finished here. Guards—take her away."
Before Tsuki could even react, the guards closed in. She didn't resist. She couldn't. Her limbs felt like lead. Her mind, a blur of regret and confusion.
As they dragged her away, her eyes stayed locked on the council members—each of them cold, unmoved, indifferent.
I saved a child, she thought. And for that… I've lost everything.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Tsuki stood alone in a stone cell barely wider than her outstretched arms. The uniform she once wore with pride had been stripped away. Her APC colored headband still held her hair in a ponytail. In place of the uniform were coarse gray prison rags—itchy, stiff, and cold against her skin. A pair of iron cuffs clamped around her wrists, laced with anti-Solena seals. No abilities or resistance.
Only existence.
Her new home was Takamoto Prison, buried deep within Alden Central.
Her cell had no mattress, no blanket. Just a stone slab protruding from the wall—a "bed" in name only. The only window was a slit barely wide enough to catch the passing light of a torchlit corridor.
Time blurred.
She ate twice a day—watery stew and hard bread. She was allowed six hours of sleep, if the cold didn't keep her awake. Fourteen hours were spent laboring under watchful eyes. So much that her hands were always bloodied and bruised from the previous day's labor. The rest? Cleaning and scrubbing blood, vomit and other grime off the walls. There were no games, visitors or kindness.
Tsuki quickly learned the unspoken rules.
Keep your head down. Don't ask questions. Don't talk unless invited. Never look a guard in the eye.
She passed her time in silence. When she could steal a moment, she used the dull end of a meal fork to draw on the stone walls. Patterns, faces— anything to remind her she still existed.
One night, lying stiff on the cold slab, Tsuki listened to the familiar creaks and whispers echoing through the concrete.
Voices came from the next cell over.
"This place is packed," said a tired man. "Don't know how people put up with it."
"Don't really got a choice, do we?" another answered. "You survive. Or you break."
"True."
Tsuki rolled over. Their conversation wasn't meant for her, but she welcomed the distraction.
Then came something… different.
"Yo," the second voice said. "You hear about that guy with the brown hair and the beard? Think his name's Maro or something. Haven't seen 'em, but rumors travel fast 'round here."
"Brown hair and a beard? That's half the prison, man."
"Nah. This guy's different. Sharp jawline. Crazy presence with a bunch of following goonies. Word is… he's the leader of Memento."
Tsuki froze.
Leader of Memento? They captured him? Then maybe… the war's over.
The first prisoner let out a low whistle. "No wonder everyone's on edge. That Ghost guy's still out there, though. Heard he's terrifying. Rumors say the APC put a special bounty on him."
Tsuki's brows furrowed.
Again with the 'Ghost' figure. He's not real. Memento propaganda.
Before she could ponder more, the familiar clank of boots echoed through the hall. A guard stopped in front of her cell.
"Prisoner Tsuki," he barked. "Courtyard labor. Now."
Tsuki sat up with a groan. "Shit…"
The courtyard was wide and harsh—gravel underfoot, ringed with guard towers and reinforced walls. Floodlights buzzed overhead, casting pale circles of light over the scattered work crews.
Today's assignment: pulling weeds around the rusted fences. It was thankless, backbreaking work.
Tsuki knelt beside another inmate, a woman she hadn't seen before.
"What a pain in the ass," Tsuki muttered, yanking at a thick root.
"You're telling me," the woman replied. "Worst job on rotation. I'd prefer they stick me back on sewing."
Tsuki looked up, startled. "Oh. I didn't think anyone could hear me."
"You were talking loud enough to wake the dead."
Tsuki gave a sheepish nod. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it." The woman offered a hand. "I'm Correna."
"Tsuki," she replied, shaking it. "Nice to meet you."
Her grip was gentle, but not weak. Steady. Human in a place that had forgotten humanity.
"Likewise."
They returned to their task, falling into rhythm.
A few minutes later, a shadow approached.
Tsuki looked up—and held her breath.
A man stood above them. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A short, neatly trimmed beard. He wasn't tall—maybe five-seven—but something about him commanded attention. His posture, his gaze… he didn't move like a prisoner.
He whispered something into Correna's ear, then looked directly at Tsuki.
"I'm Maro," he said. "Who are you?"
Tsuki blinked. "Tsuki."
He smiled, not arrogantly—but with a quiet, knowing confidence. "Pleasure."
Then he nodded to Correna. She returned the gesture, and he walked off, blending into the laboring crowd.
Tsuki stared after him. There's no way…
She leaned toward Correna. "Do you… know him?"
"You could say that," Correna said, eyes twinkling. "He's kind. Bit of a ditz sometimes. But smart. Very smart."
Tsuki hesitated. "I overheard something last night. Someone said... someone said he might be the leader of Memento."
Correna laughed lightly. "That's… crazy."
But she didn't look her in the eye.
Tsuki narrowed her gaze. She's hiding something.
"Anyway," Correna said quickly, "let's finish this. If we finish early, we might beat the line for lunch."
Tsuki nodded slowly. "Right… lunch."
The prison cafeteria was a dim, echoing hall lined with metal tables bolted to the concrete floor. The scent of bland stew and boiled vegetables clung to the air like fog.
Tsuki sat in the far corner with her tray, poking absently at her food. Correna sat beside her, humming a quiet tune and scanning the room.
After a minute, she waved someone over.
Tsuki looked up to see two men approaching.
The first was Maro.
The second was taller—slightly gangly, with striking green eyes. His skin was a darker tan that blended well with his shaggy brown hair. His build was wiry, but he walked like someone who knew how to fight. There was a faint cockiness in his step.
Maro grinned as he reached the table.
"Correna. Tsuki. Good to see you," he said. "How were the assignments?"
Correna beamed. "We pulled weeds this morning. Then gravel duty. Our backs hate us, but we finished early!"
She clapped her hands, proud.
"Isn't that right, Tsuki?"
Tsuki nodded. "Yeah. Done and done." She eyed the newcomer. "Who's your friend?"
Maro gestured toward him. "This is Geo. He's a good friend of mine—though he's a bit feisty."
Geo scoffed and smirked. "Nice to meet you, Tsuki. And see you, Correna."
"You all… know each other?" Tsuki asked, suspicious.
There was a pause. Everyone glanced at each other—waiting.
Finally, Maro exhaled. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Before I tell you anything, I want you to understand something."
Tsuki swallowed hard. Maro continued.
"If you repeat what I'm about to say to the wrong person… I'll disappear. Correna will vanish. Geo too. Maybe half this hall."
Tsuki's hands nervously fiddled with her sleeve.
"So this is a test of character. Not loyalty." He drew a breath before he spoke again.
"I'm the leader of Memento."
Tsuki's eyes widened. Her body jerked backwards in shock.
"You mean that terrorist group from Persetta? From the slums?"
Correna's smile faltered. "Hardly a terrorist group. Though, yeah—the slums part is true."
Maro leaned forward, voice calm. "We're not what the APC says we are. We fight for the freedom of Alden. The Council holds this nation in a chokehold, Tsuki. They've twisted the law into a weapon. Their rule is absolute—and cruel."
"That isn't true," Tsuki said immediately. "It can't be. I've seen what ability users are capable of. The Alden Massacre alone—countless dead. The Council had no choice but to repeal the Equal Protections Act."
Maro's expression didn't change. "The Alden Massacre… yes, we're aware."
Tsuki crossed her arms. "That event changed everything. It proved the danger of unregulated powers."
"Did it?" Maro asked. "Or did it give the APC a reason to seize more control?"
Tsuki opened her mouth—then hesitated.
Maro leaned back slightly. "Let me ask you something. If you're so loyal to the APC… why are you here?"
That landed like a punch to the gut.
Tsuki froze. Her thoughts scrambled for a defense, but her tongue stayed still.
"I…" she stammered. "I disobeyed direct orders."
Maro remained quiet, allowing her to speak.
"In the field," Tsuki continued, voice softer now, "my team and I were sent to eliminate a target. A child. His name was Nokosaki. He could move things with his mind, but he wasn't hurting anyone. He lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere. I couldn't go through with it."
Geo's brow furrowed. "You attacked your squad?"
"I stopped them. Knocked them out. Brought them back here myself."
Correna's eyes softened.
"I kept wondering what was wrong with me," Tsuki murmured. "Why couldn't I just follow orders? Why couldn't I do what I was trained to do?"
Maro chuckled. "So. Stalkers can feel sympathy after all."
Tsuki looked up, confused. "How did you know I was a stalker?"
Correna smiled. "Solena. Once you've used it long enough, you can feel it in others. We all have abilities too."
Tsuki's eyes widened. "Wait—you all…"
Geo nodded. "All three of us."
Tsuki leaned back, overwhelmed. "I… I can't believe this."
Maro gave her a kind look. "We'll leave it there for today. If you're curious—if you want to know the truth—we'll be here tomorrow. No pressure. But I promise you this: Memento isn't what they told you."
Geo stood up and stretched. "And if you're not interested… well, your loss. You'll miss out on one hell of a comeback."
The three of them left together, leaving Tsuki at the table alone.
She sat in silence, her tray untouched, her mind racing.
Memento...
They're lying, right? The APC said they're murderers. Criminals. They told us they fight for chaos.
But if that's true...
Why do they seem more human than anyone I've met in the APC?
She slammed her fist down on the table.
A pair of prisoners nearby jumped and stared at her with wide eyes. When she turned toward them, they bolted.
That night, Tsuki lay on her stone bed once more, eyes open to the dark ceiling above her. Sleep didn't come.
Maro's voice echoed in her thoughts.
"Why are you here, Tsuki?"
It sounded so simple. But it unraveled something deep.
She'd asked herself that same question dozens of times since arriving in Takamoto. But this was the first time it truly sank in.
Why am I here?
Because she saved a child. Because she followed her conscience instead of the Council.
Because the mission had felt… wrong. Was that truly treason?
Her fingers traced the small cloth doll Rio had given her—hidden carefully beneath the thin layer of straw she'd gathered from lunch prep. She still couldn't believe they hadn't confiscated it, but at this point, she'd look at anything for entertainment.
Tsuki rolled onto her side, curling into herself.
They wouldn't understand, Tsuki thought. Jianka and Gatch. They followed the system like gospel. I did too. But now…
She clenched her eyes shut.
Now I'm not so sure about anything.
From the next cell, muffled snores echoed. Somewhere down the hallway, a guard's baton clinked against metal. The hum of prison life continued, distant and hollow.
But within Tsuki's mind—something stirred.
A spark of something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.
Doubt.