"So... that's what happens?" Hana asked, her voice steady despite the weight of the revelation.
"Right," Night replied. "You see, the contract is only effective if both parties are technically alive. Since it's a blood oath, it only accepts living blood. In your case, because you were on the very edge of death, the connection was as thin as a strand of hair. Luckily, you still had a faint pulse, so I took the chance to seal the contract. However, there is a counterpart to that ritual."
Night leaned forward, her expression grave. "It's written in the fifth section, under Article 2 of the Blood Oath between Angel and Mortal. If the mortal has lost blood, the Angel will automatically transfer their own blood to the mortal in the exact amount needed to sustain life."
"In your case," Night continued, "I gave half of mine to you. According to the scriptures, the more blood you receive from an Angel, the more tightly you are bonded to them. If we are separated by a great distance for too long, I will weaken. Eventually, I'll turn to stone and die."
Hana went still. Lunx, however, looked visibly shaken. "Night... you didn't tell me it went that deep."
Night ignored the comment and pressed on. "As for healing—whenever you are injured and lose blood, my blood will automatically transfer to you through the bracelet. If you lose more blood than I have in my entire body... I will drain completely and die."
Silence filled the cabin. Even Hana, who usually welcomed the idea of an end, seemed taken aback by the sheer selflessness, or perhaps the sheer recklessness., of the pact.
"So, basically," Night concluded, "you are strictly under my supervision, Miss Hana. For the next three years."
"And what happens after those three years?" Hana asked.
Night and Lunx exchanged a quick, knowing look.
"Since it's a blood oath," Night said, her voice dropping an octave, "all the blood transferred to the mortal must return to the Angel through the bracelet, and..."
Hana waited patiently, her gaze boring into Night's.
Night hesitated. Her hand instinctively drifted toward a small, ornate dagger hidden behind her back. Lunx didn't miss the movement. She knew that blade the "Finis Vitae"and she offered Night a look of deep sympathy.
The one you protect is the one you must hurt in the end, Lunx thought sadly. No wonder you hate the rules.
"And..." Night forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I get to give you a goodbye hug. A final embrace before we go our separate ways."
She lied.
Hana narrowed her eyes. "That's a bit cliché, don't you think?"
"Well, I agree," Night said, recovering her playful tone. "It's like the person who wrote these laws did it the year before the plague hit the world."
"You don't seem to dislike the rules as much as you dislike the author," Hana noted.
"Hmm? Ah, well, I guess you're right," Night admitted. "I respect why they were made, but I hate how they're executed. It's hard to be judged when 'Justice' sees you through a blindfold. In the end, people are blinded by corrupt policies... they're the ones who ended up wearing the blindfold instead."
Hana nodded slowly. How fun, she thought. I thought I was the only one who felt like we were just livestock being raised by pigs. "How interesting indeed."
"Okay..." Lunx interrupted, sensing the room getting heavy. "Before we get too philosophical about politics, let's get to the bottom line. Since you're here, Miss Hana, it's the perfect time to discuss the real work."
Lunx pulled a set of thick folders onto the table. They were marked with symbols Hana didn't recognize.
"Night, Miss Hera wanted me to deliver these to you," Lunx said. "Information on the 'Underground Hogglers,' the 'Swines,' the 'Deformi Crocodilus,' and the 'Treacherous Scales.'"
Hana scanned the names. Hogglers? Swines? "Each file contains data on those four groups," Lunx continued. "We couldn't retrieve everything. Herra believes the 'Eaters' have already started scrubbing the records. But now that we have a lead, we can find the rest along the way."
Night nodded. "This is enough to start. We have to balance the 'Plague' as soon as possible."
"What exactly is happening?" Hana asked, feigning ignorance. "Those names mean nothing to me."
"For the last six years," Night explained, "we've been searching for the source of a major outbreak: The Phantom Plague of Death. People are dying in droves, and it's not natural. These are 'untrackable deaths,' meaning they aren't dying because their life-clocks ran out. Their time is being corrupted by an external force, one no human could possess. I have a hunch it's another celestial entity... or several."
"The death rate has grown so abnormally large that we Angels can't keep track anymore," Lunx added. "And that leads to a massive problem."
Hana looked at the photos of the victims in the folders. "A problem? Beyond the obvious?"
"Just like overpopulation is a risk for the living," Night said, "it's a risk for the dead. We are being outnumbered. We can't facilitate or guide all these spirits, which means they wander off, lost and alone, until they are taken by Demons."
Hana felt a slight chill. "Demons?"
"Predators," Night said, looking directly at Hana. "They fear the light, so they prey on those who cannot fight for themselves. those with dead faith, gloomy spirits, and fading beliefs. They hunt the weak-minded and the broken."
"I see," Hana said, her voice was cold. "But what does this have to do with me? Surely you didn't just choose a dying artist to satisfy your own redemption. There's always a hidden agenda."
"You caught me," Night admitted. "There is something you have that is essential to this mission. Something that acts as a compass for these 'Swines.'"
Hana looked at Lunx, who had opened a folder to a page filled with old newspaper clippings and genealogy charts.
"It's your family, Miss Hana," Night said quietly. "It's the Monschein legacy."