Noctis and Ilya walked quietly toward Ian's office.
Silence stretched between them for far too long. Neither of them spoke — or rather, Noctis couldn't bring himself to.
Until Ilya glanced at him.
His complexion was pale.
"What's wrong, mister? You usually ask a lot of questions, do you not?" she asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Um… it's nothing. I'm just… lost in thought," Noctis replied, his tone slightly strained.
"And what exactly are you thinking about?"
Noctis froze for a brief moment but continued walking.
Because how could he possibly tell her that he was debating whether he should kill her or not?
"I was thinking about… Sir Ian," he answered, redirecting the conversation.
"Huh? My dad? Why?"
"Well, he's quite a mysterious figure to me in this mansion. I haven't seen him even once. Nor have I seen any portraits or pictures of him anywhere."
Ilya's steps slowed slightly.
"It wasn't always like that. After mother passed away, he removed all the pictures that had him and mom together. It just happened that most of his pictures were with her."
"Oh. I—I'm sorry. I didn't know," Noctis said, voice softer now.
"It's fine. It's nothing you should apologize for. Anything else you're curious about?"
"Hmm… then, how is his office? He stays there for long periods, right? Sometimes even days. So I was wondering."
"Well, his office is big. Almost as big as my room. It's well maintained. There are two large couches where someone could probably take a nap." She paused slightly. "I… used to do that before… everything happened."
Noctis looked at her for a moment. Sadness lingered in her expression.
Yet he could not bring himself to say anything comforting.
"I se—"
"Oh! There's another weird thing in his office," Ilya interrupted suddenly.
"Weird?" Noctis asked, interest sharpening.
"Yeah. There's a longcase clock in his office. It doesn't work. It's always stuck. When I asked him to fix it, he said it would start working on its own when the time comes." She rolled her eyes faintly. "He got all philosophical about it, but I don't really understand what he meant."
"It will start working on its own?" Noctis repeated. "Do you remember what time it was stuck on?"
"The time? If I remember correctly… it was 10 PM. But why?"
"Ah… I was just curious. I'm fond of watches and clocks," Noctis replied smoothly.
"Oh, but still—"
"Oh look. We're already here, Miss Ilya. I'll wait outside."
"Wait—why? Come with me," she asked anxiously.
"Well… I'm just a gardener. If the butler sees me standing beside the young miss, wouldn't that be a little suspicious?"
"Oh. I… understand." She hesitated. "I'll go by myself."
She turned and began walking away.
"Oh, once again, Miss Ilya," Noctis called softly. "I'm right here. So don't worry too much. Let the emotions in your letter carry the weight."
She offered a faint smile and nodded before continuing toward Ian's office.
The moment she turned the corner, Noctis's thoughts sharpened.
'A clock stuck at 10 PM? The same time as the birthday celebration? It can't be a coincidence.'
His gaze remained fixed ahead while his mind raced.
'Is that connected to the chandelier? To the fall? To my escape?'
He watched as Ilya spoke to the butler in the distance.
The old man seemed resistant at first.
"Tch. Can't you let even a single letter pass through, you damn old man…" Noctis muttered under his breath.
After a brief exchange, the butler finally accepted the letter and knocked on the office door.
Ilya ran back to Noctis.
They both stood there, watching as the butler disappeared inside.
Without speaking, they raised their hands and exchanged a quiet high five.
A small, shared victory.
"Now the only thing left is for him to read it, right?" Ilya asked, hope flickering in her eyes.
"I guess so," Noctis replied with a gentle smile.
"Do you think it will work?" she pressed.
Noctis paused briefly before answering.
"In my opinion… it will definitely work."
"You really think so?" she asked, excitement growing.
"Yes."
They began walking back toward her room.
Originally, Noctis had no clear idea on how to bring Ian Vexwood out of his office.
But then he remembered the unfinished note in the library.
After connecting the pieces, he concluded that it must have been placed there for a reason.
And so, he formed his plan.
Use Ilya.
"Oh, we're already here," Ilya said, still filled with anticipation.
"You must be very happy to lose track of time," Noctis observed.
"Of course, I am. I finally got to say what I've wanted to say for so long. Even if he doesn't come after reading it… I'm just glad I could express my feelings."
"Is that so?" Noctis replied quietly. "Then you should start getting ready. 10 PM isn't very far away anymore."
"Mhm."
She nodded and hurried into her room.
Noctis remained standing there for a moment, staring at the closed door.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered.
Then he turned and walked swiftly toward the main hall.
He had made his decision.
'I'm sorry, Ilya. If your death is a fixed point in time, then it will happen no matter how much I reject it. No matter how much I run from it.'
'What I'm about to do is a sin. I know that.'
'But it's better than you reliving this day forever. Better than me losing my sanity entirely.'
He reached the main hall.
The chandelier loomed above him.
He stared at it for several long seconds before closing his eyes and exhaling deeply.
Then he approached one of the servants working nearby.
"Hello there. May I borrow that for a moment?"
The servant turned, confused.
"Hello… but what do you need it for?"
"Ah, wait a moment—"
Noctis reached into his pocket and pulled out the tear-shaped crystal.
"I've been tasked with setting up the chandelier."
"Oh. I see. Sure."
He dragged the rolling platform ladder beneath the chandelier and climbed up.
Hundreds of crystal drops hung in symmetrical precision, each one suspended by thin silver hooks no thicker than wire. As his sleeve brushed against them, they trembled softly, releasing faint, fragile chimes.
Not music.
Just tension.
He searched carefully for the empty space.
And found it.
A single vacant hook.
Waiting.
He steadied the thin ring between his fingers and guided the drilled hole of the crystal into place.
For a moment, it resisted.
Metal scraped faintly against metal.
Then it slipped through.
He twisted the ring shut with controlled pressure until the loop sealed.
A soft metallic click followed.
It was done.
From below, the imbalance would not be visible.
But from where he stood—
It was obvious.
The chandelier was no longer perfectly balanced.
He descended carefully and moved the ladder aside.
Then he stepped back.
Waiting.
Seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
The chandelier remained still.
Despite the diary stating that it fell moments after.
That confirmed it.
This was not an accident of instability.
It required something else.
And that something—
Was yet to come.