Perhaps it was intentional. Or perhaps it wasn’t, given that the guide never accounted for the lives of NPCs.
It was just a game, after all.
It was just a game, but….
——That’s my boy…. that’s my boy in there….
A woman stood by the edge of the grave.
——Mom…. why isn’t Dad coming back home?
A young girl, no older than ten, asked.
On the other side of the cemetery, a young man knelt in front of a different headstone.
——You promised, brother…. You said you’d be there at my graduation, remember? You said it like it was nothing. So why? Why aren’t you here?
It was a funeral.
A funeral for the guards who lost their lives in the Index incident.
They weren’t just NPCs anymore. They had stories. They had lives. They had families waiting for them.
A line of uniforms stood in silence. Fellow guards of the Index Prison. Their hands were raised in a salute while the rain soaked into their uniforms.
They watched as the names were read aloud. One by one.
“Guard First Class, Reimar Clive.”
“Guard Second Class, Elias Thorpe.”
“Guard Third Class, Frida Whittaker.”
“Senior Guard, Maxwell Brecht.”
“Guard Second Class, Alan Torez.”
With every name called, the rain grew heavier. No one moved. No one spoke. It wasn’t just rain soaking their faces anymore.
These were the ones who didn’t make it. The ones who wouldn’t be going home.
Doooo— Doooo— Doooo—
A single trumpet played from the back. The flag draped over each coffin was slowly folded and handed off to the families of the fallen.
“Thanks for coming, Professor,” Alaric said, standing beside Vanitas.
“It’s the least I could do,” Vanitas replied.
Indeed, while he had completely disregarded their lives, all for the sole purpose of his goal, Vanitas at least had to show up.
Perhaps, it was the guilt that swallowed him up, or perhaps, it was out of sympathy, any kind of reasoning felt cowardly.
But he had to remember them.
He had to remember their faces.
Because indirectly, he had killed them.
He hadn’t known their names before. To him, they were just faceless figures caught in the crossfire in the path of his objectives.
But now, as the names were called one by one, the weight of it settled in.
He stood there silently, letting the cold rain soak through his coat.
It wasn’t as if he could make amends. There was nothing he could offer that would fill the void left behind in their families.
Guilt clawed at him, twisting in his chest. Whether it was guilt or something else, he didn’t know.
Sympathy? Responsibility? Self-loathing? It all felt cowardly to even try to justify it.
Because, in the end, it didn’t matter who killed who. Indirectly, their deaths were on him.
He had killed them.
Vanitas shifted his gaze to the side. On a rain-soaked branch, a single bird sat.
It didn’t move, didn’t sing. It just watched.
For a moment, Vanitas wondered if it felt out of place. Just like him.
Two figures that didn’t belong here, yet remained anyway.
However, the moment their eyes met, the bird suddenly took flight, disappearing off somewhere he could only imagine.
“….Strange.”
***
Slam!
“Ahh…. Why the somber look, Professor?” Alaric grinned, leaning back in his chair.
They sat inside a small, dimly lit tavern tucked away in a quiet corner of the Empire.
Vanitas swirled the drink in his glass, watching the liquid spin. His eyes were distant, like he was looking through it instead of at it.
“Just thinking,” Vanitas muttered.
“Oh? Do tell!” Alaric said.
Vanitas hesitated for a moment. Trusting in others was difficult for him, especially in the context of friendship.
But then again, why not? If he could overcome that boundary, then it would do good for him in the future.
Alaric had probably faced just as many hardships as he had—maybe even more, given the kind of environment this world had.
Confiding in Alaric didn’t sound so bad.
Also, it wasn’t anything related to the funeral, but something else entirely.
This morning, he had roughly the same dream again. No, perhaps, he had the dream nearly everyday.
“So….”
Vanitas began.
*
Chae Eun-woo had reported the incident to the police. After a few days, news came in. Three suspects had been caught.
At first, relief washed over him. Finally, something was being done. But that relief didn’t last long.
When he saw their faces, his heart sank.
“That’s not them….”
It wasn’t the same people. Far from it.
No matter how hard he stared at them, comparing them to the faces in his memory, it was clear. These weren’t the same people. Not even close.
The officer handling the case laid out the evidence with cold precision.
Fingerprints. Found on a metal pipe at the scene.
Hair samples. Discovered on the victim’s clothes.
Witness testimony. A passerby had identified them as the culprits.
It all sounded so airtight. As if it was so “undeniable.” But Chae Eun-woo’s chest tightened with frustration.
No. This wasn’t right.
He gritted his teeth as the officer continued talking like it was a done deal. The suspects sat at the far end of the room. One of them was barely older than a teenager.
“You’ve got the wrong people!”
He told them everything again. The details. The heights. The faces. The sounds of their voices. Every small, vivid thing he could remember.
“These aren’t the ones who came into our apartment that night. You’re chasing the wrong people! The real ones are still out there! Please! My sister is still out there somewhere!”
But his words met a wall.
The officer’s expression didn’t change. He closed his folder, tapping it against the desk to align the papers inside.
“The evidence is solid. We have prints, samples, and witness statements. The case is closed.”
Case closed.
Those words hit Chae Eun-woo harder than any punch he’d ever taken.
“Case closed?” he repeated in his mind in disbelief. He’d done everything right. He reported it, gave a clear description, trusted the system. And this was what he got?
He glanced at the suspects. None of them met his eyes. They looked like they’d given up long before this moment.
“What about my sister!?”
The officer didn’t flinch and sighed.
“We’re still looking for her,” he said, like he was reading from a script. “Please wait. We’re doing all we can.”
“All you can? You think this is all you can do? My sister is still out there. She’s scared and alone. And you’re telling me to ‘wait’ while you chase ghosts?”
“Watch your tone, kid.”
“Or what? You’ll throw me in a cell with them? Go ahead!”
He jabbed a finger toward the suspects.
“Because at least then, I’ll be in the same place as the wrong people you’re locking up.”
The officer sighed again and leaned forward.
“I get it, you’re upset. But you need to face reality. Evidence doesn’t lie. Witnesses don’t lie. We have everything we need. This case is closed. Let. It. Go.”
His mind went blank. Every ounce of rage, every ounce of desperation. All of it pressed down on him
His eyes flicked to the suspects again.
They weren’t even looking at him.
It felt wrong. All of it. Every second of it.
“Let it go? If you won’t find them, I will.”
But those words led him nowhere.
Chae Eun-woo followed every lead he could think of. He checked the receipts, traced every address, and even visited the loan office where it all started.
And worst of all, there was no sign of Eun-ah.
Days passed. Frustration turned into doubt, and doubt slowly turned into realization.
It was bigger than that.
A web.
A spiderweb that stretched far beyond what he could see.
The officers, the so-called “investigation,” the loan service, it was all connected.
The officers weren’t just lazy. They were on someone’s payroll. The loan office? It wasn’t just a business. It was a front for laundering money.
‘They played me.’
The world wasn’t as simple as fourteen year–old Chae Eun–woo thought.
On the streets, nearly every day, Chae Eun-woo handed out pamphlets with his sister’s face printed on them.
“Please, sir, take one,” he said, offering a flyer to a man in a suit.
The man glanced at him for half a second before walking past.
Eun–woo gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything. He moved on.
“Ma’am, please, my sister’s missing. Please take this.”
He stretched his hand toward an older woman carrying grocery bags.
“Oh, dear, that’s awful,” she said, taking the pamphlet. Her eyes lingered on Eun-ah’s photo for a moment. “I hope you find her, son. I’ll pray for you.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Eun–woo said, bowing his head slightly.
The next.
“Hey, excuse me. Can you take this?”
“Move, man.”
“Please, it’ll only take a second,” Eun–woo insisted.
“Tsk.”
The teen clicked his tongue in annoyance. He snatched the flyer, crumpled it up, and tossed it on the ground a few steps later.
“….”
Eun–woo saw it but didn’t react. He’d seen worse.
“Excuse me, sir. My sister’s missing. Can you—”
“Get that out of my face,” a burly man snapped, swatting the pamphlet away as if it were trash.
Eun–woo froze for a second. But he didn’t have the luxury of pride. He crouched down, picked up the wet pamphlet, and smoothed it out against his thigh.
‘Keep going,’ he told himself. ‘Just keep going.’
“Miss, please—”
“Sorry, I’m in a rush.”
“Sir, can I ask for just a moment of your time—”
The people moved around him endlessly, some offering sympathy, most pretending not to see him at all. It was always like this.
But he stayed.
He had stopped attending his classes. It didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t even attend his aunt’s funeral.
Why should he?
She’s the reason for all of this.
Her greed. Her debt. Her choices. They had led to this nightmare.
A woman, holding the hand of a small child, approached from the other side of the street.
Eun–woo glanced at her, and for a brief moment, he thought it was Eun-ah. The height, the hair. It was just like her.
“….Eun-ah?!”
The woman turned, confused. It wasn’t her. Not even close.
“….”
He kept walking, pamphlets in hand.
“Please, sir, my sister is missing. Take one.”
“Ma’am, please. It’s my sister. She’s only 11.”
“Help me find her.”
“Please.”
“Please.”
.
.
“Ah, I’m tired….”
Chae Eun–woo stood at the edge of Han River, staring down at the water below.
“Should I just jump?”
The thought lingered. End it all. Stop the suffering. What’s even the point of living anymore?
The cold breeze brushed against his face, but he didn’t feel it. All he felt was the suffocating weight in his chest.
He was truly alone. But maybe, if he embraced the water below, he wouldn’t be.
Perhaps, he could be with his family again. Maybe…. Eun-ah would be there too.
“….”
Just as he was about to jump….
“Eun-woo…?”
“….?”
His body stiffened. Slowly, he turned around. Standing a few feet away was a familiar figure.
It was his teacher.
Her eyes were wide with concern, her hands slightly raised as if she was afraid he might slip at any moment.
“Eun-woo… please, step down from there….”
“….”
*
“Hey. Falling asleep at a time like this?” Alaric’s voice was laced with amusement. “Come on, you’re better than this, Professor.”
Vanitas stirred slightly. The scent of alcohol lingered around him. The damp wooden table was pressed against his cheek.
Alaric sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
“You really went and knocked yourself out, huh?”
He glanced at the half-empty glass beside Vanitas.
“Lightweight.”
Alaric crouched down and slung Vanitas’s arm over his shoulder.
Vanitas’s head lolled forward, his eyes still barely open. His lips parted as he muttered something too low to hear.
“Huh? What was that?” Alaric asked, adjusting his grip to keep them both balanced.
“I’m sorry….” Vanitas mumbled. “I didn’t…. give up…. I just….”
Alaric froze for a moment.
“Yeah… I get it,” Alaric muttered under his breath.
He glanced toward the barkeep and raised a hand.
“I’m taking him out. Put it on my tab.”
The door creaked open. The rain was still falling. It soaked them almost immediately as Alaric carried Vanitas down the quiet street.
“Man, you’re lucky I’m such a nice guy,” Alaric grumbled, pulling up his hood to keep the rain off his face. “If anyone else saw you like this, you’d never hear the end of it.”
He felt Vanitas shift slightly, his head leaning onto Alaric’s shoulder. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so pathetic.
“Don’t go blaming yourself for everything,” Alaric muttered. “I know guys like you. You try to carry the weight of everything on your back, thinking it’s all your responsibility.”
He glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
“But guess what? It ain’t. Not everything’s your fault, Professor.”
“….”
No response. Just the soft sound of Vanitas’s breath.
“Sorry, I meant your ‘friend.'”
Vanitas had told Alaric the story in the pretext of a ‘friend.’
Moreover, he altered somewhat that would match this world’s description, just so Alaric could understand it easily.
“Right…. your ‘friend,'” Alaric said.
Alaric glanced up, spotting a small bird perched on the edge of a rooftop.
“Cute.”
***
Margaret stood at the entrance of Silver Tower University, scanning the familiar yet unfamiliar campus.
“So much has changed….”
It had only been five years since she graduated, but everything felt so different.
The pathways were newly paved, the buildings had been renovated, and there were unfamiliar faces everywhere.
It felt strange being back. Memories of her time in the Crusade Department flooded her mind.
The early morning drills, the grueling exams, the scary professors….
But now, she was no longer a student. She was here as a representative of the Crusade of the Round Table.
On the window, her gaze landed on the Crusade Department building.
“Five years, huh?” she muttered to herself, gripping the strap of her bag tighter.
She took a deep breath, then walked forward.
As she approached the main hall, she noticed students walking in groups, chatting about classes and assignments. Some glanced her way, whispering among themselves.
Then, a familiar voice called out to her.
“Margaret!”
She turned toward the sound and spotted a man waving from the side of the path. He wore a gray robe and donned a pair of glasses.
“Professor Ernst,” Margaret said, offering a respectful nod.
“Still so formal, huh?” Ernst grinned as he walked up to her.
“….Old habits.”
“Come on, no need to be so stiff. You’re a guest, not a student.”
He motioned for her to walk with him.
“Headmaster Elsa’s waiting for you in her office.”
“Okay.”
Back in her days as a student, Elsa Hesse wasn’t the Headmaster yet. But her name was already well-known in the Empire.
After all, Elsa Hesse was a Great Power. The world knew her as the “Calamity Witch.”
“Here we are,” Ernst said before walking away.
Margaret gave a small bow, then turned to face the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and stepped inside.
“….”
She froze.
“Oh, you’re here,” Elsa said with a casual smile.
But Margaret wasn’t looking at Elsa. Her gaze was locked on the man sitting on the couch. Legs crossed, he calmly set down a teacup before his amethyst eyes met hers.
“….”
Her heart skipped.
“G-Good morning, Headmaster Elsa, and….”
Her voice trailed off, pursing her lips.
“….Vanitas?”
It was Vanitas.