Stepping out from the shadows of the staircase was Kefi.
She wore a thin, light-colored nightgown, her brown hair slightly disheveled and loose, her face still carrying traces of sleep that hadn’t fully faded.
She slowly descended the stairs, her steps hesitant, her arms instinctively wrapped around herself—perhaps from the cold, perhaps from the embarrassment of being discovered.
Seeing this, the sharpness in Sefina’s wine-red eyes softened slightly, and her tone turned gentle as she spoke:
“Kefi? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you resting at this hour? Can’t sleep?”
Kefi stopped at the bottom of the stairs, biting her lower lip. After a moment of hesitation, she raised her eyes to look at Sefina, her voice soft:
“I… I heard what you were talking about… about the Order…”
Kefi paused, as if summoning her courage.
“Teacher Sefina, I… I want to know more.”
Feliel’s black eyes regarded Kefi without much emotion, her tone carrying her usual coldness, laced with even a hint of impatience.
“Why do you want to know so much?”
After all, she wasn’t accustomed to having plans interrupted—especially by an “outsider” who clearly wasn’t part of the plan.
Sefina glanced at Feliel, signaling her to hold steady.
Then she walked over to Kefi, took her slightly cold hand, and led her to a warmer spot by the fireplace.
She gently stroked Kefi’s soft hair, her gesture soothing.
Sefina was a bit shorter than Kefi, so she rose slightly on her tiptoes and reached up to gently tousle her hair.
“Feliel.”
Sefina turned to her dark-haired companion, her voice calm but earnest.
“Kefi has every reason to want to know about this.”
Sefina took a deep breath and began to explain briefly.
“Kefi’s mother was the former Saintess of the Western Order. And her younger sister, Kelin… they both died nine years ago in a conspiracy within the Sarkax Royal Capital, killed by the ‘demon’ hiding within the Church.”
Those few short sentences landed like a hammer in the silent living room.
The firelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across Feliel’s suddenly changed expression.
Feliel’s pitch-black eyes, always so calm and even distant, constricted sharply.
Her gaze toward Kefi shifted in that instant.
She, too, had experienced the pain of losing someone dear. She knew all too well that bone-deep helplessness and hatred.
Though she could often be sharp-tongued and blunt, she now pressed her lips together and said nothing more. She simply watched the pale-faced girl quietly, a flicker of complex emotion passing through her eyes.
Sefina had Kefi sit in the chair beside her.
Kefi seemed somewhat drained, her body going soft as she bent forward, resting her forehead gently against Sefina’s shoulder.
Sefina didn’t push her away. Instead, she wrapped one arm around Kefi’s thin shoulders, while her other hand continued to gently stroke her hair and cool cheek, offering silent comfort and care.
“Kefi.”
Sefina’s voice dropped to the barest whisper.
“Leave matters of the Church to us, alright? We’ll take care of everything there.”
Kefi leaned against Sefina, silent for a long moment, before slowly straightening up.
Her pale blue eyes shimmered with a layer of mist, and deep within them lay a profound loneliness and helplessness.
Kefi murmured softly, her voice hoarse:
“I know… Teacher Sefina. I know that with my current abilities, there’s nothing I can do. If I tried to help, I’d probably… just become a burden that holds everyone back.”
She lowered her head, staring at her hands clasped together.
“But… the feeling of not being able to do anything… it really hurts. It’s like something is lodged in my chest, suffocating and aching…”
Sefina felt a pang in her heart.
She reached out again, gently patting Kefi’s shoulder, her gesture firm and warm.
“Kefi, trust us. We’ll take care of everything there and make the monsters in the Church pay the price they deserve.”
At that moment, the ever-silent Feliel finally spoke.
Her voice remained flat, without inflection:
“Leave this sort of thing to us ‘adults’ to handle. You’re still young—you’ve already carried enough weight. Living well is the best tribute you can pay to your mother and sister.”
Kefi looked up, glancing at Sefina, then at Feliel.
She could see in Feliel’s dark eyes a sincerity that brooked no doubt.
Slowly, she nodded, letting out a barely audible:
“Mm.”
Seeing this, Sefina stood and took Kefi’s hand.
“Alright, don’t overthink it. I’ll walk you back to your room. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow you still need to adjust to life in the capital.”
She accompanied Kefi upstairs, watched her climb back into bed, tucked the blanket around her, and gently touched her forehead.
Only after Kefi closed her eyes and her breathing grew steady did Sefina quietly slip out of the room, softly closing the door behind her.
Back in the first-floor living room, the fire in the hearth had died down somewhat.
Sefina added a log, then sat back down across from Feliel.
Flovi remained seated in the same spot, still as an exquisite statue.
“Where were we?”
Sefina asked, rubbing her brow.
“About exploiting the information gap between ourselves and the Deputy.”
Feliel replied, her dark eyes appearing especially deep in the firelight.
Sefina nodded, a calm, calculating gleam shining in her wine-red eyes.
She leaned forward slightly, lowered her voice, and began laying out the details of her plan to Feliel.
***
Two nights later, Sefina was alone in her room on the second floor of the villa.
Outside the window, the moonlight was cold and clear, and the capital had fallen quiet for the night.
Suddenly, the ring on her left index finger—an old-fashioned mana ring—flickered faintly from within with a dim glow.
Here it comes.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Sefina lay down on the bed fully clothed, steadied her breathing, and focused her mind.
She gently stroked the ring, and her consciousness, as if drawn by an invisible vortex, began to sink slowly, detaching from her body.
When she “opened her eyes” again, the familiar void and darkness enveloped her.
Beneath her feet was a “ground” that seemed to exist, yet didn’t.
Around her was boundless blackness.
Only ahead, the faint outline of a massive, dark round table of indeterminate material was visible, with numbers representing seats faintly shimmering on its surface.
Sefina walked to the round table and sat in the high-backed chair carved with a clear number: “9.”
Almost as she took her seat, on the chair marked “7” nearby, a vague outline of a consciousness coalesced.
It was Feliel.
She gave a slight nod in Sefina’s direction, as if signaling something.
Between Sefina and Feliel, on the chair marked “8,” a figure was already seated.
His form in the consciousness space was equally hazy, so indistinct that even his basic silhouette was hard to discern.
The eighth seat—secretive in his movements, all year long lurking on the western continent, rarely communicating with the other seats—existed there in silence.
The wait wasn’t long.
Above the round table, an even taller and more imposing outline of consciousness slowly materialized, then settled beside the head seat—
That was the Deputy’s position.