Remnants (5)
A girl climbed onto the podium, her hood pulled low over her head.
The moment she appeared, Yuna felt that same inexplicable sense of déjà vu. It was a face she felt like she had seen somewhere before. Yet beyond that visual familiarity, the girl gave off a strangely inorganic aura—as though one were staring at an oil painting hung upon a wall. It wasn't that she felt stealthy or devoid of presence; rather, looking at her felt like gazing at a landscape framed beyond a windowpane.
And the moment that veiled stranger finally revealed her face—
Thud!
Yohan couldn't help himself. He shoved his chair back and shot to his feet, slamming his palms against the desk.
Oh boy...
One look at his face, and Yuna understood the situation completely. The faint flicker of recognition she had felt when the hood fell away was cemented by Yohan's violent reaction.
"Hah...!"
Letting out a ragged breath as though he couldn't endure another second inside that room, Yohan turned on his heel and walked straight out of the classroom.
Nobody moved to stop him. He had always been an odd man out in the class, and seeing him so visibly shaken—a jarring departure from his usual detached nonchalance—kept everyone from daring to speak up.
"Um, I'll go check on him," Yuna said, raising a casual hand amidst the awkward silence before slipping out the door after him.
By the time I came to my senses, I was already outside in the courtyard, having fled the classroom like a runaway. Like some animal driven by homing instincts, I had slumped onto my usual bench, doing nothing but sighing into the empty air.
What in the world was I doing?
What was running away supposed to solve? Nothing had even been confirmed yet, and here I was, scared half to death and making a pathetic fool of myself.
"Leaving quite the fiery first impression for the very first day of the second semester, aren't we?"
"Yuna."
"Yep, I'm here."
She sauntered over with a loose, relaxed gait and plopped down beside me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Looking at her soft, teasing smile took a bit of the edge off my frayed nerves.
"If Alice had grown up, that's probably exactly what she would've looked like. Right?"
"You really don't hesitate to dive headfirst into the most sensitive topic, do you?"
"Why bother dancing around something that's staring us right in the face?"
"True enough."
When both parties know exactly what needs to be said, beating around the bush only breeds unnecessary fatigue.
"Yuna, what do you think?"
"She's probably someone completely different from the Alice you knew."
"Your reasoning?"
"Hmm, common sense? It's not like the dead just sprout legs and walk back into the world."
"Rock-solid logic."
Right. Logically speaking, there was no way someone who had already died could return. She was merely a stranger who shared the same name and a similar face. Or perhaps a distant relative of the Alice in my memories.
"So," Yuna added gently, "just because she glared at you with ice in her eyes doesn't mean it's Alice harboring a grudge against you."
"You caught that too, huh?"
"Of course I did. Who in this world knows you better than me?"
The reason I had lost my composure and fled was simple: the moment the transfer student pulled down her hood, she had glared straight at me.
Her hostility stood in stark opposition to every memory I held of Alice, and it had choked the breath right out of my lungs. Alice had burned away into starlight right before my eyes, and back then, I had been powerless to do a single damn thing.
What if she resented me for that?
For a long time throughout my childhood, I couldn't free myself from that suffocating dread. Time had merely scabbed over the wound; deep down, I hadn't resolved a single thing.
"Then why did she look at me like that?"
The hostility burning in that transfer student's eyes had been unmistakable. I certainly hadn't committed anything terrible enough to earn a grudge from a complete stranger. And that was what made my stomach twist with unease.
"Who knows? Maybe some terrorists dug into your past and sent her to rattle your cage."
"Nobody would go through that much trouble just to shake up an extra like me."
"Well, who can say? Depends on what they're after, doesn't it?"
"Even so..."
Olga Hermod herself must have personally vetted the transfer student. The odds of her being in league with terrorists were slim to none. And even if she were tied to someone, it would be the Imperial Palace, not terrorists.
"Well, it came out of nowhere, so I get it, Yohan."
"Yeah... thanks. Having you here helps me keep my head cool."
"See? You really can't live without me, can you?"
"..."
If I agreed, she'd strut around with her nose in the air, so I chose silence. Still, it was undeniably thanks to Yuna that my panicked thoughts had slowed down to a manageable pace.
That girl who looked so much like Alice... Just who the hell was she?
Questions multiplied endlessly in my head. Unfortunately, I wasn't granted the luxury of sorting through them.
"Fleeing like that... I suppose you must have quite the guilty conscience."
The transfer student who had introduced herself as Alice had tracked me down, just as Yuna had.
"Wow. I don't know what your angle is, but you sure don't lack initiative," Yuna remarked, stepping forward with a breezy grin. "Who chases after people in a situation like this?"
Between her fingers, daggers and throwing blades were already dancing with fluid dexterity. She was ready to strike at a moment's notice. Given her usual combat style, laying her weapons out in plain sight was purely an intimidation tactic—which meant Yuna was assessing the situation with utter clarity.
"A rather blatant threat," Alice noted dryly. "Frankly, I feel wronged. Why must I be subjected to such hostility?"
"Oh, please. If you wanted to complain about unfair treatment, you should've acted normal from the start. You were practically radiating suspicion to anyone with eyes."
She wasn't wrong. The transfer student had been blatantly suspicious.
"At any rate, I have no intention of clashing with you two at this moment."
"Meaning you plan to later?"
"Prickly as ever, Safe Clown. Just what is your relationship with him that makes you coddle him so fiercely?"
"We're having an affair."
"..."
Cut it out, Yuna.
That lunatic was currently glaring at me with utter revulsion, wearing a face I could barely stand to look at. I was hanging on by a thread here.
"Well, your sordid personal affairs are no concern of mine."
"Then what's your objective?" I cut in. "Who are you really? And how do you know Yuna is Safe Clown?"
Yuna had brushed past it casually, but the transfer student had addressed her by her moniker, not her name. Very few people alive knew Yuna's true identity—aside from those she explicitly told, only people who had operated alongside her for years knew the truth. For this girl to know was an anomaly in itself.
"Do you truly still fail to recognize who I am?"
"..."
Every word she spoke, every turn of phrase, grated against my raw nerves. My hands trembled faintly.
I hadn't realized that the scars of the past, which I assumed had long healed, had been festering beneath the surface all along. I just wanted to squeeze my eyes shut. I wished that when I opened them again, the girl standing before me would simply vanish into thin air. That cowardly impulse clung stubbornly to my thoughts.
"Perhaps this will jog your memory?"
With those words, the transfer student drew something from within her robes.
A tarot card.
The moment my eyes landed on it, fractured memories slammed into place.
"You..."
The presence that had manifested like a ghost to deliver a warning to me and Lobelia.
The one who had vanished without a trace, shattering like fragile glass.
The figure connected to the Imperial Family.
"The Oracle?"
"Indeed. I expected you to deduce it much sooner, yet you were remarkably slow."
"Wait, but you... why do you...?"
My thoughts spiraled into absolute chaos. Then what was she? Was she connected to Alice? Or did she merely share the same name and face by bizarre coincidence?
"Ugh..."
A piercing headache struck behind my temples, its origin impossible to pinpoint.
"Do you comprehend why I have appeared before you today?"
"Just wait a second."
"What an absurd—"
CLANG!
The moment the Oracle began to sneer, a throwing knife shot from Yuna's hand.
It never reached the Oracle; it ricocheted lightly off thin air as though deflected by an invisible barrier. Yet as a warning, its effect was absolute.
"He told you to wait."
"..."
The Oracle gave a light shrug of her shoulders and obediently fell silent.
Thank goodness Yuna was here. She kept carving out time and breathing room for me, allowing me to stand my ground instead of turning tail and running.
"Is Alice... your real name?"
"It is no alias. Though why that should suddenly concern you eludes me."
"...Are you wearing that appearance intentionally?"
"You speak absolute gibberish. This is my face."
"Then who are you—"
"Enough. I did not come here to indulge in such trivial drivel. Exactly how much longer am I expected to humor you?"
"..."
I lowered my head for a quiet moment.
Fine. For now, this was enough. At the very least, I was certain she was an entirely different person from the Alice I once knew. Aside from her face and name, everything about her—her demeanor, her voice, her temperament—was completely alien.
"Then what business do you have with me?"
"What? What did you just babble? You dare ask why I came?! Why else would I be here?! Isn't it because you disregarded my explicit warnings and continued your reckless interference?!"
Contrary to her placid, icy exterior, the Oracle erupted with fiery agitation.
"You altered the future yet again, did you not?"
"I don't recall doing anything of the sort."
"Do not play the fool! Everything has unraveled because of you! Why on earth did you provoke the 'Knight'?!"
"The Knight?"
She probably didn't mean a knight in the literal, ordinary sense. If so, only one person fitting that title came to mind.
"Are you talking about Dietrich?"
"Yes! Exactly him!"
The Oracle was here because of the loose words I had let slip in the past.
Because of that blunder, the rift between Cult and Helena had ruptured far earlier than the original timeline dictated. I had scrambled to clean up the mess and reflect on my mistake, and in that process, I had crossed paths with Dietrich to resolve an incident.
"That was just a coincidence."
"As if I would ever believe that."
The Oracle's hostility toward me was venomous. Hearing that biting tone emerge from a face like hers was beginning to wear my own patience thin.
"Do you even possess the faintest clue of the crisis currently unfolding?"
"I'm preparing for it in my own way, you know."
"Ha! Preparations? Did you say preparations?! Then I presume you are well aware that the Prophet is already on the move?"
"...What?"
The Oracle swept her hair back with a tense hand, biting her lower lip before speaking.
"The Prophet is already making his moves. Far more insidiously, far more covertly, than any future we foresaw."
Cult Hereticus had still not arrived at a decision.
To fulfill his purpose as the Prophet, he required a Holy Relic.
Yet as a mortal man, Helena remained his cherished family.
Trapped between those two realities, Cult Hereticus was forced to discard his humanity. Even if his intellect grasped the necessity, his heart could not easily accept it, plunging him into ceaseless torment day after day. That inner agony had shackled his feet, blinding him to the mounting unrest both within and outside his order.
That was how the original scenario was meant to unfold—an exploitable opening carved out by Cult Hereticus's lingering humanity.
Yet the circumstances had fundamentally shifted.
Diverging from the predetermined script, Cult Hereticus had seen his identity unmasked far earlier than anticipated. In such a vulnerable state, remaining idle was tantamount to offering his own limbs to the butcher's block. The threat was encroaching with terrifying clarity. He could no longer afford hesitation.
The enemy is not merely the Oracle.
Even this wasted time was likely part of their calculated design. In the past, he had believed that uncovering the Oracle's existence alone would guarantee victory. But now, he recognized that an equivalent entity stood on the board.
Yohan Damus is an enemy as well.
How would one capable of peering into the future act? What countermeasures would someone who understood his very essence devise?
He had to anticipate them. And he had to outpace every single move.
"Summon the cult's leadership at once," Cult commanded. "With the utmost secrecy."
He still had not resolved what to do regarding Helena. Yet he understood with crystalline certainty that the hour for action had arrived.
"We shall prepare for the Holy War."
And so, he cast his die. The Prophet resolved to throw himself headlong onto the path of tribulations.