Inside a church-like building of exquisite beauty, everything was adorned in pristine white marble. At its heart stood a grand hall, dominated by an elongated, oval marble table of immaculate white. Behind this table were five imposing chairs, each carved from the sa flawless stone.
At the table’s head lounged a young man with silver hair and piercing red eyes, leaning back with a bored and disinterested expression. On his right side sat two other figures: one was a blond-haired boy with anxious blue eyes, visibly tense and troubled, while beside him, another youth with long black hair tied loosely in a ponytail appeared on the verge of falling asleep, his dark eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Opposite them were two young won. The first had soft, caral eyes beneath golden hair; her gentle features were marked by weariness. Beside her sat another girl with striking white hair and dark blue eyes, her cold, indifferent gaze matched by her posture as she leaned back, feet casually propped upon the pristine table, arms crossed defiantly.
Anastasia scoffed lightly, breaking the silence.
"It seems only we four bothered accepting the invitation this ti. Not even the esteed Prince Lioren Dusk, nor the scheming Prince Caleus Nebula, nor Her Majesty Jasmine Crimson, nor even the ever-so-benevolent Princess Celestina Frost... No one else cares enough, apparently."
Liliane sighed softly.
"Well, Prince Lioren has been locked in combat with the Captain of the Royal Guard for months now—at least we know he’s alive and here in this scenario with us now. Princess Jasmine vanished entirely, and Princess Celestina explicitly ntioned she wouldn’t attend today. As for Master Ranni... well, you know..." she trailed off, glancing cautiously at Lumine, whose expression had turned grim.
"I suppose she’s still searching for a cure."
Anastasia shrugged nonchalantly.
"At this point, it’s clear everyone has stopped pretending to care. I’ll give credit to this weird guy, though." She turned her emotionless grin towards Nol.
"I don’t know how you managed to collect all our blood, but it was smart—and lucky—that you did. Summoning us here to this [White Haven] of yours... well, it probably saved a few lives. But it seems everyone’s just doing their own thing now. Hoping they’ll survive long enough to stumble into the ’final night.’"
When they first arrived in this strange world, they had found themselves inexplicably drawn into their own soul realms, receiving cryptic ssages about a "scenario." Despite being given a unified objective tied to the Kingdom of Ismyr, they had been scattered far across different kingdoms. Nol—Azriel Crimson’s servant, butler, right hand, and sword—had sohow collected their blood and summoned them all here to his sanctuary, a safe haven in a world where even health potions were useless.
Not everyone was invited. Only a portion of their age group. And cooperation? Even that was fleeting. Whenever they left the sanctity of this white church, they returned to where they were summoned—kingdoms apart. So refused to cooperate altogether.
Take Lioren Dusk: though a Master, he barely collaborated. Still, they learned sothing essential—that the strongest among the participants were Masters. The weakest, Awakened.
At least Instructor Ranni—Master Ranni to so—had been helpful. Unlike others.
Unexpectedly, Jasmine Crimson turned out to be one of the least cooperative. Not out of malice—she simply didn’t show up to the etings.
And there had been many. Over three months now, held weekly. What once were tactical councils had beco tired attempts to catch up. A futile ritual.
Nol raised an eyebrow at Anastasia, responding with a polite, though sarcastic smile.
"The only reason I still invite you all is because Master would’ve wanted it... probably. Without , most of you would’ve already gotten yourselves killed. Either by this world’s twisted chanics or by participants out for blood. If the rest don’t want to co anymore, then so be it. I won’t invite them again. They can die for all I care."
He paused.
"Since it seems Master isn’t even part of this scenario."
Anastasia laughed coldly, a subtle smirk curving her lips.
"No need for that creepy smile of yours, freak. Feel free to reveal your hiding place at least once—we’ve grown so close, haven’t we?"
Nol’s smile didn’t waver.
"And risk my peace by listening to your voice more than once a week? My, my—have rcy on this poor soul, Miss ’I’ve Been Hiding in the Shadows the Whole Ti.’"
Anastasia dismissively waved her hand.
"No lectures from you, Silver Blood Devil."
Nol’s smile twitched slightly.
Liliane, ignoring their bickering, turned gently to Lumine.
"How is she?" she asked softly, worry evident in her voice.
Lumine’s empty eyes seed to gain a faint glimr as he t Liliane’s concerned gaze.
"No change. Still no response."
Liliane bit her lip anxiously.
"I’ll be heading to the capital next week as a representative of the Church of the Moon. I’ll slip away as soon as I arrive. Perhaps my light magic might help."
Lumine forced a grateful smile.
"Thank you, Liliane."
Liliane. Saintess of the real world—saintess even here, within this fabricated realm. The Church of the Moon had claid her.
Everyone had been given roles.
Liliane: Saintess of the Moon.
Lumine: A count’s butler.
Vergil, currently half-asleep beside them, was the son of a fad rchant. Now fully asleep, in fact.
Anastasia never revealed her role.
Nor did Nol.
Whenever Liliane tried to ask, Anastasia would pale—visibly disturbed. Whatever her role was, it wasn’t pleasant.
Even Jasmine, ironically, had been assigned the role of a commoner.
"Staying here will only depress further. Let’s end today’s eting—"
"Wait," Liliane interjected suddenly, her voice firm.
"I’ll soon be at Ismyr’s capital. Vergil is already with Lumine. Shouldn’t we finally et up in person, just this once?"
Nol’s brow furrowed deeply as Anastasia’s face twisted in disgust. In unison, they both echoed incredulously,
""et up?""
Liliane flinched slightly, blinking innocently. Had she suggested sothing so outrageous?
Before further protests arose, Lumine firmly interjected,
"I think we should. Things are getting worse by the day. There’s a big war out west. I think it’s a major axis of the scenario. They’ve started calling us ’The Inverse Creed.’ All of us who gather at [White Haven]... We’ve stayed out of this war so far. But if another participant joins the war, they might be mistaken for us."
His expression darkened ominously.
"It’s too dangerous to remain isolated any longer. I need your help. Vergil and I are staying at Count Horvix’s estate with Yelena. Join us before the next eting, please."
Anastasia and Nol simultaneously clicked their tongues in annoyance. Still, they reluctantly conceded, muttering,
""...Fine.""
Liliane smiled warmly.
"I’ll see you there. Stay safe."
Vergil jolted awake with a snore, rubbing his eyes slowly and looking around blankly. A strange, unreadable glint passed through his eyes briefly before he masked it.
"What did I miss?"
"We’re eting up at Count Horvix’s estate," Liliane replied, a touch confused by his odd expression.
Vergil’s polite smile returned.
"Ah, excellent. That’s... very wise."
Nol waved dismissively.
"I’ll see you there. Don’t die... I suppose."
Suddenly, each figure glowed softly with white light before vanishing completely, leaving Nol alone at the marble table. He leaned back, staring upwards, releasing a long, weary sigh.
"Master... where in the world are you?"
*****
Lumine opened his eyes, finding himself once again seated inside a grand, luxurious room bathed in silence. Ornate and serene, it was beautiful—almost suffocatingly so. He let out a tired sigh.
"If only Nol... had invited us sooner the first ti."
If only.
The invitation to [White Haven] hadn’t co instantly. Not when they’d first arrived in this world.
It had taken days.
And in those days...
There was only suffering.
Lumine’s gaze drifted down to the large, comfortable bed before him.
There lay a girl—young and beautiful—in a flowing white dress. Her black hair was tied gently behind her head, her eyes closed in fragile peace. Her skin was pale.
She was asleep.
Yes... asleep.
Unmoving.
Unchanged.
For over three months now.
Lumine exhaled a trembling breath and reached forward, gently cradling her frail, soft hand between both of his. He brought it to his forehead, his shoulders shaking slightly as he fought the rising burn behind his eyes.
His voice cracked—small, broken.
"...I’m sorry, Yelena... I’m so, so sorry... please..."
"Please..."
"Please... wake up."
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