"…In any case," Taylor Gremory continued smoothly, already reclaiming the flow of the meeting,

"If there are no further questions regarding Raias's declared candidate, we will proceed."

Conversation resumed in layers, some nobles leaning in to speak urgently with aides, others scribbling notes or recalculating alliances in their heads.

He felt Amelia's presence beside him shift. To anyone watching, it looked like nothing more than an heir adjusting her stance.

But her voice brushed his ear.

"Where's…Fritz?"

Ryn didn't answer right away.

His eyes stayed on the center of the chamber, where Taylor was already fielding the next political concern without missing a beat.

"I'm…not sure," he said quietly. "Something must've happened."

Amelia's fingers tightened just slightly at her side.

The only person who knew his secret—and what it meant for Ryn to be wrong.

To Ryn, Fritz Calder wasn't just a missing candidate.

He wasn't just the Hero.

He was the one constant, the factor all his plans relied on.

Taylor raised her hand again, calling the room to order.

"The formal confirmation of Hero Candidates will occur in three days," she announced.

"The Path will begin immediately afterward."

Three days.

Not long.

But not nothing.

Ryn felt Amelia turn slightly toward him now, just enough that her shoulder brushed his sleeve.

"…If your memories are wrong," she said softly, not accusing, just honest, "then what does that mean for everything else?"

It was the question she'd never had to ask before.

Ryn exhaled slowly.

"My memories aren't wrong," he said. "Someone touched the board before we arrived."

His gaze hardened.

"And I'm willing to bet it was our old friends."

***

The meeting dissolved quickly.

Nobles peeled away in tight clusters, voices low and urgent as aides were summoned and orders quietly issued.

Ryn didn't linger.

The moment Taylor Gremory gave the final dismissal, he was already moving, eyes scanning the exits, the flow of people, the positions of Church representatives as they filtered out.

There.

White and gold.

Seraphine Astrid was slipping through a side corridor with two senior clergy members, posture straight, expression calm—already halfway back into her role.

"Sera," Ryn called.

She turned, surprise flashing across her face before discipline smoothed it away.

"Ryn?" she said. "I—sorry, I've just been assigned to—"

"I won't take long."

That made her hesitate.

The two clergy exchanged a glance.

"We'll be in the antechamber," one of them said after a moment. "Five minutes."

Sera exhaled softly as they stepped away.

"…You look worried," she said.

"I am," Ryn replied. He didn't waste time. "I need to know more about Raias's candidate."

Her brows knit. "Captain Voss?"

"Yes," Ryn said. "Tell me about him."

Sera hesitated, then nodded once.

"He was promoted faster than anyone in recent memory," she said. "Joined the eastern suppression effort of sea creatures 3 years ago, and distinguished himself by dealing lethal damage to the Kraken."

Ryn's gaze sharpened.

"He led the evacuation recently in Helior Pass," she continued. "Held the line alone long enough for civilians to escape."

Ryn didn't speak.

"After that, he was dispatched north," Sera said. "On a mission to track down a notorious serial killer. The target was eliminated with minimal losses."

Her voice softened slightly.

"The reports say he refused commendation until the families of the fallen were compensated first."

Ryn felt it then.

The pattern was undeniable. These were all of Fritz Calder's achievements, the same ones that got him the recommendation in Ryn's past.

Ryn exhaled slowly.

"Sera," he said quietly, "when was the first record of Captain Voss?"

She blinked.

"…Why?"

"Because," Ryn said, eyes cold now.

"You're describing someone else."

Sera stared at him for a moment longer.

"…That doesn't make sense," she said finally. "Those reports were verified, cross-checked by at least three branches."

"I know," Ryn replied.

She searched his face, looking for the usual tells, the half-smile he used when he was bluffing.

But he was dead serious, the same expression he'd worn at the high-gamblers table.

Her eyes narrowed.

"…Every time you've said something like this before," Sera murmured, "it turned out you were right."

Ryn didn't comment.

That, somehow, made it worse.

"Alright," she said, nodding once. "What do we do?"

Ryn didn't hesitate.

"Tonight," he said quietly. "I want to read the Rhean Ledger."

The words landed heavier than a threat.

Sera's breath caught.

"…You know that's forbidden," she said.

"I know."

"And if anyone finds out—"

"Please, this is really important," he cut in.

Silence stretched between them.

Sera looked down the corridor, then back at him.

"…When?"

"After midnight," Ryn said. "Convince your superiors to take the night shift. Honestly, they'd probably be glad."

She exhaled slowly.

"Yeah. They probably would be."

Footsteps approached from behind.

Amelia stopped a short distance away, eyes flicking once between Ryn and Sera before settling on him.

"…I leave you alone for five minutes," she said lightly.

Ryn turned fully toward her.

"Amelia," he said, then nodded to Sera. "Seraphine Astrid. We've worked together before."

Sera dipped into a respectful bow. "It's an honor."

Amelia studied her for half a second longer than necessary.

Then smiled.

"Likewise," she said. "Anyone Ryn trusts is already halfway there."

The tension eased.

Just a little.

"What's going on?" Amelia asked, eyes returning to Ryn, a tiny hint of suspicion in her tone.

"The records don't add up."

"He has Fritz Calder's achievements," Ryn continued. "Campaigns, commendations. All of them."

A flicker of something dangerous crossed her eyes.

"…So Fritz didn't disappear," she said slowly.

"No," Ryn replied. "He was replaced, merit-wise."

Silence settled between them.

Then Amelia exhaled, steady and controlled.

"…What's the plan?"

Ryn met her gaze.

"Tonight, I'm breaking into the Rhean Ledger," he said. "I need to understand the situation better."

She only nodded once.

"Then I'm coming with you. Don't you dare leave me out of this one."

Ryn hesitated—just for a fraction of a second.

Then nodded.

"Good," he said. "I was counting on it."

***

Night settled over the capital like a held breath.

The eastern wing was quieter than the rest of the Rhean cathedral complex. Stone corridors washed in moonlight, prayer lanterns dimmed to a respectful glow. The hour for loud devotion had passed

Which made it the perfect time.

Sera adjusted her cloak as she stepped into the rotation hall, expression calm, posture immaculate.

"Shift change," she announced.

A few paladins glanced up from their posts.

"You're early," one of them noted.

Sera smiled apologetically. "Council reassigned me. Apparently vigilance is a virtue tonight."

That earned a soft chuckle.

She moved among them naturally, making small talk as she guided them out. Ryn hadn't expected her to be this good at it—but he wasn't about to complain.

Outside, shadows clung to the cathedral's upper walls.

He stood at the edge of the adjacent structure, cloak pulled tight, eyes fixed upward. The reliquary's roof rose higher than the surrounding buildings, sheer stone broken only by narrow ridges and prayer spires, designed to be unclimbable.

He reached into his pocket, producing two small metal tokens, both tugging at his Essence.

He flicked one upward, waiting for it to reach its apex before he threw the second one the rest of the way.

The object spun, catching moonlight for a fraction of a second.

[Star's Path]

The mark bloomed the instant his Essence brushed it.

Ryn vanished.

Space folded as he reappeared midair, boots striking stone as he landed cleanly atop the reliquary roof. He rolled once, momentum bleeding off perfectly, then came up already moving.

He scanned the surroundings once more…no alarms.

He secured the rope quickly, anchoring it around a carved spire before tossing the other end down.

Below, Amelia looked up, eyes narrowing.

"…You didn't climb," she said quietly.

"No."

"…And you didn't jump."

Ryn glanced over the edge. "Correct."

She took hold of the rope anyway, ascending with practiced ease. When she reached the top, she fixed him with a look that was equal parts suspicion and curiosity.

"How," she said, "did you do that?"

Ryn paused, then shrugged lightly.

"Long story."

She stared at him for a beat longer.

"…You're telling me later."

"Yes," he agreed easily.

They jumped from above into a nearby escape hatch, which opened directly into the Ledger Chamber.

Ryn approached the door, it was made of reinforced stone and glowed with faint scripts.

Amelia crouched beside Ryn, studying it. "…That's not breaking."

"It's not supposed to," Ryn replied.

He glanced toward the interior.

Through the small door hole, he could see it.

Another metal token, almost invisible beneath the ambient glow of divine wards.

Exactly where he'd asked Sera to leave it.

She'd come through earlier under the pretense of routine inspection, it was a quick job.

Ryn closed his eyes for half a second.

[Star's Path]

The mark answered instantly.

He reappeared inside the chamber, boots touching down without a sound, the scent of incense and old parchment filling his lungs.

Ryn breathed a sigh of relief. He half-expected it not to work.

The assumption had always been that marks faded over time—that they degraded unless refreshed.

But they hadn't.

As long as he remained within a hundred meters, the mark was stable.

Indefinite.

Ryn's lips curved faintly.

Now those three hours he spent outside hiding in the alleys next to the cathedral were validated.

He crossed the chamber in three silent steps, unlocking the door from the inside.

Amelia stepped through as he gave an exaggerated bow.

She rolled her eyes.

They searched in silence.

Ryn moved through the shelves methodically, fingers brushing spines etched with dates while Amelia scanned the side tables and lower stacks, eyes sharp, breath steady.

Nothing.

No index entry. No cross-reference.

Minutes stretched thin.

Then Amelia froze.

"…Ryn."

He turned.

She was kneeling beside a narrow shelf near the back, one hand resting on a thin, dustless volume wedged between two thicker tomes.

No title or seal, just a name pressed onto the front.

Fritz Calder.

Amelia looked up at him.

"It's here," she whispered.

"And someone didn't want it found."

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