Kiaria froze.

The monochrome light within his Eye of Insight shifted–not in brightness, but in structure. What he saw did not align with any prior pattern, any recorded behavior of the Borderland. For the first time since entering the fog, the formation beneath reality felt… wrong.

"The Yin–Yang formation has changed," Kiaria said quietly.

The words landed heavier than a scream.

His face, usually composed and unreadable, tightened by a fraction. Not panic–never that–but the tension of someone realizing the ground beneath him was no longer following rules he understood.

Azriel, seated close to his daughter, lifted his head at once.

"Patron," he asked, voice edged with restraint, "what do you mean by changed? What happened to the formation?"

Kiaria did not look away from the fog.

"The formation never had a visible eye," he replied. "It functioned through balance. Circulation. Exchange."

He paused.

"But the Yang has disappeared."

Azriel's fingers curled unconsciously.

"Only Yin remains," Kiaria continued. "The entire foggy region is now saturated with Yin alone. No counterflow. No regulation."

That was worse than death.

Kiaria remained outwardly calm, but the way his shoulders held tension betrayed his concern. Whatever professionalism he carried, whatever discipline shaped his reactions–it was being tested now.

"Hylisi," Azriel said suddenly, turning to her. "When did your visions begin? Not the ones seconds ahead–but the first deviation. There has to be a trigger."

Hylisi frowned, searching memory rather than sight.

"It started after Marquis… and your daughter–" she began.

Then she stiffened.

Her pupils dilated–not toward the fog, but while looking directly at Azriel.

"I–I just saw something," she whispered.

Azriel's breath caught. "What did you see?"

"The Blue Lotus Debt token," Hylisi said, voice tightening. "It was… destroyed."

The word shattered the silence.

Azriel surged halfway to his feet.

"That's impossible," he said sharply. "If a token is forcibly destroyed–"

His voice broke.

"–its owner dies with it."

His hands trembled now, no longer hidden. Hylisi saw it clearly–the weight of what those tokens meant, the lives bound to them not by fate, but by rules.

Her chest tightened with anger.

"What kind of rules are these?" she demanded. "Prison would be kinder than this. Your tavern–your systems–this isn't freedom. It feels like slavery. No right to choose. No value placed on life."

Her voice shook–not from fear, but from fury.

Then her breath stuttered.

"Another vision," she said, barely audible. "The other three… the remaining Hell Tavern tokens."

She swallowed.

"They've been taken. Snatched."

Azriel staggered back as if struck.

"What did you say?" he whispered.

Memories flooded him without mercy–fires shared under open skies, blood washed from wounds, laughter after survival, companions who had trusted him with their lives. Tears slipped free, unguarded.

Kiaria said nothing.

His gaze cut deeper into the fog, into the formation, into the void where answers should have existed. But the fog offered nothing. No fluctuation. No feedback. No trace of action.

Only stillness.

Ahead of them, the remaining three dual teams stood exactly where they had been–paralyzed by fear, bodies rigid, eyes wide. No struggle. No motion. No sign of what had been taken.

"Ru. Yi," Kiaria said evenly. "Do either of you see something we don't?"

Ru exhaled slowly.

"Patron," he said, choosing each word with care, "my instinct says we cannot trust what we're seeing anymore."

He gestured faintly toward the fog.

"Earlier, when the formation was balanced, we could hear them. Movements. Voices. Emotional shifts."

He shook his head.

"Now? Nothing. No sound. No motion. Only fear."

Yi nodded. "And that fear is uniform. Artificial. Earlier assessments invoked greed, rage, desperation–now it's only paralysis."

Ru's eyes narrowed. "Deaths are happening. Tokens are being taken. But none of it is visible to us. If transparency exists… why are we blind?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

Diala suddenly tugged at Princess Lainsa's sleeve–and Kiaria's.

"I need to say something," she whispered. "But not openly."

Princess Lainsa didn't hesitate.

"There's no room for hesitation now," she said calmly. "Say it. Right or wrong–we'll judge it together."

Diala swallowed.

"Then don't react," she murmured. "Please."

Her voice dropped further.

"We still haven't asked how Aizrel passed her assessment," she said. "And why she chose to stand there after breaking the illusion." She hesitated.

"I don't think her trial is over yet."

Kiaria did not move.

Princess Lainsa did not speak.

For several breaths, neither of them reacted at all.

Kiaria leaned slightly toward Diala, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

"You were right," he murmured. "We dulled the most important clue by assuming her assessment had already ended."

Diala's breath caught, but she did not respond.

Kiaria straightened and walked toward Aizrel.

She was no longer pale. The Golden Berry Bead had neutralized the poison.

"Lady Aizrel," Kiaria said calmly, stopping a few steps away."I have questions for you. You will answer without lies."

Aizrel inclined her head.

"Please ask, Patron," she replied. "You are far above us–and our benefactor. I will not conceal a single word."

Kiaria's gaze sharpened.

"Tell me how you passed the illusion," he said."How you broke it. And why you remained there even after your assessment should have ended."

Azriel stiffened instantly.

"Patron," he said, turning sharply, paternal instinct rising unfiltered, "why ask these questions now? We all heard her words. We all saw what happened. Everything was clear."

His voice tightened.

"Are you suspecting my daughter?"

Kiaria did not turn to face him immediately.

"Chief," he said evenly, "you are correct–we saw the outcome."

Then he turned.

"But we did not see the process."

Azriel froze.

"When all of us fell into illusion," Kiaria continued, "none emerged unscathed. Not even me. We required anchors–companions, memories, external interference."

His eyes returned to Aizrel.

"She came out alone."

Silence deepened.

"She processed the illusion mentally. Calculated within it. Withstood the fog without slipping into a secondary layer."

Kiaria's voice remained calm–but unyielding.

"And you are forgetting something critical. This was not a single illusion. It was layered. Recursive."

He looked directly at Azriel now.

"You are her father. It is natural for you to reject suspicion."

His words struck cleanly.

"But do not interfere."

Azriel felt as though fire passed through his body–from crown to spine. His fingers trembled once… then stilled. He stepped back, gaze turning toward the fog, jaw clenched.

"Now," Kiaria said, authority absolute, "tell us everything. In detail."

Aizrel inhaled slowly.

"Patron," she said, choosing her words with care, "I don't know how the others escaped. I only know what I did."

She lifted her eyes.

"I allowed the illusion to run its full course."

A murmur stirred–but Kiaria said nothing.

"All illusions follow patterns," she continued. "They draw from obsession. Doubt. Priority."

Her fingers tightened briefly.

"My obsession was simple–to know the truth. Who my father was. What broke our life."

Her voice steadied.

"What I saw was not fabrication. It was the past. Events already written."

She looked down.

"Since that was what I wanted to know, why would I resist it?"

Silence thickened.

"I stood there until the illusion exhausted itself," she said."And in it, I found the core–Marquis Gen Jin."

Her eyes lifted again.

"But the illusion did not show my father. Not his face. Not his voice."

A pause.

"So I waited. Only to force him to act."

Kiaria's pupils narrowed.

"I knew Gen Jin would not endure the fog," she continued quietly. "His obsession was power–my father's position. The illusion could not contain him."

She exhaled.

"That is why I triggered the lattice–cutting invisible whip lashes through the fog. Not to escape."

Her gaze hardened.

"But to kill him."

She fell silent.

"I did not break the illusion," she concluded. "It ended–after showing me everything it could."

Kiaria absorbed every word.

"After you killed him," he asked, "did you feel anything unusual?"

Aizrel thought carefully.

"…No."

She hesitated.

"Wait–yes. When his dagger pierced me, I felt a sudden surge. An instinct to strike back."

Kiaria's voice sharpened slightly. "A surge of energy?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel it now?"

Aizrel shook her head. "No, Patron. Only… temptation."

The word lingered.

"Temptation?" Princess Lainsa repeated softly.

Her eyes gleamed with realization.

"Then move closer to the fog," she said decisively. "Don't worry–we'll restrain you. We won't let you enter."

Azriel's head snapped up.

"Lainsa!" His voice broke with fury. "What are you saying? She is not a tool. I will not let you gamble with my daughter's life!"

Kiaria spoke before the argument could deepen.

"Chief," he said coldly, "calm yourself."

He met Azriel's eyes. "I will watch the formation. Personally."

Azriel's jaw clenched.

"But–"

"You will trust me," Kiaria said. Not a command–an inevitability.

Azriel's fists tightened until his knuckles whitened. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, then opened them again–straightening.

The Chief returned.

"…If you guarantee her safety," he said hoarsely, "I will not stand in the way."

Aizrel adjusted her grip on the whip.

Mu Long, Azriel, and the others looped it tight–using it like a lifeline. She was belted, anchored, restrained from entering the fog.

She stepped forward.

One step.

Two.

The fog did not move.

But Kiaria's Eye of Insight flared.

Something shifted–not in the fog–in her.

"Pull her back," Kiaria ordered sharply.

The tension snapped. The whip went taut as they dragged her back.

Aizrel turned, startled. "What is it, Patron?"

Kiaria's gaze did not leave her.

"Shade was right," he said slowly. "You have not passed the trial yet."

The fog breathed.

"This," Kiaria continued, "is your second phase."

Kiaria's gaze never left Aizrel.

"Aizrel," he said slowly, each word measured, "you are the Yang."

The air tightened.

"The moment you stepped closer to the fog, a Yang field manifested within my range of vision. Not residual. Not symbolic. Active."

Aizrel stiffened."Wait–what?" Her voice cracked. "I didn't do anything. I didn't cultivate Yang. I didn't alter the formation."

"I haven't finished," Kiaria interrupted calmly.

Silence fell.

"I'll connect everything we've seen," he continued. "Listen carefully."His eyes shifted briefly toward the fog, then back to her."The change did not begin with the fog. It began the moment Marquis Gen Jin stabbed you–and the moment you retaliated."

Azriel's breath hitched.

"You were pierced," Kiaria said. "Your blood entered the formation. Then your whip lashed out. He vanished. You emerged."He paused."And only after that–Hylisi began seeing visions."

Understanding flickered through several faces.

"Do you know what that implies?" Kiaria asked.

No one answered.

"The eye of the formation," he said quietly, "was Hylisi."

Her fingers tightened around the Association token instinctively.

"That token does not belong to the Borderland," Kiaria continued. "It belongs to the Association. The formation treated her as an external examiner–misplaced, but authoritative."

He let that settle before continuing.

"This assessment was never singular. It was dual."His voice sharpened."Companionship alignment. When one candidate faces the core illusion, the paired one is exempt. It tests trust, not endurance."

Azriel's eyes widened.

"Aizrel and Gen Jin were paired," Kiaria said. "But Gen Jin's obsession exceeded the Yin density of the formation. He wasn't trapped by illusion. Neither of them truly were."

Aizrel's fingers curled.

"Then he stabbed her," Kiaria continued. "That act shattered equilibrium. Her blood altered the formation's polarity."He looked directly at her."And your counterstrike–your whip–finished the disruption."

"But he wasn't dead," Kiaria said. "Not completely."A dangerous calm entered his voice."Like you, he became a source."

Yin.

"When you left the fog," Kiaria said, "Yang left with you. To survive, to regenerate, to grow–Gen Jin polluted the formation. He fed on it."

Hylisi's face drained of color.

"That's why everything collapsed," Kiaria continued. "The original formation is broken. What we see now are diversions–final distortions before total corruption."

He turned to Hylisi briefly.

"The formation tried to compensate," he said. "It reached out to its examiner. To you. But intervention came too late."

His gaze returned to Aizrel.

"That is why," Kiaria said, "you have not received the Association's pass token."

The weight of those words pressed down hard.

"You cannot leave," he continued evenly, "while Yin remains dominant."A pause."To eliminate Yin–its source must be erased."

Silence.

"Gen Jin must die," Kiaria concluded. "And because we are already recognized as passed candidates–we cannot enter."

His eyes locked onto Aizrel.

"Only you can."

Hylisi exhaled slowly.

"Chief," she said, her voice steady but firm, "you are the leader of those still trapped. Before Gen Jin finishes killing them–you must decide."

Azriel's body sagged as if something inside finally fractured.

"How can I?" he whispered. "On one side–my daughter."His voice shook."On the other–companions who trusted me with their lives. We survived death together."

Tears slid down unchecked.

Aizrel stepped forward despite the restraint.

"Father," she said softly, "whatever you choose–I hope you choose quickly."Her eyes did not waver."I already have my decision. I just… want to know if yours is the same."

Mu Long clenched his fists.

"He planned this," he said bitterly. "From the start. He wanted to break you."His jaw tightened."You have to choose, Chief. One side will be sacrificed."

Azriel's teeth ground together and hands trembled.

Then–

Stilled.

"I decided…"

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