Nobody had ever expected anything from her.
And yet, everyone expected so much.
It was a contradiction so cruel it felt like a joke.
But for Gray, this contradiction had been her entire existence.
As herself, no one had ever wanted her. Because what they needed wasn't Gray.
As the copy, the imitation of a king, she was revered—because, in their eyes, the King had returned.
How much longer could she hold onto her own identity? How much time did she have left before she became that King?
How long could she still help her teacher?
Just the thought of it—the slow, inevitable shift—felt like sinking into a swamp. The more she struggled, the deeper she sank.
Slap.
A pair of warm hands pressed gently against her cold neck.
"Ah—!"
Gray gasped, yanked from her thoughts. The reflection in the train window shifted. No longer the shadow of a king, just a trembling girl with flushed cheeks.
"W-What are you doing?!" she stammered.
"Relax," Cyd said with an easy grin, gathering her hair and starting to braid it. "No need for that kind of face."
Gray opened her mouth, hesitated, then lowered her head. "It's just…" Her voice barely made a sound.
"Fear?" Cyd guessed, his fingers pausing briefly before resuming the braid. "That you're losing yourself?"
"…Yes."
Her hands trembled in her lap. She had never said this out loud before. If possible, she never wanted to. Fear was something to be buried deep, hidden away. No one should worry about her.
No—he shouldn't worry about her.
Her teacher already had enough on his plate. He had bigger things to deal with than her stupid identity crisis.
And yet, in front of Cyd, she let her guard down. The fear she had locked away seeped out.
"You really are a dummy," Cyd muttered, pressing his palm to her head. "You think hiding it will make that brooding guy worry less?"
Gray blinked up at him.
"You are you. That's not gonna change," Cyd continued. "Your emotions, your soul, your body—it all belongs to you, Gray. You've got your own reasons to fight. You wouldn't give up on them no matter who you're up against, right?"
A quiet laugh escaped his lips. "Don't underestimate yourself."
Gray clenched her fists. "A mission…" she whispered.
"Yeah," Cyd said, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "That gloomy teacher of yours? He's reckless. Runs into danger like a total amateur. Someone's gotta watch his back."
"I will."
Gray gripped her shield, her voice firmer than before. "I will protect my teacher."
"Now that—" Cyd smirked. "That's a conviction no hero can break." He stepped aside and pushed open the door. "Time to go."
Gray stood, giving him a deep, respectful bow. "Thank you."
"Tch, don't get all formal on me," Cyd scoffed, crossing his arms. "And correction—you're not protecting him. You're standing with him."
Gray nodded, determination burning in her chest as she ran out the door, gripping her weapon tightly.
Cyd let out a long sigh, leaning against the wall. "Seriously. One's all gloomy, the other's satisfied with just this… It's frustrating to watch."
Smack.
A hand suddenly landed on his head.
"Ow—hey, what?!"
Medusa stepped out of his shadow, arms crossed. "That was for being annoying."
_________________________________________
There are two ways people usually react when their crimes get exposed.
1. "Oh no, I've been caught!" They drop to their knees, wailing, and surrender immediately.
That? That would've been great. That would've meant he could finish this, go back to his office, drown in an endless sea of paperwork, and stress over his massive debt in peace.
Unfortunately, Waver wasn't that lucky.
2. "Oh? You caught me? Well, guess I'll just kill you."
That was the response he always seemed to get.
And it was happening again.
"Oh? That guy's not here this time," Hephaestion said, twirling her sword. "Finally, I can erase this disgrace from the King's legacy."
"Let's not do that."
The young man beside her smiled, though the ominous markings on his hand suggested he was far from harmless. His red hair flickered like fire in the dim light.
"Dr. Heartless," Waver said, adjusting his glasses. "Former head of Modern Magecraft Theory. The man who had his heart stolen by a fairy."
"Fancy meeting you like this, Lord El-Melloi II," Heartless mused, stretching lazily. "Didn't expect you to figure it out so soon. I thought my disguise was perfect."
"So Yvette was in on this too." Waver sighed, rubbing his temples. "Should've known."
"Well, I did offer to let her copy the Mystic Eyes we acquired," Heartless admitted, shrugging. "Cost me a fortune, but it was worth it. So, tell me—how did you figure it out? I left no openings."
"You didn't leave any cracks," Waver admitted, pressing a hand to his stomach. "But there was one thing you couldn't imitate."
He pointed to his eyes. "Her Mystic Eyes. Yvette can read emotions effortlessly. She knows exactly how far she can push me before I snap. You don't. A little bluff was enough to expose you."
Heartless let out a low chuckle. "I see. I chose her form to observe you up close, but I didn't expect so many variables." He sighed. "So? Planning to capture me?"
"If possible," Reines muttered, her expression grim.
Waver could tell she was starting to realize just how out of control this had gotten.
Servants were not something mere humans could fight.
Not even a train filled with high-level magi was enough to take one on.
"But honestly?" Heartless smirked. "I'm satisfied. Got to witness something far beyond my expectations. That strength, that legend come to life…" He pulled a small box from his pocket and tossed it to Waver. "Here. I don't need it anymore."
Waver caught it warily, flipping the lid open. Inside was… a piece of tattered cloth.
It looked worthless, but the moment he saw it, Waver felt something settle inside him.
Hephaestion clenched her jaw.
That look—she hated it. She had seen it before, in the past, when he was still alive.
And that was exactly why she couldn't forgive it.
"…So, I can go now?" Heartless asked, glancing at the train's open door.
"You summoned a Servant, didn't you?" Waver said, slipping the box into his pocket. "Modified the leyline, tricked the train into rerouting itself, and lured a former Master—me—onboard. Your plan's already done."
"Yep," Heartless said easily. "Now I'm just here to chat. But hey, I also got to see something incredible." His gaze flickered to the tightly shut doors behind Waver, his eyes filled with… expectation.
"…One last thing," Waver muttered, turning to Hephaestion. "You're not actually Hephaestion, are you?"
She stiffened, fingers tightening around her sword.
"If my guess is correct, you're—"
"SHUT UP!"
With a furious roar, Hephaestion lunged, blade flashing toward Waver's forehead.
A whirlwind of air blasted through the train car. Waver's hair whipped wildly as death loomed over him. No reinforcement spell could save him from this. He adjusted his glasses.
But it was fine.
Because he wasn't alone.
CLANG!
A curved blade slammed into the blade, knocking it aside.
"Heh—there it is!" Add's voice cackled from behind. "Acting all cool while shaking in your boots!"
"Master!"
Gray stood in front of him, scyth raised.
She was a little late but.
She always caught up.