Alhaitham's voice was calm, almost gentle, as he extended his invitation to the black-haired girl before him. His eyes, usually unreadable and cold, now held a strange warmth.
Claire didn't respond immediately.
In fact, she couldn't.
Her brain had practically shut down from the flood of information she had just received. It was like someone had lifted the veil on the world she thought she knew, revealing an intricate web of lies, secrets, and darkness beneath.
Claire: "..."
She sat still, her eyes vacant, her posture stiff. Nothing in her upbringing had prepared her for this. Not her sword training. Not her prestigious schooling. Not even the noble values instilled in her by her family.
She had always believed the world to be simple: practice diligently, graduate with honors, enter the Knights, or return home to inherit the family business. That was the future she envisioned. That was the path she thought was laid out for her.
And yet, today, she had learned that all of it—the simplicity, the order—was only the surface of a world teeming with hidden currents. All this time, she had been bored, feeling like life lacked purpose, but she now realized it wasn't boredom at all. It was simply because she hadn't triggered the hidden side of this reality.
Today, she had stepped into that hidden plotline.
And it shook her to the core.
Something this incredible was really happening in the world? Right under everyone's noses?
Her eyes dropped to Alhaitham's outstretched hand.
If she took it—if she accepted his offer—there would be no going back. Her life would veer off its original track, and she would be pulled into a world of shadows, war, secrets, and perhaps power beyond imagination.
But…
"…I'm sorry. Please allow me to refuse."
Her voice was soft but firm. She couldn't do it—not yet.
"Is that really the case?" Alhaitham asked, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips.
He wasn't surprised. In fact, he had expected this. Claire hadn't tasted despair yet—true, all-consuming despair.
Her affliction, the early stages of [Devil Possession], had been cured by Alhaitham before it could spread or worsen. She had never been exposed to the darker consequences of it.
She had not been treated as a monster.
She hadn't been cast out by her family.
She hadn't suffered betrayal from friends or attacks from frightened villagers.
She didn't know the sting of hatred or the loneliness of being feared.
She was still fortunate.
Unlike the girls in the [Dark Night Courtyard]—those who had lost everything and clung to Alhaitham's will as their last guiding light—Claire still had something to return to. A warm bed. A loving family. A future.
Alhaitham thought of those other girls, the broken and the brave. They followed three things now:
His will.
Their shared pain.
The destruction of the Order of Diablos.
"A home to return to is a blessing," Alhaitham said thoughtfully. "Work hard. Grow stronger. This world is dangerous, Claire. You'll need strength to protect what you still have."
Claire lowered her gaze, her expression softening. "Your Highness… I will remember your kindness. If you ever need my help in the future, please ask. Although… as a mere noblewoman from a remote region, I doubt I'll be of much use to you."
Alhaitham chuckled. "Hmm, true. I can't think of anything you'd be helpful with."
"…You're cruel."
Claire's lips twitched. She couldn't help it—she smiled. He was different. Not like the other spoiled nobles she met at banquets. There was no arrogance in his voice. Just a candid bluntness.
At that moment, Alhaitham's ears perked up slightly. He had heard something—Alpha and the others had completed their mission. Olba had been dealt with.
"Well, it's time I wrap things up on my end."
Claire blinked. "Wrap things up? What do you—"
"In the name of this prince," Alhaitham interrupted, "I command you to forget everything about me today."
The symbol of GEASS ignited in his left eye, glowing ominously. A red light enveloped Claire's vision.
"…As you command, my king."
Her voice was hollow. Her consciousness obeyed the power etched into her mind.
With that, her memories of today—of Alhaitham, of the truth, of everything—were erased.
He turned without another word.
He had no choice. His identity as the leader of [Dark Night Courtyard] had to remain a secret. No outsider could know. Not even someone like Claire. If she found out again… there would be no mercy. Alpha and the others would see to that.
And so, he left.
"Eh? Why am I… here?"
Claire slowly came to, her gaze sweeping the dark chamber. She looked around, confused.
Her last memory was being captured by the Order of Diablos. She remembered… pain, fear… and someone saving her?
Her brow furrowed.
"Who saved me? Why… can't I remember…?"
She clutched her head, trying to force the fragments of memory into place. But it was like trying to solve a puzzle with a missing centerpiece. The harder she tried, the more it slipped away.
"Ugh! So frustrating…"
Just then, she noticed something draped over her shoulders—a black cloak.
It wasn't hers.
It was thick, durable… and warm. It still carried the body heat of the person who had placed it there.
Claire held it tightly in her arms. She stared at the fabric, her red eyes softening, and after a long moment, she put it back around her shoulders.
"I'll definitely remember… no matter what."
"Lord Alhaitham, is this really okay?"
Zeta stood beside him, her tone a mix of concern and curiosity.
Alhaitham sighed. "Sometimes, ignorance is a blessing. This way, she can continue to live in the light."
He paused and looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling like distant memories.
"She was boring, though. Not even one dramatic twist."
He stifled a yawn and lazily reached up, his hand landing on Zeta's head. He gently scratched behind her ears, petting her like one might a beloved house cat.
Though Zeta belonged to the golden leopard tribe and usually maintained a composed, stoic appearance, her ears twitched at the contact. Her cheeks flushed, her tail swayed side to side, and she lowered her head shyly.
If petting a cat was happiness, then petting a catgirl was bliss.
"Alpha, what did we recover this time?" Alhaitham asked, withdrawing his hand.
Alpha stepped forward and presented a sealed vial. "This is the latest experimental drug developed by the Order. A synthetic imitation of [Devil Possession]. It greatly increases strength instantly, but the side effects are severe. I was thinking of having Ita study it."
"Ita…" Alhaitham rubbed his chin. "That child's been overworked lately. I'll have someone else handle it. Maybe… Sister Wang's old partner was good at alchemy. Tiltti Kuraret, I believe?"
"Yes, she might be able to help."
"Alright. You all return for now," Alhaitham said, conjuring a spatial door with a graceful swipe of his hand. "I'm going to check in on Beta. There shouldn't be any problems, but you never know."
"Understood, we'll leave it to you."
Alpha and the others stepped through the spatial portal and vanished.
Alhaitham opened another portal for himself—but before he could step through it—
A wave of murderous aura surged through the opening.
He stopped mid-step.
On the other side of the portal, two figures stood—an elegant silver-haired elf and a long-haired green-haired elf—both absolutely drenched in blood. Their faces twisted with rage, completely devoid of the grace and calm elves were known for.
The carnage around them suggested a massacre.
Alhaitham stared.
"…???"
He froze for five full seconds.
He'd seen many things in his life—but witnessing the gentle, graceful elven subordinates of his going on a full-blown berserker rampage?
That wasn't on his bingo card today.
Maybe he should've just gone home and written reports.
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