A Glimpse of Blood Port

Beatrice lay inside the furnace chamber, her eyes half-closed as she fell asleep, a rare occurrence.

Transcendents generally did not dream. Dreams were always tied to secrets and getting lost; those who sank into dreams were often not far from losing control.

Yet this time, she dreamed—of many things.

The laughter of childhood, flowers beyond the fence, birds streaking past the window. Beatrice giggled happily.

When she turned around, Hela stood there with her face veiled in black, holding out the Triple Crown in both hands. A sea of people in black stood behind her, watching her.

Blood, roars, widening pupils, shattered stained glass, thick snow—countless fragmented scenes twisted together into a grotesque beast that roared as it chased after her.

Beatrice gathered her skirt and ran for her life. Before her lay a sea of flames, yet she leaped into it without hesitation, jumping into the cursing Steam Engine.

She turned and shut the furnace door, locking the noise and quarrels outside.

Beatrice let out a long breath and hugged her knees as she sat in the furnace chamber.

Perhaps fate had tormented her for too long. Even this cold, hard steel felt warm to her.

As a child, she had always wanted to grow up. She had wanted to see the world, play in streams, become a bird soaring through the sky.

But now, she only wanted to lock herself inside thick steel and never come out again.

The steel was warm and safe. No one forced her to wear a crown, and no one blamed or berated her.

How wonderful it would be to sleep like this forever...

Bang, bang, bang!

A pounding came from the door, interrupting Beatrice's sweet dream for a moment.

Bang, bang, bang!!

Her lovely brows knitted together. Her eyelids wanted to open,