Rain—night.
A rainy night.
A common phrase, a common kind of weather, a word that could almost be considered synonymous with Nostramo.
Karyl opened his eyes.
No, he hadn't been asleep.
In truth, restful, peaceful sleep had been gone from him for a long time. Unlike ordinary people, when he closed his eyes, he didn't see that quiet, somber darkness.
He saw many things. Anything but peace.
Sitting up, Karyl looked a little dazed. The ache in his muscles and the groaning of his bones had faded away. Even so, he took several deep breaths to steady himself.
It had almost become a habit, and he needed to be calm enough to deal with whatever might happen next.
The nobles wouldn't let this go. Karyl knew that better than anyone.
"It's noisy outside."
The Wraith in the corner said this.
He crouched on the ground, gently prodding a plank he'd picked out of the trash with the index finger of his right hand. When he didn't use much force, his nails weren't quite so sharp. So the plank was still intact.
For now, anyway.
Just then, neon light swept past the window, spilling its garish glow inside.
In its light, Karyl could clearly see the Wraith's dirty, matted black hair, hanging over his pale forehead. It looked awful.
Karyl frowned at it.
"Is it?"
"Yes. Tonight is strange, Karyl."
The Wraith looked up and blinked. "I went to check on Number 17. Another group has taken over Crimson Finale's base. They didn't fight for days to claim it like they used to. That's strange."
"Number 17?" Karyl asked.
He wasn't paying attention to the crucial information the Wraith had given him just yet. Instead, he turned to ask about another seemingly trivial matter.
"Gargoyle No. 17," the Wraith answered quietly, lowering his head. "I like it."
"Ah, so you've named them again. What do you like about it?"
"Huh?"
"What do you like about it?"
The Wraith hesitated, then looked up again. He picked up the plank and turned it over in his hands before answering Karyl's question.
"Its—its surface is very smooth?"
"Answer me with confidence, Wraith." Karyl smiled faintly. "People should be sure of themselves when they express what they like or dislike."
"Its surface is very smooth." The Wraith straightened his back as he spoke. His voice even grew louder.
"What else?"
"...It's new? It's new, Karyl."
The Wraith smiled. He still wasn't used to the expression, so it looked stiff on him. But it was progress.
"It's new," the Wraith repeated. "I like it."
"So you prefer new gargoyles?"
"No, that's not it." The Wraith shook his head, still holding the plank. "I've found Number 18 and Number 19, but I still like Number 17 best."
"Then why?"
"Because..."
The Wraith's voice trailed off. He stared at Karyl blankly, unsure how to continue. He couldn't think of any more reasons.
What a poor ability to express himself.
On the way back here with me, you rattled off twenty-three different ways to cook rats. No matter how much I wanted you to be quiet, you wouldn't stop. And now you can't even tell me a third reason you like Gargoyle No. 17.
As he watched the Wraith, two thoughts crossed Karyl's mind.
"A damaged mind," and—
"Do you remember anything about your past, Wraith?" Karyl asked.
"Huh?"
"Your past. Do you remember it?"
The Wraith answered with an expression that was somehow even more bewildered than before.
With a soft sigh, Karyl had to repeat the question, adding more detail.
He'd realized by now that when talking to the Wraith, it was best not to use metaphors or leave things unsaid.
"Before you met me—or, before you entered that mine full of rats, mud, and warmth, where were you?"
"..."
The Wraith didn't answer right away. He frowned and began to think. Karyl didn't rush him; he could see the effort on the Wraith's face. So he wouldn't be too concerned about the result.
Of course, it would be best if the Wraith could remember something.
Even a fool could tell that the Wraith couldn't have been a human—or any other living creature—born naturally. Karyl was very curious about him.
"I..."
"Mm?"
"Fire... and I was falling."
The Wraith spoke softly. He no longer looked at all like the innocent monster Karyl knew.
His body was trembling, and so was his face. Even the muscles beneath his skin were quivering uncontrollably, as though he were having a seizure, but the Wraith didn't seem to realize it.
Or perhaps he did, but couldn't stop.
Karyl frowned gravely and clenched his teeth. He realized what was happening and braced himself. Frankly, he was already beginning to regret asking.
He regretted it very much.
"Twenty..." the Wraith continued in a pained, trembling voice.
At that moment, something began to churn in his dark eyes. Like rotten bones swallowed by a swamp, it was struggling to see daylight again.
Karyl clenched his fists. A foreboding feeling began to rise in his heart.
Tensing his muscles, he said in a low voice, "Stop, Wraith."
"...Fate! Fate!"
The Wraith shrieked, the veins bulging in his neck.
Then he screamed and fell backward.
"No! No! I don't belong there! I don't want to go back into the darkness!"
Screaming, the Wraith crashed to the ground, his dark eyes still staring up at the Sanctuary ceiling. His limbs convulsed in agony.
Karyl's preparations paid off. The instant the Wraith fell, he was at his side, his right hand already gripping one of the Wraith's hands as he prepared to pull him up. But at that moment, Karyl was struck as if by lightning.
He heard something.
Wait, was that really a sound?
Or was it only his imagination? Amid the shrill noise and the terrifying whispers piercing through the Veil, Karyl let go in pain. An endless numbness and agony spread from the skin where he'd touched the Wraith.
The Wraith was still screaming, and he—
No.
Trembling, Karyl exhaled a stream of cold air. A chilling blue light ignited in his eyes. Then, amid a merciless apathy and a cold shudder, he sensed them.
Them.
Things from another world, another dimension.
With strength beyond human comprehension, like a collapsing tower, they struck at his heart, trying to dig out the truth buried deep within Karyl Lohars, the lost noble son of Nostramo.
They were filled with malice. Shrilling, they stabbed Karyl's heart with tiny, poison-smeared blades.
They wanted his past, his story, his desires. Before they even knew the whole truth, they made promises, offering everything from worldly riches to endless power. They even showed him a transformed Nostramo.
But Karyl Lohars wasn't here.
"Get out," the Ghost said, trembling but resolute. "I have nothing for you. I have no desires for you to use."
The Ghost stretched out his right hand and swiftly grabbed the Wraith.
"Get out! Get out!" he roared, his eyes shining with a blue brilliance unlike anything before. "Stay away from him!"
"Karyl? Karyl? Wake up!"
The Wraith's panicked cries made Karyl wearily open his eyes. He tried to speak, but his dry, cracked lips stuck together.
I don't even have enough strength for that? He couldn't help but laugh bitterly.
"Karyl?!"
Shake, shake, shake—and then the Wraith tremulously lifted him up and placed him on the battered chair they'd salvaged. He was gentle and careful. A breeze stirred next.
Karyl saw the Wraith fanning him with the rotten plank. His lips were pressed together, his eyes wide, and he was paler than anyone else on Nostramo.
"...Don't," Karyl managed to say.
"You're alive!"
Yes, I'm alive, but if you yell a few more times, I might die. I really might.
Karyl gave the Wraith a helpless look. At that moment, the Wraith had somehow made more progress than ever before.
He understood what Karyl meant just from his expression. Then the Wraith immediately fell silent, gripping the chair leg without saying a word.
Of course, it couldn't last long.
After a while, the Wraith spoke cautiously.
"Y-you're all right, Karyl?"
"...Water," Karyl said with difficulty.
The Wraith leaped up and kicked the door open at a speed no ordinary person could follow, then ran outside. Karyl knew what he was going to do. There was a small Rainwater Filter on the roof of the Sanctuary.
Three seconds later, the Wraith rushed back. He pulled a chipped tin cup from beneath the hem of his robe and slowly held it to Karyl's lips.
Apparently, he hadn't forgotten that it was raining outside.
"Are you all right?" the Wraith asked cautiously.
"I'm feeling better—and thank you for getting me water, Wraith," Karyl said. "Also, I'm sorry I asked you that question."
"..." The Wraith pressed his lips together in silence and lowered his head.
"Lift your head," Karyl said gently. "Don't act as if you've done something wrong. You've done well enough."
The Wraith looked up, staring at him blankly, unable to understand what he meant.
Karyl only smiled faintly.
You've done well enough. If you've been hearing those things all along...
He sighed. "But there's still something I need to tell you—lift your head."
"Oh."
"From now on, if you ever feel the way you did just now while you're on a mission alone..." Karyl said slowly. "Whatever you're doing, come find me at once."
The Wraith froze for a moment. Then his expression brightened visibly. "Your countdown won't reach zero?!"
"...Is it raining outside?"
Karyl turned to look at the open door. He could have answered the question himself with his own eyes, but he still asked it, even closing them.
"Huh?"
"Is it raining outside, Wraith?"
"It is, Karyl—is your countdown not going to reach zero?"
"...Is the rain heavy?"
"It's not too bad, but is your countdown going to reach zero?"
"..."
It was raining in Nostramo tonight, but not too hard.
Before you continue