Arsa sat on the edge of the unfamiliar bed, staring blankly at the grey wall in front of him. The room was plain—almost uncomfortably so. The metal floor hummed faintly beneath his bare feet, and the only light came from a dim lamp hanging over the bed. A wooden door, the only thing that looked remotely normal, stood closed at the far end.
He rubbed the back of his neck. It still ached.
Everything still felt like a blur. The mansion. The monster. The card. The shot.
He hadn't even had time to really process it. One second, he'd been fighting for his life. The next, he was waking up underground, being told he'd either join a secret government agency or have his memories wiped and his toilet habits possibly ruined.
Arsa sighed, falling back on the bed with a groan. The sheets smelled clean, almost too sterile. He still didn't know if this was a prison or a dorm.
After a few minutes of silence, the door creaked open with a knock.
Lemon stepped in, holding a clipboard and a small black notebook. Her coat swayed behind her as she walked in, boots tapping lightly against the floor.
"You're up," she said. "You've got that 'existential dread' look on your face. Good sign."
Arsa sat back up. "Hey… Lemon?"
"Hm?" She raised an eyebrow.
"What about Mr. Argus? Is he… okay?" he asked, voice slightly anxious.
Lemon glanced at her clipboard and replied casually, "He's fine. Got a few broken ribs and a messed-up shoulder, but he's alive. Honestly, he was lucky you were there. From what we gathered, it was just you and him at the mansion during the incident."
Lemon turned a page and leaned against the wall and said again. "Your entire detective bureau's now under our jurisdiction. The Eternal Service will oversee your operations and supply resources. You'll report to us, directly."
"…You're absorbing us?" Arsa asked, visibly uncomfortable. "We're just detectives. We investigate missing items, and normal murder cas—."
Lemon held up a finger. "You are all a capable organization. You all handled weird things that the local guards couldn't. Most of you have good instincts. That's why the brass gave the green light to bring you under us."
Arsa frowned deeper. "So now we're watchdogs?"
"No," Lemon said. "Now you're dogs with a proper leash and food. It's an upgrade."
Arsa stared at her, unimpressed.
"Look," she said, shifting her weight. "You killed a Class D Ancient Beast. That thing shouldn't have been anywhere near Lancaster Mansion. They usually only come out during scenario event . Something's not right."
"Class D…" Arsa repeated, trying to place it. "Is that… powerful?"
Lemon's face tightened. "Very. Ancient Beasts are categorized D to A. D is already enough to level a town if left unchecked. What you fought was a Class D Mirror Leech. Parasitic. Shouldn't even exist in this era. They're from the Pre-Vague Age—centuries ago. Long before the current stabilizing rituals and magical protocols."
She paused, then added with a serious look, "You did something impossible, Arsa."
"…I was scared," he muttered. "That wasn't bravery. That was panic, luck, and… weird cards."
"Still counts," Lemon replied, closing the notebook. "Now that you've touched a Vague age artifact of a beast , you're bonded to it. We can't change that. You either learn to live with it—or it consumes you."
Arsa swallowed hard.
He didn't feel brave.
He didn't even feel ready.
He felt like someone had tossed a lantern into his quiet life and now it was all on fire.
After a long pause, he said, "Is it always like this? With your group?"
Lemon turned to leave, pausing at the door. "No. Usually it's worse. But you'll get used to it."
She stepped out.
Before the door closed behind her, she looked back and smirked.
"Oh, and for the record? Everyone here still thinks you're a 17-year-old girl. Litun even tried writing you a song."
Click.
The door shut.
Arsa buried his face in his hands and groaned.
"Please let this be a bad dream…"
Arsa barely had time to sink deeper into his thoughts when the door opened again. This time, it was Izanami—the maid from the detective bureau. Her expression was as unreadable as ever, poker-faced and calm as she stepped inside, carrying a small tray with a teapot, a cup of tea, and some biscuits neatly arranged.
Without a word, she placed the tray carefully on the small table next to the bed and straightened up. Her eyes met Arsa's with the same calm intensity she always had.
"Everyone from our bureau is here," she said quietly. "They've been brought to this base ."
Arsa blinked. The weight of the situation felt a bit lighter hearing that, though the memory of the fight still burned in his mind.
He nodded slowly, then pushed himself off the bed. The room was tight but not cramped, and for the first time since waking up, Arsa felt like maybe he was back where he belonged—even if this place was strange.
As he walked toward the door, the faint sounds of voices drifted from the hallway outside. Curiosity pulled him out, and he peeked around the corner. What he saw surprised him.
Hagan was leaning casually against the wall, grinning like he owned the place. Elric stood nearby, arms crossed and smirking, while Mr. Arthur Gawain was right in the middle, looking uncharacteristically flustered as he tried to keep up with Aritea, the quiet librarian.
Aritea, for her part, seemed perfectly unbothered by the attention, arching an eyebrow at Gawain's awkward attempts at flirting.
Arsa's lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile. It was strange to see these people—his colleagues and allies—acting so normal after everything that had happened. It reminded him that beneath all the danger and secrets, they were still just people.
Still, a knot of nervousness tightened in his stomach. He wasn't ready to join them just yet—not really. He still felt too small, too unsure.
He cleared his throat and stepped out, the quiet hum of the base wrapping around him like a shield.
"Guess I'm not the only one stuck in this mess," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.
Izanami followed him silently, her presence steady and grounding.
As Arsa walked down the dimly lit corridor, his eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. His heart quickened when he finally spotted Mr. Argus Jenkins standing near the far end, speaking quietly with a few others. Despite the recent events, Argus looked steady and strong, though a faint scar on his cheek reminded Arsa of the brutal fight they'd endured together.
Arsa hesitated for a moment before approaching. "Mr. Argus," he said, his voice quieter than usual.
Argus turned, his eyes narrowing briefly before softening when they recognized Arsa. "Arsa," he said with a nod. "You're awake. Good."
Arsa felt a strange relief hearing his name spoken so calmly, like nothing had shaken the man. "How are you holding up? I thought... I thought I lost you back there."
Argus gave a dry chuckle. "You nearly did, but I'm still here. Guess we make a good team, don't we?"
Arsa managed a small smile but the nervous knot in his stomach tightened again. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Me too," Argus replied, glancing toward the door as if expecting trouble at any moment. "This place... it's different from what we're used to. And now with that monster... well, we've got more than just simple cases ahead."
Arsa nodded solemnly. "They said the monster is a Class D Ancient Beast. Vague era. The kind of things I only read about in story books." His voice dropped. "I never imagined I'd be fighting one."
Argus' expression hardened. "Neither did I."
There was a long pause between them, filled with unspoken understanding. Two detectives bound by a brutal fight, now facing something far beyond what either had expected.