The fire had burned down to embers hours ago when Nyx finally broke the silence.
"What did you remember?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically devoid of its usual bite.
Regulus blinked, his vision slightly blurred. He rubbed at his eyes—only to find his fingers came away damp.
"My sister," he said, his throat tight. "I only remembered now that I even had one. She was... there when I was very little." The words came slowly, as if dredged from some deep, forgotten well. "Seeing her face again made me realize why..."
Nyx's shadow stilled. "Why you don't have a mom?"
"Yeah." Regulus let out a breath that shook more than he'd like. "My sister looked nothing like my father. You can probably guess the rest of the story."
Nyx made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. "Hmm... Well, don't bother with such old news." She waved a hand, the motion sharp enough to cut through the heavy air between them. "At least now we know you can sharpen and recover your memories!"
Regulus swallowed hard, forcing himself back to the present. "So I can remember everything about this world that I know of?"
"Exactly!" Nyx's grin returned, all sharp edges and gleaming teeth. "This means you can go on ahead and memorize all the materials you have experienced in regards to—" She wrinkled her nose. "—Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? Gods, that's a stupid name."
Regulus huffed a laugh. "Unfortunately, that was one of the shorter ones stories have these days."
Nyx's expression turned utterly stupefied. "There are even longer titles?!"
"A whole paragraph, sometimes. Pretty much the synopsis right there in the name."
"Actually, you know what?" Nyx leaned back, her shadow mimicking the motion with exaggerated drama. "That doesn't sound so unbelievable now that I remember some dumb guys my friends talked about."
Regulus shook his head, the motion dislodging the last of the moisture in his eyes. "Shouldn't we start setting out?"
Nyx's shadow lashed out before he could react—a solid thwack against the back of his head.
"We can do that later," she said sweetly, as if she hadn't just assaulted him. "For now, we have to decide what to do next."
Regulus rubbed his head. "Maybe we can discuss this after I recollect my memories on Danmachi first?"
"Danmachi?"
"It's the other name for the story."
Nyx's shadow reared back like a striking serpent—then smacked him again, harder.
"You should have told me that from the beginning!" she snarled. "I had to waste my breath saying that ridiculous title!"
"Sorry!" Regulus ducked the next shadowy swipe. "But I'm serious though, shouldn't we wait and talk about this later?"
Nyx's eyes narrowed. "And when will your efforts pay their dividends? Are we just supposed to stay here for weeks or even months until you're done?"
Regulus sighed. "Fine. What's your plan?"
Nyx's grin returned, slow and predatory.
"We've already pissed off both the Far East and Altena," she declared, her finger carving a path through the soot. "So we're going south. To Babelonia."
Regulus squinted at the crude drawing. "What's special there? Why not north?"
Nyx's grin turned feral. "Because it's the most prosperous nation in the world! Only the Labyrinth City can match them!" Her shadow sculpted imaginary towers in the air. "Spiced wine that costs a noble's ransom. Silk sheets woven by—"
"—And we have exactly zero valis," Regulus deadpanned.
Nyx's shadow froze mid-gesture. Slowly, it turned to face him with an eerily human expression of disbelief.
"Oh my little king..." She patted his cheek, her nails scraping just enough to sting. "Are you stupid?" Her shadow suddenly yanked the grimoire from his pack, flipping it open with a dramatic flourish. "Your skill and magic make you the most adaptable mortal in existence!"
A beat. The fire flickered to life.
Regulus blinked. "You want me to... counterfeit money?"
"Counterfeit?" Nyx clutched her chest as if wounded. "I'd never ask for something so vulgar." Her shadow tapped the grimoire's blank page. "You'll write us legitimate inheritance documents. A noble house's lost last will. Buried treasure maps." Her eyes gleamed. "The Babelonians worship paperwork and legalities more than gods."
Regulus opened his mouth—
Thwack. Her shadow smacked the back of his head again.
"Don't overthink it," Nyx said sweetly. "Just imagine all the baths I'll finally get."
The cave walls seemed to lean in as Regulus cracked his knuckles. "You know what? Let's do it. But first I need to train—"
Nyx's shadow lunged for his cheek. He ducked, avoiding the smoky tendril. "Specifically on increasing my Mind and Magic stats to make our documents foolproof."
The shadow froze mid-strangle. Nyx tilted her head, considering. Slowly, a Cheshire grin split her face.
"Yes!" She clapped her hands, the sound like two daggers kissing. "Now you're getting it!" Her shadow morphed into a quill and scribbled approvingly in midair.
Regulus reached for the blank grimoire—then paused. "Wait. How do we even test these forgeries before reaching—"
Nyx tossed a crumpled parchment at his face. It unfurled to reveal a crude drawing of a mustachioed man with "Lord Fancypants, Treasury Inspector" scrawled beneath.
"Meet our first mark," she purred. "Found him napping by the southern trade road."
The drawing winked.
Regulus sighed. They were doomed.
Regulus squared his shoulders. "How about we follow my plan, Nyx—"
"Lady Nyx!" she snapped, her shadow already coiling like a whip.
Regulus didn't flinch. "I'm not calling you that anymore until you stop hitting me!" His voice echoed off the cave walls. "Now listen up!"
Nyx's shadow froze mid-lash. For a breathless moment, the only sound was the faint dripping of cave water. Then—
"Ugh. Fair enough." She flopped backward onto her stolen pillows, arms crossed. "What is it?"
Regulus exhaled through his nose. "First, we need to—"
"Wait." Nyx held up a finger. "Before you start..." Her hand slithered forward and booped his nose with a fingertip.
Regulus blinked. "...Was that necessary?"
Nyx grinned. "Absolutely. Now proceed."
Regulus jabbed a finger at Nyx's crude drawing. "Instead of this, we falsify our identities to infiltrate criminal organizations."
Nyx's shadow paused mid-twirl. "Why?"
"Because conjuring valis from nowhere will draw more trouble than it's worth." He leaned forward, the firelight carving shadows under his eyes. "We need an actual source of income—one that doesn't trace back to my magic. Criminal enterprises are perfect for that." A beat. "And it's guilt-free for us."
Nyx's lips curled slowly. Her shadow slithered up to pat his cheek—gently, for once. "Ohhh, now you're thinking like a proper villain." She snapped her fingers. "I know just the group. The Black Quill Syndicate."
Regulus frowned. "Never heard of them."
"You wouldn't have." Nyx's grin turned feral. "They specialize in counterfeit grimoires."
Regulus' eyebrow twitched. "And where did you hear about this Black Quill Syndicate?"
Nyx waved a hand airily. "From my friends who ascended to Tenkai, obviously."
"When was this?"
"A century ago."
Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Denied. We're gathering more intel before jumping into some century-old criminal rumor." He stood, brushing soot from his trousers. "For now, we head south. Just like you wanted."
Nyx's shadow pouted. "You're no fun."
"And you're old," Regulus shot back, dodging the shadowy swipe aimed at his shins. "Now pack your pillows. We've got a kingdom to scam."