The door closed behind Tsubaki with a soft click.

  Sona sat in her chair, straight, perfect, her gaze fixed on the desk.

  Not studying.

  Not signing anything.

  Not analyzing numbers, schedules, or student complaints.

  Just… thinking.

  Tsubaki noticed immediately.

  “President,” she said gently, setting a cup of freshly brewed tea beside her. “You haven’t touched the reports since you returned from breakfast.”

  Sona didn’t answer at first. She simply inhaled the steam rising from the tea without moving it.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “I had… an intense conversation this morning.”

  Tsubaki nodded.

  “With Arverth.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

  Sona closed her eyes slightly. A minimal gesture.

  But for Tsubaki, it was an earthquake.

  “Tsubaki,” Sona said, her voice thinning in a way she rarely allowed, “…Kaelan worries me.”

  Tsubaki remained steady.

  “I know.”

  “No,” Sona corrected, opening her eyes. “I’m not talking about his Resonance. I’m not talking about his mistakes. I’m talking about him. The person.”

  Tsubaki lowered her gaze for just a moment, acknowledging the weight of the words.

  Sona rested her fingers on the desk. The soft tap-tap was the only sound in the room.

  “He risks himself too much,” Sona said with a sigh that sounded more like a confession than a complaint. “He rushes in without thinking. He blames himself for everything. He wants to help without measuring consequences.

  He is…” she searched for the word, uncomfortable, “…irresponsible.”

  Tsubaki smiled, respectful.

  “But he is also loyal. And sincere. And brave. Even when he shouldn’t be.”

  Sona frowned.

  “That doesn’t make him any less dangerous to himself. Or to us.”

  Tsubaki stepped forward, her expression serious.

  “President… does it bother you that he is unstable? Or does it bother you that you care?”

  Sona clenched her jaw.

  Silence.

  A silence that said far too much.

  “Tsubaki,” Sona said at last, forcing control back into her voice, “I cannot allow a Pawn to compromise my judgment.”

  Tsubaki knew her too well to believe that.

  “Sona-sama… when he left the gym this morning, you didn’t breathe normally again for several minutes.”

  Sona tilted her head, tense.

  Then she murmured:

  “I think… he doesn’t understand the weight he’s carrying.

  If something goes wrong, if he loses control, if he’s hurt, if he’s killed…”

  Her voice faltered.

  “I don’t know if I could watch that without—”

  She stopped. Breathed. Regained neutrality.

  “…affecting the stability of the territory,” she finished, as if correcting herself.

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  Tsubaki bowed her head gently.

  “As you say, President.”

  Sona opened a report to distract herself.

  But the page trembled slightly between her fingers.

  “Additionally,” she continued, returning to an analytical tone, “…rumors in the Underworld are increasing. House Phenex is on the move. Riser could appear at any moment. Rias is on the verge of emotional collapse. And our territory is detecting magical fluctuations we do not recognize.”

  She looked up, colder now.

  “I cannot allow an unstable Pawn to be an unpredictable variable in the middle of a diplomatic crisis.”

  Tsubaki placed a hand on the desk.

  “Sona-sama… allow me to speak without formalities.”

  “Go ahead,” Sona permitted, closing her eyes for a brief instant.

  “Kaelan is trying. Truly. And if you guide him… he will not fail you.”

  Sona opened her eyes. There was a glint in them. A mixture of tension and… fear.

  “I’m afraid I already have.”

  “Failed him?”

  “No.” Sona swallowed, barely visible. “Feared for him.”

  Tsubaki smiled gently.

  “That is not a failure, President. It is… human.”

  Sona exhaled sharply.

  A controlled sigh.

  “I cannot be ‘human’ when what is coming could shatter two noble houses,” she said, reclaiming her leader’s tone. “Riser is coming. Rias is not ready. And I…”

  She fell silent.

  Tsubaki waited, patient.

  Sona looked toward the window, toward the sky darkening outside.

  “…and I don’t know if Kaelan is ready to survive what’s approaching.”

  Tsubaki answered softly:

  “Then we will have to prepare him. Both of us.”

  Sona nodded very slowly.

  “Yes. Both of us.”

  Silence filled the office. But it wasn’t cold.

  It was a shared decision.

  Sona finally picked up the tea.

  A few seconds later, she murmured—almost more to herself than to Tsubaki:

  “Kaelan… don’t make me worry like that again.”

  And she closed her eyes for a moment.

  Not to rest.

  To decide.

  That same night, kilometers away, Kaelan felt an inexplicable weight in his chest.

  As if someone had spoken his name without saying it.

  The door closed behind him with a hollow, distant sound.

  Kaelan dropped his bag on the floor. He removed his uniform blazer. The cast throbbed as if it had a heart of its own.

  There had been too many emotions. Too many words. Too much pressure.

  He collapsed onto the bed without even changing.

  “…What a shitty day,” he whispered.

  He closed his eyes.

  And sleep tore him from wakefulness like an icy wave.

  Darkness.

  Not black. Blue. Deep blue. Resonant blue.

  A heartbeat.

  thum.

  thum.

  thum–THUM.

  Kaelan floated—or fell—through fragments of light and reddish cracks that opened and closed like strained veins. Each pulse of the environment matched his heart… but always with a slight delay, like a badly synchronized echo.

  “…Where am I…?”

  His voice sounded weak. Distorted.

  The air was thick. Hard to breathe. Painful to exist in.

  A whisper crawled from behind him.

  “You always come back here…”

  Kaelan turned.

  Raynare was there.

  Or something like Raynare.

  It wasn’t her real-world version. It was a broken, distorted copy, floating among shadows.

  Her black wings were torn. Her eyes glowed a sickly yellow.

  “You…” Kaelan stepped back. “You don’t exist! You’re dead!”

  Raynare smiled sideways, as if that detail were irrelevant.

  “Of course I’m dead. But you never got over what happened. So… here I am.”

  The red cracks lit up behind her. Raynare walked toward Kaelan without touching the ground, dragging an unsettling echo with every movement.

  “It still hurts, doesn’t it?” she whispered. “The fear. The guilt. The doubt about whether you were worth it. About whether Sona was right.”

  Kaelan clenched his fists.

  “Shut up…”

  “‘Don’t die again without my permission.’ How adorable…” Raynare tilted her head. “You’re so desperate not to disappoint another woman… that you’re going to break yourself again.”

  Kaelan trembled.

  Not with fear.

  With anger.

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  Raynare looked at him… and something behind her form began to move.

  A pulse. A glow. Something that wasn’t her.

  “I know everything about you. I am your fear.”

  Kaelan tensed.

  “Fear…?”

  Raynare dissolved like smoke, leaving behind a figure formed of blue-red light.

  The shape had no face. No defined body. It was a blurred humanoid, made of heartbeats and fractures.

  But Kaelan recognized it instantly.

  His Resonance.

  Or whatever that thing truly was.

  The figure drifted closer. And instead of a voice… it spoke in pulses.

  THUM–THUM.

  Do not run.

  Do not ignore.

  Do not deny.

  Kaelan backed away, sweating.

  “What… what do you want from me?”

  The being extended a hand of fractured light.

  When it touched his chest, Kaelan felt every emotion of the day compress into a single instant:

  Sona disappointed.

  Saji shouting.

  Raynare smiling.

  His own guilt. His fear.

  His desire to do things right. His frustration. His hatred. His hope.

  All mixed into one impossible heartbeat.

  Kaelan dropped to his knees, screaming without sound.

  The blue world shattered like glass.

  Raynare appeared again behind him, smiling like a cruel reminder.

  The final pulse detonated in his mind.

  BOOM.

  Kaelan snapped awake.

  Dry mouth. Cold sweat. Sheets soaked.

  His chest burned.

  The cast glowed faintly. His aura moved on its own—restless, alive.

  “…What… the hell was that?” he gasped.

  His heart hammered like a drum.

  He slowly sat up, pressing his back against the wall.

  The Resonance was still there.

  Restless.

  Not threatening.

  Sensitive.

  Like an open wound reacting to everything he felt.

  Kaelan closed his eyes and breathed deeply, forcing the rhythm.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  The pulse slowed a little.

  “I’m not going to let you break me,” he murmured. “But I’m not going to keep running either.”

  The Resonance vibrated softly.

  Not in response.

  As a reflection.

  Outside, beyond the fogged glass, a red spark crossed Kuoh’s night sky. Brief. Distant.

  Enough.

  Something was already moving.

  And this time, Kaelan knew it:

  reacting would not be enough.