I woke up—though "waking" felt like the wrong word. It was more like being forced back into a container that had grown too small and too thin.

  The first sensation wasn't sight or sound. The first thing that came was somehow weight. My chest felt like a block of lead trying to float in a pool of water. Then right after, I became aware of my skin all at once, strange like I could feel the exact boundaries of my skin, like a suit of tight, wet leather. Every inch of the surface, every pore felt like a tiny, open mouth.

  I opened my eyes, gradually.

  I blinked once.

  Once things settled, I hesitated. Because for a moment, I thought I was seeing things, or perhaps I was still elsewhere. My eyes cannot keep together, shapes cannot hold together, all I see were the colors and light. Colors overlapped and bled into one another: deep blues, muted reds, and pale gold.

  I stared at it, uncertain, trying to make a sense of it.

  I blinked a few times. Then reached out a hand at the sky, a beam of pale gold light passed through my fingers, turning my veins into glowing, amber threads. Then I clenched my fist. In my mind, the fingers moved instantly; however, in reality, my hand curled inward a second late.

  I sat up carefully, then swung my legs over the edge of what seems to be a bed. I squeezed the edge of the mattress, fingers digging deep into the fabric

  "This is not... the library."

  I looked around again, eyes wide open, forcing my eyesight to steady.

  It was a bedroom, a fairly large room. The walls were high, vaulted surfaces painted cream-white with a pale, ecclesiastical yellow. To my left, a wide terrace beckoned. The morning sun filtered through the heavy, expensive curtain. Then to the opposite side of the bed, the wall had two swords displayed in them, crossed in a 'X'. Next to it, there was a massive mirror, framed ornate in gold.

  I stood up, but my legs wobbled. I grabbed the edge of the mattressf finding my footing.

  Turning toward the mirror beside my bed, I froze. I abruptly reached for the mirror, something caught my eye.

  "What in the hell..." I pulled my lower eyelid down.

  My eyes... They were different. They weren't mine. They didn't even look like they belong to a human. The irises, which should have been brown, had turned into a nebula of deep violet.

  "What happened with my eyes...?"

  It looked less like an eye and more like a seal

  "I will handle it." A voice reached.

  I turned.

  She had just stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. She was the mature type, but age hadn't taken anything from, only amplifying it more.

  Long, dark-red hair, pulled back neatly at the nape of her neck, though a few loose strands fell to mask half her face. Her eyes were verdant green, vividly cut through the room the moment they found me.

  She wore simple indoor clothes, nothing ornate. A light robe, loosely fastened, sleeves rolled just enough to show forearms marked with old faint scars. Her frame was slender, fit, well-trained physique, clearly a body of someone who trains. Most importantly, massive jugs, way too massive.

  I inadvertently looked away.

  She stopped a few steps away. Her hand came to rest on the hilt of her sword. My eyes snapped to the hilt. My legs tensed up.

  Her gaze flicked briefly to the mirror.

  Then back to me.

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  "You’ve been unconscious for an entire day," She said evenly. "Your condition stabilized a few days ago. Stay rested."

  "…Where am I?" My voice sounded rough, like it had scraped its way back into existence.

  A corner of her mouth lifted, not quite a smile, more so like an acknowledgment.

  "My residence," She replied.

  She studied me again, slower this time. Not my face. Not my eyes.

  My presence itself, like she's looking for something past me.

  "Fret not, you’re in good hands. You're safe," She added, after a pause. "at least, for now."

  That didn’t comfort me. If anything, it confirmed the feeling crawling under my skin. It was already visible to those who knew how to look. Her eyes lingered on me for a second longer than necessary.

  "Do you remember your name?" She asked.

  The question caught me off guard.

  Odd thing to ask. My brows knit together on instinct. "Yeah?" I said, as uncertainty creeping in. "I’m… Claude Belmont."

  "Do you remember anything before you woke up?"

  Obviously, from every second, every moment, every minute detail. Who wouldn't? It's been ingrained inside my head, even if I wanted to forget it—it won't. Even now, it's still replaying inside my head. "Yes." I said.

  "Tell me."

  "Well... " I paused, glancing sideways, holding my chin, "I was trapped in this place, the library, and everything was all over the place. The walls, ground, the cabinet, everything moved, stretched, spiraled... Then some odd creature appeared... I'm also with..."

  My eyes widened. "I am with someone. His name was Lars, what happened to him?" And looked directly in her eyes.

  Her gaze never left mine.

  For a moment, I thought she hadn’t heard me. Then her eyes narrowed.

  "Lars," She repeated softly.

  My throat tightened. "He was with me," I said again. "I was with him when we entered the library. He was tired, so I—" I stopped myself because listing details suddenly felt dangerous for some reason.

  She tilted her head. "You remember him clearly."

  "Yes." The word came out sharper than I intended. "After our classes, we got tired and sat down. And I wondered inside." My hands curled into fists.

  "Then answer me this," She said. "When you were inside, is he with you?"

  I opened my mouth, hesitated, pondering for a bit, "Do you mean... I mean, yeah, like I said, we entered together. Then I don't know what happened. I left him downstairs because he was tired, while I went to look for something to read. Then that happened."

  "Well, is he fine though?" I insisted again.

  Her lips curved, not quite a smile. "... He's fine and well."

  The weight on my shoulder and chest finally lifted off, I could finally breath again, "Thank god."

  "Aside than that, any recollection, afterwards?"

  "Afterwards? Wait..." I feigned ignorance. As I said earlier, it still kept replaying inside my head even if I don't want to, "... there's also a woman, fighting those monsters. She was heavily injured." I glanced around.

  Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  And I looked directly to it, I gulped nervously. "D-Did I do something wrong?"

  "Was it all?" She lifted her chin a tiny bit.

  "That’s pretty much everything," I said, trying to look confused.

  Then her expression softened. At the time, it hadn’t occurred to me who I was talking to, not even as a passing thought. I believed I was simply speaking to an oddly frightening woman.

  When it finally did sink in, the shock hit me like cold water splashed across my face.

  She straightened.

  "In that case," She said, "Allow me to introduce myself."

  She turned slightly, the light caught her profile. Her eyes glow. "I am Irene."

  My vision blurred for a moment, like I’d been shot in the head.

  "I hold the title of the Saintess of the Blade," She continued, "I am an Apostle of the Faith. By the authority of the Pope, I am ordained to strike not at the creature, but at the concept of sin itself. I am the edge of the blade that severs the temporal from the eternal."

  My eyes shook aggressively, "The Saint of Blade...?" I muttered.

  I scanned her from head to toe. Her hand rested at her side. I noticed the calluses along her fingers, the scars left uncovered.

  How come I hadn't notice her before?

  Irene, the Saint of Blade. In the game, she was one of those overpowered characters, the kind that felt less like a person and more like a boundary, an endgame unit. She made occasional appearances throughout the story, bailing Shin and his harem out of difficult situations during specific arcs.

  Of course, the inevitable question: Was she one of the heroines?

  The answer is: Yes and No. You see, the community was divided. For some reason, players really took a massive liking to her, and became a fan favorites, but she wasn't officially a heroine. Even so, the community treated her like one. Part of the reason was likely the "mommy" or "ara-ara" vibes she exuded, which I could see much more clearly now.

  If she wasn't a heroine, why didn't the devs just let her be?

  There was a huge reason for that.

  Well, you see, in the climax of the story when Shin and the other were preparing to fight the one of the Demon Generals, they reached out to her for help. However, with some "bullshit" reason, the developers decided to kill her off—off-screen. It incited the wrath of the community. Her death made no sense; it simply came out of nowhere, with no foreshadowing and no buildup. It was a punch to the gut for the players, who felt betrayed by the developers.

  Which leaves only one question.

  Wait, does she always have red hair?