"You seem to have gotten a cellmate? And a noble, no less! What luck you have, dear brother."
Claude's head snapped up. A familiar figure loomed over him—Edwin. His presence felt just as oppressive as before, as if he held Claude's very soul in his grasp.
"E-Edwin...? H-how did you get in here...?"
Claude's eyes darted around the cell. The metal door remained securely locked. How had
Edwin entered? Had he awakened some Aetheris ability? Questions flooded Claude's mind until Edwin casually sat beside him, cutting off his thoughts.
"Claude. Why haven't you escaped yet? With those fancy Aetheris abilities of yours, you could probably walk out of here unscathed..."
Claude's confusion deepened. How did Edwin know about his Aetheris? What was he talking about?
"H-huh...? E-Edwin...? W-what are you—"
Edwin stood abruptly and approached Elyas, who remained engrossed in his book, oblivious to their visitor.
"How cute... Two children from different worlds, locked together in this tiny cell. Tell me, how do they justify keeping an Outskirts rat like you with a proper noble like him?"
Claude couldn't respond. His attention fixed on Elyas's complete unawareness of Edwin standing right beside him.
'Does Edwin have something like [Nothing, Forever]?'
Edwin continued, his voice dripping with mockery. "Isn't it strange? You seem to be forgetting so many important things, dear brother."
Claude remained silent, unable to process Edwin's meaning. His mouth opened and closed uselessly.
"E-Edwin... I-I u-uh—"
"Shut up, Claude."
Unlike his usual defiant self, Claude immediately obeyed. With Edwin, resistance never crossed his mind—some deep, instinctual part of him knew better. Claude kept quiet, but a strange sensation nagged at him—something calling from deep within. He tried to ignore it, but the feeling persisted.
"Claude… How about you try killing Elyes…?"
Claude's breath caught.
"W-what...?"
Edwin crouched before Claude, forcing eye contact. "Let me rephrase that. Why haven't you killed him yet?"
Claude recoiled. What was Edwin suggesting?
"A-are you serious...?"
Edwin sat beside him again, placing a hand on Claude's shoulder while pointing at Elyas.
"Claude. You know nobles like him are part of why I died, don't you?" His grip tightened as he turned Claude to face him. "And you... you're part of that reason too."
Claude couldn't meet his brother's gaze.
"I-I didn't mean to—"
Edwin grabbed his face, forcing their eyes to lock. "But because of you, I'm dead. Am I wrong?"
Claude had no answer. He struggled to look away, but Edwin's hold was unrelenting.
Claude didn't answer, he tried his hardest to look away from his brother.
Edwin's fingers dug into Claude's cheeks, cold as grave soil. "Am. I. Wrong?" Each word landed like a hammer on an open wound.
Claude's throat worked soundlessly. His brother's eyes—those same violet voids as his own—held no mercy. Only accusation.
A drop of sweat traced Claude's temple. Think. This isn't real. Can't be real. His gaze flicked to Elyas, still obliviously turning pages. If I scream, will he even look up?
Edwin's smile stretched, skin cracking like old parchment. "You're always thinking, aren't you? Calculating." He leaned closer, his breath reeking of wet earth. "But you never think enough."
The cell walls seemed to pulse inward. Claude's fingers found the rat-bitten rag beneath him—something solid, something real—as Edwin's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Let me show you what you forgot."
------------------
A few days before Edwin's death.
Claude trudged through the dim corridors of the underground slave market, balancing a tray of meager rations in his hands. The task of delivering food to the slaves was one he despised, but it was better than the alternative—joining them in their cages.
The air reeked of sweat and despair. Rows of cramped cages lined the walls, each containing broken figures—hollow-eyed, skeletal, barely clinging to life. Claude shuddered, forcing himself to look away. That could've been me.
He reached the last plate which contained an unusually generous portion. Strange, but not his place to question.
He reached the last cage in the far left corner. Inside sat a woman in her early twenties, her noble bearing still evident despite her circumstances. Even as a slave, she carried herself with dignity, her beauty shining through the grime.
"Here's your food," Claude muttered, sliding the plate through the bars. He turned to leave.
"W-wait..."
He paused, sighing. Another beggar.
"If you're asking for more, be grateful. You're already getting double the usual share."
"N-no!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I have an offer. Free me, and I'll take you out of this place. I'm a noble—from the Red Heart family. A Count's daughter. I can give you a better life."
Claude snorted. "Right. And I'm the King." He turned away.
"Wait! I can prove it!" Her desperate whisper carried through the dank air.
When Claude looked back, she was reaching into her dress. His breath caught as she produced a gleaming silver coin - more wealth than Claude had ever held. Enough to buy a mansion in the Outskirts. His mouth watered involuntarily.
"I-is that real...?"
The noblewoman smiled. "It is. Help me escape, and it's yours. I'll also arrange your passage out of the Outskirts once I return home."
Claude hesitated. The coin was tempting, but... "One silver piece doesn't prove you're nobility. Those are common outside the Outskirts."
He'd ventured beyond the slums enough times to know that much. No law prevented Outskirters from leaving, but survival outside required money, and it's exactly why so many remained trapped here.
Despite all this, Claude was still a child... and the promise of a better life was intoxicating. Still, he was sharper than most children.
"If you want me to free you... you'll have to leave by yourself. I won't help you after getting out of the slave market. But your offer still stands, right?"
Claude was certain she'd agree—her desperation was palpable.
"A-alright! Just hurry up!"
Claude grinned and opened the cage door...
------------------
Present Day
Claude looked at Edwin... he didn't understand what that memory meant. He knew what he'd done.
"See, Claude? If you hadn't freed her, nothing would've happened! But of course, you did what you always do... bring trouble."
Edwin's tone was deadly serious, as if he might kill Claude right then. But he didn't.
Edwin glanced back at Elyas, who sat peacefully reading his book.
"But now? You have the chance to fix everything! Just kill him!"
Claude hesitated. He didn't want to kill an innocent person—as far as he knew, he'd never killed anyone before.
"B-but... E-Edwin, E-Elyas didn't do anything... he's barely twelve..."
Claude had seen many horrors in his short life—people killed, fates worse than death. But he'd
never imagined being the one to inflict such suffering.
"I-I don't even have a weapon, and the Black Vine Bandits will be furious... you know how they are."
It was a weak excuse, and Edwin didn't buy it.
"Not having a weapon is pathetic. You have hands, legs, your body—and most importantly, your mind. All perfect weapons. As for the Black Vine finding out... that would be a good excuse..."
For a moment, Claude felt hope—until Edwin crushed it.
"...But not for you. They've already forgotten you exist, thanks to [Nothing, Forever]. You could slip right past them. You're the perfect manipulator, Claude. No one would ever connect anything to you!"
------------------
Midnight
Claude watched Elyas sleep, the noble's chest rising and falling with infuriating regularity. The book lay open beside him—Aetheris Fundamentals Vol. II. His fingers twitched toward it before curling into fists… but it was Useless. No text explained how to silence the dead.
His gaze slid to the noble boy's throat. The skin there looked soft as spoiled milk. One quick squeeze would-
"Do it."
Edwin's voice slithered between his ears, multiplying like centipedes.
"Do it. DO IT. DO IT!"
Claude's hands moved without consent. Fingers first brushing Elyas's neck - a lover's caress - then tightening like nooses. The noble boy's eyes flew open, blue irises drowning in sudden understanding.
"W-why-"
The question died with its asker. Elyas's heels scraped the stones once, twice, then stilled.
Claude staggered back. His hands burned with phantom heat. Blood pounded in his ears, yet Elyas's final whisper clung like cobwebs.
"Well done."
Edwin's approval curdled the air before dissolving like smoke.
Knees struck stone. Claude clutched Elyas's tunic - fine linen now damp with piss. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." The apology tasted like bile. His fingers dug deeper, seeking proof this was real.
Then the corpse blurred.
Fingers passed through cloth as Elyas's body fragmented like rotten parchment. Claude lunged forward -
The Soul Mirror flared crimson:
[You have gained a new face.]
A sound escaped Claude's throat - not quite laughter, not quite scream. The cell walls pulsed. His skin prickled as something settled beneath it, foreign yet familiar.
In the puddle by his knees, his reflection winked.