Ayako wandered through the seemingly endless halls of the Solheim Palace. Driven by a simmering intrigue regarding Liu Sheng's hidden schemes, her sharp eyes swept across every alcove and archway, searching for any telltale sign. Pellucid screens lining the walls displayed Likard, the masked Grand Marshal, delivering pronouncements from the court stage. These speeches may have ignited a flicker of hope for the motherland, but for Ayako, they were a mere echo—empty promises as always. Only the thoughts of her own pressing agenda resonated within her focused mind.

However, Ayako's gaze flickered between the familiar warmth of that notebook and the exhilarating spark lit by the Raiser's visions. The two were worlds apart, a bewildering discord. A low murmur began to stir in the recesses of her mind, an unfitting mood at an unfitting time.

There’s no way he could have it. He’s from a faraway place, and yet how dare he get a hold of it? No… I must focus on my assignment first, and then ask him about it.

Strolling through forty minutes, she had sought nothing, but disappointment. Boredom after boredom, a dull ache that throbbed within her skull. That notebook again came across her mind. A flicker of crimson and black stained her eyes, an untold memory of that incident rousing Kusengan. Sweat beaded on her brow, and a tremor ran through her legs, forcing her to seek support against the cold wall. Was it worth frowning? Or grinning? The deeper she delved, the more doubt and bewilderment clouded her judgement.

“Flashbacks… bloody flashbacks.”

A cold touch, sudden and unexpected, fell upon her shoulder. Her agony fleeted away, her legs freed from tremor. Her eyes returned to normal, the Kusengan remained no longer. She whipped around, searching for the source of the touch, but the hallway was empty. Yet, a lingering presence remained, a prickle on the back of her neck. Her head turned behind, and lo and behold, a prominent tall figure, clad in a sleek black coat and cloak, strolled past her. So prominent that the surrounding screens were his mirror of a fleeting past.

“Sir Likard?” she muttered.

Once a whisper of his name escaped out of her lips, he stopped, then cast a slight glance behind.

“A great detective, there was. True?” he asked, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

“Huh?”

“A great high school detective, rather. Hailed from Taijin whose blood is descended from the world's greatest mystery novelist, Takeshi Kinbara, am I right? Ayako Kinbara… san.”

“What?” she stuttered, a faint bead of sweat dripping out of her brow. “Just who are you to know my name beforehand?”

“How clueless, you seem,” he chuckled. “Haven’t your name been around the media—headlines. Such as, ‘Student Detective Paid Tribute Right To Her Teacher After Tragic Demise’, no?”

“Oh, right,” she rolled her eyes and sighed. “That was quite a long time ago, but I could barely think of them so memorably.”

“But should you forget about those times, you’d also throw them that also held you dearly.”

“I’m talking about the headlines, not memories,” she cried.

“I see… I see,” his chuckle echoed twice, a scratch to her self-worth. “So the rumour of you abstaining from social media is true all along, eh? You must've grown to a fine and wise lass.”

“Ha ha… yeah.” she scoffed. “So what?”

“Well, for one, most young people nowadays fell down the rabbit hole of the internet, then became stuck in an echo chamber, all the while demonising every individual to a point of no return from their petty mistakes. Mistakes that perhaps are necessary to hone their senses and potentials through a journey of experiences. But alas, some, almost fifty percent, already fell prey to Mavet’s favour thanks to the callow whispers of the so-called ‘just mobs’. Their mere squabbles, too, were befitted those of a flock of sheeps, bleating over their amusing peer pleasure. Thus, I’m unlikely to hear their whimpers. They can do whatever they want until they themselves become everybody's fool.”

“Okay…,” she cast a quick, sidelong glance, a faint smirk flickering across her lips. But her amusement was short-lived. Likard materialised before her in a blink, his masked visage—carved like a dreary steel skull—so close it startled a gasp from her lips and sent her scrambling back. "Whoa," she breathed, stunned at a braid.

“And you might be one of them,” he giggled. “Just like you’ve posted a blonde gal of yours sticking her tongue out while smirched in mayo… in Space. That, too, brings me quite… an interest.”

“How come you know—”

“So it’s true then,” he turned back and ambled, his hands interweaved behind and his pose stood properly. “You’ve been quite a thorn in my mind, to be frankly speaking, and I, too, can read it… with my bare eyes.”

Bare eyes? Heh, your face’s literally masked.

“Of course, this mask of mine matters nothing to such expected hindrance,” he said. “Figures… figures.”

She clenched her fist, “What are you talking—”

“And so is our current state of trading words,” he interrupted, waving her behind a solemn farewell. “Once the inquisitive witch seeks through the pit of darkness, might she also seek the assertive knight dashing towards the way of light?”

“Hey, I’m not done—” With a single blink, his figure vanished into thin air. Silence crept into the hall once again. But this time, her boredom left her, her thoughts were filled with a hundredfold thrills. However, a subtle trembling and beads of sweat could mean something quite peculiar to her. “What a bloody old weirdo he is.”

Again, Ayako found herself adrift in the vast emptiness of the Solheim Palace's grand hall. The swirling displays lining the walls bombarded her vision with a kaleidoscope of meaningless images. Yet, they held no sway over her. Her mind was a laser, aimed on a single thought: Liu Sheng and whatever secrets he carried about Weian.

Attention all units, a female voice resonated from her earpiece. Has anybody seen Sir Liu recently?

No, replied another. I’ve not seen him lately somewhere in the palace garden.

No sight of him inside the Court of Heart.

Me neither around the hallway.

I’ve seen him last walking outside the palace. Through the main lobby. He seemed… rather nervous.

“Through the main lobby,” she repeated, then began running towards the lobby.

The lobby buzzed with a throng of journalists. Cameras mounted on tripods behind rows of chairs all aimed to a single podium at the front. Curious whispers echoed across the air. One woman, a blonde with thick glasses, broke away from the crowd and approached Ayako. Indeed, by all accounts, she was once the rightful heir to the Solheim Palace, her claim supported by both royal lineage and a conviction in her divine right to reign.

“Oh, hey Janie,” Ayako gasped, only a spectacle and sling, with a title Gazette, caught new to her eyes. “What brought you here… and made you one of the media junkies, all of a sudden?”

“Why?” replied Janie. “Of course, I must seek any leads of Liu—”

Ayako clutched on Janie’s lips and whispered, “I know. I know. But why here?”

“That is what Sir Tyler,” she hemmed. “ I mean, my ‘father’ told me to seek out this way, for he has his old friend, Ma’am Laura Becker, backing me up.”

“Hmm, that name sounds oddly famili—”

“Woah, I can see your entire profile appearing in front of my eyes. Names, ages, birthdate, birthplace, and your parents’ name.”

“But would you rather not mention them?”

“If that is what you wish for.”

“Good,” Ayako sighed. “Then let’s proceed on how you… and your ‘father’ come up with. Without stating about you-know-what things.”

Janie put her hand on the hip, the other tapping on her temple, “First, I must… inquire Sir Paul in regards to further status of diplomacy between UAF and Republic of Wei. Especially… uh, was it ‘Hoy… show’? ‘Shu… hoy’?”

“Huishou,” she clarified. “Yes, that term rings a bell to me.”

“Do you have any knowledge of it?”

“Just a name. Besides, I badly want to know, too. Almost forgot about it,” she said, then wondered. And speaking of that, why haven’t I heard about it more than that over a decade? How was it able to remain so obscure over time?

Janie felt a sudden tap on the shoulder and turned to see a woman in her fifties. The woman's smile broadened into a welcoming grin, exposing a flash of white beneath a name tag that proclaimed her affiliation with the Gazette, its colour mirrored on the sling. A cameraman followed closely after, a large, box-shaped camera draped over his shoulder, its lens aimed at Ayako.

“Ni hao,” cried a woman of fifties. “Would you like to have a brief interview with us?”

“Not again,” Ayako mumbled and rolled her eyes, then raised her voice. “No, I’m doing an important duty here, and just to let you know, I’m Taijinese, not Weian.”

“Oh, for real? Excuse me for such an awkward assumption then,” she laughed, then lent a hand to shake. “Anyway, my name’s Miss Laura the Truthseeker, always serving the truth for the people.”

“Yes, Miss Laura Becker, serving for the Gazette media,” Ayako clasped her hand and shook together. “I’m Ayako, an LEA agent. I’ve known you well since the release of the Maharian Nightmare documentary, and it’s really nice to meet you face-to-face.”

“Right… Ayako, that name definitely sounds Taijinese,” Laura giggled. “And I appreciate your compliment over that documentary. Literally did my best to exhibit the horrors behind it.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got to go now. There’s an urgent matter for me to do outside the palace.”

Ayako swept past, her gaze riveted on something beyond their farewells. The mystery of Liu Sheng's movements caught her focus. She stepped outdoors and found herself on an empty roundabout crowded with dozens of passersby. Yet, no one appeared to notice Liu Sheng, who had vanished like a ghost. This only deepened the enigma.

“Hey, Aya,” Janie’s voice cried, a rising sound of footsteps rushing behind Ayako.

“I told you to—” Ayako cast a glance behind. But witnessing Janie's reaction sparked a bright idea to boost her sifting. So, she dropped her voice.“All right, Queen Emilia, are there any places—dead spots around here? Places that are often used as a blind spots.”

“Blind spots? To be frank, I could not find any places like that. All of my palace guards make sure no uninvited guests must enter the palace at my age.”

“Okay, how about you imagine when there were no guards?”

“No guards, eh? Well…,” she paused, her brow furrowed and her hand rubbing the brow, then shrugged. “ I cannot think of any.”

Ayako groaned, "Thanks for your assistance," and walked away from her. Her eyes sought the scene, but nothing piqued her interest. Only the walls of its royal architecture draped in glittering shadows met her gaze.

Meanwhile, Janie followed her from behind, gasping in surprise and crying, "Aya!""

Ayako rolled her eyes and grunted, “What’s it again?”

“The escape hall,” she answered. “From the throne room to the underground hall, all the way… to the outskirts.”

“Oh,” Ayako nodded, then wondered. But to the outskirts? Maybe she’s talking about the Second Wall District if I were to be under her shoes. Besides, this sounds quite irrelevant to Liu Sheng’s alleged movement.

“There were three exits,” continued Janie. “One at the garden, another from inside the cathedral, and another at the outskirts.”

“Or rather at the Second Wall District here.”

“Yes.”

“So is there a way to the garden? Only through the outside, not inside.”

“Yes,” Janie walked past Ayako and stretched her open hand at the right path of the palace. “This way is the clearest. Walk straight, and you shall reach my beloved garden”

“And the other, if I remember correctly, is a guard house.”

Janie nodded ,“Stables and knights’ post.”

“Same sense, but in different names. Got it. Thanks,” Ayako hurried deep to the right, followed by Janie, or erstwhile Empress Emilia of Sileland. “Hey, shouldn’t you remain at the main lobby?”

“I cannot leave my dear friend stranded alone in the garden since this was—is my rightful place. Besides, who are you looking for?”

“Liu Sheng.”

“And he is the rightful prey of my quest. Pray, shall I take the lead here?”

Emilia cast a spear on her hand and hauled it farther, warping her body to the garden.

“Hey, wait up!... You bloody bitch.”

But it was too late.

She had already departed, beyond sight. Frustration raced through Ayako, boiling in her head like a pot left on high. Her patience, already threadbare, broke altogether. She rushed across the lonely, sparkling walkway, sweat beading on her brow. Her breaths grew shallow, and a parched thirst clawed at her tongue. Perhaps it was time to admit that her stamina, much like her patience, was running thin.

“Almost… there,” Ayako gasped.

Exhausted, Ayako emerged into a thriving oasis. Lush greenery and fragrant blooms soothed her ragged breaths. Stepping into the ground, she realised this was no ordinary garden. Shrubs, tall trees, benches, and even ponds formed a sprawling parkland. Finding Emilia here would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.. Yet, the park's serenity offered a welcome respite.

Her gaze fell upon a statue of Lord Oswald von Beortcild, his hand outstretched, brand pointed westward. His steely glare gave off a frightening air, a monument to the dread he spurred throughout the span of his rule. His sleek armour, seemingly untouched by time, hinted at the sixteenth century marshal he was. Every detail of his form sparked a sense of wonder in Ayako. This legendary figure, known for his military brilliance, alongside the almighty Flugel warship, had secured victories across vast stretches of land—from the Taijinese in the Libertian Farwest to the Arenians in the Mideast. Studying him, a newfound respect bloomed for this fascinating behemoth.

“No wonder you’re kinda a fan of his arse,” she muttered. “Even for a boy you were, you somehow had a dream of a man. A very,,, very old man. Hmph, what an ambitious fool.”

Minutes of silence loomed; her gaze stuck on his beguiling graven image. His glory etched firmly into history. A memory of him flickered in her mind: From a cheerful boy, half Silish and half Taijinese, his hand reaching out to her… to a bright man bidding farewell with a final salute. Even his passion for Ironheart, the real-time strategy game, surfaced—maps, scuttle-shaped helmets, and Oswald figurines, his proud treasures of youth. History enthralled him, while mysteries allured her. Their youth was worth a time more than an exhilarating adventure.

“Now that you’re gone, you le—”

A bloodcurdling shriek ripped through the air, from the east. Throb surged through Ayako, propelling her towards the source. The manicured gardens gave way to a towering greenhouse, its glass walls shimmering ominously in the fading light. A gasping sound, wet and desperate, echoed from within. Panic clawed at Ayako's throat.

"Emilia?" she rasped, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.

Without hesitation, she flung open the greenhouse door. A flood of humid air slammed into her, thick with the metallic tang of blood. Her eyes darted across the lush interior, searching for the root of the sound. The shadows writhed and stretched, concealing their secrets. A single, shuddering gasp escaped the darkness ahead. Ayako crept forward, each step a silent plea against the suffocating silence.

Then a final step became clearer to her sight, and lo and behold, an answer hidden behind a screech was unveiled in front of her.