Returning to the antique shop, it was as if nothing had happened—no fractured dimension, no deadly battle, no blood spilled on shifting ground. The illusion of normalcy hung thin in the air. Outside, Urillia's guards dragged the lifeless bodies of Balak and Kian away without a word, as the citizens of Talagra continued their day, blissfully unaware of the darkness unraveling in their streets.
Yet one absence lingered heavily in the room: Leon.
His fate remained uncertain.
But first—they had to deal with the golden-eyed shadow now browsing the dusty shelves of old timepieces: Princess Urillia Azel.
Her radiant presence didn't match the humble setting, yet she looked perfectly at ease, casually picking up a silver pocket watch, examining its cracked face.
"How did you find us?" Asuma finally asked, voice edged with suspicion.
Without turning to face him, she replied flatly, "I had someone follow you three around the city."
The bluntness of her answer hung in the air like a slap.
"You what?" Amira narrowed her eyes.
"So, you didn't trust us from the start?" Asuma said, stepping forward.
Urillia set the watch down delicately, finally meeting his gaze. "Why would I? I had no leverage. You could've vanished the moment I turned my back. And frankly, I don't have the luxury of misplaced trust regardless of us going to the academy together."
"Still, tailing us across the city? That crosses a line, even for a royal," Amira muttered.
Urillia shrugged, unfazed. "Because I followed you, I was able to intervene and eliminate a threat neither of you were prepared to face. Balak wasn't some back-alley thug—he was a monster who slaughtered entire settlements. You would have struggled. Probably died."
"We were holding our own," Amira snapped.
"But now you don't have to. You're welcome." Urillia's tone was ice-laced steel. She stepped closer, and her gaze sharpened. "Now, let's move on to something important. I believe I know who has your friend."
Asuma's breath caught. "You do? How?"
Urillia folded her arms, her voice low and sharp. "while you were chasing shadows, I was having a few conversations with a city official and a Priest who smells of lies, fear, and priestly corruption."
"So you found out all of this... just by tailing us?" Asuma asked, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and irritation.
Urillia didn't flinch. "Yes. It was efficient. You three poked the right nests. I simply watched the wasps come out."
She walked toward the table and tapped her finger rhythmically against its wooden surface as she continued.
"Zyra," she began, "is the leader of a faction among the city officials. She wants to demolish Tara Garden and build something profitable in its place—some kind of trade tower or military outpost. It's still unclear. But it would flood gold into the city's elite."
"And Santanios," she added, her voice sharpening, "he clings to that garden like it's divine truth. He's not just protecting a place—he's manipulating faith itself. Twisting the minds of desperate followers, using the saint's legacy as a shield for his agenda."
"So both have motives," Asuma muttered. "Greed for one. Control for the other."
"Precisely," Urillia said with a nod. "But motive alone doesn't grant power. Neither of them has the magical capacity to cast an ancient poison seal. That's where this mystery deepens."
"Which means..." Asuma's voice dropped, realization dawning, "they're working with someone. Someone capable of ancient magic."
Urillia's eyes glinted. "And someone with much to gain. The garden's corruption serves as a smokescreen while the true predator hunts the sage."
A beat of silence passed.
"But why the sage?" Amira asked, finally breaking her silence.
"Because knowledge," Urillia said coldly, "is more dangerous than power. The sage—Fionalla—has traveled to Nior. She's seen the heart of the demon continent. What she knows could threaten nations... or empower them."
Asuma leaned against the edge of the table, brows furrowed. "So she's the key everyone's after."
Urillia nodded slowly. "And everyone includes the empire."
He stared at her. "And what part do you play in all this, princess? Are you here to use her too?"
The room stilled. Her expression darkened—but not with anger. With truth.
"My mission," she said plainly, "is to make a bargain. The empire wants the sage's knowledge once more. In exchange, she'll be given protection under the banner of the royal knights like before. A sanctuary she won't find anywhere else."
Asuma narrowed his eyes. "Protection... or surveillance?"
Urillia met his gaze without blinking. "That depends entirely on the sage."
"Is that really what the sage wants?" Amira asked suddenly, her voice laced with uncertainty. She stepped forward, arms folded, eyes locked on Urillia's golden gaze.
The princess turned to her slowly, studying her like a puzzle waiting to be solved. "You think I haven't asked myself that? Whether the sage even wants to be protected... or just left alone?" She turned away, tracing a finger along the edge of a dusty clock. "But sometimes, what someone wants doesn't matter. What matters is what others are willing to do to get to her."
She paused. Then, her voice sharpened—quiet but deadly.
"Do you know the real reason the garden was poisoned?" she asked.
Amira blinked. Asuma leaned forward slightly.
"It wasn't just because of corrupt officials seeking profit or the church clinging to sanctity. No... it was bait."
"Bait?" Asuma asked.
Urillia nodded. "The sage used to visit that garden often. It was more than a site of worship for her. It was personal. Because she's the last living descendant of the original caretakers of Tara Garden—guardians of its memory... and its shame."
She turned, facing them fully now. The light from the antique store's window illuminated her features, making her look both regal and haunted.
"That garden was built atop a massacre."
The room went still.
"Centuries ago, before Talagra became a fortress of espionage and faith, it was a thriving independent city. But the people here didn't worship the gods of the Empire. They venerated one of the Primordial Demons—ancient forces older than even the divine. When the Empire discovered this, they sent down a divine purge. The city was razed. Entire families—children—were wiped out. The saint, Arlette Snow, pleaded with the Empire to spare them, but her voice wasn't enough. In the end, she built that garden to honor the innocents lost in the purge... a quiet rebellion of memory."
Asuma felt the words hit like a hammer to his chest. "The empire purged Talagra... even the innocent?"
Urillia's expression hardened. "It's a secret buried beneath centuries of rewritten history. Only the sage's family remembered. When she disappeared, so did the only soul who might've protected the truth. That's when the poison came. Not from the city. Not from the church. But from someone who wanted the sage to reveal herself."
"Someone orchestrated all of this just to flush her out?" Amira asked.
"Yes." Urillia stepped toward the table, placing her hand on the aged surface. "And both the church and the officials took advantage. They covered it up, spun it for their own gains. But there's more. A man—unidentified, wearing an emblem I didn't recognize—was spotted collecting poison samples weeks before Balak and his mercenaries arrived. Shortly after, those masked killers started showing up."
Asuma clenched his jaw. "You got this from the Intelligence Department?"
"My presence gets me more than royal privilege," she said with a shrug. "The department knows more than they let on, but this man's identity is still a mystery. He's cloaked even from our best eyes. But wherever he is—he's not working alone."
Asuma stepped back, thinking hard. A purge. A poisoned garden. A hidden truth about Talagra. And someone powerful enough to outmaneuver the empire's eyes, manipulate both church and state, and kidnap Leon, why was Talagra plunged into this mysterious circle because the sage? What information does this mystery person need from her, that he would posion an entire city.