The vast hall in the astral realm held an uncanny stillness, broken only by the soft, drifting voice of the creature as it shared its tale. Seth sat, listening, on one of the twelve imposing seats encircling the grand table.
"You can't sit there," the creature remarked, shuffling closer. Seth still couldn't tell its front from its back, but its voice conveyed mild alarm.
"Why not? It's an empty seat."
"Each seat belongs to one of the master's servants. You can't just occupy them."
Seth arched a brow. "Aren't you one of the master's servants?"
"I'm not originally from here," it replied, almost shyly. "I was… hired."
Seth's eyes widened. "Where were you before this place?"
The creature paused, as though considering, then said, "I come from a distant place called Gray City."
"Gray City?" Seth's voice took on a note of surprise. "That place is real? I remember reading about it in Journey in Gray City."
"Oh, you mean the book by O. Heams?" the creature asked.
"You know of him?" Seth leaned forward, intrigued.
"Not personally. But O. Heams was a guest, a visitor from the outside, like the master."
"From the outside?" Seth repeated, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean by that?"
"Gray City lies beyond the reach of mortals," the creature explained. "You could try sailing east across the Death Sea, navigating the storm barrier, or finding a passage through the astral realms. But neither path is possible… not for anyone who isn't like the master."
Seth frowned, listening intently. "And O. Heams? Was he a god or some other supernatural being?"
The creature shook—or at least Seth thought it did. "He was no god. I don't know how he found his way to Gray City."
Seth leaned back, absorbing this. "Does Gray City still exist?"
The creature's voice dropped to a solemn tone. "No. The city was lost in a divine war."
Seth's gaze sharpened. "Divine war?"
"Yes, a war of gods. In those days, deities walked among mortals, and the Ancient Sun God himself founded Gray City. But the war ended that age, destroying Gray City and bringing ruin to all who dwelled within. The bodies of gods cursed the land, turning it into a place of storms, a wasteland. Some of us, even after the fall, were cursed, twisted into forms like mine."
Seth's eyes widened. "You… weren't always like this?"
"No," the creature murmured, almost mournfully. "Once, I was human. I was fortunate to keep my sanity… which is why I can still converse with you."
Seth fell silent, trying to absorb the weight of these revelations. None of this had been in the novel he remembered. Slowly, he stood and approached the creature, hesitating before reaching out and brushing his hand against its coarse, hair-covered form.
"What are you doing?" the creature asked, startled by Seth's touch.
Seth's hand moved softly over the creature, a faint look of apology in his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted. "I think… I'm sorry. I was frightened of you at first. I've never seen anything like you, and I reacted poorly. But you're more human than I realized."
The creature seemed to relax under his touch, its voice gentle. "It's all right. Most people would react the same way. I'm not offended."
The creature, to Seth's surprise, even leaned into his touch, almost as if it found the gesture comforting. "You truly are like the master," it remarked softly.
Seth blinked. "Like your master? How so?"
"You look like him, the same face. Though, the master has dark hair and pointed ears. Your voice, your mannerisms… they're similar, too."
Seth's confusion deepened. "Is that so?"
The creature made a nodding motion. "If you don't believe me, you'll see for yourself when he returns."
Seth's curiosity grew. "When will that be?"
"I don't know…"
Seth sighed, glancing at his own hands as though willing himself to return. "And how am I supposed to get back to my body? I'm not… dead, am I?"
"No," the creature assured him. "It seems the gallu spirit mistakenly took your soul. You'll be able to return once the master gives his permission."
With another sigh, Seth leaned back in the chair, resigned for the time being. "Well, since I'm here, would you tell me more about Gray City?"
The creature's eyes—or what seemed like eyes—brightened, pleased by his interest. "Of course," it said, an almost eager note in its voice. "I'll start from the beginning…"
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Back in Arlecia Castle, Claire busied herself with preparations for a charity event. The purpose of the event was to transform Lord Arlecia's image among the people from that of a tyrant to a compassionate lord who cared for his subjects. She worked tirelessly, her determination unwavering, though the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her exhaustion.
A soft knock on the door pulled her from her concentration. She looked up as Clark entered, carrying a small tray with refreshments.
"I think you need to take a break, Claire," Clark said with a gentle smile as he set the tray down.
Claire gave a tired smile in return. "I don't think I can rest until everything is done."
Clark chuckled, shaking his head. "I worry about my hardworking sister. It's admirable, but even you need a little rest."
"Thank you for caring, Clark. I'll rest soon," she replied, but her attention was quickly drawn to the treat on his tray.
"Is that… sweet berry cake?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.
Clark nodded and sat down across from her, taking a piece for himself. Without hesitation, he sliced the cake with his spoon and took a bite, enjoying it without offering her any, much to her surprise.
Claire's eyes narrowed as she watched him. "I thought you brought that for me…"
Clark raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh? No, this is for me. I just thought I'd enjoy it here while you worked."
She blinked, slightly taken aback. Then, seeing the playful glint in his eye, she realized he was teasing her, just as he always had. A smirk tugged at her lips. "Clark, you'd better leave this room before I start throwing books at you."
Clark put on a mock pout. "Are you threatening your poor, sick brother?"
She fixed him with a warning glare, beginning to count down. "Three…"
Clark merely grinned, leaning back as if daring her.
"Two…" She held a thick book in her hand, ready to launch it.
Before she could reach "one," Clark leapt from his chair, holding his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine, I'm going! But I'll leave the rest of the cake for you, lovely sister." He grinned mischievously, placing the half-eaten dessert on her desk before darting toward the door.
Just as he exited, the book sailed through the air, narrowly missing him as he disappeared into the hallway. Claire huffed, though her lips quirked up into a smile. She leaned back in her chair, shaking her head.
I can't say I regret saving my brother, but sometimes, he really tests my patience, she thought, glancing at the half-eaten slice of cake on her desk. Despite everything, she couldn't help but feel a warm affection for him.
With a sigh, she took a bite of the cake, savoring its sweetness before returning to her work, renewed by the brief, lighthearted moment.