"We need a way back to Rinzard," Dawn said, keeping his voice even.
The Administrator's eyelids fluttered, as though simply keeping them open was a battle she'd long since made peace with losing. "Rinzard, huh…?" she murmured, stretching lazily. "That's far from here. Farther still if you're in a hurry."
The younger girl did not share her indolence.
She stepped forward, expression carved from stone, eyes sharp enough to cut glass.
"Only one of the five of you is from Rinzard," she said.
Her gaze swept across Dawn, Elara, the golden-haired man, then back again. Clinical. Cold. Exact.
"State your purpose."
Dawn tensed. He'd known the Guild kept records. He just hadn't expected them to lead with it.
"We just—"
"Do not lie," the girl said, cutting him off without hesitation. "The Guild monitors all arrivals. Names. Origins. Points of entry. One of you exists in our records. The others do not."
Elara's smirk faded like someone had wiped it clean off her face.
A cold weight settled in Dawn's stomach.
He hadn't expected this. Not so soon. Not this directly.
The room felt smaller suddenly. The soft red light, the smell of tea and petals — none of it was comforting anymore. It was a stage. And they'd walked onto it without knowing the performance had already started.
He took a breath, preparing to speak,
The golden-haired man stepped forward instead.
Just a single step.
The girl's jaw tightened. The air shifted, the walls humming faintly, a low vibration that hadn't been there a moment ago. Like something in the room had recognized him. Or remembered him.
"I asked for your purpose," she repeated. Her voice was quieter now. Not softer, just adjusted. Like she was recalibrating around something she couldn't quite measure.
The Administrator yawned behind her, waving a hand lazily. "Calm down, little dagger… let them speak before you start scowling holes through the walls."
But the girl didn't look away from the golden-haired man. Not even for a second.
And Dawn suddenly had the overwhelming feeling that the Guild wasn't suspicious of them at all.
He swallowed hard, then exhaled. "We're not here to cause trouble," he said. "We just need a way back to Rinzard."
The girl inhaled sharply, already preparing to cut in again,
but the temperature in the room dropped a degree, and the Administrator's voice slid through the tension like a blade through smoke.
"Dagger. Enough."
The girl stopped. Mid-breath. Mid-thought.
Silenced completely.
The silver-haired woman sat up slightly, finally giving Dawn her full attention. Her eyes, now properly open, were something else entirely up close, pale and sharp, like light reflecting off still water before a storm.
"Dawn," she said. "I've seen your records." A pause. "We can arrange a portal to Rinzard. Though it'll take roughly two weeks to set up."
"B-But Miss, how can we tru—"
The Administrator's hand rose. Lazily. Almost gently.
Dagger stopped mid-word.
Silence.
The golden-haired man stepped forward, his voice calm and unhurried. "Two weeks is fine. Thank you."
The Administrator's gaze lifted to meet his.
For just a moment, so brief Dawn almost missed it, her small lazy smirk disappeared entirely. Gone. Replaced by something sharper. Something far more awake than she'd let on since the moment they walked in.
Then it was back. Soft and sleepy as before.
As if it had never left.
Elara didn't wait.
She turned first, hand already on the door, her usual ease back in place, if only on the surface. "Right then," she said lightly. "We'll get out of your way."
The Administrator glanced toward her, eyes half-lidded once more. "Of course." Then, almost as an afterthought, "Do be careful out there."
Elara paused, hand still on the door.
"The King's been restless lately."
The words were soft. Casual. Offhand, even. But they landed like something heavy dropped from a great height.
Dawn felt it immediately. Not a warning, a heads up. The kind you give someone right before things get complicated.
He exhaled quietly through his nose. Of course. Two weeks in a city with a restless king. Just what he needed.
The door slid shut behind them with a quiet hiss.
The corridor outside felt different.
No warmth. No hum. Just crystal walls and silence pressing in from both sides.
They walked without speaking for a few seconds. Their footsteps felt too loud.
Elara was the first to break it, her voice quieter than usual. "…Did anyone else feel that?"
"Yeah," Dawn said.
The golden-haired man said nothing. But his pace slowed, just slightly, just enough, and his gaze drifted briefly upward before settling forward again.
Dawn rubbed the back of his neck. "Two weeks," he muttered. "Guess we're not going anywhere for a while."
Elara let out a short breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
They rounded a corner and the sounds of the Guild gradually returned — voices, footsteps, the distant hum of arcana threading through the air. The world moving on as if nothing had happened.
But something had.
Dawn couldn't name it. He just knew they'd stepped across some invisible line in that room, and there was no stepping back over it.
"…Fate, huh," he muttered, almost to himself. A short quiet laugh. "What a pain."
Behind them, far beyond layers of crystal and ancient sigils, the Administrator reclined once more on her bed.
Her eyes stayed open this time.
"…Interesting," she murmured, more to herself than anyone.
Dagger stood by the window, arms folded tightly across her chest. The faint glow of the city below caught the edge of her expression, still hard, still sharp, but something else sat beneath it now. Something she hadn't quite processed yet.
"That man," she said quietly. "The golden-haired one."
"Yes," the Administrator replied. Her voice carried none of its usual drowsiness. "And the boy."
Dagger frowned. "The one from Rinzard?"
The woman didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling, tracing patterns only she could see.
"These two weeks," she said softly, "are going to be very interesting for Crysallis."
Dagger said nothing.
Outside, deep within the Guild's core, something ancient stirred. Mechanisms that hadn't moved in years shifted quietly in the dark. Routes adjusted. Pathways realigned.
And somewhere far above the city, the great ring of light pulsed, just once, slightly brighter than before.