The air between them had grown strangely heavy, as if the very world itself was listening.
Razya spoke without hesitation now, her voice steady as she began to unravel the truth piece by piece—about the Awakened, about those who rose beyond mere existence and became something else entirely… Creators. About worlds not born of nature, but shaped through will, memory, and fragments of the soul. And about the cost—always the cost—that came with wielding such power.
Zeo did not interrupt her.
On the surface, he stood still, calm, almost indifferent. His expression barely shifted, his posture relaxed, his breathing even. But beneath that stillness, something had begun to crack.
Something had shifted.
When she finished, silence settled between them like a thin veil.
"So… any questions?" Razya asked, her tone serious now, her eyes fixed on him.
For a moment, Zeo said nothing. Then, slowly, he raised his hand. It trembled—just slightly, but enough to betray what lay beneath the calm. His gaze lifted to meet hers, and in his eyes… there was something deep. Something strained. Like a quiet pain he hadn't yet understood himself.
"…Beings who create… entire worlds?" he asked, his voice low, almost distant.
Before she could answer, he continued, the words slipping out as if pulled from somewhere deeper than thought.
"And humans… are they just puppets?" His brows furrowed faintly. "What am I supposed to see them as? Through the eyes of a Creator… or something else?"
The questions lingered in the air, heavier than they should have been. Razya found herself unable to respond immediately, caught in a rare moment of uncertainty.
Zeo stepped past her, his voice quieter now, almost to himself.
"What's the point of something like that…?" he murmured. "A normal person… creating a whole world. Becoming its god…" He paused, his expression tightening slightly. "It's… terrifying to even think about."
In his mind, the very foundation of existence had begun to fracture. The Creator World, the Imagery World—none of it felt stable anymore. None of it felt right.
Razya exhaled softly before finally speaking, forcing her thoughts into order.
"It's not a 'fabric' world the way you're imagining," she said, her voice regaining its composure. "It's… something more abstract. A manifestation of memory, of emotion… of a piece of your soul. Like a story written into existence." She looked at him more firmly now. "You don't become a god. You become a creator… an artist. You give form to imagination."
Zeo turned his gaze toward her, listening—but not accepting.
Razya floated closer, her presence steady.
"They are what you believe they are," she continued. "Humans… creations… even puppets, if that's how you see them."
But in Zeo's eyes, there was no understanding.
Only quiet dissatisfaction.
A faint irritation crossed Razya's face as she clicked her tongue lightly. "Anyway, I never thought about it that deeply. Let's just move on. We need to do your test and form a contract."
Zeo blinked. "Test? For what?"
She paused—then suddenly stiffened. "Oh… right. I didn't explain that part."
A brief, awkward silence followed before she continued, "It's called the Creator Test. I evaluate you… to determine whether you're allowed to become one of us."
"For what?" he asked again, his confusion deepening.
"To form a contract with me, of course."
Zeo's expression shifted slightly. "You never mentioned anything about a contract."
Razya sighed, her shoulders drooping faintly. "It's necessary. Without it, you can't be monitored. It's about balance… and trust."
He went quiet again, thinking.
"…And if I refuse?"
Her answer came without hesitation. "Then I'll send you back to your world."
Zeo's eyes widened.
"You… can send me back?" His voice sharpened, something urgent breaking through. "Then I won't take the test."
For a brief moment, relief washed over him.
"…You want to go back?" Razya asked, her tone shifting.
"Yes." His answer came quickly. "I thought I was trapped here. But if you can send me back…"
She fell silent.
Inside her mind, thoughts clashed violently.
He wants to leave?
But I just got this chance…
The others were supposed to be here—the Captain… the contractor of Princess Bell…
And now… he just wants to go back?
Meanwhile, Zeo's thoughts drifted elsewhere—back to his world. To something familiar. To something real.
"I want to go back," he said quietly.
But she didn't hear him.
Her thoughts had already taken a different turn.
I can't let him leave.
A flicker of resolve hardened within her.
He doesn't know he can return on his own… I can use that.
When she finally looked at him again, her expression had changed—subtle, but firm.
"…If you don't take the test… and don't become a Creator," she said slowly, "then you'll have to wait until the story ends before you can return."
It was a lie.
A simple one.
And yet, it carried weight.
Even as she spoke it, a faint sense of guilt tugged at her chest. Desire had a way of twisting choices into something heavier than they seemed.
Zeo studied her for a moment, then let out a quiet breath.
"So… I have to wait until the story ends to leave?" His brows drew together slightly. "But… it hasn't even started yet."
"…It changed," she replied. "Because of you. I don't know what will happen now. We just have to wait."
Zeo's shoulders sank slightly. "So I just… wait?"
"Yes. But what about you?" she asked, watching him closely. "What will you do about this world?"
He thought for a moment before answering.
"I won't interfere anymore. Let things happen as they're supposed to." His voice was calm again. Detached. "I'll just wait until it ends… and go home."
Razya narrowed her eyes slightly, observing him.
Is he really that cold…? Or is he just hiding it?
Zeo glanced at her. "What about you? Are you going back?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "N-No. I have to stay. I need to monitor you… and report everything to the higher-ups." She hesitated before adding, "And send you back when the time comes."
He nodded faintly and began to walk.
But something felt… wrong.
The world around him seemed different now.
His steps felt heavier—yet faster. The air itself seemed to bend slightly around him.
"…Why does everything feel like this?" he asked quietly.
Razya answered without hesitation. "You've already used your power. You bent this world… strengthened yourself through it."
Zeo froze.
"…Then that means…"
"Yes," she said, meeting his gaze. "You're not the same anymore."
Her voice lowered.
"You could destroy everything here with a single strike. So be careful. That's the consequence of your mistake."
Silence followed.
Zeo continued walking, but now he could feel it clearly—the difference. The world no longer felt distant or untouchable. It felt… fragile.
Like something he could shape.
Or break.
The people within it… began to feel different too. Less real. Less… independent.
Like characters.
Like puppets.
A quiet guilt settled in his chest.
Did I do this to them…?
He slowed, distancing himself—not just physically, but mentally. Watching from afar. Refusing to get closer.
Somewhere in the distance, the main story of that world continued to move forward. The protagonist would soon leave for the Capital.
The story was about to begin.
In a few months.
And Zeo…
Zeo chose to remain outside of it.
Watching.
Waiting.
Like something that no longer truly belonged.