A dark room.
Opening or closing her eyes made no difference. Everything was pitch black; there was no light. Only the stench of excrement and filth merged with her own body until they could no longer be distinguished. The air here was so heavy that every long breath felt like a weight on her mind, slowing everything down, drowning her consciousness in a mire of emptiness.
This was what Shiki had felt for years. When her beautiful face and exquisite body could no longer satisfy her master, she was discarded—like a broken, useless toy. She stopped complaining; she stopped struggling. All that remained was void. A life so hollow it was no longer worth continuing. Yet, she was too much of a coward to truly end it. She never bit her tongue off; she never tore the veins in her wrists. In the end, she simply accepted her fate: to be forgotten, buried alongside piles of trash and filth in this dark room.
Shiki never expected that one day, light would come. A faint crack illuminated the darkness, bringing with it a fresh breeze that swept away the stench, forcing its way into her lungs, reminding her of something she had long forgotten—that her eyes were still open.
That figure arrived. A smirk was painted on his face. His hair was white like moonlight; his eyes were purple, shimmering like an aurora. Shiki could only freeze. His appearance was too beautiful for this foul room. His relaxed demeanor made Shiki realize: this man was no savior.
And Shiki didn't care. She had buried hope a long time ago. Even if someone truly came to help, she might have rejected them. This stench had merged too deeply with her soul. But the man gave her no choice. His casual aura, his indifference, showed that his presence was purely for recreation.
Yes, recreation.
Shiki could feel it clearly: she was merely a spectacle, like a mud-caked wild boar in a zoo, watched simply to satisfy curiosity. And Shiki didn't feel disappointed. They indeed came from different worlds. Her heart had long since died, no longer capable of feeling envy, no longer possessing space for hope.
However, the purple-eyed man smiled wider, looked her straight in the eye, and said:
"Are you done playing around?" he asked lightly, almost jokingly. "This is just the beginning, you know."
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"Ugh!"
A biting pain throbbed violently in Shiki's head, forcing her face into a grimace of agony. With great effort, she tried to open her eyes. The light from a lightbulb reflected off the white walls and wooden furniture, piercing into her corneas.
She found herself lying in a room measuring three by four meters. Clean white walls blended with simple wooden furniture that looked brand new. Despite having no windows, the room felt cool. The wooden door was tightly shut, leaving only a thumb-wide gap at the bottom, where a faint shadow fell across the smooth gray marble floor. A soft blanket covered her body up to her chest, while a plush pillow supported her head.
Her hand rose, feeling the gauze bandages wrapped tightly around her head. The comfort and emptiness of the room did not calm her—on the contrary, it sharpened her vigilance. Shiki tried to remember what had happened, but the throbbing pain in her head made her thoughts hazy, difficult to focus. Even so, flashes of memory slowly replayed.
"Johan betrayed me!" she cried out, breathless.
Like video clips, her memories returned one by one—the battle inside the dungeon, her success in seizing the Blood Ember, the steps toward the teleportation circle, and then Johan's sudden attack.
But something was wrong. If it had been Johan alone who ambushed her, it should have been impossible. The number of Four Seasons members had now reached the thousands; even Shiki herself didn't know the exact count. Johan had attacked her in front of the entire Four Seasons, not just the Spring Division, yet strangely, not a single person had tried to stop him or help her.
"What actually happened…?" she muttered.
There was one possibility she wanted to reject outright: that the entire Four Seasons was no longer on her side. If that were true, then her story was over. There was no way out that she could find. Even though she no longer managed the organization directly as she had at its inception, Shiki knew exactly how powerful the Four Seasons was.
She had built the Four Seasons with the goal of completely dominating the City of Beginnings—controlling its economy, its life, and its power. She knew the ins and outs of this city, and because of that, she knew how to conquer it. Alone, it was impossible. Thus, she had made the foundation of the Four Seasons as strong as possible: not just in administration, but in an efficient working system.
It was natural that many nobles felt threatened. In fact, even if Shiki never dreamed of world domination, she could have turned the Four Seasons into a recognized political force. With that organization, she had the potential to become a world ruler—greater than even the Ganko Family.
But Shiki knew that all of it was merely white froth atop the ocean. Her true life was not in Ignisira, but in the Procession Tower, the place where everything began and ended. Because of that, the Four Seasons was not just her right hand, but also the solid floor supporting her so she wouldn't fall into the abyss of destruction. But now… what had actually happened? Impossible. It was impossible for the Four Seasons to betray her!
Despite having relinquished direct control over the organization, Shiki still monitored its every move. Every day, without fail, she listened to the reports read by Mujun.
Mujun…
Mujun?
MUJUN!
Instantly, her blood seemed to stop flowing. All her knowledge of the Four Seasons—every report, every piece of information—came from Mujun. Was it… possible that Mujun had also betrayed her? If true, then all this time Shiki had been deceived not in a dark place, but in the brightest light!