Prism looked away from [Owl], fear tightening her small frame. His blank white lenses and silent aura made her uneasy—made her feel like she was standing before someone who could see straight through her.
She lowered her eyes to her feet, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry… I really am… I can't say anything. I'm just scared that… if I do, something really bad will happen to you both. And… I don't want that."
There was a quiet pause before [Owl] leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest. His tone was low but strangely comforting, the hint of a smile behind the mask.
"I don't mind, really," he said. "If you told me everything, it'd ruin the mystery. Figuring things out—that's half the fun, isn't it? Part of the job of a Player is to dive into challenges, not shy away from them. I like a good riddle."
Renzo let out a small breath of amusement, shaking his head. "You and your obsession with riddles." Then he turned toward Prism, his voice gentler now, serious in a way she hadn't heard yet.
"But he's right, Prism. You don't have to tell us anything you're not ready to say. I might joke around, but I take you seriously, okay?"
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. "I know you believe something bad could happen—and maybe you're right. Maybe someone told you that on purpose to keep you quiet. But I want you to know this: [Owl] and I… we're not ordinary people. We've been through the worst things the Story World could throw at us. Whole Fragments collapsing. Z Rank wars. Assassins in our sleep. And we're still here."
Renzo tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his voice steady and strong."If anything bad does try to happen, it'll have to go through the two of us first. Got it?"
[Owl] gave a small nod, his lenses catching the light. "And between the two of us, we've cracked tougher mysteries than this one."
Prism looked at them both—these two giants of the Story World—and for the first time, she didn't feel like a problem to be solved. She felt like someone they were ready to protect.
Prism glanced up at the two of them, their presence like a steady flame in the middle of her storm. She smiled faintly and whispered, "Thank you… for saying that. Both of you."
Just then, a waiter finally approached their table, looking rushed and apologetic. He smiled awkwardly at the three of them.
"I'm terribly sorry for the delay," he said. "I was… held up. The men—uh, the ones from the Cut—they stopped me and kept talking about things. Wouldn't let me go right away."
Renzo raised a hand casually. "Don't worry about it." His tone was relaxed. "I'll just have some coffee. and you?" He asked turning to the little girl.
Prism glanced up and added softly, "Some juice, please."
The waiter nodded quickly. "Of course. I'll be right back," he said before retreating toward the kitchen.
[Owl] exhaled slowly, his white lenses narrowing as he glanced toward the group from the Cut. "They're messing with you again."
Renzo didn't look up. He just leaned back in his chair, hands folded on his lap, mask as unreadable as ever. "Yeah… I figured."
"It's not just a delay. They're making a statement," [Owl] said, voice quiet but sharp. "A petty one, but a statement nonetheless."
Renzo finally looked at him, calm as ever. "Let them."
[Owl] scoffed. "You're too soft on them. That guy earlier? That SSS clown?" He leaned forward, voice lowering. "If someone from the Cut tried that nonsense with me, I'd kill them on the spot."
"I know you would." Renzo chuckled under his breath.
"But you don't have the same list of enemies breathing down your neck like I do. I've got assassins showing up every other day just because I looked at someone's faction the wrong way five years ago."
[Owl] didn't laugh. "Exactly why you shouldn't let it slide."
Renzo waved a hand lazily. "It's not worth starting a war over some second-rate Ranker trying to sound tough in front of his friends. Let him have his moment. I got to relax, talk with you, let breakfast settle."
He leaned back into his seat, the weight of his words trailing behind in the silence that followed. "That's worth more to me than bruising some ego."
Prism, seated between them quietly, let out a soft giggle at that last line, but deep inside, she still felt that [Owl] was right.
These weren't just random bullies.
These were the Cut. Part of the Seven Wounds.
And if they thought they could provoke someone like the [Last Note of Black] and get away with it… then maybe they thought he was slipping.
And Prism, even if young, knew what that kind of thinking could lead to.
She wasn't all that familiar with the Cut as an organization — only that they were a big crime syndicate that had formed an alliance with six others. Their coalition was called the Seven Wounds, and they had a few Z Rankers among their ranks.
But still... that man from earlier was just an SSS Ranker.
Sure, to her he was a legend — someone so far above her that she couldn't even imagine making eye contact with him. After all, she was but a mere F Ranker, the very first and weakest rank a Player earned upon entering the Story World.
But to Renzo?
That man was nothing but a bug.
Renzo was [Last Note of Black].
A Z Ranker.
Of course, she said nothing — she wouldn't dare. But in her heart, she felt like maybe... just maybe... Renzo should do something.
Either way, she simply sat there, quiet and thoughtful, as Renzo and [Owl] continued their conversation.
"So, where are we off to next?" Renzo asked.
[Owl] leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the quiet hum of the place filling the air around them. "Nowhere, for now. We're going to relax for the next week or so. After that..." he paused briefly, "…we'll head back into the Sea of Fragments."
Prism tilted her head, curious, as [Owl] added:
"This time, we're looking for a new Fragment. Rumored to be somewhere in Zone-X-39."
Renzo nodded thoughtfully, then leaned in just a little as he asked, "What's the name of the Fragment? Or what's it about?"
[Owl] didn't answer immediately. Instead, he shifted slightly in his seat and looked Renzo dead in the eye. "Activate [White Severance]'s ability."
Renzo blinked behind his black mask. "You want me to use an ability? You've got one that hides conversations from prying eyes too, so—"
"Nope," [Owl] cut him off, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm not wasting my Cores. If you don't activate the ability, then this conversation ends right here. We'll talk later, in secret."
Renzo let out a slow sigh, clearly bored by the whole exchange. "Ugh... fine," he muttered, waving one hand lazily as a soft shimmer pulsed outward around their table — an invisible dome of silence locking them inside.
Prism, sitting quietly beside them, stared in awe as the shift in atmosphere happened. Her eyes widened just slightly.
'So this is how Z Rankers talk...?' she thought, lips parted in surprise.
But something confused her. She glanced from Renzo to the shimmering veil surrounding them.
Wasn't [White Severance] the name of Shizu's Story?
Then how could Renzo activate an ability from it?
Renzo noticed Prism's stunned expression, her eyes wide and filled with questions she was too polite—or too afraid—to ask.
He clicked his fingers together casually. Snap.
"You won't feel anything," he said with a light chuckle, "but the ability's been activated."
Prism looked around, a little confused. Everything looked the same.
Renzo turned his attention back to her. "My wife gifted me a Card through the Story Book System," he explained. "It contained her Story's main ability—Severance. The power to sever anything. Time. Memories. Feelings. Anything, really."
Prism's mouth opened slightly, completely taken aback.
"And since I'm a Z Ranker," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I was able to level the ability up to Z Rank. Which means... I'm technically stronger in using it than even Shizu, the one who created it in the first place."
Prism stared in shock.
That wasn't something she had ever imagined. She didn't know much about the Story Book System, only that it was used in the Black District.
But even so, she knew it was famous—rumored to be a powerful method to share portions of one's Story with others.
So it made sense, in a way, that Shizu would share something so strong with her husband... but it was still shocking.
To share an ability that could sever anything... and to think that someone else could become even stronger at using it than the original wielder?
That was the kind of power only Z Rankers could toy with.
Usually, no one would ever share their main ability with another—it was the core of one's Story, the very identity of their path. To Sever was everything that defined a Story named [White Severance].
And yet... Shizu had entrusted that very power to her husband.
She had given him the heart of her Story without hesitation. That kind of trust wasn't just rare—it was sacred.
Renzo turned toward [Owl], finally asking, "So? What's the Fragment like?"
Now that no one but Renzo and Prism could hear him—thanks to the severed space—[Owl] prepared to answer. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice—
But he didn't get to speak.
Because right then, someone entered their sealed space.
It was the waiter.
He stepped inside like the ability didn't even affect him, carrying a tray in both hands. A steaming black coffee was placed in front of Renzo, and beside it, a tall glass of orange juice—meant for Prism, with another small neatly arranged slice of cake
He didn't hand the cake over to either of the two.
Instead, the waiter turned... and placed it before [Owl].
The Z Ranker seemed to have somewhat of a sweet tooth.
The waiter gave a slight nod and left them, finally stepping out of the space that had been sealed off. The barrier was still in effect, of course—even while he was there, the area had remained isolated from the outside world.
But he had been inside it.
And as long as someone was within the severed zone, they could hear everything being said. Only once they exited would silence resume.
Renzo could've taken things further—he could've isolated the isolation itself. Made it so that even someone standing beside them would hear nothing at all. Not even whispers.
But that level of control required a massive amount of Cores. Even for a Z Ranker like him, it was a waste of precious energy he wasn't willing to spend.
Not on a conversation over breakfast.
[Owl], unfazed, picked up his fork and took a bite of the cake like it was the most natural thing in the world. "The Fragment," he finally began, chewing thoughtfully, "has been given the name [Trial of the Unknown]."
He paused.
"At least for now."
Renzo waited in silence as [Owl] sipped from his coffee.
"It's been designated as at least SSS Rank," [Owl] continued, "but truthfully... no one's made it deep enough to confirm that. Not yet."
Few had gone—or so said the rumors. [Owl] wasn't even one hundred percent sure it existed. But then again, if there was even a slim chance the Fragment was real… it could help them with their goal.
Renzo gave a small, silent nod.
Across from him, Prism watched quietly. She didn't really understand what the two Z Rankers were after—why they were exploring the Sea of Fragments, or what their actual goal even was. But she wasn't particularly interested in that, either.
What did capture her attention… was [Owl] munching on his cake.
The sight of such a stoic and serious-looking man, dressed in full black tactical gear and bearing a golden beak-shaped mask—nibbling a small forkful of cake with such focus—it was almost... funny.
Prism bit her lip to hold back a giggle, but she dared not let it escape. As far as she was concerned, [Owl] was still terrifying.
Still… she had a strange feeling he already knew what she was thinking—and was just choosing to ignore her. For now.
Renzo leaned back in his chair and asked casually, "So, what will you be up to this next week now that we've got some free time?"
[Owl] tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely pondering the question. "I'm not super sure," he said flatly. "Maybe just... hmm." A pause. "Yeah, I really have no idea."
Renzo burst out laughing, his masked face angled toward the sky. "That's so like you."
Then, still grinning, he added, "Alright then, what did you do these last few days, huh?"
[Owl] didn't even flinch. "Not telling. You turned off the Severance effect. Our conversation isn't private anymore."
Renzo sighed in exaggerated defeat. "Really?"
He stared for a second, then—unable to resist his own curiosity—grumbled under his breath and pumped a good amount of Cores into [Last Note of Black].
The effect of [White Severance] activated once more, enveloping the area in a faint shimmer that only those sensitive to story power could sense.
Prism blinked wide-eyed. 'He really did it... again?'
To someone like her—an F Ranker just starting out—it was nothing short of absurd. Were Z Rankers truly this wasteful with Cores? Or was it just Renzo?
She understood using precious story energy to discuss a potentially powerful Fragment like [Trial of the Unknown]… but this? Just to learn what [Owl] had been doing during his off days?
Surely, that wasn't worth the cost…
And yet… here they were.
She did at least understand why [Owl] refused to speak about his free time unless isolated from earshot. Blue Trade Agents were everywhere, recording anything and everything they could get their hands on.
And [Owl]… he wasn't just anyone—he was a Z Ranker.
One of the strongest in the entire Story World. Even the most mundane thing he said, even a passing remark about his favorite tea, could become a best-seller in the Blue Trade Records by nightfall.
That was the nature of celebrity here. Fame didn't care if the content was trivial.
Prism lowered her gaze slightly as that realization sank in. She wondered…
Would they mention her?
The strange little girl—F Ranker, no known origin—who sat beside two Z Rankers at breakfast this morning. Would someone pick that up? Would she become a headline?
"Mystery Child Accompanies [Last Note of Black] and [Owl]: Secret Fragment? Future Z Ranker?"
She hoped not.
She didn't want the attention. Not yet. Not until she understood who she was… or what he wanted from her.
So she just stayed silent, her violet blush marks faintly glowing as the two men resumed their now-private talk.
Renzo leaned back in his chair, the black mask still hiding any real expression, though the curve of his words carried an easy grin. "Alright then, so tell me—what have you been up to? It's not like you to sit still for long."
[Owl] sipped his coffee first, slow and deliberate, letting the silence stretch until Prism felt her shoulders tense.
Finally, he set the cup down and replied, "I met up with a few members of the Thousand Tastes. They've been working on new cake samples lately. I wanted to see if they were worth the buzz."
Renzo blinked. "You? Meeting up with pastry artists? In public?"
[Owl]'s gaze flicked toward him, calm but firm. "Of course not. The Laughing Court would take offense if I showed my face where they do business. We met somewhere quiet."
Renzo's grin widened. "Somewhere quiet, huh? So that's where you disappear to. Secret dessert deals in back alleys?"
[Owl] sighed, setting down his fork with deliberate precision. "It's called refinement, Renzo. You wouldn't understand."
Renzo chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Refinement? You're sitting here eating cake at ten in the morning. I think you've crossed into addiction."
That earned him a faint glare from beneath the cowl. "I'm entitled to enjoy myself."
"Enjoy yourself, sure—but you and the Thousand Tastes?" Renzo leaned forward, laughing lowly. "Imagine the story. [Owl], silent terror of the Story World, secretly conspiring with pastry geniuses. I can already hear Prism selling that to the Blue Trade."
Prism nearly choked on her drink. "M-me?"
"Yeah, you," Renzo said, voice teasing. "Blue Trade Agents would throw fortunes at that info. [Owl]'s reputation? Gone before lunch."
For just a heartbeat, [Owl]'s aura sharpened—a silent, cutting edge that made the air feel thinner. Prism froze. Then, just as suddenly, it faded.
He stabbed another piece of cake, speaking evenly. "No one would believe her."
Renzo smirked under his mask. "Exactly. Which makes it the perfect secret."
Prism couldn't help it—she giggled.
Quiet at first, then soft and real. Both Z Rankers turned toward her: one with dry exasperation, the other with amused mischief. And for that fleeting moment, in a world that thrived on danger and secrets, Prism felt oddly safe between them.
Renzo stretched, breaking the pause. "Alright, alright. Enough teasing. Let's talk business again. [Trial of the Unknown], Zone-X-39… you said it might help us with our goal. How exactly?"
[Owl] put his fork down, eyes narrowing behind the white lenses. "Because if the rumors are true, then what lies inside isn't just another Fragment. It's a test. And the ones who survive it come out… changed."
Renzo leaned in a little, voice dropping to a quieter tone. "Changed, huh? What do you mean by that?"
[Owl] didn't answer right away.
He tapped a gloved finger against the rim of his cup, as though weighing whether to speak at all. Finally, he muttered, "They say those who survive the [Trial of the Unknown] don't just come out alive… they come out ██ ████████."
Prism frowned, her head tilting. "Huh?"
Renzo's mask shifted toward her, then back to [Owl]. "You're not making sense. ████████? You mean like… stronger?"
[Owl] shook his head slowly. "Stronger, yes. But not in the way you think. It's not only about power. It's about ████████. It rewrites something."
Prism's chest tightened. She opened her mouth, but Renzo raised a hand, as if to tell her it was better not to ask.
He pressed further instead. "And you believe this rumor? That it's worth dragging me out there to find out?"
[Owl] sipped the last of his coffee before setting the cup down with a soft clink. "Worth it? No. Necessary? Yes."
The silence that followed made Prism's small hands curl around her juice glass.
Necessary for what? Why did they talk as though the whole world depended on it, yet half their words were swallowed in shadows?
Renzo broke the stillness first, his voice lower, more serious than before. "…So you think the [Trial] could be tied to ████████."
[Owl] nodded once. "Exactly."
Prism lowered her gaze to the table, shivering slightly. She didn't know what those blurred words meant, but she knew enough to understand one thing—whatever the two Z Rankers were planning, it was far beyond anything she could imagine.
Renzo was quiet, his masked face tilted slightly, almost unreadable. "…If that's true, then maybe… maybe it could finally let me—" He cut himself short, the last word swallowed in silence.
[Owl] spoke again, tone deliberate. "If the [Trial] really does grant ████████, then it could overwrite without undoing. You wouldn't need to risk… exposing It."
Renzo chuckled faintly, though the sound didn't reach his eyes. "Sounds too convenient. Rumors usually are."
"But sometimes rumors are all we have." [Owl] met his gaze, unblinking. "And if this one's real, then you know as well as I do—it's the only chance you'll ever get."
The words hung heavy in the air. Prism hugged herself tighter, not understanding. Overwrite? Exposing It? ████████? Every sentence felt like she was reading a book with missing pages, important ones torn out.
She bit her lip, wanting to ask, but Renzo's calm, steady presence beside her told her not to. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her.
For now, she only knew one thing: whatever It was, whatever they were so desperately trying to keep hidden, it scared even Z Rankers.
Renzo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I'll tell Shizu about this. She'll most likely get too excited again… you know how she is. All the other Fragments we've visited, they only ever gave us hints. But this time…"
His voice trailed, low but brimming with something Prism hadn't heard in him before—hope. "This time, it sounds serious."
[Owl] slowly lifted his cup, the golden beak of his cowl dipping slightly.
He took a sip, then set it back down. "Don't get too excited. We've been at this for years. Every trail's been a fake or a dead end. And like I said earlier, this one's not even confirmed to exist. So don't get too expectant."
Renzo nodded, though his masked face tilted upward, as if even he couldn't stop the small smile hidden behind it. "I know, I know. But… it's Them. And this might be my chance. I can't not get excited."
His voice softened, but steady. "Don't worry. Even if it's a dead end, I won't blame you for it."
[Owl] gave him a long, unreadable stare through the white lenses. "…And if you did blame me?" he finally asked. "What would it matter? I don't care."
"Don't be like that." Renzo leaned back, his tone lighter, almost teasing. "We've become good friends in the last few years, haven't we?"
There was a beat of silence. Prism's small hands fidgeted in her lap, unsure if [Owl] would snap back in anger or brush it off coldly.
But [Owl] only said, flat and sharp, "Friends?"
Renzo, dramatic as always, placed a hand over his heart as though wounded. "Ouch. You wound me. Truly."
Prism blinked at the exchange. The blurred words—they still unsettled her.
Every time they came up, she felt like she was standing in front of a closed door she wasn't allowed to open. And yet… even with all the tension, even with [Owl]'s coldness, she could see it.
The smallest flicker in the way he lingered on Renzo's words, in the fact he hadn't walked away.
Though he denied it, [Owl] did enjoy Renzo's company.
The tension between the two Z Rankers seemed to dissolve, like smoke fading into the morning air.
Renzo gave a little chuckle, waving his hand as though brushing off the heavy words that had hung between them. "Enough of that," he said. "Let's not brood over things we can't solve right this second."
[Owl] didn't argue. He simply reached for another forkful of cake, silent as ever.
Renzo turned slightly in his chair, his masked face angling toward Prism. "Now, as for you, young lady…" His tone gentled, the teasing edge gone. "I'll take care of you for now. But I'd like to hear your opinion. What do you want to do?"
Prism froze, her little fingers curling against her knees. For a moment, she couldn't meet his gaze, even if it was hidden behind the mask. "…I don't know," she admitted, her voice small.
"I don't really… have anywhere to go. Or anyone to go to."
Her eyes sank toward the floorboards, shoulders folding in like she wanted to vanish into herself. "So… I'm not sure what I should do."
Renzo leaned back slowly, considering her words with a quiet hum. He didn't press. He didn't rush her.
For the first time since sitting at that table, Prism realized—he was offering her something no one else had before.
A choice.
—End of Chapter.
-----
Renzo: Oh, would you look at that, Gara's not here today.
[Owl]: True, but then... What do we do? Its not like I have much to say. If anything, its this Prism girl's thought that is... Huh... Enjoying Renzo's company, as if.
Renzo: Wow! You're really going there? Why? Do I matter so little to you?
Gara: Aha! I'm back... But also, why are you two copying my story now?
Renzo: Copying? How so? This one's so different from the Final Express.
Gara: True, but what I mean is my relationship with Leif. Look, You're basically me but stronger, and [Owl]'s basically Leif but stronger... Like, c'mon. Leif, come here and back me up a bit.
Leif: It's not in my nature to intrude on other's events, but I do have to agree with Gara on this point. I demand a Copyright Strike fall on this event this moment.
Renzo: Hah! Try and see what happens... Alright, actually don't... You're kinda the Mc of the Story World even if currently weak.
Gara: See how the turn tables... Oh wait, that's the wrong order to say it.