Drip… drop…
Water droplets were falling from the damp, leaking ceiling, each with a soft but steady sound, landing right on Vantias's face. He was lying on the ground, wrapped in a thin blanket, eyes open—sleepless and restless.
On the nearby bed, Daggerol lay asleep with a bruised and battered face, next to him was William. A little further away, Anna and Hannibal had slipped into quiet slumber. The long conversations of the night had finally ended… yet Vantias's mind remained wide awake.
Drip… drip…
He thought to himself:
"William made his choice… Anna too… Daggerol and Sylphy will probably follow the same path. So… is there no team left anymore?"
Another drop landed on his forehead. He frowned, muttering under his breath with irritation:
"How many times do I have to switch the cup? Until this damn thing ends?"
He silently shifted his position, dragging his worn-out pillow toward a drier part of the room. Now, he stared at the cracked ceiling. The rain continued to fall without pause. He took a deep breath.
"I'm not upset… or at least I don't think I am. Each of them is looking for peace… safety… and that's natural. But… what about me? What am I looking for?"
Vantias closed his eyes. He tried to think, within the darkness, about what mattered to him most.
Money… power… family… all of them undoubtedly important. But for him, the most important thing was *freedom*.
That which had always been taken from him—sometimes by his own choices, sometimes by the decisions others made for him.
He slowly opened his eyelids. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unmoving.
"Fate… always severs the chain of freedom. It gives us the illusion of choice, but in the end, it only forces us. We think we've chosen, but we're just puppets."
He smiled faintly, bitterly, sarcastically. Then whispered to himself:
"Maybe… there's still a chance for liberation in this world. But the question is: where do I start? I'm walking in an unknown world… in a foreign body, with memories that aren't even mine…"
"I'm someone seeking the truth… but still a prisoner of my own mind and incomplete consciousness… I don't know what I'm supposed to do. My mind is tangled, full of doubt and confusion."
The silence of the night, the sound of rain, and the distant musings of Vantias filled the room.
His eyes grew heavy. His eyelids dropped slowly a few times, and with the soft and constant *drip… drip…* of water still landing on his face, sleep finally overtook him.
When he opened his eyes…
He was standing in the middle of a vast, snow-covered plain. The ground beneath him was bright and misty, reflecting a pale white glow that seemed to shine from within the snow itself. But the sky… the sky remained night—deep, dark, and still… except for five stars that shone gently like symbols etched into the heavens.
Vantias gently touched his head and thought:
"Why am I here? I'm sure I was asleep…"
He looked up. There was a strange balance between the bright ground and the dark sky, as if nature itself couldn't decide whether this scene should be dream or reality.
Vantias thought:
"Why is the sky dark but the ground bright like day? This feels like a dream, but the clarity of my awareness… it feels real."
In the distance, atop a small hill, sat a woman. A pale, flowing cloak wrapped her entire body, only part of her face visible beneath the hood—flawless skin, glowing mirror-like blue eyes, and hair as dark as night. Beside her, a massive glowing gate stood silently, without sound or tremor… like a star fallen to earth.
Crunch! Crunch!...
Vantias stepped slowly into the snow. The faint sound of snow crunching beneath his feet echoed softly. Without looking at him, the woman lifted a teacup gently to her lips.
In a soft voice—not spoken aloud but resonating from deep within—she said:
"You've finally arrived."
Vantias stopped. His breath turned to mist in the cold air. His eyes wandered between the woman and the radiant gate.
"I… where am I? Who are you?"
The woman slowly lowered her cup. With a faint smile—neither joyful nor sorrowful—she said:
"The Castle of Dreams… the place where all those who have been chosen arrive first…"
Vantias stepped forward. The gentle chill in the air wasn't painful—it was awakening. Something within him was drawn—not to the gate, but to the woman's voice. A part of him seemed to recognize this place.
"This is just a dream… right?"
The woman tilted her head slightly to the left, like a teacher expecting more from her student.
"A dream? Perhaps…"
Then she smiled faintly and continued:
"As for who I am… since I have no name, you may call me *Slothborn*. I am one of the primordial demons… though you've already met my brother before…"
She smiled again, softly, sipping more tea:
"It must've been painful for you…"
Vantias remained silent. A frown formed on his face—he was confused, unsure what he was hearing or why he was here.
Vantias thought:
"A primordial demon? Does she mean… the one I encountered before?"
The woman gestured calmly for him to sit. Vantias hesitated, then slowly sat across from her. A porcelain teacup appeared before him, and the woman, with a white teapot marked by a hacked swan emblem, gently poured tea for him.
Vantias looked at the tea, then at the woman—uncertain whether he could trust her, especially given she claimed to be the sister of *that* demon.
Silence hung in the air. After a few moments studying Vantias, the woman spoke with a gentle tone:
"You must have many questions… why you're here… what I want from you… these are the questions everyone asks when they arrive here for the first time. But…"
She raised her index finger slightly, smiling:
"I must warn you....you can only ask me *five* questions. So choose them wisely."
Then she pointed toward the sky with her head. Of the five shining stars that had been there earlier, only **four** remained… meaning each question extinguished one star.
A frown formed on Vantias's face. He narrowed his eyes and thought:
"I didn't know… one of my questions is already gone. That means only four left… I need to be careful with what I ask…"