Katarina did not move.
Her shadows hissed softly around her, suspended in the air like black serpents ready to strike.
The man, meanwhile, remained motionless, a smile still painted on the grotesque mask he wore—a face frozen in permanent, almost unsettling joy.
A long silence. Then a burst of laughter, clear, almost melodic.
"I admit… you have flair, Miss Silver-Haired. Few people manage to detect me."
Katarina did not answer.
Her icy gaze never left the figure in the black suit.
The light reflected faintly on her silver strands, flickering with the torchlight on the wall.
"Who are you?" she finally asked, her voice sharp as a steel blade.
The man spread his arms theatrically, then placed a hand on his chest in a gesture of almost comical exaggeration.
"My name is Absurde."
He bowed deeply, like an actor saluting his invisible audience.
"And before you ask the next question… yes, I am an ilois."
Katarina raised an eyebrow, imperceptibly.
That word—that name—meant nothing to her. And yet, a shiver ran through her, instinctive, primal.
Something about the resonance of that word felt… wrong.
As if it were not meant to exist here.
"Ilois?" she repeated, wary.
"Yes, yes, don't make that face!" Absurde said, waving a hand. "Let's just say I come from a place where reason and logic are… optional."
He tapped the side of his mask.
"There, we don't just follow the laws of the world. We rewrite them. Sometimes for fun. Sometimes… to see what happens."
Katarina stepped forward. The air vibrated, saturated with tension.
"You speak like a madman."
"Thank you! I hear that often!" he replied with disarming enthusiasm.
But behind this absurd tone, something was off.
His aura—if one could call it that—was neither magical, nor demonic, nor even spiritual.
It was… pure chaos, an unstable fluctuation between existence and illusion.
Katarina felt her shadows stir slightly, as if his presence destabilized them.
"You caused the fall of the heroes. Why?"
"Oh, that?" He looked up at the ceiling, pretending to ponder. "Let's say I was… curious. Those little toys of fate looked interesting. I wanted to see how they would fall. And above all, who would come to save them."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You toy with lives."
"No, my dear. I toy with stories. This world is just a stage, and everyone here plays their part without realizing it."
Silence thickened.
Katarina remained upright, impassive, but inwardly, a cold worry crept in.
This being was not an anomaly… he was a rift.
Something that should not exist.
Absurde tilted his head, his mask inclining slightly toward her, the painted smile stretching a little too far.
"You'd better warn your mistress, the 'sealed goddess.' Ilois never sleep long. And some, unlike me… do not merely observe."
His words echoed through the corridor like a reversed prayer.
Then he slowly stepped back, arms spread wide, and dissolved into the air like an inkblot dissolving in water.
Katarina was alone.
Silence returned.
She placed a hand on her chest, feeling her pulse quicken despite herself.
"An ilois…" she murmured, eyes fixed on the spot where he had vanished.
"A being that rewrites the laws of the world?…"
She clenched her fist, and her shadow slowly crawled up her legs to conceal her once more.
"Evelyra must be informed immediately."
Katarina silently slipped out of the shadow cast by a candelabra, the flickering flame tracing for a moment the supple silhouette of her body. Her presence vanished instantly, as if the night had swallowed her again, only to reappear inside a larger room—Evelyra's chamber.
The room was bathed in a golden semi-darkness, rocked by the morning light filtering through the silk curtains. Evelyra, seated by the window, slowly leafed through an ancient book, her long golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Upon seeing Katarina, she lifted her eyes gently, showing no surprise.
"You're quite late," she murmured in a calm, almost weary voice.
"I encountered a strange individual," Katarina replied, bowing slightly. "He wore a mask… and called himself 'Absurde.'"
Evelyra closed her book with a soft snap.
"Absurde? A fitting name for someone who plays with shadows and illusions."
"He claims to be an ilois," Katarina added, her tone more serious. "His intentions remain unclear… but he has been observing the heroes for some time. And I am certain he is connected to the dungeon incident."
Evelyra's gaze drifted momentarily toward the clear sky beyond the curtains.
"An ilois… then things are moving faster than expected."
The candle flames flickered.
And in the suspended silence of the palace, Evelyra murmured to herself:
"'Absurde,' huh… so chaos has decided to take shape again."
Behind her, Katarina had seated herself casually on the edge of the bed, legs crossed. She had abandoned her rigid vassal posture for a more natural, almost familiar tone.
"Honestly," she said with a sigh, "if this 'Absurde' wanted to test the heroes, he could've at least given a warning. I almost plunged a shadow into his heart."
Evelyra gave a faint, amused smile in the mirror.
"You speak as if you could really touch him."
Katarina pretended to pout, puffing her cheeks slightly.
"Hey, I could've! Well… maybe." She shrugged, then added with a mischievous smile, "But I did panic a bit when he said he was an ilois. Those types give me chills. They seem to know everything, all the time."
Evelyra turned to her, amused.
"And you don't like being watched silently."
"Exactly!" Katarina replied immediately, raising her hands. "At least you speak, give clear orders, and don't vanish into a cloud of irony from some unknown power."
The goddess let out a small laugh, light as the chime of crystal.
"You are the first person who has grown familiar with me so quickly."
"Well, someone has to dare, right?" Katarina replied with a smile. "Besides, if I keep calling you 'Milady' in that ceremonial tone, you'll think I'm some theater servant of yours."
Evelyra stepped closer, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.
"And what do you think you are?"
Katarina blinked, searching for an answer, then ended with a mischievous grin.
"Your bodyguard, your confidante, your friend, and your future wife… depending on the day and the future."
A flicker of embarrassment and forced seriousness crossed Evelyra's eyes.
"You will stop with that."
"Well, consider it a gift without a ruban," Katarina replied, stretching. "Even goddesses need a little company, don't they?"
Evelyra stayed silent for a moment, studying her reflection. An almost imperceptible breeze moved through the room.
"Hm… if you say so. Now, behave yourself," she murmured.
Katarina looked up, surprised.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Evelyra smiled.
"Sit properly. Your crossed legs look messy."
She burst out laughing, pretending to be offended.
"Ouch, you're really formidable when you decide to be human, Milady."
"And you, incorrigible," Evelyra replied, gently tugging at a dark strand of her hair.
A warm spark passed between them—fragile, sincere.
In the palace's silence, for the first time in a long while, Evelyra no longer seemed alone.
"You speak of these ilois with unsettling assurance, Milady. It seems you've already met one."
Evelyra raised her eyes to her, without replying immediately. Her fingers absently played with the binding of her book, as if weighing her words. Then, in a quiet breath:
"Yes. A long time ago… long before we met."
Katarina raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Evelyra remained still, her gaze lost in the void. And suddenly, the world seemed to darken around her—as if the present had cracked under the weight of a memory.
---
In a room bathed in soft morning light, a little girl sat on a large bed with pristine sheets.
Her golden hair, shorter than it would be today, fell in silky strands across her fragile shoulders. Her eyes, a pure and penetrating blue, followed every line of the book she held with an unusual seriousness for her age.
"So demons don't need incantations like humans…" she murmured, her voice childlike but composed.
But no sooner had she finished than a strange sound echoed in the room.
A crack, like shattering glass.
Before her, the air warped—literally breaking into shards of light, as if an invisible pane had been struck.
Yet little Evelyra did not flinch. Her expression remained calm, almost curious.
Fragments of light floated in the room, and from this breach emerged a female silhouette.
A woman wearing a striking white yukata, on which bluish flowers seemed to bloom and fold gently. Her black hair, cut in a bob, framed a face partially hidden by a festival mask adorned with an enigmatic smile.
The intruder stepped forward a few paces, her bare feet barely brushing the floor.
She tilted her head to the side, amused, as if observing a rare treasure.
"Greetings… original goddess."
Silence fell again in the room. Young Evelyra gently closed her book, her eyes fixed on this stranger from elsewhere.
"So you know my identity," she murmured.
A crystalline laugh, soft and slightly otherworldly, resonated.
"Of course. In our world, your name has been whispered for ages."
And as the morning light mingled with the fracture in space, a strange feeling filled the room—the sense of a meeting that should never have happened, and yet… one that would change everything.