Lencar did not look away from Rebecca.
Not when her hands trembled slightly. Not when her breathing wavered. Not when the weight of everything unsaid pressed down on the room.
He simply watched her—quietly, steadily—until she lifted her gaze and met his.
"Alright," he said at last.
The word was simple.
But it carried finality.
"I agree."
For a moment, Rebecca didn't seem to understand what she had heard.
Then her eyes widened, just a fraction.
Mariella's posture stiffened instantly.
"But," Lencar continued, his voice unhurried, "before we talk further… close the restaurant."
Rebecca blinked. "Close… the restaurant?"
"For today," he clarified calmly. "Tell everyone we're shutting early."
The request was mundane.
That was what made it unsettling.
Mariella glanced at Lencar, then back to Rebecca. She didn't question him—she knew what this meant. Whatever came next was not meant to happen in a place where civilians could overhear it. Not even accidentally.
Rebecca hesitated.
Her instincts told her that once she walked out that door, there would be no returning to the simple version of things.
But she nodded.
"…Okay," she said softly.
She turned toward the door, pausing only once to look back at Lencar. He gave her a small nod—not reassurance, not command. Permission.
When she left, the room felt colder.
Mariella exhaled slowly. "You're really doing this."
"Yes," Lencar replied.
"You know once she hears—"
"I know."
They waited.
Time passed in fragments.
Outside, the Scarlet Hearth slowly emptied. Rebecca moved through the dining area with practiced efficiency, apologizing, explaining, smiling even as her thoughts clearly weren't there. Customers left reluctantly but without protest. Some thanked her again for sheltering them during the invasion. Some promised to return tomorrow.
None of them knew what was about to be said above their heads.
Twelve minutes later, Rebecca returned.
The door closed behind her with a quiet finality.
"It's done," she said.
Her voice was steady—but barely.
Lencar nodded once.
"Good," he replied. "Let's go somewhere else to talk."
Mariella turned sharply. "You're moving us?"
"Yes."
Rebecca frowned. "Where—"
Space collapsed.
There was no sensation of falling.
No wind.
No pain.
Just a sudden dislocation—like reality itself had been folded away and replaced.
Rebecca gasped as her feet touched solid ground again.
The air was cool.
Heavy.
They stood on a massive stone platform embedded deep underground. Runes carved into the surrounding rock glowed faintly, layered in complex arrays that pulsed in slow, deliberate rhythms.
"What—" Rebecca whispered. "Where are we?"
"The Grand Magic Zone," Lencar replied evenly. "Lower sector."
She turned slowly.
The cavern stretched outward in all directions, its scale almost impossible to grasp. Massive stone pillars supported the ceiling far above. Bridges of reinforced mana-metal spanned deep chasms. Platforms floated midair, held in place by spatial anchors that hummed softly.
"This is…" Rebecca's voice failed her.
Before she could finish, a realization struck her.
"Lencar," she said slowly, "how do you have space magic?"
He glanced at her.
"Didn't you only know wind and fire?" she continued. "That's what you told me. That's what everyone says."
Lencar didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked forward.
"Let's talk inside," he said.
The runes flared.
Space bent again.
They were gone.
And then—
They stood inside.
Rebecca staggered slightly, catching herself against a smooth metal railing as she looked around.
The interior was vast.
Not cavernous.
Engineered.
Clean white light illuminated wide halls lined with panels of glowing symbols and moving magical displays. Transparent screens showed streams of mana readings, spatial maps, and unfamiliar schematics. The architecture was angular, deliberate—nothing ornamental, nothing wasted.
"This looks…" Rebecca searched for the word.
"Sci-fi," Lencar said calmly.
She turned to him. "That's not a word."
"It is to me," he replied. "It means it was built to face forward."
She swallowed.
"This is your base?" she asked.
"Yes."
"For what?" she demanded.
Before he could answer, a sharp voice cut through the hall.
"You absolute bastard."
A woman strode toward them, boots striking the floor with unmistakable irritation. Her presence was sharp, her mana dense and refined in a way that immediately marked her as foreign.
"You disappear for half a day," she snapped, pointing at Lencar, "without saying a word, and I have to track residual spatial distortions to know you're alive?"
She stopped abruptly when she noticed Rebecca.
"…Oh."
Mariella relaxed slightly. "Dominante."
Dominante clicked her tongue. "So this is her."
Lencar sighed. "Rebecca," he said, "this is Dominante."
"She's from the Diamond Kingdom," he added. "And she's also my companion."
Rebecca's thoughts spiraled.
Another kingdom. Another companion. Another layer of secrecy.
Dominante crossed her arms. "Nice to meet you. Sorry about all this. He's unbearable."
Rebecca barely heard her.
Her eyes were fixed on Lencar.
"Lencar," she said, her voice low but unwavering, "what is the goal of your organization?"
The question echoed through the hall.
Mariella stiffened.
Dominante's irritation vanished, replaced with focus.
Lencar turned fully toward Rebecca.
And smiled.
Not the gentle one from earlier.
This smile was controlled. Measured. Imposing.
"You could say," he said evenly, "that the goal of my organization is to overthrow the rule of nobles."
Silence fell like a blade.
Rebecca's face drained of color.
Mariella's eyes widened.
Dominante's jaw tightened.
"More precisely," Lencar continued, his voice carrying calmly through the vast hall, "to narrow the gap between nobles and commoners."
He took a step forward.
"So that nobles can no longer kill commoners," he said, "like beasts."
"Or animals."
The words settled into the air.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
Rebecca stared at him in horror.
Mariella felt a chill crawl up her spine.
Dominante did not look away—but her hands clenched at her sides.
Lencar stood at the center of them all.
Calm.
Unshaken.
Certain.
Silence swallowed the hall.
It was not the quiet of peace, nor the calm after a storm.
It was the kind of silence that followed a truth spoken too plainly to be ignored.
Rebecca stood frozen, her hands clenched at her sides, her breathing shallow. Mariella's expression had gone rigid, the analytical calm she usually wore slipping just enough to reveal genuine unease. Dominante, arms crossed tightly now, stared at Lencar with narrowed eyes—not shocked, but calculating, as if reassessing something she thought she already understood.
Lencar noticed all of it.
He always did.
His gaze moved slowly between them, taking in their reactions without judgment. Fear. Horror. Disbelief. Not hatred—at least not yet.
He exhaled softly.
"Oh," he said, almost absently, as if a minor oversight had just occurred to him. "I just realized something."
Mariella looked at him sharply.
"I don't remember telling either of you about the actual goal of the organization," he continued, his tone neutral. His eyes briefly flicked to Mariella… then to Dominante. "Did I?"
Mariella stiffened.
Dominante's lips pressed into a thin line.
"…No," Mariella admitted quietly.
Dominante clicked her tongue. "You gave us objectives. Operations. Parameters. Never the core ideology."
Lencar nodded once. "That sounds like me."
Rebecca finally found her voice.
"Lencar," she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady, "you're talking about overthrowing nobles. Do you even understand what that means?"
"Yes."
The answer came instantly.
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
Rebecca flinched—not because of the word, but because of the certainty behind it.
"Nobles," Lencar continued, turning fully toward her now, "have oppressed and killed commoners for centuries."
He spoke as if reciting established data rather than voicing personal hatred.
"For reasons as insignificant as displeasing their senses," he said calmly. "Smelling unpleasant. Walking too close. Living in a place they decided they wanted."
Rebecca's throat tightened.
Mariella's fingers curled slightly.
Dominante's eyes darkened.
"They've burned homes," Lencar went on. "Executed families. Destroyed entire districts. All without consequence."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Of course," he added, "not all nobles are like that."
Rebecca seized onto that. "Then why—"
"But," Lencar interrupted gently, "enough of them are like that ."
His gaze sharpened.
"And the ones who aren't," he continued, "benefit from a system that protects the ones who are."
The hall seemed colder now.
"The Clover Kingdom's king," Lencar said, his voice flattening, "is a prime example."
Rebecca's breath caught.
"He rules with indifference," Lencar continued. "He allows suffering because it doesn't reach his palace walls. He permits cruelty because it doesn't stain his robes."
He took a slow step forward.
"That kind of rule," he said, "is worse than open tyranny."
Mariella finally spoke. "Lencar… even if that's true, going against the noble system means—"
"War," Dominante finished quietly.
"Yes," Lencar agreed.
The word echoed.
Rebecca's hands shook.
"Then why?" she asked, almost pleading now. "Why would you choose something like this? Why would you—"
She stopped herself.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Why would you throw your life away for this?"
Lencar looked at her.
Really looked at her.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
He smiled faintly.
Not imposing. Not gentle.
Something in between.
"There are many reasons," he said. "Some ideological. Some practical."
He turned away briefly, looking out over the vast interior of the base—the glowing panels, the moving schematics, the quiet hum of machinery and mana working in harmony.
"But the most important reason," he said slowly, turning back toward them, "is because the noble system cannot coexist with me."
Rebecca frowned. "What do you mean…?"
Lencar's gaze hardened—not with anger, but with inevitability.
"Because," he said, his voice lowering just enough to command absolute attention,
"of my magic."