[Mission progress: 0%]
["I'm aware of that, you para—"]
[Punishment loading...]
["You wonderful, all-powerful celestial system." Though her smile was wide, inwardly, she was gagging. This is abuse!]
[Hermes is delighted. Thank you, Host. Please refrain from being snarky.]
["I'm not snarky. Whatever that means."]
It sounds offensive nonetheless.
[Host, you are so ingenuous. But don't fret, I'm here.]
Alexia's lips curled into a smirk. "You're right. I am a genius." She rubbed her palms together, eyes gleaming. I expected this castle to look all dark and ominous, but it's actually quite my taste.
The interior was grand—no, exquisite. Even her father's throne room paled in comparison. Her gaze swept over the intricate gold inlays, the velvet drapes, and the towering crystal chandeliers. "Nope. This is even better than a noble's treasure hoard."
[Host, please wipe off your drool.]
Her hand shot up before her brain caught up. "Hey! I'm not drooling!" Her cheeks burned as she bit her lip. "Forget it. This lord will forgive you this once."
[This system does not plead for forgiveness, Host. You may do your worst.]
"A dignified princess such as myself will not argue with a mere messenger."
[Your Majesty, Host. Please repeat that sentence without the stolen golden inkstone in your hand and the diamond earrings you just put on.]
Alexia pouted. "Hateful!" Still, she casually stuffed the rest of the valuables into her storage bracelet as she strolled down the corridor. "Let's find the Fire Heart Stone."
She coughed, adjusting the gleaming jade ring on her finger.
[Your professionalism is admirable, Host.]
"Why, thank you. I quite admire myself too." She admired her reflection in a ruby ring, humming inwardly. If I were you, I'd wanna be me too.
But outwardly, she simply said, "Little flame, please move faster."
[Smooth Criminal.]
" Why are YOU suddenly singing?"
[ It felt appropriate for the moment, Host.]
" I never knew the gods listen to music."
[ There's a lot you don't know about Host. You'll find out one day.]
Alexia stepped into the hall, her breath catching as she took in the sheer magnificence around her. The towering arched windows framed the celestial expanse beyond, their intricate stained-glass designs glimmering under the soft glow of the enchanted sconces lining the walls. The deep blue marble floors reflected the shimmering light like a frozen lake under the stars, and the polished black pillars twisted upward, their gilded edges accentuating the eerie yet breathtaking beauty of the space.
But what truly captured her attention was not the architecture—it was the dress.
In the corner of the grand hall stood a mannequin draped in a gown that seemed woven from fire and stardust. The golden fabric shimmered with an inner radiance, delicate swirls of light dancing across its surface like living constellations. The fitted bodice hugged the mannequin's form with precision, its off-the-shoulder design giving it an air of elegance, while the full, flowing skirt cascaded like molten gold, trailing embers in its wake.
Alexia's fingers twitched.
"…Can I find out now?" she murmured, eyes locked onto the dress like a dragon spotting treasure.
[Host, I must remind you, we are here to redeem the last Phoenix.]
"Oh, I know," she said, already taking a step forward. "But wouldn't I look absolutely divine in that?"
[Your priorities are truly astonishing, Host.]
Alexia stepped forward, an inexplicable pull tightening in her chest. I feel a connection to this thing. I don't know why, but I want it.
As she drew closer, something caught her eye—a folded piece of parchment pinned to the bodice. Carefully, she peeled it away and unfolded it.
"This place is weird. How do they know I'll be seventeen next week?"
Alexia's fingers clenched around the note, eyes flicking between the elegant script and the shimmering dress. Her heartbeat drummed a little too loudly in her ears.
"Happy birthday, Princess. Seventeen will look good on you."
Her throat felt tight. She didn't like it. Didn't like the way her chest felt both full and hollow at the same time.
She took a step back.
[Does Host still desire the dress?]
Alexia inhaled sharply. Desire?
Her gaze lingered on the gown for just a second longer—golden fabric glowing, embers trailing in the air. The weight in her chest pressed down, but she shoved it aside.
"No."
She spun on her heel, her pace quick, purposeful. Away. Away from this. From whatever weird trap this was.
[Indecisive. A woman's heart is truly fickle.]
Alexia scoffed but didn't slow. "It's NOT a coincidence," she muttered, then, in a lower voice, argued with herself, "Alexia, it might just be a coincidence."
"It can NOT be a coincidence!"
[Host is now talking to herself.]
"I'm debating. It's called thinking," she huffed. "You wouldn't get it."
[Understood. Host's thinking process is: deny, panic, flee.]
Alexia twitched. "We are NOT discussing this."
And with that, she stormed forward, completely, definitely not running away from feelings.
"Fire Heart Stone and Phoenix. Yeah! Not a beautiful, fiery, cool… BUT SUSPICIOUS DRESS. Yes, it's suspicious, and we do not like it."
[Yes, we don't. But somehow, we are still thinking about it.]
"You think about things you hate too! Stop being an idealist."
[Does Host understand what that means?]
"Obviously. Racist means you don't like other races. So, idealist means not liking other ideas. Right?"
[…]
[Yes, Host. Your logic is truly… one of a kind.]
Alexia huffed, deciding to ignore Hermes' commentary.
Following the little flame, she stopped in front of an eerie set of doors. Even from a distance, a chill crawled up her spine. The doors loomed, dark and ancient, yet something about them called to her—whispering, daring her to step closer.
Her fingers twitched. This feels like a trap.
"Why is nothing ever normal in this underground ancient castle?" She sighed before quickly adding, "Hermes, don't answer."
[So I'm no longer a parasite, Host?]
She rolled her eyes. "Don't push it."
And with that, she grabbed the handles and swung the doors open.
The doors swung open, and before she could react, an unseen force yanked her forward—like a vacuum devouring her whole.
A rush of memories slammed into her. Her life unraveled before her eyes, flickering like a shattered reel of film. The warmth of her early childhood, the small moments of joy—then ten years old.
Alexia squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to stop.
"I do not need a monster as an offspring, much less a useless one."
That cold, cutting voice sent a tremor down her spine.
"Guards, take her away."
The memory clawed at her, but as suddenly as it came, it vanished, leaving only the suffocating weight of silence.
Alexia heaved, clutching her chest as unshed tears burned in her eyes. She choked, coughed—yet no sound came.
She froze. Then, hesitantly, she clapped. Nothing. She slammed her palm against the cold floor. Still nothing.
A slow, eerie grin spread across her face. Then, without hesitation, she threw back her head and screamed.
Her fists came down on a shard of shattered glass, her blood blooming in crimson ribbons across the polished surface. But the silence swallowed her whole.
Unseen. Unheard. Unimportant.
Just as usual.
[Host. I can still hear you, though.]
Alexia stiffened.
Then, color flooded her face.
Scrambling to her feet, she gave an awkward little cough, casually flipping her hair over one shoulder as if nothing had happened.
'I meant to do that.'
Not waiting for Hermes to answer, she pretended to focus on her surroundings.
This place is out of this world.
The space—dimension, or whatever it was—felt like an endless vortex, twisting and shifting like a living tunnel. Shattered fragments drifted through the current, glimmering as they spun.
Wait… not glass but… mirrors?
[Host, rest assured, I shall protect you from yourself. Especially your bad jokes.]
Alexia barely registered Hermes' quip. She was too dazed, too caught up in the sight before her. Shards of mirrors swirled around her in an endless dance, each carrying a distorted reflection of herself—some stretched, some fractured, some almost unrecognizable.
Alexia was too dazed to hear Hermes.
Everywhere, shattered fragments of mirrors swirled around her, catching and twisting the dim light. And within each one—her reflection.
Her true reflection.
Long white hair. Pointed ears. White scales creeping along her neck. Golden eyes, slitted like a serpent's. Porcelain skin, too pale, too unnatural.
A monster.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Frantic, her hands flew to the pendant at her throat. She clutched it tight, fingers trembling.
"Why aren't you working?" Her voice cracked. "You're supposed to hide this monster!"
[Host, demon magic will not function in Goddess Astra's domain.]
Astra's domain.
The words barely registered. Panic clawed at her ribs, rising like bile.
"Where—where even is this place?"
[Welcome, Host. To the Void. A version of it, rather.]
The Void.
Alexia's breath hitched. If this was the Void, then—this wasn't an illusion?
"Then it should still work," she whispered, eyes burning. "Demon magic is illusions. If they're the same, why isn't it working?"
Tears blurred her vision. She yanked at the pendant again, desperation seizing her. "Why can't I make it stop?"
[Illusions can serve as reality, but reality is not an illusion. Astra's domain was created by her. It is real, not a mind trick.]
Real.
Alexia's grip slackened.
Her chest constricted, and suddenly, she couldn't hold it back anymore. A sob tore from her throat as she sank to her knees, palms covering her face.
"I don't want to see it."
She curled in on herself, the weight of her reflection crushing her. And for the first time in a long time—maybe ever—there was nowhere left to run.
Suddenly, warmth flickered at her side. Hesitantly, she peeked out from behind her hands. The little flame hovered beside her, its glow pushing against the suffocating darkness.
She looked up. The mirrors no longer reflected her face—only countless cackling fires, their light dancing in the void.
[Host, sometimes it's best to stop focusing on those who hate us and remember the ones who stayed.]
A face flashed through her mind. A gentle smile. One she both loved and resented.
The little flame crackled in agreement, flickering with something almost... knowing.
Alexia held her knees tighter. She tried to smile. To laugh. But her throat burned.
"I should stop being so dramatic."
She pushed herself to her feet—only to stumble back, her vision tilting.
For a split second, the flame's flickering form stretched into a blurry, smiling man.
"What?"
She blinked hard. The flame remained unchanged.
"Alexia, what exactly is wrong with you?" She let out a weak laugh, wiping at her face.
[Host, if you're unsure, I can prepare a list.]
She groaned. "Shut up, Hermes."
But she didn't look at the flame again.