The girl stepped forward without hesitation, her bare feet whispering over scattered debris as if the ruins themselves made way for her. She stopped just inches in front of Niko, peering up at him with those hazy blue eyes—curious, sharp, and unreadable.
She stared.
Niko, locked still by the rune's law, stared back.
The moment stretched thin.
Then, softly, she asked, "Are you trying to kill me?"
Niko blinked. "...Depends," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "Are you trying to kill me?"
A short pause.
Then she laughed.
A quiet, sincere sound—unexpected in this haunted place. "No," she said between soft chuckles. "Definitely not. I've just never met someone like you before."
"Well," Niko muttered, still awkwardly stiff, "as flattering as that is… can I move now?"
She grinned.
With a casual wave of her hand, the hovering rune—once humming with authority—flickered like a candle, then vanished entirely with a poof, as if it had never existed at all.
Niko immediately stepped back a little, shaking out his arms and shoulders with a sigh. "...What was that?" he asked, staring at the empty space. "And how did you do that?"
She turned her back to him, already walking toward the far side of the chamber. "It's my ability," she called over her shoulder. "Try to keep up, idiot."
He blinked. "Right…"
She turned slightly, offering her hand this time.
"Iri," she said simply.
Niko looked at her, then stepped forward and clasped it in his own. "Niko."
A small smile touched the corner of her lips. "Alright, Niko," she said. "Follow me."
Without waiting for agreement, Iri led him past the chaos—through the mountains of discarded magic and forgotten history. As they weaved through the maze of relics, Niko kept glancing at her.
Her steps were confident, practiced. She knew this place.
She didn't live near it.
She lived in it.
The further they went, the more it became clear—makeshift paths cleared through the clutter, bedding tucked into corners, enchanted lights softly flickering against the walls. There were markings on the floor, drawings, even books stacked with care.
Niko frowned thoughtfully.
"…You live here," he said out loud, more a realization than a question.
Iri looked over her shoulder. "Mhm."
"In this part of the House?"
She shrugged. "Someone has to."
They passed under a crooked archway where ancient swords hung like chandeliers, and Niko felt a strange chill.
Whatever this place was… it wasn't just a collection of junk.
It was a graveyard of forgotten stories.
And somehow, this strange girl—this rune-wielding, laughing stranger—called it home.
And now, she was guiding him deeper in.
They moved deeper into the section until the chaos began to feel… familiar. Books weren't just scattered—they were stacked intentionally. Weapons leaned against walls with purpose. Lanterns hung in calculated places, casting soft golden hues over cloth-draped tables and shelves lined with mysterious trinkets.
And then, at the heart of it all, Iri stopped.
With a soft grunt, she plopped down onto a crooked mattress covered in patchwork blankets and stitched-together sheets. "This," she said, voice muffled as she flopped onto her back, arms stretched wide, "is where I sleep."
Niko stood there awkwardly, scratching his head.
"You look," he began slowly, "incredibly lazy."
She cracked one eye open.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, shifting slightly as she reached over to a nearby crate that doubled as a table.
"I mean—" Niko gestured vaguely. "You're in sweats. No shirt. Just that… uh—bandage thing. You look like you haven't left this spot in days."
"It's called comfort," she said dryly, tearing into a roasted piece of chicken with a satisfied hum. Steam still curled from it—fresh and seasoned.
Niko froze.
His eyes widened.
"...Is that chicken?"
She glanced at him sideways, cheeks puffed out mid-chew. "Mhm."
He stepped closer, entranced by the scent.
"Where. Did. You. Get. That?" he asked, eyes locked on the food like it might float away.
Iri swallowed, smirking. "Calm down, starving boy. There's usually a merchant down the hallway who wanders in every now and then. Carries food, scraps, sometimes even candy if he's feeling generous."
Niko's expression crumpled into disbelief. "Wait. That guy?"
He thought back—his boots, his clothes, the blade now strapped at his side. The merchant had all of that… and he didn't even think to ask about food.
"...I'm so stupid," Niko muttered, collapsing onto a nearby pile of old robes.
Iri laughed, stretching lazily. "Yeah, a little bit. But at least you're self-aware."
He let out a groan, staring at the ceiling of mismatched cloth and weapon hilts.
"I traded boots for clothes," he grumbled. "I could've just asked for a sandwich."
Iri tossed a small, half-eaten roll at him.
"Here. You look pathetic."
Niko caught it midair and blinked. "Seriously?"
"Don't expect seconds," she said, curling back into her blankets with the rest of the chicken. "I earned this."
As he bit into the roll, surprisingly soft and warm, Niko couldn't help but feel like this strange, mismatched chamber… wasn't so bad after all.
It even felt a little like the beginning of something.
After finishing the last bite of his roll, Niko gave a small sigh of satisfaction and flopped backward onto the mattress beside her, the weight of the day finally starting to press down on him. For a moment, neither of them said anything—the silence between two strangers not uncomfortable, but hanging like a held breath.
Then Niko turned his head toward her, eyes drifting lazily across the worn ceiling. "Do you… know where we are?"
Iri didn't even glance at him. She raised a brow and scoffed, "Are you an idiot?"
Niko blinked.
"No one knows where we are," she continued, voice flat. "You just wake up here one day, and that's that. No doors. No maps. No rules—besides the ones you're forced to follow." She gestured vaguely to the runes she'd used earlier.
Niko frowned and looked away, a little embarrassed. "I was just asking…"
Iri rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding," she said, voice softening just slightly. "Lighten up, will you?"
He muttered something under his breath—something about sarcasm being a disease—but she didn't catch it.
Still staring at the fabric-draped ceiling, Niko mumbled, "Someone has to know, though."
Iri shifted, propping herself up on one elbow, examining him with new curiosity.
"There might be a few," she admitted, suddenly serious. "The Ten."
Niko turned to face her again. "The Ten?"
"The first ten," she explained, her voice distant now, like she was reciting something ancient. "The first ones to survive. No one really knows if they were the first pulled into the House… or just the first to survive the bloodbath when it all started. Either way, they rose above everyone else. Power, influence, abilities—everything. They carved paths through this place and left only stories behind."
Niko stared at the ceiling again, silent.
Then finally, he asked, "Is there any way to meet them?"
Iri snorted. "Why? You think you can escape?"
He didn't answer right away. Then, quietly, he said, "No… I know it's stupid. But I just—feel it. Like there's more than this. Like there's a way out."
Iri looked at him for a long moment. Not mocking. Not amused.
Just… quiet.
Then she lay back down beside him, hands folded behind her head.
"Well," she said, eyes closing, "if anyone's crazy enough to chase that kind of dream… they'd have to start climbing. Because if the Ten exist, they're at the top. And trust me…" her voice trailed for a second before she added, "That's not a place you just walk into."
ri's words lingered in the air like the last echo of a far-off bell.
Niko turned his head slightly to glance at her, but she was already staring back at the ceiling—face unreadable, eyes distant.
After a moment, she broke the silence again. "Besides…" she muttered, "some of the Ten aren't the kind you meet. They're the kind you avoid."
Niko's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Iri sat up slowly, pulling her left leg over the right, and in one fluid motion, she rolled up the leg of her sweats. Across her upper thigh, just below the hip, was a thin, warped scar—twisted like lightning frozen in skin. It pulsed faintly, like whatever had done it had left something behind.
She tapped it once with her finger, a dull sound against flesh. "This? This came from one of them. Morrow."
Niko blinked. "Morrow?"
"Yeah," she said, letting her pant leg fall back down. "An order-seeking lunatic. Obsessed with control. Used to scream about how chaos was the enemy of the House. That we were the enemy."
Niko sat up slightly now, resting on one elbow. "What'd they do?"
"She stopped time." Iri's voice was cold now. "No one knows how long she can do it for. A few seconds? A minute? A day? You never really know. One moment you're running—fighting—and the next, your body's already bleeding and you don't even remember why."
Niko's eyes widened, the weight of the words settling in his stomach like a stone.
"I got lucky," Iri said with a dry laugh. "If you can call that lucky. Morrow didn't kill me. Just… marked me. Made a point." Her jaw tightened. "She likes doing that."
Niko didn't speak for a moment, thinking. Then he asked quietly, "Is she still around?"
"Oh yeah," Iri replied. "And she's stronger now. Lives anywhere, like a nomad, I was just unlucky to encounter her"
Niko leaned back again, staring upward, his voice soft. "And the rest of the Ten?"
"They're all different," Iri murmured. "Some keep to themselves. Some run entire sectors. And some…" she paused, "some want to see the whole House burn just to see what happens next."
Niko exhaled slowly, as if the room had gotten colder.
"…Good," he said at last.
Iri looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Good?"
Niko nodded, the edge of something strange—determination? madness?—flashing behind his tired eyes. "If they're that strong… then they know something. If anyone knows how this place works—how to survive it, or escape it… it's them."
Iri stared at him for a moment longer, then lay back down with a sigh, covering her eyes with her arm.
"You're a lunatic," she said, "but you might actually survive here."
Niko gave a half-smile, staring back at the ceiling.
"I don't want to survive," he said softly.
"I want to understand."