Chapter 18 – Fuga: Prelude to an Eclipse

The city of Urus was boiling over with rumors. Crowds gathered on street corners, reading the latest issue of The Night Crow as if it were a royal decree.

“Extra, extra! The Phantom strikes again! Regent Monteverde is in his sights! Nobles vanish without a trace…!”

A young boy waved newspapers through the air as though handing out death sentences. Pages flew from his hands into the grasp of trembling fingers.

“What audacity…” murmured Atilius, the guildmaster of the Adventurers’ Guild, as he leafed through the paper in front of the empty guild hall. “Announcing his plan so openly… now that’s excessive confidence.”

Beside him, Yura Aseina watched in silence, the cold wind tugging at her hair.

“At the very least… if it’s true, we’ll be able to catch him,” she said at last, her voice devoid of emotion.

Atilius glanced sideways at her.

“Tell me, Aseina… would you ever do the wrong thing to achieve the right outcome?”

She looked at him, puzzled. In all the years she’d known him, she had never seen him like this—so human, so uncertain.

“What do you mean, Master?”

“Think about the missing nobles. Were they really good people?”

“But… don’t nobles earn their titles because of their honor?”

Yura’s gaze fell. Some scars hurt far more when unseen.

“I don’t know. All I know is I have a mission… and I intend to see it through.” Her tone was so cold it seemed to freeze the words in the air.

Atilius sighed.

“I just hope you understand what I’m trying to say… before it’s too late.”

“You’re not planning something reckless, are you? I promised your mother I’d look after you.”

“And besides…”

“…Besides?”

“Your friend, the ‘farmer’… would be awfully sad if anything happened to you. Cough, cough.”

A faint blush crept over Yura’s cheeks.

“Hmph. I have no interest in weaklings,” she said, trying—and failing—to hide her embarrassment.

A low chuckle escaped Atilius.

“Ah, Yura… as transparent as ice. Just like your mother.”

She turned sharply on her heel, walking away with hurried steps, leaving a faint trail of frost on the ground.

The guildmaster remained at the doorway, like an old guardian without a gate to watch over.

“Well… I suppose I have a role to play as well,” he muttered, his eyes lifting to the darkened sky.

Meanwhile, chaos reigned inside Monteverde’s manor.

Soldiers rushed back and forth with no clear orders. Servants stumbled over each other, unsure whether to hide or flee.

Only one figure remained still.

Mirai—standing to the right of Monteverde’s makeshift throne—watched everything in silence, like a statue without a soul.

The count read through a list, brow furrowed. Every name written in black ink was familiar. Every name… gone.

“Damn it! Why can’t anyone stop that lunatic?!”

He slammed the parchment onto the table.

“Where’s Gaius? Where the hell has he gone?!”

His eyes locked onto the demi-human at his side.

“Hey, vermin… isn’t he your ‘partner’?”

Mirai didn’t react. She was used to it.

“I’m sorry, sir. I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. Maybe he went to the Emerald Turtle Cave.”

“That damn turtle… All demi-humans are the same. Stupid and disobedient. Without a collar, they’re worthless.”

The rabbit lowered her gaze—but something in her eyes trembled.

“If there’s still a trace of the defender of Albus left in you… join my cause.”

“I no longer have to obey this man…”

She drew in a deep breath.

“If you’ll allow it, Master… I’ll go look for him at once.”

Monteverde hesitated. Mirai was fast. If anyone could find Gaius, it was her.

“Fine. But first, tell the guild to send reinforcements. I don’t want any surprises tonight.”

“Yes, Master. As you command.”

And in the blink of an eye, she was gone from the hall—like a nocturnal gale.

“Tch… stupid beast. If she weren’t useful, I would’ve sold her to Solmara long ago. I’ll buy more night rabbits the first chance I get.”

Mirai hadn’t truly left. She’d heard every word.

She’d heard them before.

But this time… they struck differently.

Not for her.
For the others.

On the outskirts of Urus, in a fog-wrapped forest, Mirai stopped. She leaned her back against a tree and slipped a hand into her pocket.

She pulled out a small brooch shaped like a musical note.

She held it delicately. Her hands trembled—though there was no wind.

“I want to know… if what you’re saying is true,” she whispered.

Then, from somewhere among the trees, a voice answered. Gentle. Close. As if it had always been there.

“I seek only freedom and justice. I have no interest in replacing one chain with another.”

She didn’t startle. She already knew he was there.

“Big words… for someone so young,” she said, her gaze shifting toward a shadow.

“And why should I believe you… if you won’t even show me your true presence?”

Footsteps. Slow, assured.

Ren emerged from the shadows. No weapons in hand. No mask to hide his face. No fear in his eyes.

“You don’t have to believe me. See for yourself.”

Mirai looked down at the brooch, her fingers tightening around it.

She was still uncertain.

But for the first time in years… that uncertainty was hers.

She closed her eyes briefly. Her breathing slowed.

“I’ve heard rumors… about slaves disappearing. Is that your doing as well?”

“It is,” Ren replied calmly. “I have a group of remarkable people. People who only want to do what’s right.”

“Liberate them?” she murmured.

“Not just liberate them. Also punish those who turn them into commodities.”

“And that includes… exterminating Monteverde.”

Silence.

Mirai lowered her gaze. Too many memories came flooding back.

The dirty missions. The betrayals.
The traps she’d set for her own kind.
The empty eyes of those she couldn’t save.

“I’ve done things I regret… Followed orders against my will.”

“That collar… made me a collaborator, and I don’t want anyone else to suffer the same.”

Ren listened without interrupting, without judgment.

“I’m glad you understand, Mirai. We’re all born free.”

“No one has the right to take that freedom from another.”

The sun dipped lower on the horizon. The sky began to stain with blood-red light.

“I’ll join your cause,” she said at last—firm, without a single trace of hesitation.

“But listen closely… If I find out this is just another chain in disguise, I won’t hesitate to betray you.”

Ren smiled—not with arrogance, but with respect.

“I think that’s… fantastic.”

“Welcome to Opera.”

“From this day forward, your name will be… FUGA.”

“Now, put on the brooch,” he said, stepping back.

“And join us.”

“‘Us’…?”

In that instant, Ren placed the mask over his face. His form shifted, stretching like a living shadow. The air grew cold.

And from within the mist, two figures emerged.

A woman with eyes sharp as blades: Prima.
Another, with a venomous smile and feline grace: Sonata.

“We… are Opera.”

Mirai held the brooch against her chest. For the first time, she was trembling—not from fear, but from resolve.

She pinned it into her hair, just above her right ear.

And then, her body responded.
Her ears vanished in an instant.
Her hair turned white as frost.
Her clothes shifted into a deep crimson uniform, as if eclipsed by shadows.

Her silhouette, once tense, now radiated lethal precision.

With the last rays of the sun sinking behind the mountains…

…FUGA, the fourth member of Opera, was born.