Memo 020: (R1)Allure.

"The Lord has sent us an envoy… a messenger clothed in human flesh. You do not belong to this world, and that makes you holy." Nagisa staggered but didn’t resist. Her mind raced—holy book, envoy…? He knows I’m not from here.

They passed archways inscribed with spiraling glyphs, candles guttering in the draft, the sound of chanting somewhere below. Students in uniform bowed their heads as the man dragged her past, as if he were leading a saint rather than a captive. He pulled her into a vaulted chamber. At its center lay an altar carved from obsidian, upon which rested a book bound in scales that shimmered faintly, alive.

The man dragged Nagisa into a chamber lit by lanterns that swung on long iron chains. At first, she thought they were alone—until something shifted in the shadows. Messing around with formulas in the cluttered room was a figure straight out of a movie she half-remembered from late nights in her old world—a creature like a man. His round glasses glinted in the dark room. He was covered in thick russet hair, his broad face bestial but strangely dignified. His tusked smile curled upward when he saw her.

"You bring me… an outsider?" the hairy man rumbled, his voice deep, echoing Nagisa’s captor raised a hand and flashed a precise gesture—three fingers bent, one straight, palm turning inward. The Preceptor immediately mirrored it, bowing slightly. Acknowledging. A sign of station. "Yes, Head Preceptor. The Lord has sent us one clothed in flesh not of this land. She bore a Doctrine—proof of her calling." The beast-man’s glowing eyes studied Nagisa with a mixture of curiosity and hunger.

Nagisa just stared. Some kind of salute? A code?

"One of the several Doctrines," the man whispered, his eyes fever-bright. The beast-man chuckled, low and scratchy.

"So this is the envoy you spoke of. Hm. She doesn’t look like much." He sniffed, then grinned with a mouthful of fangs. "But perhaps the Lord enjoys plain vessels. Less risk of cracking when the power pours in."

The beastly scholar’s nostrils flared, catching a scent. His eyes darted toward Nagisa’s side. Before she could react, he swiped the doctrine from her arm with surprising agility for someone so bulky. He flipped it open mid-spin, like a magician revealing a card. Instantly his grin faltered. The text writhed into haze, blotting itself from sight. His fur bristled.

"Tch… seems like you went a little ahead of yourself, reporter."

Nagisa stiffened, her eyes wide.

"Reporter? How do you—"

He ignored her question, shutting the tome with a snap.

"No chemistry I have here could peel this back," he muttered, setting the doctrine among his bubbling flasks and colored powders. His tail flicked in irritation, his spectacles sliding down his muzzle. "The wrong person must’ve opened it. And when the wrong hands pull at a lock, the seal strangles even tighter."

The hairy man leaned closer to Nagisa, sniffing the air near her temple, his voice dipping into an almost playful murmur: "But what I want to know is… who told you to open it in the first place?"

Nagisa held his stare, her fingers curling around her memo pad. “I was in contact with the king,” she admitted. “Seeing how he doesn’t care about the people of Inner Veylstra, I thought it’d be smart to investigate him. He didn’t know I had the doctrine. But since he cared so much for it, I wanted to take a look at what he wants to hide.”

The hairy man froze. His mismatched eyes twitched, one widening, the other squinting as if the thought itself didn’t compute. "You—" he stammered, his voice cracking into a half-growl. His claws flexed against the table, scraping wood. "You met the king… and they.....he didn’t.... ?" “Everyone touched by him bends. Fractures. Their minds don’t stay whole. And yet—” he squinted at her, as if she were some aberration of nature, “you stand here. Talking. Unbroken.” The Preceptor shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Nagisa as if seeing her differently for the first time. 

“He… he had his way with me,” he croaked, voice hoarse and ragged. “Made me into this… this abomination.” Nagisa’s eyes widened, but she stayed silent, letting him unravel. “I knew his true nature,” he continued, almost whispering to himself. “I saw the Doctrine… it spoke of centuries of splicing… centuries of turning people who rebelled into… into…” His claws twitched violently as he trailed off, lost for the word.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, each exhale shaking the room. “I… I told them. I tried to warn them. But no one believed me! No one cared about the ramblings of some thing… some hair-covered monster they could dismiss with a shrug!” He stared down at his own paws, eyes tracing the fur, the nails, the hands that had been forced into servitude. “All I am… all I’ve become… and they never… never listened.”

The beast-man’s claws twitched as he pushed the Doctrine toward Nagisa. His voice was low, almost a growl, but carried the cadence of someone teetering on the edge of sanity. "It’s useless to me.” His golden eyes darted nervously around the room, as if the shadows themselves were listening. “You must be wondering why you were dragged here?" He took a shuddering breath, fur bristling along his spine. “Having a Doctrine is one thing… but no one I know has survived the King… and come back sane. Not one. And you…” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper that scratched against her ears like claws. “I’ll keep you around… for study. Perhaps you’ll teach me something. Perhaps you’ll survive … or perhaps you’ll break. Maybe.”

Nagisa clutched the Doctrine to her chest, shaking her head.

“I don’t have time to sit in a room and be picked apart like a specimen. I have to stick it to the king.” The beast-man’s lips pulled back, revealing sharp teeth beneath the tangle of hair that masked his jaw. His paw lifted lazily, and at once the Preceptor stiffened, stepping forward at his silent command. Nagisa blinked, backing into the shelves of strange formulas and jars that lined the walls. “Wait—what are you doing?”

Nagisa’s voice rose, sharp with defiance. “You don’t understand. You could be doing good. With me around, I’ll report what you couldn’t. I can make people see. We can work together.”

His gaze bore into her, weary but sharp. “I don't know your true relationship with the king. Now I’m nothing more than a warning scribbled in the margins. But what matters to me more than anything right now is to see what makes you so special."