Vol. 5 Ch. 89

Several hours later, Leon and Rosvisser’s carriage arrived at the desolate ruins of the Black Moon Dragon Clan. Just as Mevis had described, the area was a shadow of its former glory, long since consumed by the ravages of war.

Crumbling buildings and broken palaces littered the barren landscape. Overgrown brush and weeds stretched across every corner, while small dangerous creatures darted among the ruins, scavenging for food.

The streets and homes, though overrun by nature, still hinted at their original grandeur. The remnants of stone pathways and intricate carvings told the story of a once-thriving civilization.

Leon and Rosvisser walked through the remnants of the clan’s territory, their expressions heavy with thought.

“We should recap what we know so far about Mevis and the peculiarities surrounding her,” Rosvisser said, her voice calm but deliberate.

“Let’s start from the beginning. The first time we met Mevis was in Sky City, correct?”

Leon nodded. “Yes. At the time, we were preoccupied with the Oran incident, so we didn’t pay much attention to her. It wasn’t until the second encounter that I started to notice her... aura, I guess you’d call it. That inexplicable sense of familiarity.”

Rosvisser furrowed her brow. “Exactly. But here’s the thing—neither the Silver Dragon Clan nor I have ever had any connections with the Black Moon Clan. It’s impossible for me to have met Mevis or her family. What about you?”

Leon tucked his hands into his pockets and thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. During my time in the Dragon King’s service, we never encountered the Black Moon Clan. In fact, the clan was wiped out over thirty years ago—long before I was even born.”

Rosvisser gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment before continuing, “So, that unexplainable familiarity remains our first major red flag. It’s illogical but undeniable.”

“And then there’s the second issue,” Leon added. “Her so-called habit of resting with her eyes closed. But every time I used hyper-sense to observe her, I noticed her consciousness remained unusually active. It’s as if... she’s communicating with someone.”

Hyper-sense was a gift Leon had refined over years of combat. It allowed him to perceive subtle fluctuations in a person’s intentions or movements, almost as if he could read their thoughts in real time. Normally, this ability was invaluable for anticipating attacks in battle, but in Mevis’s case, it revealed something much stranger.

“When people sleep or rest, their mental activity slows down, even when they’re dreaming,” Leon explained. “But Mevis’s consciousness is different. It’s like she’s having an ongoing conversation—only with someone we can’t see or hear.”

“That’s incredibly suspicious,” Rosvisser agreed. “And it’s the second thing about her that doesn’t add up.”

Rosvisser crossed her arms, her silver eyes glinting as she gazed at the sky.

“And the third oddity... is how much she knows about you. Even down to something as trivial as your hatred of carrots.”

Leon cringed at the reminder. “I’d like to think she found that out through Light... but, honestly, even Light wouldn’t care enough to share something like that.”

Rosvisser smirked. “Exactly. It’s almost like Mevis has access to knowledge no one should have—or maybe she’s going to great lengths to study you.”

“Either way, it doesn’t sit right,” Leon muttered.

The pair continued their search, eventually arriving at the ruins of what once must have been the clan’s grand sanctuary. Its crumbled arches and shattered pillars bore silent witness to the tragedies of the past.

Rosvisser shifted into her dragon form to clear a path through the rubble. With a single powerful swipe of her tail, the debris blocking the entrance was swept aside.

They entered cautiously, scanning the interior for any clues. The sanctuary was vast but utterly destroyed. Hours passed as they combed through every corner, finding nothing but ash and fragments of what might have been priceless relics.

By sunset, they were seated on the remains of a broken throne, weary from the fruitless search.

“You know...” Rosvisser said, leaning back against the wall. “What if Mevis isn’t royalty at all? What if she’s just... someone who happened to learn etiquette somewhere?”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “And how do you explain her behavior then? The way she carries herself screams nobility.”

“Who says common folk can’t learn to act noble?” Rosvisser teased.

Leon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I guess. But something still feels off about her. It’s like there’s this invisible thread connecting her to everything we’re doing, but we can’t see where it leads.”

Rosvisser stood and dusted herself off. “Well, if we find nothing here, we’ll just have to keep looking. We’re not done yet, Leon.”

Leon chuckled weakly. “Your enthusiasm is terrifying sometimes, my queen.”

The hours stretched on, and their hopes of finding anything tangible began to dwindle.

Just as they were about to give up, Leon opened a decrepit drawer and froze.

“Rosvisser... I think I found something.”

She hurried over as Leon carefully pulled out an old, dusty diary.

Its cover was worn and cracked with age, but the title was still legible:

“The Diary of Kate Damirlo.”

Flipping it open, Leon began to read:

“Creation Calendar 1697, August 22: My sister was accepted into the Black Moon Royal Guard today! Mom and Dad prepared a big feast to celebrate!”

“Creation Calendar 1698, February 17: My sister returned from a dangerous mission. She was badly injured but said it was an honor to fight for the Black Moon Clan.”

“Creation Calendar 1702, July 16: The Guard told us my sister didn’t make it. She stayed behind to cover their retreat, surrounded by enemies... I refuse to believe it.”

The final entry made Leon’s breath catch:

“Creation Calendar 1702, December 2: On a snowy day, the king released spirit lanterns for the fallen warriors. One of them bore my sister’s name: Mevis Damirlo.”

Leon’s hands trembled as the diary slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground.

A faded photograph fluttered out from between the pages.

He picked it up, his heart pounding.

The image showed a happy family: a young girl, her proud parents, and...

“Mevis,” Leon whispered, his voice shaking.

Black hair, dark eyes, the same composed expression—it was undeniably her.

Rosvisser’s face paled as realization dawned. “If Mevis died over thirty years ago... then who is the one teaching at St. Heath’s Academy?”

Leon clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

“We need to find out. Now.”