Tells the story of Aruta Kuroyuki, a 19 year old guy who thinks life is boring with his monotone routine. He's just an ordinary person.
Or is he?
With something he hides in his past, and after his encounter with Noarin Otorii, who shares the same fa...
"Huaaahm..." I yawn, perhaps for the hundredth time. The exhaustion weighs heavily. When was the last time I slept properly? The days and nights have blurred together in a haze of worry and strategizing. With the escalating chaos in Aruta's world and my brother's increasingly troublesome schemes, I've had no choice but to push my mind to its limits, forcing it to conjure plans, strategies, and contingencies. And now, as if we didn't have enough to contend with, this mysterious girl appears, adding yet another layer of complexity to our already tangled web of problems.
I turn my gaze to the window, my reflection ghostly in the glass. The moon hangs low and heavy in the sky, its surface a deep, pulsing red that bathes my small room in an otherworldly glow. A cool breeze whispers through the open window, gently tousling my twintails. The familiar sensation grounds me, a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and theories swirling in my mind.
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My thoughts invariably return to the girl - Spica, as they've named her. I've been scouring the depths of my knowledge, searching for any possible explanation for her sudden appearance. But amidst all the speculation and conjecture, only one clue stands out, and it's the strangest of all.
"Her spiritual image is similar to Aruta's..." I mutter to myself, the words hanging in the air like a riddle waiting to be solved.
Could this similarity be the reason she's so drawn to Aruta? Is there something hidden within her, some latent power or connection that eludes even my perceptive gaze? The questions multiply, each one branching into a dozen more, until my head throbs with the effort of containing them all.
After what feels like hours of fruitless pondering, I push myself up from my seat with a determined huff. I grab my coat - a delicate thing woven from shimmersilk and moonbeam threads - and shrug it on as I make my way out of my small house. The cool night air nips at my exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of my troubled thoughts.
I need help to unravel this mystery, and I know just who to turn to.
As I approach my destination, an acrid smell assaults my senses, a pungent mixture of burnt sugar and something distinctly... magical. Taking a deep breath, I raise my fist and knock.
The response is immediate and chaotic. From within, I hear a cacophony of sounds - glass shattering, metal clanging against metal, and the distinctive thud of heavy objects hitting the floor. I wince at each crash, imagining the mess that's surely accumulating inside. After what feels like an eternity, the door creaks open, revealing a familiar face framed by wild, unkempt hair.
Lucil peers out at me, her white coat adorned with fresh burn marks and suspicious stains. Her eyes, wide and slightly manic, betray a mix of surprise and nervous energy.
"Hey, Saria! Long time no see!" she chirps, her voice a touch too high. "What brings you to my humble abode at this hour?"
I crane my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the interior, but the darkness beyond the doorway reveals nothing. "Hello, Lucil," I reply, my tone measured. "I smell something... interesting coming from inside. What exactly are you up to in there?"
