ODEEN. CAPITAL OF THE ADALAN KINGDOM.

TWO HOURS AGO.

A swamp.

That was the most accurate term people use to describe the mental space of Splinter Syndrome patients.

An average, healthy adult's mental space was clear, visually depicted as a rippleless lake. Labyrinth goers do not share this clarity; their mental spaces, after being exposed to constant sources of emotional distress, were murky. Tainted.

It was the Soul Patcher's job to "purify" these corrupted spaces.

After every Labyrinth pull, the survivors would respawn at the Bell Tower, resting at the line between the South and Northern Land of Adalan. Nobody knew what unfolded within these Labyrinths and how they might have affected the survivors, so the faction would usually send out Soul Patchers and guard forces to control the site in case anyone lost control.

Although the span of Labyrinths varied anywhere from a few days to over a week, they could obtain a relatively precise duration with the help of the Mage Faction.

Yukioe stood among the a few dozen Soul Patchers, awaiting the survivors.

The typical procedure comprised that every survivor was taken to the Healing Faction to receive either Soul Patching or Soul Solace treatment, depending on the severity of their symptoms.

Labyrinth survivors' mental spaces tend to be corrupted to some degree, so every Soul Patcher must be amply prepared to perform purification once they enter.

"I’m hungry." The voice belonged to the man beside him. Yukioe gave his coworker a side glance. The latter rubbed his stomach with a sigh. It was something he did often to cope with anxiety.

"I hope we get lots of survivors this time," the man said. "These pulls would usually last a couple days longer, right?"

Typically, Labyrinth pulls would last over a week, yet this one only spanned across five days.

This could be a good or bad indication.

"Hope so," Yukioe said.

A circle of light emerged from the ground, followed by several bodies.

"Survivors are out. Begin the seizing process." The head of the Soul Patcher team announced.

Most survivors enter a mental daze upon returning to reality. Although conscious and aware of their surroundings, they experience what the Soul Patchers call a "lag," which slows their reception of reality.

His coworkers dispersed to their jobs, accommodating the survivors to the Healing Faction. Yukioe found himself searching for a certain dark-haired man.

He was still angry at Edris, but he knew better than to mismatch his priorities.

"Mister Edris!"

A familiar voice echoed in the distance. Yukioe swerved his head toward the sound.

He recognised the little girl. She'd been by Edris's side both during the dinner and up until the Labyrinth pull. Yukioe had even made her a cup of milk when she stayed the night at the cabin.

The little girl was kneeling, and lying on the ground beside her was someone Yukioe knew all too well.

A frown made its way up to his face.

Why was Edris unconscious?

Although they’ve had instances of survivors fainting after coming out of the Labyrinth (usually due to immense relief), it was the first time someone was unresponsive from the get go.

Not to mention, it was Edris.

He and his coworker quickly approached the group. Not only the little girl, but even Evans Moon's son was there.

The situation was giving Yukioe a headache.

What in the world happened in the Labyrinth?

"Please move out of the way," his coworker said to the group as they carried Edris onto a stretcher.

Yukioe gave them a slight nod, his eyes landing on the little girl. she seemed to have recognised him as she relentlessly let go of her grip on the stretcher.

“He was alive and fine,” a brown-haired man said. “Until we got out, that is.”

The man had a long, brown hair and a prettily androgynous face. By the way he dressed—a long, unusually patterned robe with loose sleeves tightened by the wrists and a spear case on his back—Owein would have thought the man to be an traveller from some nearby kingdom.

However, he soon decided against the guess.

The deep scar that stretched across his collarbones unmistakably symbolized membership of the Lucid Clan.

"What happened to my Master?" The golden-haired boy beside her peered at Yukioe with exasperation. "He's going to be okay, right?"

Master?

Yukioe couldn't help but cringe.

When did Edris get himself a disciple like that?

"... Don't worry, this guy's not the type to plop dead like that," Yukioe said. He glanced at the rest of the group and pulled out an address card. "Please comply with our preventative treatments. Once you've been deemed safe, you can come find him here."

The boy with golden hair took the card from his hand and nodded.

After taking care of things with the group, the Soul Patchers headed to their assigned medical pod. With help from his coworker, Yukioe carried Edris's drooping body from the stretcher into the elixir-enhanced pod. Its internal environment lit up as his body submerged beneath the liquid.

The treatment room was silent. All was still except for the ticking clock on the wall.

Yukioe observed the dark-haired man through the transparent window. His arms were folded in front of his chest, and his fingers rubbed impatiently against his side.

Before he knew it, an hour had passed since Edris entered the pod.

The numbers from the monitor fell under regular bodily stats, so why wasn't he waking up?

"This could be a problem," his coworker said. "We can't perform treatment if the patient's unconscious, and the longer we wait, the more dangerous it can get."

What's more dangerous than the mental space of a Labyrinth survivor? The mental space of an unconscious one.

Soul Patchers were trained to perform the treatment only on conscious patients. This was to protect both themselves and the patient. With the amount of uncertainties already present in mental spaces, other confounding variables must be kept to a minimum.

This was also the reason why the royal advisor had to remain conscious when he and Edris performed the operation back at the Moon's dinner.

"Give me the Stitzer." Yukioe turned to his coworker, whose eyes widened at his words.

"You're going to enter Trance?" he said. "When he's like that?"

"Don't worry, I can handle myself. Just make sure to keep the mana flow stable."

"You're crazy."

Ignoring his coworker's look of concern, Yukioe lowered himself next to the medical pod.

In his hand was the Stitzer, the instrument enabling the link between the Soul Patcher and the patient's mental space. One end was locked into the medical pod; the other faced him.

"Ready?" He looked to his coworker, who, after a moment of rumination, gave a begrudging nod.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

With the syringe side of the instrument facing him, Yukioe inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and stabbed the needle into the side of his neck.

The world turned silent.

When he opened his eyes, Yukioe was in a sea of grey. Back when they were still Soul Patchers in training, he and Edris would practice operating on healthy patients. It was his first time entering the latter's mental space.

Edris's mental space was cold and vast, filled with an indescribable sense of loneliness. It took Yukioe quite a bit of wandering before he finally came upon the door to the core site, where he would need to perform the patching procedure.

He entered a steady stance and placed his hand on the handle.

Anything could happen behind the door, so he had to be prepared.

In a swift movement, Yukioe turned the handle and thrust open the door.

Instead of the murky environment typical of a Splinter Syndrome patient, he was confronted with a white room splattered with colours.

"..."

Yukioe's head hurt.

A few steps away from him stood none other than his trouble-of-a-friend, gaping at him with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Yukioe?" Edris blinked twice, a palm still pressed onto his bruised forehead. "What are you doing here?"

Seeing the man alive and well in his mental space, speaking to him with his usual nonchalant tone, was making Yukioe’s temples pulse.

"You fucker."

From Edris's view, he'd barely recovered from being hit by the door before another fist was thrown his way.

He toppled back, evading Yukioe's fist by barely an inch.

Edris wheezed out an exhale. "...Nice seeing you too?"

Yukioe returned his greeting with a glare, and he knew he was in deep waters.

He'd been so immersed in organising all the information that he'd forgotten all about the procedures Labyrinth survivors usually undergo upon exiting. He side glanced at Mia, and the pink doll casually averted eye contact—she'd forgotten as well.

Edris lamented inwardly. If his guess was on point, since Mia had pulled him into her Playroom, his physical body fainted right out of the Labyrinth.

As a past Soul Patcher, he knew how hasslesome it could be for them to come across an unconscious survivor, and from the looks of it, Yukioe had taken the risk to enter an unconscious mental space.

"I'm sorry," Edris said instantly.

His words of apology were like a bucket of ice water dumped onto Yukioe without warning. The latter only stared at him with narrowed eyes, while the former recoiled on the spot, like a child being scolded.

Mia let out a whistle, visibly amused.

"We need to get out quickly," Yukioe said, not even casting a glance at the doll on the stool. "I've been here for too long. Won't be long 'till my coworker exhausts all his mana to sustain this connection."

"Before you leave, then," Mia spoke up. As the two turned around, she sent a piece of paper flying Yukioe's way. "Tell Edris to come find me here after he wakes up. He probably won't remember it himself since, y’know, Labyrinth amnesia."

Yukioe caught the card effortlessly. Fingers pinching onto the card, he gave Mia a strange look, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Who are you to be ordering me around? If you need something, seek him out yourself."

Mia looked taken aback for a moment, and Edris had to actively push down the turning corners of his lips.

Knowing her pride as a member of the Vyris family, Yukioe was probably one of the few who's ever spoken to her with that tone.

However, the woman quickly regained her composure, her expression turning thoughtful as she glanced at Edris.

"Quite some friends you've got," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice. She jabbed a thumb to herself and faced Yukioe. “I’m Mia Vyris.”

Yukioe stared at her with furrowed brows, clearly judging. However, the latter took no mind of his reaction as she then turned to Edris with a smug grin.

"I'll be waiting."

Edris merely smiled in return. "See you on the outside, Miss Mia."

Yukioe shot the girl one last glance, his eyes flickering with a mix of scepticism and concern (probably for her mental state). Without another word, he gripped Edris by the arm and, with a firm push, shoved him through the door.

***

UNKNOWN. ZACRIYA KINGDOM.

The treehouse was small but cozy.

Resting at a height almost just below the clouds, it was bathed in the soft, golden light of the early morning sun.

A thick, plush carpet occupied the centre of the room. It was dotted with various books, some left open as if abandoned mid-story, their pages fluttering gently in the breeze. The spines of the books bore titles of beloved tales, stories of heroes, mythical creatures, and faraway lands.

A post board hung on one wall, covered with drawings that were unmistakably the work of a young child. The light played off the wooden surfaces, creating patterns of light and shadow that danced across the walls, breathing life into the stationary photos.

In front of a small dressing table, a child with hazel hair sat quietly, her head slightly tilted as she watched her reflection in the mirror.

Her hair was neatly parted, and in the process of being styled by the figure standing behind her.

The man was striking, with soft pink hair that framed his defined features. His movements were gentle as he braided her hair, his fingers moving with care and precision.

There was an air of calm around him, his focus entirely on the child before him, yet a shadow of something more lingered in his eyes.

The child, seemingly content, watched the man's reflection with doe-like eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Noticing her gaze, the man tilted his head down slightly, casting her a smile.

It was a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Magnus had spent the last four days in a constant state of hyper-awareness, keeping his consciousness intact while playing the part of a compliant "doll" under the little girl’s watchful eye.

It was a dangerous game, but it was the only way to keep his memories intact without tipping off his captor. He had begun to decipher the patterns in her daily routine, noting the subtle cues and behaviours that would give him the opportunity to escape.

The little girl who called herself Canary was not just a child; she was part of something much larger, a greater force that operated in the shadows.

He’d heard from the Crown Prince that the enemy Prophet Edris went up against back at the Slums was a member of Nest.

Robin was his alias.

Magnus didn’t have foresight like his mentor, but he did have common sense.

Robin, Canary…

He was getting quite fed up with the bird names.

Pushing the internal complaint down his throat, Magnus reeled in his train of thoughts, focusing on the situation at hand.

He had learned that every day, without fail, there was a fifteen-minute gap where she left the treehouse to bring back food. That small window was his chance, the only time he could act without her watchful eyes on him.

This morning, as usual, Magnus found himself carefully braiding her hair into two neat pigtails. The girl wanted her hairstyle to always be "perfect," so this was the only time Magnus was allowed to take off his mana shackles.

He clipped the shorter strands to the side, his movements practised and calm.

"Is this tight enough?" he asked.

"Mm-hm." Canary hummed, her legs dangling off the stool as her round eyes fixed onto him in the mirror.

Despite the danger, Magnus maintained the facade, knowing that any slip could cost him his life. When he finished, he lifted Canary down from the chair. Observing the product of his work, he gave her a warm smile.

"Very pretty."

Canary downcast her eyes shyly, her tiny arms wrapping around his waist in a tight hug.

"I'll be back," she said, giving the archmage another squeeze before skipping out the door.

Magnus lifted a hand in a wave, watching as her tiny body got farther and farther away.

The moment the door closed behind her, the smile dropped from his face.

Magnus sprang into action.

He moved to the corner of the treehouse where a pile of books lay haphazardly stacked. Beneath them, concealed from view, was a magic circle he had painstakingly crafted over the last several days.

Even without the shackles, his mana channels had been severely weakened within the treehouse, forcing him to work slowly, a little each day, to avoid detection.

With a deep breath, Magnus activated the circle. A faint glow emanated from the symbols, pulsing with a soft light. He had calculated the best he could, but with his energy still depleted, he couldn't set precise coordinates for the teleportation. Instead, he estimated the general area where his twin sister, Mia, was located.

Escape was the priority; everything else could wait.

The circle flared to life, and Magnus felt the familiar pull of teleportation magic take hold.

The world around him blurred, and a moment later, he was tumbling down a steep hill, the forest floor rushing up to meet him.

His limbs, weakened by the effects of Canary's abilities and a week of near-starvation, struggled to break his fall. Even as an archmage, the ordeal had taken a severe toll on his body.

He landed hard, rolling through the underbrush until he finally came to a stop, breathless and disoriented. His salmon-pink hair was now dishevelled with dirt, and he could feel a stream of warmth run down the side of his face.

Magnus forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain that shot through his entire body. The dense forest offered some cover, and he staggered into its depths, focused solely on finding his source of survival.

"Mia…"

***

Thump.

The box slipped from her hands, the desserts tumbling to the floor.

A minute ago, Canary had returned to the treehouse with a small box of desserts, humming a tune as she pushed open the door.

What awaited her was an empty room. The books she had stacked into towers by the carpet were scattered all over the carpet, and the remnants of a teleportation circle dissolved into pink ashes, the breeze carrying them out the window.

Canary's cheerful expression faltered.

"He's gone…" she muttered, her usually unchanging voice tinged with something close to disappointment.

From the shadows, an older man stepped forward, his presence imposing. Canary looked up at him and softly said, "Mister Finch, he left."

“Impressive mana channeling even after being shackled for so long. As expected from an archmage," Finch hummed. "You've done great, Canary. Magnus Vyris's role is finished here. There is no point for him to stay longer."

Canary didn't react to the comforting gesture.

Taking his hand off her head, Finch down cast his gaze. He caressed her hair gently.

"Canary," he said, voice lowering. "Do you remember what I told you?"

"Toys are only fun to play with if they exceed your expectations," the little girl responded.

"And Magnus is a qualified toy, so we want him to last a long time, right?"

At the man's comforting tone, she slowly nodded.

Finch smiled. He looked around the room one last time before returning to the petite girl. "It's time for us to leave, too."

Canary looked into the distance.

Retracting her gaze, she linked her hand with his. The two of them faded into the fog that enveloped the treehouse, leaving behind only the remnants of what had been.