The outer world—a place beyond the system’s reach—where the sky bled red as blood and as dark as the deepest night, life curled and withered, its forms breaking, and spirits—ghosts without shape—wandered through the void, in the realm of the dead.0

“There was such a place in the Imperial Palace,” I said.0

It was an event not written into the scenario.0

"What of it? A door to the afterlife would surely be a place of great significance. Naturally, it belongs in the Imperial Palace," Sophien replied with a low chuckle.0

“Is that so?”0

"Indeed. So be sure to be careful. Ghosts, like people, are all different—but they are beings made of every emotion."4

I watched the teacup in silence as the black tea inside, half-full, began to swell.0

Glug—0

And then it spilled, crimson and warm, overflowing the rim of the cup, with a metallic tang rising into the air—it was blood.1

“Hmph, let’s head in. It looks like the ones here aren’t too pleased with us,” Sophien said.0

At Sophien’s words, I nodded, pushed away from the balcony, and stepped back into the room.0

“Professor,” Sophien said, seated at the edge of the bed. “I have come here to find a soul.”0

A faint crease formed between my brows.0

It wasn’t a demon, but even a ghost, or something close enough—a presence that stirred in me an aversion as deep and instinctive as breath.0

“A soul, Your Majesty?”0

“Indeed. There’s a book in the Empress’s library that tells the legend of this old mansion. They say it opens only once every six years—more precisely, every...0