Turning Chapter 1315

‘What is this. I was definitely on my way to the Imperial Palace. Why am I here.......’

The blank, hazy fog in his head lasted only a moment. When Yuder recalled the last time he had encountered those white gloves, his mind snapped into sharp clarity.

That existence only ever appeared before or after an anomaly rift. But right now, Yuder was in the capital.

‘The capital was the final safe zone where not once, in my previous life, did a rift ever occur.’

Impossible. The thought flashed reflexively, but he soon discarded it.

No, there was no such thing as “impossible” anymore. Everything had changed, so perhaps a rift could appear even in the capital. Meeting this being now was proof enough, wasn’t it? A chilling tension crawled down his spine.

Yet that sensation, and the flood of emotions that always came when facing the white gloves, were separate things.

Yuder stilled every tangled thought and fixed his gaze on the presence before him.

The white gloves looked no different than before. He now knew what lay inside. The moment he recalled the hand covered in pitch-black wounds, his chest throbbed as if stabbed by a blade.

Yuder exhaled deeply, as if to drive out that pain. He closed and reopened his eyes, steadied himself, and spoke.

“...You said you would come again.”

‘.......’

“To be honest, I still don’t know what I did to bring you here. But, either way, you’ve kept your word.”

‘.......’

“Ah. Let’s call the brief moment in Peleta an exception. I wasn’t conscious then......”

‘.......’

“But back then, Commander....... Hm.”

Was it all right to call him that, even though the one before him was also Kishiar? Yuder paused, then added a word and asked again.

“When I met the Commander as he is now, and was guided by him... was that really you?”

It wasn’t doubt of Kishiar’s words that he had met the white gloves. It was just that the circumstances had been so peculiar, and since he hadn’t seen it directly with his own eyes, he wanted confirmation.

‘.......’

The white gloves still did not move. Even after Yuder silently counted off a long stretch of time, nothing changed. At last, he could not endure waiting and spoke first again.

“...Is it that you don’t want to answer, can’t answer, or else......”

His chest throbbed again.

“That you intend never to speak with me again......”

Is that what you mean?

Just before his parched words ended, a hand seized his. The white glove turned Yuder’s palm upward and, moving its index finger, traced words upon it.

‘Yes.’

‘It was me.’

An admission—it had indeed been him at Peleta.

Relief washed over Yuder at receiving a clear answer. For a moment, he’d even feared something had gone wrong during the silence.

But that relief was short-lived.

He noticed something different in the right hand of the white gloves.

‘Wait. The little finger......?’

It looked strange. That one part was oddly flattened compared to the other fingers.

As if there were nothing inside the glove at all.

“......”

No. Not “as if.” There really was nothing.

A cold, icy sensation swept him as Yuder quickly grabbed the spot. The leather glove crumpled limply. No mistake—the little finger was gone, that part hollow and empty.

His vision reeled. A suffocating feeling beyond words constricted his breath.

‘When I met him in the South, it was still there.’

What in the world had happened in that span of time, long if long, short if short? Had the finger already been gone when he met Kishiar at Peleta? No—if it had, Kishiar surely would have noticed and told him.

Yuder tried to strip off the glove to see for himself. But as if that were the very limit of what it would allow him, the white glove slipped easily from his grasp and drifted back to its place.

Had it hesitated so long to answer because of that missing finger?

Staring down at his own empty palm, Yuder forced out his voice.

“That... finger. What happened to it. Why... who......”

The white gloves gave no reply. Though they had no face, sometimes the faint shift of air let him guess at their emotions. Now there was nothing at all. Just like in his previous life, when no matter what Yuder asked, no answer ever came.

The Yuder of that first life would have raged at such silence.

The Yuder who still did not know what hid inside those gloves would have swallowed his fury and turned away as if nothing were wrong.

But the Yuder of now was neither.

Clenching his empty hand, he spoke.

“If you didn’t want me to notice the missing finger, you should never have come close.”

‘.......’

“The moment you came and answered, it was over.”

So—

“Because I’m worried... answer me. Please.”

Please.

A strange plea he’d never thought would leave his lips. Yet not an ounce of shame came with it. The one before him was Kishiar—what was there to be ashamed of?

The white gloves froze, almost startled. Even the faint drifting motion that had shimmered in the darkness stopped. Though they had no eyes, they seemed to gaze blankly at him. Like that—

Yuder reached out a hand.

The still gloves drew near, as if compelled by an irresistible summons. He grasped the right hand firmly so it could not slip away again. The instant skin touched glove, a sensation rushed in, like the air collapsing somewhere unseen.

At last, like a small sigh forced out after holding it in to the end—

“So the finger... why did it come to be that way.”

The white glove, as if conceding, extended its index finger. Understanding that meant an answer, Yuder quickly offered his palm. Finally, words were written.

‘It was neither taken nor painful, so’

‘Worry is nothing but waste.’

“...So it wasn’t forcibly cut off, nor did it hurt. That’s a relief. But—you mean you don’t know the reason either?”

‘.......’

“And there’s no way to restore it?”

The gloves gave no response. Whether they truly did not know, or simply refused to answer, was unclear.

“...Very well.”

Silence stretched.

Now that he thought of it, he’d had many things he wanted to say if he ever met this Kishiar again. Shock over the missing finger had made him forget, but one by one the thoughts returned.

Who knew how long he could stay here? Best to speak while he could. Yuder sighed, steadying his emotions.

“I don’t know if you’re aware... but the great earthquake that nearly struck the South was safely prevented. Thanks to the warning you gave in advance.”

Yes—this was what he had most wanted to say.

“I wanted to thank you. Because of you, countless deaths and tragedies were averted. If I met you again, I wanted to say that without fail.”

The white gloves gave no reply. That was fine. He had said it, and that was enough.

“To be honest, I still don’t know how I could bring you out of here. Assuming this is beyond the rift, I thought of diving in when an anomaly occurs... but everyone opposed the idea.”

‘.......’

“Do you too think it’s hopeless?”

This time, an answer came.

‘Reckless.’

Far more resolute than he expected.

“Can I hear the reason?”

‘This is not a place for the living.’

Not a place for the living.

Yuder rolled the words over in his mind. Strange, chilling words indeed.

“But I am alive, and yet I am here.”

‘That is why I warned you’

‘Not to come.’

“That’s not for me to choose. And I—”

Yuder lowered his eyes.

“If there is even a possibility, I will try, no matter how extreme the means.”

Again silence. Then the halted finger slowly traced across his palm.

‘Think about what is truly important.’

He had heard that before. It seemed this man truly believed Yuder should not hold him as something important.