Within the vast infirmary of the Bureau of Suppression and Supernatural Defense, Charles slowly blinked back to consciousness. Even half-awake, a stabbing pain still throbbed intermittently in his head. He glanced around the large, white-walled recovery room, trying to place where he was. Everything felt hazy, and he found it hard to string his thoughts together.
His eyes halted upon the figure of a young girl, perhaps sixteen. She had an oval face with fair skin, graceful arched brows, and light brown eyes that shone with quiet resolve. Her brown hair, woven into a loose braid, draped neatly down her back. Slender and poised, she wore simple but practical attire.
Charles recognized her straightaway. It was Isabel, the only daughter of Edward. Memories flickered through his mind—of the time he lost his memories and lodged at the Cavendish estate. Isabel would come around to greet him often after visiting a friend in the same area. More than that, she had frequently served as an informal language tutor, helping him re-learn how to speak, read, and write.
"Isabel," Charles croaked, voice raspy with surprise.
Isabel turned her gaze to him. "Hello, Charles," she said with a gentle smile. "I'm glad you're awake."
"How did you end up here?" he asked.
Her eyes drifted to the bed next to his, where Edward lay with a pallid face. "I heard Father was injured, so I came straight to the Bureau to check on him."
Charles took in Edward's unconscious form. Though ashen and drawn, he seemed somewhat more stable than before. Charles recalled the last moments prior to blacking out—when they all fled that accursed house, he had a fleeting vision of Edward's face drenched in blood.
"You… you were badly hurt," Charles murmured, turning back to Edward.
A faint sigh escaped Edward's lips. He spoke with a feeble rasp, "I'll be all right… once I get some rest."
Charles replayed that catastrophic night in his head, the sight of the monstrous presence they had stumbled into. "You looked… near death."
Edward shook his head lightly, though pain flickered in his eyes. "Not quite. I'm healing. But as for you—encountering an entity like that could easily drive a normal person to madness, or worse."
Charles stiffened at Edward's words, unease evident in his expression. He surveyed himself again. "I'm… not seeing anything physically wrong," he said hesitantly, "just this dull throbbing in my skull."
"That's a good sign," Edward said with a nod. "Still, if you sense anything amiss at all—any illusions or strange impulses—tell me at once."
Charles steeled himself. "All right, but… that thing we saw, or I saw… what exactly was it?"
Edward cleared his throat. "Let me clarify a bit more about the Ascendants." He paused, chest moving uneasily as he tried to piece together the explanation. "You've heard from Joseph about them, right? Now, the powers are divided into three main tiers. Each tier has three sub-levels, depending on how many times the individual's being is ascended. The first sub-level means they've merged once with that power, the second means twice, and the third means thrice."
He took in a measured breath. "Starting from the lowest rung, known as 'Beyond Humans.' They're stronger than average people, but still within some realm of human comprehension.
"Next is the 'Beyond the Natural' tier. Anyone with this classification wields serious, reality-warping might. Far above the first group.
"And at the pinnacle…" Edward's voice grew hushed. "There's the 'Grand Vitalis'—what you glimpsed, Charles. Simply put, it's an entity whose mere existence can endanger any living being. Even a direct glance at one can drive normal humans insane or kill them outright. Its power… I don't fully know. No one does."
As Edward explained, Charles suddenly heard faint laughter echoing in his ears. He glimpsed an odd smile playing at Edward's lips for an instant. He blinked in shock, only to find that fleeting grin gone the next moment, as if it had never been there. Charles shook his head slightly, trying to banish the strange sensation, convincing himself it was merely his imagination.
"What about… you?" Charles asked, shifting to a safer question. "Which tier do you belong to?"
"I'm an Ascendant at the 'Beyond the Natural' level."
Charles attempted to pay attention, but the world around him began to distort. Edward's voice receded to a blur, replaced by faint whispers coming from nowhere. Edward's face—along with Isabel's—seemed to stretch into disturbing, exaggerated smiles. Alarmed, Charles blinked repeatedly to banish this hallucination. When he opened his eyes, everything was normal once more. Both Edward and Isabel looked concerned rather than smiling hideously.
'Am I just seeing things?' Charles thought, heart pounding against his ribcage.
"Is everything all right?" Edward asked gently, noticing Charles's flustered expression.
"Uh… n-no. I'm fine. Just—my eyes tricked me for a second." Charles tried massaging his temples to quell the tension.
Edward's features tightened with worry. "I'll need you to describe exactly what you 'tricked' yourself into seeing, in as much detail as you can."
Charles hesitated, words caught in his throat. "It's… you were smiling at me, but it was… all wrong. Like a twisted grin. Then it vanished right away." His voice shook.
But even as he spoke, that dreadful grin reappeared on Edward's face—lines of the mouth stretching unnaturally until it reached both ears, revealing teeth a ghastly shade of white. Charles squeezed his eyes shut, choking in fear. Inside, his pulse hammered. Then, with another blink, the grin was gone. Now Edward merely regarded him with anxious concern.
At that moment, a faint giggle echoed from somewhere behind him. Charles spun around, startled. And in a corner of the room, the bloody young woman from that night stood swaying, hair draped over her face, baring a cruelly mocking grin. She darted toward him at inhuman speed.
Charles gasped, nearly tumbling off the bed. Cold sweat soaked through his clothes, dampening his back and temples. His heart raced so violently it felt like it might burst from his chest. Alarmed, Isabel stumbled backward with a small cry, the sound of her leather shoes scraping against the wooden floor echoing in the room.
But no sooner had he realized that it was yet another illusion than it blinked out of existence. When his vision cleared, he saw Isabel cautiously approaching him, her slender hand extended to steady him.
Charles tried to force a smile and said, "I'm fine," lowering the hand that had been massaging his temples. But as his fingers moved away from his face, the sight before him made him recoil in horror.
Isabel's beautiful face now bore an unnatural smile, her thin lips sewn together with blood-red thread, forcing her mouth into a grotesque grin. Each thread that pierced her flesh had fresh blood seeping from the wounds.
Charles jerked backward in terror, his heart hammering like a war drum. He blinked hard, and in an instant, the horrifying image vanished. Isabel's face returned to normal, her soft brown eyes filled with concern.
Still panting, Charles turned to Edward. "I… I think I'm losing my mind. Something's not right." He sounded desperate.
Isabel hurried over, voice trembling with worry. "I—I'll fetch a doctor."
Charles merely nodded, slumping back. He could barely contain his panic, and illusions flickered at the corners of his sight. He sat motionless, trying to control his rapid breathing. The sound of his heartbeat thundered in his ears. The hallucinations he'd witnessed swirled in his mind, seeming to be etched into his vision. A sense of losing control began to creep over him, as if he were sinking into an abyss of chaos.
Within moments, Isabel returned with a physician in a crisp, white coat. The man's face was stoic, seriousness evident behind his thick round glasses as he began examining Charles thoroughly.
Once the physician finished, he set down his instruments. "Physically, there's nothing evidently wrong. But from what's been reported, you're suffering from aftereffects of witnessing that Grand Vitalis entity." He spoke matter-of-factly.
Charles nodded, recapping the hallucinations with an unsteady voice, detailing the monstrous illusions, the creeping laughter.
The doctor listened, brows furrowed. He offered a first option. "Lord Edward might be able to help by erasing or altering your memories—"
"No!" Charles cut in abruptly, voice high and shaking. "I won't lose my memories again!"
He shut his eyes, recalling that horrible time of blankness, the emptiness of lacking a past or identity. "I've already lost too many memories," he muttered, more to himself than to them. "I won't let it happen again… never again."
"Even if they're terrible memories, even if it's just a few minutes," he continued, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. "I won't let them disappear again."
The doctor inclined his head, acknowledging that decision. "In that case, the second possibility is to have you ascended, so your body can eventually withstand the madness. It's how Lord Edward overcame such crises."
Charles's face went taut in an instant, burdened with uncertainty. He knew how monumental and irreversible that step was. Ascension wasn't merely a physical change; it was a transformation of one's very nature, crossing the boundary of normal humanity. Danger overshadowed it.
Seeing Charles hesitate, the doctor offered a final alternative in a gentler tone. "Or you might choose to remain under observation here at the Bureau first. That would give you time to decide—either to let Lord Edward remove those memories, or to let us prepare you for an ascension. For now, those are your only options."
Charles stared down at his trembling hands. He felt illusions stirring at the edges of his vision again. "I… I need time, yes," he said at last. "I'll stay in a secure room. Then I'll figure out what to do."
The doctor gave a slight nod of approval. "Very well. We'll do our utmost to care for you." He placed a reassuring hand on Charles's shoulder.
Edward let out a long sigh, worry shadowing his eyes. "If that's your choice—to remain at the Bureau—then we'll keep you under close watch."
"Because your condition is still unstable," the doctor continued, "you'll stay in a specialized isolation room, one designed to stave off illusions from entering or leaking out."
Charles frowned. "An isolation room?"
"Yes. A place constructed to block supernatural influences from affecting you, or from your condition affecting the outside," the doctor explained calmly. "You'll be safe there."
Charles nodded, but a stray thought nagged him. "Before I agree to that… could I get my things from home and see to some personal affairs first?"
The doctor pursed his lips, eyes glinting with concern. "What sort of affairs?"
"There's a book I was in the middle of reading," Charles admitted softly, "and also, I need to let the Berg family know that… I can't continue searching for Michael in my current state. They have to hear it from me."
Edward stepped in swiftly, "We have many books here. Or we can send someone to collect yours. As for the Bergs, we can have a messenger deliver the message. It's too risky for you to go around alone right now."
But Charles firmly shook his head. "No," he said, voice trembling with resolve. "I need to tell them myself… so they aren't left waiting in vain."
As he spoke, images of the Berg family flashed through his mind. He could see Michael's mother, a plump elderly woman sitting on an old sofa, knitting with a weary, somber expression. He pictured Catherine, Michael's wife, sitting across from him with exhausted features, as if waiting endlessly for her husband's return. And he envisioned young Tommy, Michael's son, clutching a pillow, hoping to see his father come home.
Edward regarded him for a moment, balancing caution against empathy. "I understand your feelings, but are you sure—?"
"I know," Charles interjected, swallowing the dread building up inside him. "But I have to speak to them personally. I can't let them think I've abandoned them. If you send a stranger, they might lose faith or misunderstand everything. I… I just can't do that."
Edward pressed his lips together in a resigned sigh. "All right, but on one condition," he said, locking eyes with Charles. "Someone from our side goes with you."
Charles exhaled, shoulders sagging in relief. "Yes. That's fine."