The castle was so perfect it hurt. Its marble walls gleamed like mirrors under the artificial sun, and the towers stood so straight they seemed like chess pieces perfectly arranged. The castle gates opened for them without a single guard, as if they knew the "Chosen Ones" were meant to pass.
"Is this what you expected?" Sera asked, her voice low beneath the echo of the walls, already tense.
"I don't know what to expect anymore," Ryouhei replied, eyeing every corner as if he could find a crack in the perfection.
Inside, they were greeted by a group of smiling nobles who began to applaud the moment they entered.
"Our brave heroes! Welcome! Make your triumphant entrance!"
Ryouhei frowned. He couldn't stand that energy, that strange, overwhelming joy. How could everyone be so... happy without a real reason? As if everything were a carefully designed show, a script prepared meticulously for everyone to act their part.
"What exactly are you celebrating?" Sera asked, looking at a noble who seemed incapable of stopping his smile.
The man looked at her, and his expression hardened for a second—just for a second—before returning to normal.
"The arrival of the heroes! What else could we celebrate? You are the hope of this kingdom, the light in the midst of darkness!"
A chill ran down Ryouhei's spine, and it wasn't just the weight of the words—but the sensation that something was off. The atmosphere felt manufactured, like an artificial dream that wouldn't last.
When they reached the castle's throne, a king with a bright face and nearly angelic appearance received them. His smile was so perfect it looked like a mask, and yet his voice echoed in the air like a distant whisper:
"Welcome, brave heroes. I know your destiny is to bring peace to our people. The Demon King will fall, and with him, peace shall be restored."
The "King" raised a golden goblet toward them, in a gesture so theatrical Ryouhei felt uncomfortable.
"We're not here to perform." Ryouhei's voice was cold and direct, striking like a hammer. Sera looked at him, surprised, but she understood what he meant.
The King smiled, unbothered.
"Can't you see? You're here, on this stage, to play your roles. You are the heroes destined to save us. Nothing else matters."
A chill crept through the room, and a soft whisper—barely audible—seemed to rise from the walls, a warning for everyone present. Ryouhei felt the air thicken, the sensation of being watched, like someone pulling the strings from behind the curtain.
"Who's really behind this?" Sera asked, glaring at the King.
He bowed slightly, but there wasn't a trace of concern on his face. His smile remained perfectly intact.
"Fate. The script is already written, and you will follow it."
Suddenly, the castle's atmosphere began to change. The walls seemed to shift slightly, and the nobles started speaking in hushed tones, as if waiting for something. The sense of being trapped in an inescapable stage grew heavier. The curtains of this invisible theatre were beginning to close, and no one could stop them.
"This isn't right," Ryouhei muttered, scanning the surroundings with growing suspicion.
Just as he was about to say more, a shadow slid along the walls—like the air itself was trembling. The weight of that invisible presence intensified. Ryouhei couldn't shake the feeling that something else was at play here—something much bigger than they could imagine.
"Sera..." he said quietly, eyes fixed on the distance, "this isn't just a theatre. We're not here by chance."
A faint whisper echoed in both their minds, like a breath across the wind, delivering the answer neither of them wanted to hear:
"The Director is watching you."
The air grew heavier, more oppressive. Ryouhei clutched the journal in his hands, feeling the unsettling presence of something—or someone—beyond the edge of sight. In the background, a whisper told them the rules were about to change, and that they, the "heroes," had no idea how deep or dangerous the next act of this macabre play would become.