“Past silver glass that hums with the breeze.” Kazuma’s eyes narrowed as he read, voice slow.

“That’s why I hate this kind of stuff.” Ren made a face like he bit into a sour fruit. “Silver glass… and it hums with the breeze?! How can old glass make sound from wind?!”

“Ken~” Sakura grinned as she leaned playfully against his shoulder. “I think I’m better than you at this.”

“You know it?” Ren turned to her with puffed cheeks, sulking a little. “Then say it.”

She giggled softly. “Silver glass… maybe it’s water.”

“Yeah!” Kazuma snapped his fingers as his eyes lit up. “Makes sense. It connects—‘hums with breeze.’ So… ripples.”

He explained, “When the breeze touches water, it hums. And past silver glass means… go forward from the water.”

“Wait…” He paused, eyes suddenly brightening. “There’s a pond near the tunnel we saw! You saw it too, remember?”

“Um… yeah.” Ren blinked, gears turning slowly. “I took Reha to that pond for her antidote.”

He frowned, tapping his katana hilt. “But I didn’t see the tunnel or cave.”

Kazuma nodded quickly. “That’s because we came from the opposite direction. After we met, we circled around to the east on another path. If it is not there, we’ll search in the west.”

“I’ll send avatars to check all sides.” He looked around sharply. “But one thing’s for sure—it’s a closed tunnel blocked from one side or a short cave.”

****

Tanvika sat beside Akashiroki, her fingers softly adjusting the folds of her saree, “Hey… I need to know. Who’s controlling the ghost moths of 101 and 297? I mean… Yui.”

A few steps away, Kaizen leaned against a tree, blinking. ‘Huh? Why’s Tanvika-sama asking that?’

Akashiroki opened the list. “Ayan (29 years) and Reihan (33 years.) But… why, Tanvika-sama? Is something wrong?”

Anvitha, arms crossed, leaned sideways with an arched brow. “You’re showing a little too much interest in them, Tanvika-sama.”

“Yui is Miko’s daughter… and… h-he made halwa.” Tanvika sighed gently, her voice like it was being pulled from some deep corner. “The taste reminded me of someone’s cooking.”

Anvitha narrowed her eyes, almost teasing. “Still… just because of that?”

“I’m just… supporting them.” Tanvika pressed her lips together, gaze briefly dropping like she was hiding something.

“Uff, then why not support Airi?” Anvitha glanced at the mini screen where Airi was searching across the forest, half sweaty and fully determined. “You could watch him instead too.”

“Of course he’ll qualify.” Tanvika waved her hand slightly, her eyes never leaving the screen. “I don’t want to see him. He’ll be fine.”

She stood and walked slowly toward where Ayan sat and knelt beside him, her voice calm but firm. “Ayan, are you controlling 101 or 297?”

Ayan blinked. “101, Tanvika-sama. Why?”

He leaned in slightly, eyes darting to make sure no one was listening. “Even Kaizen-san’s been watching them since the start. We asked him but he just said ‘I Know them and got interested.’”

“He said that guy… he asked for help.” He leaned closer and whispered low, “We even stopped for a few minutes on Day one.”

“He said that…?” Tanvika’s breath caught slightly, her eyes widening for just a second. “Well…”

She turned away, walking a little slower, her heart oddly heavier. ‘What can I do? If I say it openly, it’ll just cause more suspicion. But I don’t want to see that… Damn, there is no option.’

She returned to Anvitha’s side and sat quietly.

Rezu was already there, giggling as she sat in Anvitha’s lap, her tiny fingers smacking the mini screen randomly like she was playing a game. “Taa-daa!” she squealed.

Tanvika smiled faintly, but her eyes never left the screen.

****

All the pairs scattered, searching frantically for flags. Those who found them dashed back toward the checkpoints—faces flushed, sleeves rolled, urgency carved into every step.

Daikin crossed his arms. – { Ninth pair arrived. }

Jiro said, – { Tenth too. }

Miko leaned forward in her chair, eyes locked on the screen, which is showing Yui’s pair. Her fingers rested on her lips as she thought, ‘Come on…’

“Haruki, if any more pairs come quickly, just take their data and note it down.” She turned her head slightly. “We won’t have time to inspect them all at once. You just tell me—I’ll pass it to the other Sensemitters.”

“They just need numbers.” She continued, “If kairo energy doesn’t match the same pair, cross that name and we’ll pass the next. By the way, no one broke the rules, right?”

Haruki stood beside her. “Got it. And so far, no one’s broken any rules.”

“Okay…” Miko nodded slowly, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I hope Yui’s pair qualifies…”

****

Yui and Ren stood before a tunnel half-swallowed by overgrown vines, a signboard tilted to one side.

[No one to allow. Only one pair is permitted for this flag.]

“Huh… well, good thing they did this.” Yui blinked and traced the rusted letters gently, as if touching their truth. “If anyone else had taken that flag, we wouldn’t even know where to look…”

“But why make it this way?” Ren folded his arms and frowned. “I mean… sure, if we didn’t know the tunnel before, it’s difficult. But there’s a chance we can see it on the first day, right?”

Yui shrugged and stepped forward. “I don’t know…” She tightened her grip on the branch she had taken before—thick, dry. “Anyway, let’s go.”

They stepped inside, and the natural light quickly faded as shadows slithered across the stone walls like whispers.

****

“There are twenty-seven spots left.” Haruki smiled slightly, as if responding to Miko’s earlier worry. “If they find theirs, they’ll just use that guy’s method to return. Nothing to worry about.”

Miko squinted at the screen, unimpressed. “Then why keep that flag with extra restrictions? You already set enough rules, right?”

“It wasn’t my decision, Miko-aunty.” Haruki shrugged, a bit defensive. “At first, we thought of just flags. The number of contestants increased. Later, Yui was added as a substitute as well.”

He took a breath. “Yet before Inori-sama planned the rounds to more members as a precaution and she adjusted the rounds with more flexibility.”

Miko gave him a pointed look. “Don’t act like she did everything.”

“Okay, okay.” Haruki raised both hands with a faint grin. “Anyway, Haruto-senpai said that rule. I just added it and handed it over to Shiro-san.”

****

Yui held up the thick branch in her hand. “They kept this on purpose—to use it for light in the tunnel.”

The light from the branch, though small, followed like a promise—softening the silence between their footsteps.

Ren walked beside her, his hand casually near his hilt. “So… do we search hidden corners, or did they just keep the flag somewhere visible?”

They moved deeper into the tunnel, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone, while the fire-lit branch in Yui’s hand cast flickering shadows that danced like ghosts.

Suddenly, they both halted—instinct pulling them to stillness.

A vague shape loomed ahead—something large, motionless. But in the dim light, they couldn’t make it out clearly.

As they crept closer, the shape slowly sharpened.

A statue.

Sitting on a chair.

Its hands rested heavily on the armrests, fingers carved in relaxed curves. But the head—

It was nearly gone. Shattered. Only a piece of the left side remained—an ear, a hint of wavy hair, a sliver of cheek. The rest was jaggedly broken.

And nestled inside that hollowed space… a flag—stuck in the cavity where the face part was.

From her chair at the checkpoint, Miko leaned forward toward the mini screen. ‘Huh? What is that…? I…’

Her brows knit together. ‘The visual is unclear. Why… why was the flag inside a tunnel without clear visibility?’

“Whose statue is this…?” Yui narrowed her eyes, studying it closely. “The head’s broken so much, we can’t even guess…”

“I don’t know who this is,” he muttered. “But we need the flag.”

“Huh? That look…” Anvitha squinted at the screen, which Tanvika was watching. “I’ve seen it somewhere…”

“Just look at your own screen,” Tanvika murmured under her breath, then silently thought, ‘Sorry, Ren… I want to stop the live feed… but… agh! No buts—I have to stop it.’

Ren stepped up the stone stairs—three in total, leading to the statue.

He paused beside it, looking at the mangled face—the silent way it sat, almost like it was still watching even without eyes.

His fingers brushed the cold edge of the flagpole. He tugged once.

It didn’t move.

“Huh?” Ren blinked, confused. “Why isn’t it coming out?”

He touched the fractured cheek. Then, bracing himself, he stepped one foot onto the statue’s thick armrest for balance—slow and careful.

And suddenly—A voice echoed in his mind. Soft. Familiar. – ‘Finally… I can talk with you.’

Ren’s eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat. His palm closed tightly around the flag.

The flag came free with a sharp pull.

But the voice… It had already sunk into his bones.

He froze where he was standing, the moment clinging to his skin.

That voice—soft, warm, heavy with memory. – ‘Sorry…’

His breath hitched. Fingers curled slightly around the flag. But his gaze… distant, lost somewhere.

“Ken…?” Yui stepped forward, eyes narrowing with concern. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer. His lashes trembled slightly, his eyes glistening with a gloss that refused to fall.

Then quietly—shaken—he turned to her, held out the flag. “Take this,” he whispered. “Go.”

“What? Are you mad? You’re not coming?” Yui blinked, her words sharp—but her eyes had already seen it.

“Hey… why are you making that face?” She stepped forward, her voice dipping with concern. “What happened?”

Ren didn’t speak.

A portal tore open beside them—he opened it with a flick of trembling fingers on his katana.

“P-please… g-go, Yui.” His voice cracked, pleading, barely holding together. “I… I’ll come later…”

His eyes darted around the tunnel, checking every corner, heart racing. Then—he ran. Not through the portal—away from it, as if something else was calling louder.

“Ken…?” Yui whispered, frozen, her hand still gripping the flag. “What’s going on…?”

He didn’t stop.

A soft chuckle came, the voice echoed again, teasing, almost scolding, yet familiar like a lullaby. – ‘Hey… why are you running? Where to? Oh, you think I’m using the mind voice? How is that possible, idiot…’

Tanvika leaned forward, eyes glued to the screen. Her voice suddenly cracked. “Ayan! Tell the ghost moth following 101 tag id contestant to return!”

“Huh?! Tanvika-sama—what?” Ayan turned in confusion, clearly startled by her tone.

“I said RETURN it!” Tanvika’s tone deepened—firm, laced with trembling urgency.

Anvitha looked at her, startled. “Tanvika-sama… what happened…?”

But Tanvika didn’t answer. Her hand gripped the edge of the chair.

Outside the tunnel now, Ren spun around, searching every corner, his breath coming hard and uneven.

He yelled, loud and hoarse, “You’re here, right?!”

“PLEASE… come in front of me, Maa! Please…” he shouted louder, desperately—like a child shouting into a storm.

His voice cracked mid-sentence, knees nearly buckling under the weight blooming in his chest.

The voice answered softly, like a breeze brushing his heart. – ‘Hey idiot… I’ve been in you from the start. I know my Ren… That’s why I stayed in you. Come… I’ll be there…’

Tanvika’s hand flew to her mouth. She stood now, lips trembling, her glare fixed on Ayan.

“Ayan… do you not understand?!” she snapped. “Akashiroki, I don’t need to give a reason. It might be personal to that boy…”

She turned, her eyes flaring with emotion. “I don’t care what excuse you give if someone asks—but STOP it right now!”

“Y-yes. Ayan, call it back!” Akashiroki stiffened, voice clipped under sudden pressure.

Miko’s eyes snapped to the screen.

She froze. ‘Maa…?’

Her thoughts came out confused and fragile. ‘Why… is he calling his mother now?’

The ghost moth that had been following Ren suddenly veered off—drifting like a leaf caught by the wind, vanishing between the trees.

****

Ren slid down beside the tunnel wall. His body folded in on itself—knees pulled to chest, arms tight, eyes shut… And then—the tears came.

At that moment…

The world around him faded into a soft, boundless blue space—open, calm, and silent like a forgotten lullaby.

Ren stood in the middle of it.

His voice cracked into the emptiness, “Maa… where are you?”

A soft touch—warm fingers brushing his shoulder.

“I’m here.”

Ren turned around—and everything inside him paused.

Standing before him was a woman, gentle and radiant—around thirty-five, angelic in presence, with a kindness in her eyes deeper than the sky.

He reached forward with shaking fingers, touching her cheek like it was made of light.

“Maa… where were you?” His voice broke as the words slipped out. “Why did you leave me alone…?”

****

Yui came with the crystals to Miko’s checkpoint, her steps light but her eyes glancing behind her.

Haruki noted down the details, eyes scanning. “Where is that guy?”

“Huh? What’s with him?” Yui frowned, a little defensive. “I brought all my pair requirements.”

Haruki didn’t even look up. “Yui, your pair is also a requirement. If he doesn’t come, you can’t qualify.”

“What?” Yui snapped, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t say that before.”

He scribbled again, unfazed. “That’s basic, Yui.”

And he turned to Miko. “Aunty, inform the others—it’s the 21st pair.”

– { 21st pair has arrived. } Miko informed, still staring at the mini screen, her brows tightly furrowed. ‘What’s happening… something’s not right…’

Kazuma came to the checkpoint, looking around. “Yui-san… where is he?”

“He said he’ll come later.” Yui crossed her arms, trying to sound casual but her tone tightened.

Miko, still watching the screen, activated mind voice art. – { Kazuma… he loudly called out for his mother. Do you know anything? }

His eyes widened. – Huh?! Miko-senpai, what are you saying… why would he—

– { I don’t know. The ghost moths aren’t showing anything. }

He turned, eyes scanning the forest. ‘What happened, Ren…?’

Haruki called out, “Those who completed can’t go into the forest!”

“Bastard…” Yui growled as her glare turned sharp and she grabbed Haruki by the collar.

“Yui!” Miko stood up immediately. “That’s the rule. Let him go.”

Yui released the collar and turned away.

Haruki said, “Sorry Yui, but that's the rule.”

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

Just then, Kaizen’s voice came through. – { Miko-san, tell Haruki to come here. Tanvika-sama and Anvitha-sama are calling. }

Miko passed the message. “Haruki, go. Tanvika-sama wants you.”

Haruki opened a dimension portal, vanished briefly, and returned with Tanvika, Anvitha, and little Rezu nestled in her arms.

A symbol at the checkpoint flickered once… then faded into nothing.

Kazuma stared at it, fists clenched. ‘Can I go now? But… why did he call out to his mom…’

Tanvika asked Haruki, “How many pairs have arrived?”

“Twenty-five.”

The other Sensemitters echoed it back to Miko, their voices overlapping like a synchronized bell.

One by one, the pairs arrived faster and faster—40 pairs arrived.

Tanvika sighed. “So fast… just within seconds…”

****

“Why did you leave me alone…?”

“I didn’t leave you, Ren.” She smiled—soft and bright like sunrise.

“I’ve always been here.” She pulled him into her arms, wrapping him in warmth that felt older than the world.