* * *
“Hoho, apologies. I’m late, aren’t I?”
Without a hint of surprise, a woman appeared from beyond the door, carrying a pie box and walking slowly.
She was the owner of the room and the Director of Eternita Central—Hoaphilen Legius.
“Oh! Director! Please, come sit here!”
Moria, reacting instinctively, stood and offered her the best seat.
Ben tried to jump to his feet as well, out of sheer habit, but was held back by Haimar.
While Haimar couldn’t care less about social niceties, Ben found himself making eye contact with the highest-ranking superior in the building.
Even if he was being held back, ignoring her wasn’t an option.
So he bowed politely while still seated.
“G-Good afternoon.”
“It’s fine. It’s our first time meeting officially, isn’t it, Ben? Nice to see you too, Haimar, Ellyn, Xenon.”
Hoaphilen placed the pie box, tied with a ribbon, on the table and waved casually as she greeted each person in turn.
Xenon, who was still huddled next to Ellyn, looked like he wanted to offer a formal greeting but, noticing his guide’s reluctance, simply bowed deeply with a tearful expression.
“Is it always this hard to get a greeting out of an Integra? This old lady’s—”
“Skip the jokes. Get to the point.”
When Hoaphilen pretended to dab tears from her eyes with her sleeve, disappointed by the lukewarm greeting, Haimar cut her off coldly.
Maybe she hadn’t expected the joke to land anyway—she quickly dropped the act and smiled kindly again.
“You’re right. We’ve got more important things to discuss than greetings. Let’s get to it.”
Undoing the ribbon on the pie box, she opened it, took out the plastic knife inside, and calmly sliced the round pie in half, then into quarters, and then into eighths.
As she did, she chose her words carefully.
“Now… where should I begin…”
The quiet sound of the gooey pie filling being sliced faded.
Setting the knife down, Hoaphilen finally began her story.
“Yes, I suppose that’s a good place to start. My husband was a fairly capable Esper researcher, specializing in cognitive science.”
The story began with something deeply personal—Hoaphilen Legius’s family.
She explained that she was once a wife, a guide, and a mother.
Her husband had researched auxiliary systems for Espers who had no guides—primarily focusing on developing drugs for them.
Drug development had always been an avoided field—it was costly, time-consuming, and the risks were enormous.
A small miscalculation in dosage could result in catastrophe for hypersensitive Espers without guides.
Her husband was one of the few who pursued it, determined to open a new frontier in an untouched wasteland.
Hoaphilen supported him fully for years, pouring herself into backing his research.
Eventually, he succeeded in creating what seemed like a highly effective new drug.
At the time, Hoaphilen believed he had achieved a groundbreaking innovation, something that would leave even a small mark on the scientific world.
The drug was able to suppress and control the rampages of unguided Espers with impressive effectiveness.
“But… it was a failure. Aside from suppressing rampages, it was riddled with flaws.”
“Fl-Flaws?”
“You mean side effects?”
She nodded slightly, offering Ben a neatly sliced piece of walnut pie.
“All drugs have side effects. But what my husband created… the side effects were on another level.”
“What exactly were they? Haimar, do you know?”
Ellyn, reclining on the couch with her chin propped up, looked toward Haimar.
He sighed, clearly bored.
“Resistance.”
“I knew it. So you did know.”
“Hard not to, when I cracked open your husband’s skull before he died.”
Hoaphilen, who had remained composed until then, flinched hard.
Ben nearly dropped his pie in shock, but Haimar caught it, only a few crumbs falling.
Then he reached out and gently brushed Ben’s lips clean.
“Didn’t kill him. Just looked. For necessity’s sake.”
Only then did Ben’s tensed shoulders relax.
The phrasing had made it sound like he’d killed the man outright.
If that had been true, Hoaphilen wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly—but still, Haimar could’ve chosen his words better.
And yet, before that tension could even fade—
“Yes, I know. Roilnia Ranilgraf was the one who killed my husband.”
Her voice was steady, but the deeply rooted hatred couldn’t be masked.
Just thinking of Roilnia made her blood boil.
Still, she didn’t intend to vent here.
She calmed herself and continued, sticking to objective facts.
The drug her husband had developed built resistance far too quickly.
Even a single dose created resistance, requiring exponentially more each time after.
Worse, the drug’s toxicity caused cross-resistance with other medications.
Once it was in the system, other drugs stopped working.
Too much was worse than none at all.
As dosages increased, resistance wasn’t the only issue—there was a rising risk of full-blown rampages.
The more tests they ran, the less faith they had in the drug.
Eventually, they realized—
It had to be abandoned.
He had no choice but to admit it.
The drug was too dangerous to be commercialized.
Her husband had been reluctant to abandon the fruits of his passionate research, but as an Esper who wished for a safer world, he ultimately decided to let it go.
He destroyed all knowledge of the drug’s formulation—known only to him—leaving behind only a few completed samples.
He chose to start over from scratch.
If only things had stayed that way.
But everything shattered with the arrival of one woman.
Roilnia had demanded the new drug from her husband, and when he refused, she obtained it through his death.
Getting what she wanted by killing him—it was a method befitting a venomous snake.
“…So, this is the drug I analyzed in those documents. Then, it’s likely she’s been using it in a way tailored to herself over the two years she was out of sight…?”
Scratching her cheek uncertainly, Moria trailed off.
A scientist at heart who pursued theory, it felt almost blasphemous to voice such an uncertain hypothesis—but they’d gotten this far on guesswork alone, so she had no choice.
“Whatever she did, the drug’s side effects don’t change. If it were possible to suppress them, my husband would’ve done it already.”
“Judging from how she used it alongside a booster, I’d say she either altered the drug while enduring the side effects or just got ridiculously lucky and avoided them. And she’s not the type to stop using it just because it’s dangerous.”
Ellyn had a point.
The Roilnia Lanilgraph Ben knew was inherently greedy.
No matter the side effects, she wouldn’t give up the only drug that could let her stay true to her beliefs.
But can she really enjoy the benefits of the drug without paying any price?
All on her own, defying the natural order?
And now she’s using high-risk boosters to gain even more abilities?
That just doesn’t fit with what Ben understands as possible.
As Ben’s worries piled up, Xenon—huddled quietly against Ellyn’s shoulder—timidly offered another possibility.
“Um… but… if it came down to it… couldn’t a Guide go back to her, if she really wanted? Like… when she’s low on the drug… or when the drug alone isn’t enough to handle things…”
“No. That’s not possible.”
Haimar, who had been silent, flatly rejected Xenon’s idea.
At the same time, Hoaphilen Rezius’s face twisted sharply.
“That’s because my daughter was Roilnia’s irregular Guide.”
Ah.
Before Hoaphilen entered, Haimar had said Roilnia’s Guide was dead.
Now Hoaphilen was saying her daughter had been Roilnia’s Guide—and an irregular one, at that.
If she had been the only one, then clearly there were no others.
“And she’s no longer in this world.”
Unlike when she’d spoken of her husband, her emotions now were more twisted, more painful.
Hoaphilen, who usually masked her hatred and anger with practiced ease, couldn’t fully hide her grief.
As the atmosphere grew heavier, Ben quietly set down the walnut pie he’d been nibbling at.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to drag the mood down. I hope that answered some of your questions. For various reasons, I hold a deep grudge against Roilnia.”
The explanation had been more than thorough.
Haimar and Eli seemed to have already known most of it, but for Ben and Xenon, it was a lot to take in.
Hoaphilen, slicing into her cinnamon-scented pie and placing a piece in her mouth, set her fork down on the plate without making a sound—and smiled gently.
* * *
