Pulling down her hood, the girl approached the bed in which Arthur was laying down, with a guilty look on her face.

  With her hood down, and with the shade of the Moonstone Refinement Facility, he didn't get a good chance to look at her features, so he used this chance to do so.

  Her stature and frame were similar to his, she was probably not much older than his current body.

  Body which, he had only recently realized, wasn't too big to begin with. Most likely, its previous owner, as well as Ayn, weren't older than prepubescent teenagers.

  It was quite the change, going from being an adult, to being a child, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He sighed.

  She had bronze skin, it seemed a mix of natural hue and tan, probably for being under the sun for long amounts of time.

  Her hair was of a similar tone, a blonde colour dipping into brown at the edges and near the roots. He wasn't sure if it was wavy, or simply messy, probably due to the conditions of the prison.

  ‘No, wait, she's a cadet, right?’ He nodded to himself, remembering the very brief talk he had with that man. Her hair was probably naturally wavy, then.

  Her features were soft, child-like, but with peculiarities. Her eyes were like gemstones, with refractions of light, and a slitted pupil, akin to those of lizards or reptiles.

  Similarly, at the edges of her eyes, he could see little bits of glimmering, hard skin. Was that makeup? Did that world even have makeup, currently? He glanced to the side, and the Archive responded immediately.

  [She appears to be a behemoth. … In short, they are a race of humans with draconic characteristics. That is, the children of the dragons.]

  His eyes widened in surprise, before he looked back at the girl. She was fidgeting with her hands, holding them in front of her abdomen. On them, he could spot a clearly scaly texture, like the claws of reptiles!‘Not only do dragons exist, but there's humanoid dragons, too!’

  He tried to keep his surprise hidden, as that was most likely common knowledge, in that world. Even though he had fully accepted the existence of magic, thanks to the existence of the Archive, and all the documentation on it, he was still surprised by something like that.

  He wondered if other creatures which would be deemed as mythical, in his old world, existed in there. Maybe one day he'd get to encounter a unicorn, or a qilin!

  He chuckled silently, before shifting his focus back onto the girl, who had been talking for a while, trying to get his attention.

  “… So, er, I'm really sorry about all that. I'm not supposed to talk about my Gift too much, but I'm pretty sure it's my fault that gemstone, well…”She stopped speaking for a second, her eyes scanning Arthur's figure. She could see various bandaged spots, with bits of Moonstone stuck in his skin. She grimaced, and bit her lip.

  It took her a second glance to realize he wasn't in as bad of a situation as she thought. The wounds were only superficial, and the blood loss was minimal. Her expression changed to a relieved one as she sighed.

  She drew a symbol on her chest, tracing a downwards line on the air followed by a triangle, before placing her fingers beside her lips and closing her eyes for a moment.

  “Well, you've already recovered, thankfully… Praised be the Lady.”

  She muttered a quiet prayer, and only then did Arthur realize that symbol was probably a religious gesture. He once again glanced at his side, and heard the electric static formulating an answer, while the girl kept talking.

  She inched closer to his position, placing her hands on the edge of the bed, and using them as support. She once again looked him up and down, before settling her gaze on his eyes.

  He felt quickly uncomfortable holding up eye contact, and moved his focus away.

  “So! When did you get accepted as a cadet? I've never seen you before, but you can't be a prisoner, right? Not with those eyes, right?”Arthur moved his gaze back, finding the child mere inches away from his face. He jumped backwards slightly, and nearly fell out of his seat.

  Her eyes were burning with curiosity, like a child who just found a new toy. He was sure he could see them sparkling, although that might have been the glimmering scales. He cleared his throat with a cough.

  “Er, actually, I am a prisoner.”She tilted her head slightly.

  “Pardon?”“I said, I'm a prisoner. That's why you covered for me, right? To avoid getting me punished for damaging a Moonstone?”On her face, a storm of different expressions rushed through. The sparkling curiosity was followed by utter confusion, as she tried to make sense of his words, before being replaced by one of indignation.

  “You're… WHAT?? YOU'RE A PRISONER?? WITH THOSE EYES??”‘Seriously, what's up with my eyes?’ He understood that, to evaluate Moonstones properly, the worker needed a good eye, but more than that, instinct. But surely, just that wouldn't be enough to elevate someone from the status of prisoner?

  He rubbed his eyes, before blinking a few times and looking around himself. Apart from the Archive, unless Moonstones were involved, his sight was as good as anyone else's.

  He looked back at the girl, scratching the back of his head with a slightly embarrassed look on his face. Well, embarrassed by her behaviour anyways, rather than his own.

  “Listen, I don't know what you see in my eyes, but I'm really not that special. I'm just good at evaluating Moonstones, I guess.” “No, listen, that gemstone-”

  She tried explaining something to him, but seeing his unchanging expression, stopped mid phrase, and sighed.

  Breaking the eye contact, she took a few steps around the room, circling around a spot while thinking. Arthur tried his best to stay serious, and not laugh at her behaviour.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  After all, she was only a child. That was probably a way to get his attention. Eventually, she stopped, moving back towards the bad, and started speaking after clearing her throat.

  “Ahem! Let's, start over.” She extended a hand towards him, with an expecting expression. He hesitantly reached for it, assuming it was a handshake, shuddering as he made contact with the reptilian, cold scales.

  It felt uncomfortable to touch, like holding a shifting lizard in his hand. More than that, it felt bizzarre, due to the understanding that this was a part of her body, and not some sort of glove, or a piece of clothing.

  A sudden thought flashed in his mind, wondering how dragons looked like in that world, since they clearly existed.

  “I'm Irene Teufel! I'm a cadet at the military academy, but I'm guessing Sol already told you that. Er, what I mean is, sorry about the Moonstone. Ya see, I have this thing- well, I'm not supposed to talk about it in detail. But I have this, well, it's my Gift, it messes with Ark flow. That's how much I can say. It's probably my fault it blew up.”

  She stuttered a few times, but eventually managed to get her apology and explanation out. Arthur nodded, before shaking her hand properly.

  He was pretty sure that her Gift didn't have anything to do with the Moonstone blowing up, but didn't mention it. He assumed it was the result of his handling.

  Still, having someone that wasn't a prisoner, and that seemed amiable towards him, feel indebted to him, might not have been a bad opportunity.

  “I see. My name's Arthur.” He pondered over his words for a second, before adding, “I don't remember my last name, sorry. I suffer from amnesia, you see. I actually remember very little about my life before waking up in the prison.”

  He didn't know that body’s surname, nor did he know if Luria would be seen as a strange last name in that world. Or even in that region, although he could chalk it up to not being a native, in that case.

  But more than that, he felt that being amnesiac was a good excuse for his current situation. He didn't know how to handle magic related items, nor did he know much about Irminsul, without the Archive's help.

  In all of the novels he read with situations similar to the one he found himself in, he always thought why the main characters didn't use that as an excuse, instead of making up complicated stories.

  Well, he was going to try and save himself the trouble, at the very least.

  “An amnesiac? That's gotta be tough.” She pouted slightly, maybe pitying the other.

  “Though, it's nice to see your talent is still useful, right?”

  She pointed at his eyes, with a slight grin on her face. He didn't understand whether she simply wanted him to work as a Moonstone evaluator, or whether she wanted something more from his sight.

  “So, you're an amnesiac… Would you like me to tell you about the prison? Well, I guess you know some things already, right? But trust me, I'm an expert of this facility!” A smug grin appeared on her face once again, as she said that.

  Arthur thought for a moment, before nodding with uncertainty. He had a certain doubt in his mind. “Sure thing. Since you're here, I might as well enjoy some chitchat.” He wasn't lying, he really would enjoy talking with someone at the moment.

  “Alright, let me think! Hmm… You already know how the economy in here works, I guess, since you have a job. Oh, but you should ask to be changed to an evaluator!” Arthur sighed, she probably wouldn't leave him alone until he did that.

  “You wouldn't need to know about the mess hall or the common washroom, since guards lead you there… Well, you probably woke up in your room, so that's a no-go too…”

  Arthur chuckled quietly, listening to her. Her smugness was quickly disappearing, as she realized that there wasn't much she could talk to him about.

  In the end, a prison was a prison. He knew pretty much all he needed to know, to survive there. When and where to eat, where he could wash himself and his utensils, where he could go to work and how much money he'd make.

  Still, watching as she racked her brain, trying to think of something, was amusing. He moved his fist under his chin, resting his head.

  “What else, what else…” She looked Arthur up and down for a moment, before landing her gaze on the back of his hand.

  As if a lightbulb had lit up over her head, she seemed to remember something. She bumped her fist into an open palm, before speaking.

  “Right! Curse marks! Sorry, I'm not a prisoner, so I forgot about those… But they're really, reaaally important for you to know about, ok?”

  Arthur tilted his head slightly, before glancing sideways at the air. Promptly, the Archive popped up, typing away something about curses while Irene spoke.

  “Right, uh… Curse marks are… No wait, curses first, right? Right. Curses are a sort of ritualistic magic,” Another window popped up, explaining ritualistic magic, “but unlike other rituals, they, well, they affect people directly! You know, curses! They mess up your Archê refining, your Ark control, your Gift… All sorts of stuff.”

  Arthur glanced at the text window titled ‘Curses’. He wasn't expecting much from her, but that explanation was sufficient to understand the generic context. Still, he was curious about a more in-depth explanation.

  Strangely, even the Archive wasn't too specific. Apparently, curses were a form of ritualistic magic, which in turn was a kind of magic which called upon the favors of patron Gods for specific, set effects.

  Whereas rituals required specific conditions for strict effects, and often needed prayers or sacrifices to power the magic, curses required only the target's body to be effective. As he thought, Irene swiftly pulled up Arthur's upper piece of clothing. He tilted his head, confused.

  “Now, curse marks! Well, the actual name is longer, so don't mind that, They're curses mostly imprinted on prisoners and slaves, to reduce their Ark flow, so that they don't go berserk and try to escape.” She pointed at the carvings which marked Arthur's joints, making him look like a puppet, and suddenly he understood why she pulled up his shirt.

  “Yours look… Unique! But, well, most curse marks are different in appearance. You need to keep track of the victim's Ark flow, Archê reserves, how much Ark they can output, their preferred circuits, their Gift… It's a mess!” She shook her head, exhausted, like she had done it before.

  His gaze hardened, if slightly. He remembered that she was a cadet, and not a prisoner like him.

  Maybe, despite her amiable personality, she too had cursed prisoners before. Maybe she worked as a guard, punishing those that acted out.

  “Well, the ones on prisoners don't do too much, really. They just trigger on contact with other curses, like on locked doors or cell bars, and… They hurt a lot. Trust me, don't even try it!” Revealing more of her wrist, Arthur spotted a burn mark running along her arm. Maybe he got the wrong idea.

  “Now, other than curses, that's pretty much all… Oh, yeah, do you like reading?” She asked a seemingly unrelated question. “Well, I guess just as much as any other person.” That was a lie, he was a bookworm.

  “Well, there's a shared library, near the mess hall. The academy needed one anyways, and thanks to the prisoner well-fare laws being passed, it was built in a shared area.” Arthur winced in pain, as that body's memories showed themselves to him.

  Apparently, those were a set of laws, setting the standards on how prisoners should live. These laws included providing food and shelter to the prisoners, with a maximum of people able to be contained in a certain amount of space.

  They also included healthcare for the prisoners, through the free, common showers, and a medical bay present in the prison, and a level of entertainment for the prisoners, to avoid the holding facilities becoming slave camps. That's where the library falled, most likely.

  Arthur nodded. “I see, thanks for the information. I'll go check it out as soon as I'm discharged.” He smiled at her with a somewhat genuine smile, appreciating the company, but more than that, the information about curses and the library.

  “Is there anything else?” He tilted his head slightly, questioning her. With a deep breath, she spoke out.

  “Actually, there is.”