I was kneeling on the ground, crawling like a child as I scrawled across the paper, occasionally glancing up at the wall.

  This wasn’t because of Rafe’s request—his standing with me barely warranted a trial run, or a half-hearted performance for show. But this situation was entirely different. What I was staring at were irregular lines appearing mid-air, colors flowing along their paths in dazzling cascades that left me dizzy with awe.

  The source of it all—the slab—was placed on the chair where Father Brown had been sitting. It looked like an ancient rectangular block, its corners rounded smooth with age. I saw no marks of human craftsmanship on its surface, yet the moment I laid eyes on it, vibrant color seeped from its weathered pores, rising against gravity to form increasingly intricate patterns before my eyes.

  Faced with such a vision beyond this world, I had no room to wonder whether Rafe or Father Brown could see what I was seeing. My Skill resonated violently, and an overwhelming flood of information poured into my mind, even making me forget—momentarily—the object I’d hidden deep inside my abdomen.

  “I need more paper. As much as you can find. Crayons too. And chocolate… the more the better.” That was all I could manage to say before reason finally collapsed. I must have looked terrifying—enough to make both Rafe and Father Brown take a step back, brows furrowed. Father Brown gave a quick nod, and Rafe bolted from the room. The sound of the door slamming behind him rang in my ears like thunder.

  Honestly, Rafe was being ridiculous. He actually pushed the tray of supplies toward me with a stick, like I was—like I was a wild animal ready to pounce! I stuffed my mouth full of chocolate, gulping water to wash it down, all while mentally cursing him. At least the chocolate had come from an air-conditioned room, so even after clawing through who knows how many pieces, my hands remained miraculously clean. I spread the sheets across the floor, one by one, and began marking key structural points.

  Now the entire floor was my canvas. Father Brown had curled up atop a file cabinet in the corner, looking more like a hunched reaper than ever before—looming from the highest point in the room, glaring down at me.

  I chose to ignore him, just as I’d ignored Rafe.

  This prison-like building didn’t seem to have many personal belongings. The chocolates—dozens of brands and shapes—were clearly scavenged from multiple sources. As for coloring supplies, there were crayons, highlighters, pencils, markers, even lip liners and eyebrow pencils. Only the paper came in a solid, unified stack of sketch sheets from the same supplier.

  My mania subsided slightly only when I was recording what I saw, and it was then I began to notice such important details. It was clear that my reaction had not been anticipated by the Ainsworth clade, and neither were my demands anywhere close to normal.

  I lost count of how many times I had glanced up at the writing on the wall when I saw Father Brown holding up a crucifix, his lips moving rapidly.

  Enough already. I had neither the will nor the energy to assault an elderly priest. One hand kept drawing frantically, while the other struggled even to peel open chocolate wrappers, let alone flip him off. Spitting out a mouthful of foil in frustration, I pressed too hard and snapped the lip liner, leaving a jagged, deep red streak on the paper.

  "No, still not enough… not enough…"

  I used every pencil down to its final, useless stub, but I no longer needed such tools.

  Colors streamed vividly both in front of and beneath me. The colors I saw came from the stone slab, and the colors flowing across the paper…

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  I gazed into the one-way mirror mounted on the wall, feeling calm and profoundly content.

  This was the end of everything—and also its beginning. The answer I'd sought lay in a corner of this image. It was the endpoint of all existence; anything could find its ultimate here, becoming ultimate itself.

  My body was becoming as beautiful as Tuesday’s. My skin was flowing into the air like pigment, each color separating neatly—pink, white, and yellow droplets gently drifting toward their destined places.

  Then came the blood, that most beautiful red of all…and the bones, a soft, ivory white.

  My God, how magnificent it was, to transform into something so close to absolute beauty!

  The meaningless chanting joined the formation of truth—though filtered through beauty, even this was acceptable.

  I turned toward Father Brown. "Do you wish to meet your God?"

  "No," I smiled softly. "Do you wish to embrace your God and become part of Him, devout believer?"

  The sound of the door crashing against the wall disrupted the harmony. Like last time, Rafe had kicked the door open, legs trembling as he carefully maneuvered around the solidifying truth, approaching me slowly.

  "Hey, listen. I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have brought you here. No…please let me fix this mistake, alright? Look at me…just look at me…"

  "No mistake." I stood, stepping toward him on legs already melted down to bone.

  Rafe paused briefly, then continued to inch toward me.

  "Before you finish, please explain it to me. It's a huge project, isn’t it? You’ll need a lot of time." He stretched out a shaking hand toward me, his voice slow and trembling.

  Interestingly, the transformation wasn't necessarily from outside inward. Take my chest cavity, for example—it had started from within. Through the gaps between skin and bone, I could even see the wall behind me reflected clearly in the mirror. My hands were an elegant combination of remaining flesh and bare bone, the borders between the two colors harmonious enough to dispel anyone's fear of flesh.

  "Don’t worry," I reassured him softly, holding his trembling hand. "This is my choice. It won't affect anyone who doesn't wish to witness the ultimate. This is the most beautiful miracle that's ever happened to me."

  "No, no, no, no, no, not like this... The diamonds! The contract! You promised—you have to finish the job! You must activate the Life Furnace, and in return, I promised I'd help you find the answers you're seeking." Rafe’s expression twisted into desperation, before suddenly turning eerily calm, his eyes glowing with a light beyond description, a dazzling beauty I'd never known. "No breach clause means no matter what happens, it must be completed."

  Everything came to an abrupt halt.

  This wasn’t my intention. My will, in fact, had already merged with my body, evolving toward something more perfect. A promise written irrevocably into my Skill could not violate the nature of Skill itself—

  "What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

  Rage tore all rational thought from my mind as I slammed Rafe against the wall, nearly crushing his jaw with my bare hand.

  "Thank you… thank you, God… thank heavens…" Rafe wrapped his arms around my fully restored body, embracing me tightly, as though enclosing me like iron hoops around a barrel. "Of course I know. This is exactly the result I wanted."

  I had absolutely no desire to listen to the idiotic nonsense coming from Rafe's mouth and somehow tore myself free from his grip.

  This time, the pounding on the door was louder than ever before, even cracking the one-way mirror with a faint, delicate fracture.