The moment I realized what held me, my vision blurred and a crushing dizziness overwhelmed me. It had been the simplest of touches—no tangible substance. Yet a horrifying fear pressed down on both body and soul like an incoming tide. From my toes up, an oppressive weight slithered like thick mud, filling my throat and choking my breath. A colossal hand enveloping my entire body. A gaze so high above that I couldn’t gauge its position. An overwhelming disparity that made the thought of resistance impossible. As I struggled to exhale, a voice whispered in my ear—its presence so minimized that it felt like a gentle murmur. [It seems conversation is impossible in this state.] Then—thud—my body was dropped. Beneath my feet was soft ground; my lungs unclenched and I managed to open my eyes. Darkness surrounded me. Not ordinary night, but a void where sun, moon, and stars never existed. Suddenly, a table and chairs appeared. From the blackness, a radiant silhouette drifted onto one of the chairs. Silver hair, long and flowing like a cascading waterfall, fell over her pure white robes, trailing onto the floor. The ends of her hair scattered moonlight across the obsidian ground, spreading out like a river of starlight. A goddess. No other word came to mind. She was impossibly beautiful, elegant, and suffused with a sense of the divine. Pale gold-flecked silver eyes fixed on me. Instinct told me I should kneel—but I forced myself to remain standing. Her voice carried majesty. Yet it felt oddly misaligned with this void. It was—too much. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⚫𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⚫𝕟𝕖𝕥 “You’ve conjured my image.” The Crescent Moon spoke. “A deity one might sense within the moon. And you resemble the Little Moon as well.” R-Really...? If Seonghyunje had a mother, she might look similar. After all, she’d contributed to making him who he is—dropping him into countless worlds, then letting him carve his own path. Arguably, an irresponsible parent. I steeled myself and approached the table. I never expected to meet her here. My hand rattled as I pulled out the chair. Once seated, I unclenched my fist and rubbed my palm against my pants. “First—what happened?” “I borrowed your body for a moment.” “You had already accepted me, and other transcendent powers you held within you. Then, by your own will, you became a groom in the wedding hall—making it all the ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) easier.” So, because I’d willingly entered her ceremony as the groom while already linked to her power, I’d effectively invited her to seize me. “Does this mean you could take control of my body again?” “It will not be easy. Your world is shrouded in the Mist of the Harmless King and shaken by the disappearance of the Chatterbox. Under such conditions, only a convergence of multiple factors could allow this to happen.” In reality, it was nearly impossible—fortunately. I opened my mouth to speak but only managed to twitch my lips. I had so many questions, so much I wanted to protest, yet I felt like a child before an adult. “For one... I don’t think forcibly dragging someone across worlds is right.” My attempt at protest sounded feeble. The Crescent Moon, however, exuded patient calm—no trace of hostility. “Indeed. I trampled upon a human life and now seek to destroy that existence entirely.” “...Could you not do that?” “I cannot grant that request.” Of course not. No matter what I said, she wouldn’t relent. It was like shouting at an immovable mountain. My anger, my tears, my pleas—none would budge her any more than sun or moon crossing the sky. I felt utterly hopeless. And shockingly, it seemed natural—no urge even to rebel. Yet the fact she still conversed with me... “Is there anything you wish of me?” Her silver eyes curved gently—eerily reminiscent of Seonghyunje’s gaze. “For now, child, know this: I do not view you as an enemy.” “...Even though I interfered? I will keep interfering—so long as you threaten Seonghyunje and Song Taewon.” “The Eclipse holds the power to erase the very existence of the Little Moon. Yet you have been nourishing the Little Moon.” “Before the cycle, the Little Moon was also sustained by you and the Eclipse.” I clenched my teeth. Seonghyunje’s being, once reaching near completion, had been forced to pause. I and Song Taewon had given him new experiences. ...By helping cause Director Song’s death before his loop, and by driving Seonghyunje to leave Korea. I had been complicit, whether by intent or not. And even now. If not for the fragments removed by Yul’s help from the pre-cycle Seonghyunje within him, he’d have been full to bursting. Perhaps he’d still be filling gradually—my very existence was aiding the Crescent Moon. She fixed me with a gentle gaze. “You will not stand idly by as the Little Moon is devoured by the Eclipse.” “That’s not for your sake.” I met her eyes as fiercely as I could. “I only wish that those I love may live their own lives.” “All lives must end.” A spread of refreshments appeared on the table. Sweet scents drifted past my nose; I ignored them. “I understand your desire to protect the Little Moon. But that child must face an ending as well. If not now, then someday.” No matter how hard I fought to protect Seonghyunje, Yuhyun, Yerim, and the rest, an end would inevitably come. Everyone knows that. But— “Still, living is worthwhile. What’s wrong with having an end? We live for that. Living is just... living. Because I’m alive.” I don’t ponder the meaning of life or why we live destined to die—I never cared for such debates. “Your Little Moon still wants to live—as herself. So ‘one day’ matters not. If she wants to live, that is enough. Nothing more is needed.” Why tack on extra meaning to life. Sure, one might strive for improvement—think and act. But mere existence is enough. The Crescent Moon smiled—as if in understanding. “I imagine you’ve already guessed much.” “I intend to create a being to replace the Source.” Could she really speak so freely? But I had no choice but to keep her secret. If the Source’s goal became known, the one in greatest peril would be Seonghyunje himself. Knowing that, she spoke so openly—trusting I would protect him. “A new god, perhaps. The Little Moon is fitting to become a guardian of worlds. She cares for those who strive—for all beings impartially. If she shed her self-awareness, leaving only that innate care, she would become a god unlike the Source—precisely the deity you all desire.” ...She seemed capricious yet fair. If she erased her ego and kept only impartial compassion— “But you are unwilling, no?” “Once a new god is born, the Source will vanish.” Not persuasion, but a statement of fact. “Your world would become safe.” “How can I believe that?” “At least the Source will no longer swallow the world. Transcendent interference will end. Your child will live in peace for countless years.” The Source gone. A god based on Seonghyunje would take its place. “And that god would... be you.” “To guide a power devoid of ego, one needs a steward. I will not tell you to trust me. But child, I will grant whatever you desire.” The chair beneath me rattled. I sprang up. I could no longer listen. I wanted to bolt—but there was no exit. “I will let you share your life with your sister. I will restore your lost sister to you. To disentangle the soul that long ago returned to the Source may be impossible—but I can recover her body whole. After that, I and the other Transcendents will withdraw completely from your world. If you wish, the dungeon may remain—reset, but safe.” ...Everything I had ever wished. “You can live happily, for a long, long time.” With no more fear of loss or uncertainty. It was sickeningly sweet. A twisted sweetness that made me laugh hollowly. I couldn’t voice my doubts—she would fulfill every promise, without deviation. My jaw trembled. “One thing, though: if you perform a task for me.” I couldn’t ask what it was—but her words continued. “On the first day of the sun, at the ceremony that begins a new life—if you carry out that ritual perfectly, I can return the Little Moon to before her bond to your world, and safely restore her. If you even restore the mana stone from your arm, she will wax to a full moon.” When all is prepared. “In a space I prepare, the Little Moon will become full—safe, without affecting your world.” A new god will be born. “There are two ways to ensure the ceremony’s success. One: countless people recognize the union of two with no prior bond. Two: two people with the deepest, strongest connection unite. So, child...” Her voice dripped honey. “Before the day ends, present the wedding of the prepared bride and the Little Moon to the people of your world.” The broadcast equipment still remained. It was entirely possible. “Or, have the Little Moon wed the one with the strongest bond—either you or the Eclipse. Though I reside in your body, the Little Moon does not perceive your current self as you; you must perform it yourself. Until sunrise, you may use my power.” “...Director Song could do it right now, if he wanted.” “If I forcibly guided him, could the Eclipse safely complete the ceremony?” ...No way. Director Song would either die or slay Seonghyunje. I laughed again. If I surrendered Seonghyunje, everything would end—perfectly, a happy ending—for everyone except one. Not just me, but countless worlds would be safe from the Source. Truly a torturous sweetness. I thought of Yuhyun—still gripped by unfounded anxiety. My sister, lying in the snow. Yerim, too—a child still too young for such danger. And the others. Tears welled behind my laughter. I fought to contain the flood of emotion. “I—I hate sweets......” But it was far too sweet. My relatively small body was lifted lightly. If she tightened her grip, my neck would snap in an instant. Seonghyunje met my gaze with that calm smile, silver eyes binding me. A soft tinkle. Seonghyunje tossed Han Yujin aside, stepping away at once. Moonlight pierced through the ceiling, descending as silver chains that impaled the floor. Han Yujin’s body struck beneath the clock, which trembled as it passed midnight. Golden chains curled around Seonghyunje like living fetters. Under the seeping moonlight, currents sparked like stars. Gold and silver flickered across the veiled face, casting dizzying shadows. “You treasure this child, do you not?” Han Yujin—the Crescent Moon—rose, moonlight dripping around her. Seonghyunje’s fingertips wrapped the flowing veil. “Of course, I cherish her dearly. So—” Clang! Chains met chains, weaving together in an instant. A thick golden chain was bound by slender silver ones. They enveloped drifting moonlight. A blinding flash of gold banished all around. In that white glare, Seonghyunje’s hand shot forward like teleportation, his fingertips grazing Han Yujin’s nape. Mercy was surely active—but— A streak of black shadow formed on his fingertip, carving a crimson line across Han Yujin’s skin. At the same time, Seonghyunje’s boot slammed into the marble, swinging his other leg in a powerful arc. Thud—Han Yujin’s back collided with the wall again. Crack. Shoved into the wall, Han Yujin’s throat was seized once more by Seonghyunje’s hand. Hidden behind his body, she was unseen. Han Yuhyun and Song Taewon cried out, strained and pained. Seonghyunje ignored their cries and looked down at the form in his grasp. The clash of metal reverberated. “I will kill Han Yujin as Han Yujin.” His golden eyes shone with a cruel light. “A single chance remains.” A death from which there is no revival. “I want to witness for myself how you look at me, what you say and do. To lose that one opportunity would be a tragedy.” “More than your life?” If he would so easily forgo even that one chance, he wouldn’t have survived until now. The Crescent Moon smiled—a clear, bell-like sound. Her hand lifted, brushing against Seonghyunje’s cheek. No matter what happened, she would live her own life. “My unchanging Little Moon.” Crack. Countless shards of moonlight rained down. Golden chains shattered, scattering across the white floor. Blood spattered crimson. White robes were stained scarlet. The veil, soaked in blood, hung heavily. Countless piercings in her torso. Her hair and form unrecognizable. Song Taewon screamed. Noah gasped in shock. Only Han Yuhyun continued to stare at the Crescent Moon—at his brother—searching for any trace of him. The fallen body twitched. Immediately after death, it rapidly regained its shape. No sooner had it exhaled a ragged breath— Moonlight cascaded again. The blood-soaked form tumbled down the steps. The Crescent Moon’s foot pressed the red veil as she approached the dais’s edge. Han Yuhyun, watching intently, widened his eyes. Han Yujin spoke, her voice tinged with sorrow and regret. “Escape from me, Seonghyunje.”