Chapter 4: Writing Against Oblivion

The moment Yeaia vanished, Klein moved.

He didn't waste a second hesitating. His instincts—sharpened by months of life-or-death encounters—told him that this thing, this entity, was more dangerous than any Sealed Artifact or High Sequence Beyonder he had encountered.

Because even the most powerful beings left traces.

And yet, Yeaia did not.

Klein grabbed his notebook, flipping to the blank page from before.

It was still empty.

He pressed the pen against the paper, forcing himself to write.

"Yeaia Nolas exists."

The ink disappeared.

Not faded. Not smudged.

Just… gone.

Klein's hand clenched around the pen.

No.

No matter what Yeaia was, he would not forget.

"Yeaia Nolas exists."

This time, he carved the words into the page, pressing hard enough to leave indents in the paper.

Again, the ink vanished.

But—the indentations remained.

Klein's eyes narrowed. So that was how it worked.

Anything written in ink would be erased. But the act of writing itself could still leave an imprint.

He exhaled, steadying himself. If ink wouldn't work—he would carve the words into reality itself.

Reaching into his drawer, he retrieved a small silver pocket knife. A mundane object, nothing supernatural. But it would serve its purpose.

With precise movements, Klein carved the letters into the wood of his desk.

"Yeaia Nolas exists."

He watched. Waited.

The words remained.

Klein let out a breath. Good.

Yeaia might be able to erase memory, might be able to erase words written in ink, but they could not erase action.

Klein stared at the carved letters, committing them to memory.

"If you want me to forget," he muttered under his breath, "then I'll remember harder."

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A Question Without an Answer

Hours passed. The city of Tingen moved on as it always did, unaware that something impossible had slipped through its cracks.

Klein, however, did not rest.

He sat at his desk, notebook open, carefully marking down everything he could observe.

1. Yeaia appears without a trace.

2. Yeaia is not bound by normal memory.

3. Their existence is actively erased by something unknown.

4. They claim to be 'closest' to a Fool Pathway Beyonder, but not quite.

5. They mentioned a 'He' who is interested in me.

Klein tapped his pen against the paper, his thoughts circling the final point.

"He."

Who was watching?

Was it the Fool? No—if it was, he would have sensed some divine revelation from above the gray fog.

The Lord of Mysteries? Impossible to say.

But who else could influence something like Yeaia?

Klein frowned. If Yeaia was truly a Beyonder—or something close to one—then what Sequence did they belong to?

More importantly, how did they reach such a state?

A knock at the door broke his thoughts.

Klein stiffened.

His revolver was in reach. His spiritual intuition gave him no warning.

But that meant nothing where Yeaia was concerned.

Slowly, carefully, Klein stood.

He moved to the door, his fingers brushing against his gun as he turned the handle.

The door opened.

And there—leaning against the doorframe, with the same lazy expression as before—was Yeaia Nolas.

They hadn't knocked.

Klein knew that.

But here they were, waiting with the air of someone who had been there all along.

"You're stubborn." Yeaia sighed, ruffling their black-and-white hair. "Did you really carve my name into your desk?"

Klein didn't answer.

Instead, he studied them.

They looked the same as always. Relaxed. Dreamlike. As if they were never truly present in the moment.

But something had changed.

For the first time, Klein saw it—a flicker of something behind their eyes.

Not amusement. Not playfulness.

Something deeper.

Something like… tiredness.

"You don't like that, do you?" Klein said carefully. "The fact that I remembered."

Yeaia's smirk didn't fade, but their gaze did not meet his directly.

"It's… inconvenient," they admitted. "But it's not really up to me."

"Then who?"

Yeaia exhaled, glancing past him, into the room. Their silver-gray eyes landed on the carved words on his desk.

"You're not supposed to remember me, Klein Moretti." Their voice was quieter now. "And yet, here you are."

A beat of silence passed.

Klein took a step forward.

"Why?"

Yeaia was still for a moment.

Then, slowly—they smiled.

But this time, it wasn't amusement.

It was something else entirely.

"Because, Klein," they murmured, "maybe you were never supposed to forget."

And in that moment—

Klein understood.

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End of Chapter 4

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