SWNOVELXO Chapter 23: Chapter 17.5
CHAPTER 17.5: THE BROKEN MIRROR
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The Hidden Base
The hidden base of the Choir of Sins was buried deep in the ruins beyond Eden's barrier... a cathedral of ash and silence where the world's screams had come to rest. The oval shelter, the black dawn..
Here, Lust walked alone.
The tunnels beneath the sanctuary were cold and narrow, lit only by the faint glow of black sigils scrawled across the walls. Every step she took echoed louder than she liked. She could still feel Rei's blade grazing her arm, still hear his quiet accusation in her ears.
"You should stop… or I'll stop you."
She clenched her fist at the memory.
And when she reached the final door... a black steel arch cut into the foundation of the dead cathedral... the two guards in Choir masks stood aside wordlessly, allowing her through.
The leader was waiting.
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The Masked Leader
He sat on the edge of the dais at the center of the chamber, the sigils around him humming faintly, his white mask catching the dim light. Clone 3... though Lust did not know his name. She knew only what the Choir called him: the Voice.
He did not rise as she entered. Did not even look at her at first. He only drummed his gloved fingers against his knee, as if thinking through a melody no one else could hear.
When he did finally turn his head toward her, the mirror-smooth mask was unreadable.
"You're late," he said. His voice was calm. Smooth. Deceptively kind.
"I was almost killed," Lust replied coolly, though her chest still burned with the memory of Rei's steel at her throat. "Your Choir didn't exactly warn me about how… persistent the boy can be."
The Voice tilted his head faintly.
"You didn't succeed."
It was not a question.
"No," Lust admitted, jaw tightening. "I couldn't sabotage the Cradle fully before Rei intervened. He's… sharper than I expected. Too sharp."
The masked leader let the silence stretch between them.
Then he rose, walking to her with slow, deliberate steps. Even with the mask, she could feel the weight of his gaze.
"You are not here to explain failure," he said softly. "You are here to survive it."
Lust flinched... just barely... at the words.
"I…" she began, then stopped herself. She forced her shoulders back and held his gaze. "I'll do what you ask. For now."
The Voice inclined his head faintly. "Wise. Stay here. Lay low. You've drawn the Prophet's eyes, and I'd rather not lose a piece before it's useful. I will instruct you when the next verse is ready."
He turned his back to her then, already dismissing her. She stayed a moment longer before leaving the chamber and stepping back into the lower tunnels.
Her hands were trembling now, though she hated herself for it.
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The Mirror of Memory
In the quiet of her assigned room... a small, stark cell with a single mirror cracked across its surface... Lust sat at the edge of the cot, staring at her own reflection.
Her mind wandered backward.
Always backward.
Back to before she wore her Observer's mirrored skin.
Back to when she was only a young woman with a name she'd since buried, sitting in the pews of the Church beside Zero.
He hadn't yet called himself Prophet then. Only Akira.
They'd been told it was a holy mission. They'd been told Paku's son... Elian... was chosen, that his bloodline carried a spark of grace no one else in Earth could match. A divine candidate, they called him. A perfect little saint.
The first time she saw the boy, she knew it was a lie.
He hadn't even been old enough to understand why his hands shook when the priests drew blood from his veins. Hadn't even understood the words "ascend" when they whispered it to him like a blessing.
She had stood there in the cathedral watching Zero who seemed different from the kind and loving human being to a calm, calculating, already rehearsing the speech he would give the Observers to justify it. To justify using a child as the cornerstone of his godhood.
And when she'd raised her voice, when she'd said "This is not grace... it's cruelty," he'd only smiled faintly and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You will understand in due time... and see the big picture." , infront people he said...
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The Blackmail
She still heard his words now, as she stared into the cracked mirror.
"If you speak another word of this," Zero had said, "I'll tell Mr. P what he doesn't yet know. I'll tell him who signed the first order for his wife's 'quarantine.' I'll tell him why he never saw her body."
She had frozen then, her breath catching in her chest.
Zero's fingers had tightened just slightly on her shoulder.
"You were there," he'd whispered in her ear. "Don't forget that."
She hadn't said another word after that. Not for years.
Not while they built Eden's glass towers over a foundation of lies. Not while they branded her 'Lust' and sat her on her throne with the others.
Not while she stood beside him, year after year, watching him weave his threads tighter around Luther, around Paku, around the boy buried deeper than even Paku couldn't find.
It had taken her years to stop trembling.
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The Night of the Offer
Until the night the Choir found her.
She'd been standing alone in one of Eden's upper spires, watching the ash fall through the barrier lights, when she'd felt a presence at her back.
A voice, soft and calm and amused.
"You're very good at playing statue," it had said. "But even statues crack eventually."
She'd turned then to find the masked figure... the Voice... standing there, hands folded neatly, as though he owned the room.
"You're wasting yourself on his lies," he'd said. "All he'll ever see in you is another pawn. But you could be… more."
She hadn't answered him at first.
She hadn't needed to.
When he held out the black sigil, her hands had moved almost on their own.
And that night, for the first time in years, she'd slept without dreaming of Zero's hand on her shoulder.
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The Oath
Now, in the quiet of her room beneath the cathedral, Lust traced the cracks in the mirror with her fingertip.
She could still feel the weight of the sigil in her coat pocket.
She could still hear the Voice's words: More.
More than just another pawn. More than just another observer to his divine cruelty.
Her reflection in the mirror didn't smile.
It didn't weep.
It only stared back at her with quiet fury.
And as she rose to her feet, she spoke softly into the silence.
"Never again."
Her hands clenched into fists.
"Never again will I let him use someone like that. Never again will I let him carve another child into a weapon. Never again will I stay quiet while he wraps himself in prophecy and calls it righteousness."
The words burned like a prayer. Or a curse.
She stared at her reflection one last time.
And whispered:
"Never again will I let injustice prevail."
Her reflection cracked just a little further.
But this time, she didn't look away.
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Closing Image
In the cathedral above, the Choir's song rose faintly, a dark and dissonant hymn that carried through the stone walls.
And in her room below, Lust stood motionless, her fists still clenched at her sides.
When the Choir finished its verse, and silence returned, she exhaled.
And for the first time in years, she felt alive.
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END OF CHAPTER 17.5: THE BROKEN MIRROR