"Huh?"
Yona's breath hitched. Every ounce of colour drained from her face as she flung the blanket off her trembling body. Her bare feet touched the cold floor, but she didn't move—frozen, eyes wide, locked on the figure before her.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then her brows knitted together. One step forward. Her fists clenched at her sides. Another step.
"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, grabbing her by the collar.
The person didn't flinch. Her smile faded, lips settling into a line of eerie calm.
"How indecent," she murmured, her voice far too composed. "We could've talked like civil beings. No need for theatrics."
Yona's expression twisted—somewhere between desperation and disbelief. A breathy, bitter laugh slipped from her lips.
"Violence? Is that what you call this?" Her voice cracked. "You're a monster. An S-Level, aren't you? Do you creatures even understand what talking means?"
The doppleganger reached out.
Soft. Gentle.
Her fingers barely brushed Yona's, loosening her grip like silk slipping through the cracks.
Yona's hand dropped. Numb.
"That applies to you too, Miss Yona," Thalia whispered.
Yona couldn't move her hand for a second causing her grip to loose.
Thalia's smile returned—sweet, and an oddly weird aura around her.
"Now," she said lightly, "care to join me for tea while we have our little conversation?"
Yona stared at that smile.
And her stomach twisted in horror.
***
Kiaan's eyelids fluttered open. The first thing he saw was a dark red wall—blurred and unfamiliar.
"I—"He jolted upright, heart pounding. The room around him was cloaked in shadow, its crimson walls glowing faintly under the soft shimmer of red moonlight filtering through the curtained window at his left.
At a desk across the room, a figure sat with his back turned, lazily sipping from a glass. The table before him was cluttered with drinks—glasses filled with liquids of vivid, unnatural colors.
"Finally awake?" the stranger asked, still not turning, his voice calm as he sipped from an orange-hued glass.
Kiaan blinked in confusion. "Where... am I?"
"Home," the man said after a pause. "Or something like it. I've never really settled on a name." He set down the glass and reached for another, this one blue. The flickering lamp on the desk briefly lit his wrist—just enough for Kiaan to glimpse burn scars peeking out from beneath the oversized cloak.
Kiaan glanced down. His chest was tightly bandaged. He was shirtless. Oddly, the wound didn't even ache. He brushed his fingers over it. Numb.
"How's your wound?" the man asked, lacing his fingers and peering at the assortment of drinks, as if pondering which poison came next.
Kiaan narrowed his eyes. "Did you save me?"He didn't believe it. Couldn't. This man had no mana—Kiaan could sense it instantly. He was... just a normal human. Wasn't he?
"You're just... human, aren't you?"
"A human, you say?" The man's voice slowed, as if amused by the thought. "Maybe... or maybe not."
With that, he rose. A hood shadowed most of his face—until he turned.
Kiaan's breath caught.
Half the boy's face was charred beyond recognition, a grotesque mask of old burns. The other half, disturbingly unscathed, bore a sharp, inhuman beauty—pierced by a golden eye that gleamed like a cursed relic.
Around his neck hung a long, bone-like chain—vertebrae from some creature, ending in a tiny skull. His oversized robes hung loose, priest-like and tattered, as if borrowed from a corpse.
"I didn't save you," he said, leaning back against the table, fingers curling around the edge. "I baited you."
Kiaan's eyes widened. "You... what?"
"I sent your mother back into your life," the boy said simply.
Kiaan felt the blood drain from his face. His heart dropped like a stone.
"I'm the 'Master' she spoke of."
Kiaan stared in disbelief, fury simmering behind his eyes. "Why?" he whispered. "Why bait me? For who?"His fists clenched at his sides. Eye contact faltered—he couldn't hold it. The rage bubbling in his chest threatened to spill.
Across from him, the man casually flipped the chair backward and straddled it, arms draped over the top like he owned the damn world. A faint smirk curved his lips, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction as he drank in Kiaan's confusion.
"Chameleon," he said, like it was a joke only he got.
Kiaan's breath hitched. The name alone snapped his gaze back up, eyes wide. "Him? Out of nowhere?"
"I had to level Onis. Burn it to ash. Someone had to die," he began, voice disturbingly calm. "But there was already a Splinter lurking in the city. A powerful one. Too powerful. If I moved then, he'd have stopped me."
"So you threw me in as bait?" Kiaan's voice dropped, sharp with disbelief. "Let me guess. My mother's idea?" His brow twitched. "You knew my condition. You knew I'd gotten… close to him. I was being watched, wasn't I?"
The smirk deepened. "Didn't think it'd actually work," he said with a shrug. "But,—it did."
Kiaan scoffed. "So you knew Chameleon was there but somehow missed the other Splinter?"
"I figured it out," he muttered, rubbing his temple with a grimace. "After Chameleon left. That's when I knew. So I called off the explosions. But—"
Something clicked. Kiaan's eyes flew open. "It wasn't you."
The man's gaze darkened. "No," he said slowly. "Someone else triggered the explosions."
***
The door burst open with a loud clang as an Apostle officer stormed in, breathless."Sir! We found something!"
The conversation between the two seated men—Saurav, the President, and Luv, the sharp-eyed detective—came to an abrupt halt. Their quiet exchange over tea had just been shattered.
Saurav arched a brow, arms crossing slowly. "And what might that be?"
The officer sucked in air, his words tumbling out. "Under Meryt's massive spell circle—the one marked on the ground—we found remnants of another spell. Hidden perfectly beneath it. It looks like it was cast just a heartbeat before Meryt triggered the teleportation."
Luv didn't even turn around. "Picture," he said, casually extending his hand behind him while his eyes stayed locked forward on the President.
The officer rushed to obey, placing the photograph into Luv's waiting hand. Luv examined it slowly, gaze narrowing. His eyes flicked to the President, then back to the paper.
A thin smile crept onto his lips. "We might finally have real evidence."
Saurav leaned forward slightly, fingers laced together. "What kind of spell is it?"
Luv raised the paper as if to show it, voice cool and precise. "It activates any magical mechanism within a fixed radius. And in this case…" He tapped the photo. "That radius is Onis City."
Saurav's eyes darkened. He sank back into the sofa, legs spread, tension riding the silence.
"It's possible Meryt activated this spell right before teleporting everyone," Luv added.
A beat of silence.
His voice dropped.
"Which means… Thalia Verelith's death—"Another pause. A breath.
"—was a planned murder."