Outside Zunda's apartment, the corridor was quiet, its walls softly humming with residual energy from the systems embedded within. Amber had Zunda's meek personal assistant pinned to the cold metal wall. Her feet dangled above the ground, kicking slightly in a panicked flail. Amber's grip around her throat was firm, unwavering, and her eyes glowed a pale, unnatural white, radiating Ki. Her expression was cold and unreadable—like a predator interrogating prey.
"What's your name?" Amber's voice was low.
The girl said nothing at first, her lips trembling as her lungs fought for air.
Amber tightened her grip, just slightly—enough to make her feel the pressure on her windpipe, her bones. It was a silent threat that screamed "Answer or die."
"Agnes…" the girl finally choked out, eyes wide with fear. "My name is Agnes…"
