"Does… everyone get this second chance?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
I hesitated, then shrugged faintly. "I don't know… But it's possible."
"H… How can you tell?"
I didn't answer right away. My mouth opened but no words came out. I lowered my head and pressed my chin against the crown of her head, letting silence speak what I couldn't—until I finally forced the words out.
"…Because this is my second chance."
Her chest rose slowly at my words, like she'd caught something in them.
"…Was your past life… bad?" she asked.
I froze. My whole body trembled—from lips to legs, breath to bone.
"…It was."
Her expression shifted. Sadness quietly settled into her brows, and her lips quivered with a kind of empathy no child should ever have to feel.
"And… in this second chance," she continued, "were you able to choose a better path?"
That question…
It shattered something in me.
Tears spilled from my eyes before I even noticed. My nose burned, and I bit into my lower lip, trembling as I whispered back.
"I… practically chose the same path…"
Mina sighed—gentle, understanding.
But when I looked down, she was smiling.
"That's sad… that you lived a bad life before… and again now."
She paused, her small hand gently resting on my arm.
"But… I'm still happy."
I blinked.
Her smile deepened, eyes still heavy with pain but glowing with something far greater—love.
"I'm happy… because I met the best sister. Even though she was hurting so much."
"I… I'm not—" My voice cracked as I reached behind me, taking my Morphblade. The shimmer of a black dagger formed in my trembling hand. "I'm not the best sister. Not even close…"
But she shook her head.
"You're the best sister ever."
Her voice was so clear, so certain, it made my chest ache.
"I cherish you so much… so, so much, that if I ever get a second chance—
I'd want to meet you again, and be your little sister again, even for a second."
She glanced at the dagger in my hand… and then back at me.
Her eyes…
So wide. So open. So full of trust.
"Big Sister…" she whispered, her smile still as pure as ever. "Thank you.
Thank you for not letting me become a Ghoul.
For protecting me.
For staying by my side."
I wanted to speak. To say thank you back. To say she was everything.
But no words came.
So I just smiled.
And I nodded.
The blade moved, swift and silent.
My hand didn't hesitate—because it had done this a hundred times before.
But for the first time in my life…
It didn't feel like I hurt someone.
Because Mina…
She was smiling.
I took off my coat and draped it gently over Mina's lifeless body.
She looked so small beneath it… so still.
All I had on now was my old tracksuit, but it didn't matter anymore.
I lifted her carefully onto my back, tightening the belt around her to keep her from slipping.
A ridiculous gesture, maybe—she wasn't going anywhere.
But I couldn't bear the thought of her falling. Not even now.
And as if the world had been waiting for this exact moment, I heard them.
The moans. The gurgling snarls.
The Ghouls were coming.
Of course they were.
"Tsk…" I muttered, glancing at my hands.
No trembling.
I pressed a palm to my chest.
Steady breathing. Too steady.
I reached for my cheek. Dried up. Not a tear left to cry.
I drew a breath, slow and calm. Then reached for my Morphblade.
In an instant, it bloomed into a scythe—long, obsidian, and deadly in the dim light.
"This is the third day… huh?" I said aloud, my voice hollow. Just talking to myself.
The Ghouls kept coming, crawling, limping, dragging their grotesque forms toward me.
Their moans scratched at my ears, but never reached my heart.
Not anymore.
I crouched low, blade humming at my side.
"…I really need to get some sleep," I muttered.
Then I leapt into the fray.
I became nothing but motion.
Wind and death.
I cleaved through them like a storm given flesh.
Heads flew, limbs spiraled through the air, blood painted the walls.
My scythe sang its deadly song—carving arcs of finality through every monstrosity that dared step into range.
One Ghoul I kicked so hard, its ribcage shattered with the echo of bones snapping like dry twigs.
Another I lifted by the throat and slammed into the ground until it stopped twitching.
A torso went flying. A skull split open. A dozen more fell before I even exhaled.
I didn't know how long it lasted—minutes, hours… or maybe just forever.
By the time I stopped, silence fell like a curtain.
The world reeked of iron and rot.
Bodies littered the ground like broken puppets, and I stood atop the mountain they formed.
Breathing. Standing.
Alone.
The Ghouls still twitched below, mouths open in lifeless moans, but none could move.
I had incapacitated them all.
And on my back, wrapped in my coat and bound with care… Mina remained untouched.
Safe.
The only living and sane one left…
Was me.
Silence.
Thick, suffocating silence.
But it didn't bother me anymore.
And then—
Footsteps.
That sound...
His footsteps.
I lowered my gaze, slowly.
No frown. No clenched teeth. No anger.
Just… stillness.
There he was.
His white costume, pristine as ever.
His boots untouched by the blood that caked my tattered tracksuit.
Hair gleaming like he'd just stepped out of a shower.
Meanwhile, I looked like I'd clawed my way out of a nightmare. Because I did.
We were walking contradictions, him and I.
In his gloved hands, he carried the cat again—calm, purring, unbothered by the carnage around us.
He smiled, warm and polite, like he hadn't just abandoned me to hell.
"Hello, dear Lina," he said smoothly. "Did you enjoy the game?"
I scoffed, voice dry as bone.
"Better than Monopoly."
Karim chuckled, tilting his head, amused.
"Your sense of humor's still intact. I'm glad to hear that."
I pocketed the Morphblade and slowly made my way down the hill of undead Ghouls.
He didn't move—just followed me with those unreadable eyes.
I stopped a few paces from him. Two meters, maybe.
He took in the mess that I was—blood-streaked hair, hollow eyes, tattered clothes—and his gaze softened when it met mine.
"I take it," he began, "you're interested in picking a fight this time?"
I raised my hands slightly, gesturing to my chest, my legs, my worn-out state.
"Like this? Not a chance."
He nodded, almost pleased by the answer.
There was no vengeance driving me now.
No blind fury.
Only cold clarity—and exhaustion.
His gaze shifted slightly, catching sight of what I carried on my back.
Mina.
Karim arched a brow. His voice was softer now, more careful.
"We can help give her a proper farewell… if you'd like."
His smile—too calm, too kind—nearly made me grit my teeth.
Tsk.
How dare he smile like that?
I shook my head.
"I don't think she wants that."
He looked down at the cat, gave it a gentle pat.
A breeze ruffled our clothes and my hair somehow.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "She certainly doesn't."
I glanced at the cat resting in his arms, then back up at him, smirking faintly.
"So… what is it that you want?"
He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
My gaze rose to meet his. "You're not here to hand me some reward for surviving the game, are you? Not like I actually won anything anyway."
Karim parted his lips, then closed them again, curving them into an ever-familiar smile.
"I see your wit hasn't dulled. I'm relieved your time here hasn't chipped away at that sharp mind of yours, dear Lina."
I shoved one hand in my pocket. "Sure you are."
The air between us felt far too casual.
Too warm. Too… familiar.
Like we were old friends catching up after a long time.
Not strangers of three days wrapped in blood and silence.
He took a step closer—slow, deliberate.
But oddly, it didn't unsettle me.
"I assume you received Oliver's message?" he asked gently.
My brows drew in. "Message?"
Then it clicked.
That piece of paper I'd found stuffed in the coat pocket.
"…Yeah. I did. What about it?"
Karim's smile faltered, just for a second. "Ah, yes. That. It's on the tip of my tongue. I desperately want to be the one to tell you the truth myself. But… I made a promise to Oliver."
He dipped his head, almost apologetic.
"I gave him my word. The words have to come from him."
I crossed my arms. "So then what are you doing here? Dramatic build-up?"
He laughed—genuinely. "Perhaps a little."
Then he exhaled through his nose, expression softening.
"But more than that… I came to ensure something."
He stepped closer again, his tone earnest.
"I want to make sure you'll give Oliver a little of your time. That you'll… visit him."
I shrugged lazily. "Maybe."
His eyes sparkled with hope, and his smile widened. "Please. It would mean a great deal to all of us."
"…And if I don't?"
At that, he tilted his head slightly, letting out a faint sigh.
Then he turned halfway around, just enough for me to see what stirred behind him.
From the shadows, they emerged.
Ghouls.
Dozens.
Maybe hundreds.
Their moans slithered across the stone floor like a rising tide.
Karim turned back to me with a casual shrug, his voice light as ever.
"Well, if you refuse to lend us your time… We may have no choice but to act. Forcefully, if needed."
He smiled gently, as if he wasn't threatening me at all.
"But we'd really prefer if you did it of your own accord. It would make things… easier."
I stared past him at the creeping wave of creatures.
His words weren't wrapped in malice.
But the choice was clear.
And it didn't feel like a choice at all.
Those Ghouls behind Karim...
So that was the game.
Refuse, and I'd be thrown back into the meat grinder.
It wasn't like I couldn't handle them—case in point, the mountain of twitching living corpses stacked behind me. But I was worn thin. My limbs ached, my soul heavier than ever.
Sure, I might tear through them again.
But then what?
Another wave. And another. And another.
It'd be an endless loop of slaughter. No pause. No breath.
And that wasn't even counting the wild card—Karim.
If he got serious, it wouldn't matter how many scythes I conjured or how fast I moved.
I wasn't ready for him. Not yet.
The silence between us thickened. Stretched like brittle glass about to shatter.
Now it really felt awkward—like it was supposed to.
Then—
BUZZZZZZZ
A sharp pulse tore through my nerves, electric and unmistakable.
That surge of Flow—it shot through my core like lightning.
My eyes snapped to Karim.
He tried to hide it.
He really did.
But the slight stiffening of his shoulders? That tiny shift in his stance?
Yeah. He felt it too.
I tilted my head toward the ceiling.
Well, technically the surface's ground.
Two Flow Signatures cut through the stone like beacons in a storm.
One shimmered silver.
The other pulsed with a mossy, chaotic green.
Chunks of debris began to rain down. The ceiling groaned.
They were breaking through.
A smile crawled across my face.
I took a single, deliberate step backward.
Karim's brow arched slightly, his voice gentle. "May I ask why you're stepping away? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?"
Tsk.
Still playing it cool, huh?
Even as the sky caved in above us, he kept that faux innocence draped over his shoulders like a cloak.
But I just kept grinning and shook my head.
"Nah. Don't worry," I said, casual as ever. "You didn't make me uncomfy at all."
Then I raised my head high—like a conductor soaking in the ovation before the final movement.
"It's just…"
I exhaled, heart swelling.
"My freaky mentor took so damn long, I almost forgot how much I missed him."
BOOM.
A section of the ceiling exploded.
Dust, rock, and light cascaded into the room as two figures emerged from the gaping wound.
A tall man with long, unruly black hair landed first, one hand resting on the scabbard at his hip.
Beside him floated a woman in a flowing black dress. A wide, witch-like hat obscured most of her carrot hair, casting a shadow over her pale face. Only her neck and hands were visible—everything else was hidden in elegant mystery.
Karim looked up at them, calm and unbothered.
"Oh? So this is the Flow we sensed earlier," he said with a soft chuckle.
I folded my arms and grinned wider, smug now.
"It's theirs, alright."
My eyes locked onto the man.
"You really took your damn time up there!"
"You're late, Lou."