The silence after Deckfern's words hung like a blade in the air.
"Well then... let's see who I pick next."
Heroca felt his pulse hammering in his throat.
Chiko stiffened beside him, Claous's jaw locked, and Ziva's fingers trembled as she clutched her own wrist. For a moment, no one dared to breathe. The single lightbulb overhead swayed, its faint hum louder than their heartbeats.
Then-hisssss.
Gas leaked into the room. Thin, invisible, but burning sharp in Heroca's nose. The same suffocating fog Claous had described before. His lungs tightened. His eyelids grew heavy.
The world around him smeared and softened like melting wax.
Not again.
Heroca tried to fight it, but his body betrayed him, knees buckling. He fell hard against the cold floor.
And then—
A hand.
Out of nowhere, a hand pressed firmly over his mouth and nose. Not Claous's. Not Chiko's. This hand wasn't even fully human.
Its texture felt wrong, like scorched skin patched with something hard beneath. He opened his eyes wide in shock-yet realized no one else could see it. Claous and Chiko were already slumped, unconscious.
The hand gripped tighter. And with it came that deep voice.
"Trust. Act asleep."
The words rumbled through his skull, not the air. A growl, low and commanding.
Heroca's body screamed to resist, but his mind... something in his gut told him to obey.
He let his limbs go slack. His chest slowed, shallow breaths feigned. He went still.
The door clanged open.
Heavy steps entered.
Heroca cracked his eyes open just a sliver, vision blurry. And there he was-Deckfern.
...
Up close, he wasn't just grotesque. He was wrong. His left hand and arm were mangled, burned black, with jagged pieces of metal embedded straight into his flesh, welded there like punishment. His long white coat hung unevenly, stained with brown, stiff blotches that were too old to be rust. His face
—Heroca's chest tightened-was stitched like a broken doll's. Cuts, scars, lines where skin had been torn and resealed. One eye flickered faintly green, mechanical light pulsing with every movement. The other was sunken and raw, bloodshot to hell.
Deckfern's presence wasn't human anymore.
It was weight.
Heroca wanted to rise, to lunge, to tear him apart. But the unseen force pinned him down, locking every muscle.
The doctor loomed closer-not toward him, but toward Ziva.
She was helpless. Unconscious.
Heroca's heart banged against his ribs
as Deckfern crouched, studied her face as if she were a puzzle piece. A soft chuckle rolled from his chest.
"You'll do," he muttered, and with one arm-his human one—he lifted Ziva like a doll and slung her over his shoulder.
Heroca's rage surged. His fingers twitched against the floor. He almost forced himself up But the grip of that unseen power crushed him down.
And the voice whispered again.
"Don't."
Heroca froze. The pressure lifted only once he surrendered, muscles trembling. His body was his again, but Ziva was gone.
The door slammed. A metallic lock clicked into place. Silence.
Heroca pushed himself up at last, chest heaving. His fists shook. He stared at the locked door with a murderous glare.
That bastard. He took her.
The others remained slumped, still under the gas. Heroca pressed his back to the wall, trying to steady his breath.
"Hey," he whispered, voice raw, "what do you want from me? Are you even helping? Or just playing games?"
No answer.
Heroca grit his teeth. His voice cracked louder, desperate. "If you're really there-if you're really helping us-then tell me how to get out of here! Tell me how to stop him!"
The silence stretched long. Too long.
Then-like a nail dragged against glass-the voice returned.
"Door key... costs one finger."
Heroca froze. "..What?"
The voice repeated, clearer this time.
"One finger."
He blinked fast, trying to make sense of it.
"You're saying... you want my-"
The understanding hit like ice water. His stomach turned.
The voice didn't elaborate. Just waited.
Heroca's chest rose and fell faster. He wanted to scream at it. To refuse. But Ziva's pale face flashed in his mind. Deckfern's monstrous hand gripping her like she was nothing.
There wasn't time to think.
"I accept."
The words slipped out before he could doubt them.
Pain erupted instantly.
Heroca screamed through clenched teeth as his left index finger convulsed. The bone beneath his skin wrenched itself out with a sound like wet wood cracking. The nail split, flesh tore, blood slicked his hand as a jagged shard of pure white bone twisted free. His vision blurred, black at the edges.
The pain wasn't clean. It was blinding, grinding, endless. His jaw ached from biting down. The room tilted.
Then it stopped.
The bone in his hand... changed. Its torn, wet edges smoothed, sharpened. Shaped themselves into a key.
And before his eyes, his finger regenerated-skin knitting over new bone, though weaker, wrong. His finger bent stiff, unresponsive, like it belonged to someone else now.
Heroca slumped against the wall, chest heaving. His hand trembled violently, blood drying on his knuckles.
The voice rumbled, satisfied.
"Now... you hold freedom."
Heroca stared down at the grotesque white key clutched in his palm. His breath shook.
Not freedom. A debt.
Minutes crawled by before the others stirred.
Chiko was first, pushing herself up groggily, hair sticking to her damp face. Claous followed, coughing, clutching his stomach.
Heroca didn't wait.
"He took her." His voice was hoarse but certain. "Ziva. Deckfern took her."
Chiko blinked fast, eyes widening. "What?
When?"
Heroca's jaw tightened. "While you were all out."
Claous cursed under his breath, slamming a fist against the wall. "That bastard... first Lila, now her-"
"We'll get her back," Heroca cut him off sharply. His eyes burned with anger. "No matter what."
Claous shot him a bitter glare. "And how, exactly? We've got nothing. No weapons. No strength. We're rats in his cage."
Heroca lifted his trembling hand. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers to reveal the key.
The pale, jagged bone glinted in the swinging light.
Claous's eyes widened. "Wait. Is that what I think it is?" He stepped closer, voice low, unnerved. "That's... that's bone. Your bone."
Chiko's lips parted in shock. "Heroca... what did you do?"
Heroca closed his fist tight around it. His jaw clenched. "I didn't have a choice. Call it a curse, call it whatever the hell you want-but I've got a key. And it'll get us out of this room."
Claous swallowed hard, watching him. Then he nodded once. ".
"...If it gets us out, I don't
care how you got it."
Chiko lingered on his hand, worry shadowing her expression. But she nodded too.
Heroca stepped toward the door. His hand shook, but he forced the key into the lock.
The bone slid in smoothly, unnervingly perfect, like it belonged there.
...
Click.
The lock turned.
Heroca gritted his teeth and twisted harder.
The door creaked. Opened a crack. Cold air poured through.
He pushed it wider.
And what lay beyond froze them all in place.
It wasn't a hallway. It wasn't a corridor.
It was something else.
Something that made Claous curse under his breath, Chiko instinctively grip Heroca's arm.
The kind of sight that empties the blood from your face.
Heroca stared, breath stuck in his throat.
What he saw left him blank.