The shop was dimly lit, filled with the faint buzz of flickering lights and the lingering smell of burnt oil. Assad was slumped in one of the cracked seats in the corner, his gaze fixed on the flickering glass window.
Every few seconds, he found himself hoping to catch a glimpse of her Mischa. Just the thought of her made his jaw clench.
His mind raced, replaying the chaos inside the prison: the flames, the screams, and the horrifying sight of the other guard turning to ash. He tightened his fists in frustration.
He still hadn't fully mastered his power. Not even close.
"Damn it…" he muttered under his breath. The memory of that cursed fire consuming her alive gnawed at him. He'd managed to save one, but lost the other.
Maybe Kiichi was right. Maybe he really was too weak.
He stared at his hands the same hands that brought destruction, no matter how good his intentions were. Across from him, the surviving guard sat trembling, her eyes red and distant. He wanted to say something, to apologize, but the words just wouldn't come.
Outside, the afternoon leading to night was eerily still. The silence stretched on, with only the faint hum of the broken ceiling fan filling the air.
Finally, the guard broke the quiet, her voice soft and uncertain. "...Are you okay?"
Assad blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Huh? Yeah… yeah, I'm fine," he replied, though his tone revealed more exhaustion than truth.
Another wave of silence settled in awkward and heavy. Neither of them knew what to say next.
Assad leaned back, rubbing his temples before glancing at her. "Don't you think it's time we… introduced ourselves?" he suggested with a faint smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm Assad. What's your name?"
The guard hesitated, looking down. "Mya," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Assad nodded slowly. "Mya, huh… that's a nice name. Doesn't quite fit a guard, though."
She let out a nervous chuckle, almost forgetting her fear for a moment.
Assad caught a glimpse of a soft chuckle escaping her lips, a genuine sound that felt almost out of place given everything they had been through. For just a moment, he let a smile break through.
"You should do that more often," he remarked.
Mya blinked, a bit puzzled. "Do what?"
"Smile. It looks better on you than fear does."
She turned her gaze away, a hint of color rising to her bruised cheeks. The warmth that had briefly sparked between them faded as Assad's expression turned serious once more.
"…I'm sorry for prying into your life," he said softly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "But I have a question."
Mya narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing the gravity in his voice. "About what?"
Assad paused, gathering his thoughts before he spoke.
"Do you remember when your sister mentioned those briefcases could save your families?" he asked cautiously. "What did she mean by that?"
Mya went still. Her face darkened, and the light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a heavier weight.
Assad noticed right away and raised a hand.
"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. Just forget I asked."
She shook her head slowly.
"No… it's alright," she replied, her voice more composed than before. "You have a right to know. It's fine that you asked."
That took Assad by surprise. For someone who had been on the verge of breaking down just moments ago, her calm demeanor now felt… odd. Almost rehearsed.
He leaned back a bit, studying her features. There was something in her tone the quiet acceptance, the weight behind each word that told him there was much more to this story than she was revealing.
Mya opened her mouth, ready to say something. "Those briefcases… they—"
But then she stopped, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes going wide with sudden fear.
"Wait…" she whispered, clutching her chest. "It's… not time yet."
Assad frowned, confusion etched on his face. "What do you mean 'not time'? Are you okay?"
"Don't look!" she hissed, trembling now, her voice cracking with panic.
"Mya, what's going on?" Assad stepped closer, trying to steady her shaking shoulders, but she flinched away violently.
"I said don't look!" she screamed.
He froze, but it was too late. His gaze dropped, and what he saw made his stomach churn.
Her legs were changing. The skin shimmered and warped, turning slick and scaled — blue-green light rippling across her flesh as her feet melded together into a tail. A mermaid's tail.
Assad stumbled back, his mind racing to comprehend what he was witnessing. "What the hell—"
Before he could finish his thought, the transformation flickered like static, the scales dissolving, the glow fading away. Her legs returned to normal, though faint traces of the scales still shimmered in the dim light of the shop.
Mya gasped for breath, drenched in sweat. "You… you weren't supposed to see that."
Assad stood there, frozen, his eyes wide, words caught in his throat.
Assad let out a slow breath, his gaze locked onto Mya's trembling hands.
"…Should I even ask?"
Mya averted her eyes, her voice barely rising above a whisper. "No."
A faint smirk tugged at Assad's lips as he shook his head. "You know you'll end up sharing anyway."
For a brief moment, she hesitated, then nodded, gripping the edge of the table tightly. "Those briefcases you're carrying… one of them is packed with cash."
Assad raised an eyebrow. "And what about the other one?"
Her eyes darted to the floor, her voice dropping even lower. "…JABE."
At first, the name didn't register with him. "What's JABE?"
"I don't know everything," she replied, shaking her head. "But from what I've heard… it's a drug. One that can turn us—" She paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air. "—beastkin into humans."
Assad's expression shifted, his grip on the briefcase handle loosening.
"Turn you into… humans?" he echoed, disbelief creeping into his voice.
Mya nodded once, guilt flashing in her eyes.
Then it struck him.
A vivid, violent memory surged through his mind.
He remembered walking through the streets that night, sticking to the shadows, when a man in the crowd suddenly began to convulse. Skin rippled, bones cracked, and fur erupted in jagged bursts. In mere seconds, a tiger-faced beast replaced the man, its voice a twisted mix of human and monster.
"GIVE ME THE DRUGS!"
Assad's eyes widened, the echo of that growl reverberating in his mind. The same desperation. The same demand.
He muttered under his breath, almost to himself. "So that's what he meant…"
His gaze returned to Mya, her eyes still haunted by the past.
Mya swallowed hard, her voice quivering as she began to share her story. "I… I came to the human world with my older sisters. The one you… killed… that was Molly. We had two other older sisters — Nui and Ano."
Assad's eyes widened in shock, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue.
"We were all adopted by a man we saw as a father. He took care of us, loved us… but he had one flaw. He was a drunk. Every Saturday and Sunday night, after he'd had too much, he would beat us."
Her hands tightened into fists, knuckles turning white. "One day… he almost hurt Ano — our oldest. That's when we knew we couldn't stay. And then… we ran out of money."
She paused, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I once overheard him on the phone. All I caught was… 'Good. Meet ya at four.' Eventually, he told us we were going on a trip somewhere. We were curious… even excited. He smiled and said, 'We're going to the Fōrokku-wan… Forrock Bay.'"
They had been so happy. They jumped and laughed, thinking it was a real adventure. But when they arrived, black cars were waiting.
From one of them stepped a man, sharp as a black panther, dressed in a suit. His gaze swept over them. "So… these are my products. You've kept them well all these years. Here's your money."
With a snap of his fingers, one of his guards handed him a briefcase. He thanked them coldly. Ano asked, trembling, "What's… going on?"
The man flashed a cruel grin, reminiscent of Lloyd Frontera. "You useless beasts. Wasting my money… pretending to be drunk, living lies… but it was all worth it. Now I'm rich beyond measure. Sayōnara… you worthless bitches."
The sisters' screams shattered the air, jagged and raw, echoing off the walls of the empty street. Molly clawed at the side of the black car, her nails scraping against the cold metal. "No! Please! Come back!" she cried, her voice breaking with fear and fury.
Nui's hands shook violently as she reached toward him, tears blurring her vision. "Father! Don't leave us! Please! We… we need you!"
Ano, the eldest, her chest heaving, screamed through her sobs, "I'll do anything! Take the money back! Just… just don't leave us here!"
The engines of the black cars roared to life, their tires screeching against the pavement. The sisters screamed louder, their voices overlapping in a chaotic mix of terror and heartbreak. They pounded on the doors, clawing at the windows, their cries sharp and ragged.
"Stop! Stop! Don't do this!" Molly shrieked, tears streaming down her face like rivers. "We didn't mean to—please! PLEASE!"
But the cars didn't stop. The street swallowed their desperate cries. In just moments, the black vehicles disappeared, leaving behind only the fading echoes of their screams. The sisters were gone.
All that was left was a haunting emptiness. Their hands, reaching out toward nothing, trembled in the still air. The world felt cruelly silent in the aftermath, as if it had consumed their sorrow whole.
Mya's voice quivered as she continued. "After we were sold… the dealer—" she swallowed hard, "the black panther in a suit looked at all of us. He only saw Ano and Nui as… useful." Her eyes darkened with shame and fear. "Because of how… developed their bodies were for mermaids."
She glanced down at her trembling hands. "Then he looked at Molly and me… and said we were still too young. But… he made us a deal. If we could get him a drug… called JABE… and 2 million yen, he promised he wouldn't auction… or worse, hurt our older sisters."
Assad's fists clenched, his silver eyes narrowing. He wanted to say something, anything, but Mya pressed on.
"We… we agreed. Molly and I… we agreed because saving Ano and Nui… that was all that mattered."
Her voice cracked, small sobs breaking through. "That's why… why we stole the briefcases from you, Assad. That's why Molly… she said…"
Her words faltered, and she buried her face in her arms. Assad knelt beside her, unsure of what to say, his heart pounding as he instinctively reached out.
"Mya… hey, it's okay. You—"
A voice sliced through the air, smooth, cold, and dripping with amusement. "How truly… heartbreaking… of a fairytale."
Both Assad and Mya froze.