The sound of the small refrigerator — nearly rusted, motor rumbling — being opened echoed through the narrow kitchen.
Nemor observed every corner of it. There was nothing. It was completely clean — only steam rising from the pot he'd left on the stove earlier. The small window above the sink let weak light in, illuminating dust suspended in the air.
He closed the refrigerator. The cold metal stuck to his fingers for a second before releasing.
He stared at the kitchen again, sighing:
"There's really no way around it..."
He headed to the stove. Turned the knob — click, click, click — until the blue flame rose with the soft sound of burning gas. He grabbed a small aluminum pot dented on one side, filled it with water from the tap that came out cold, and placed it over the fire.
He cooked spaghetti.
The water began to boil gradually, small bubbles appearing at the edges before transforming into a full boil. Steam rose in waves, humid and hot, sticking to his face.
Minutes later, he carefully held three bowls — old but clean ceramic. He placed spaghetti in each one using an old fork. Just spaghetti. Nothing else. There was no sauce, no seasoning besides the salt he'd thrown in the water.
He carried the bowls to the living room.
When he arrived, he found Yuna and Hana seated on opposite sides of the table in the center of the small room. Their eyes pierced each other through the space — Hana with eyebrows trembling intensely, arms crossed so tight her fingers turned white.
She stared at Yuna with a mixture of visceral fear and contained rage.
Flashes returned like lightning in her mind. Mei being thrown. Body colliding with the post. Blood. The nauseating sound of impact. All without Yuna even touching her.
Her mind was too disturbed to process, oscillating between wanting to flee and wanting answers.
When Nemor placed the bowls on the table, the small sound of ceramic against wood echoed. A warm aroma — simple but comforting — rose in thin spirals of steam.
Yuna swallowed hard at the sight of food. Large eyes fixed on the bowl as if it were treasure. She asked quickly, voice still maintaining that disturbing innocence:
"Oh, mister... can I eat now?"
Nemor stared at her:
"Sure. Help yourself."
At that instant, she grabbed the bowl with both hands and the two wooden chopsticks. She ate brutally — stuffing spaghetti in her mouth in absurd quantities, barely chewing, almost ignoring her own breathing. Cheeks swelled like balloons before swallowing.
Nemor screamed mentally:
What an animal.
He looked at his own bowl:
"Speaking of which, I'm hungry too."
When he grabbed the chopsticks, the voice — that perverse and excited voice — echoed in his mind:
"What a magnificent smell... my lord... my lord is..."
Pause loaded with sickly excitement.
"My lord is worthy of a creator."
Nemor almost choked on the first piece of spaghetti.
He said mentally, jaw clenched:
Sasha, when are you going to stop talking to me like that?
The formal voice responded immediately:
"My lord, I just heard the same voice. It wasn't me." Pause. "If you give me time, I could analyze where exactly it's coming from."
He narrowed his eyebrows but continued eating.
When he looked at Hana, she was just staring at the bowl with evident disdain. Looking at the food as if it were poison.
Just spaghetti? What is this? Is it even healthy?
The fear of being near that girl was enough — with eleven crosses whose meaning she didn't know, a girl who almost killed her friend. Now she had to face that bowl of food too.
Nemor asked:
"Aren't you going to eat?"
Hana was startled — she was completely disconnected, lost in thoughts. Her voice trembled as she responded:
"Y-yes... of course I'm going to eat!"
"Then eat already. If you just stare at it like that it'll get cold."
Yuna's voice emerged, mouth still full:
"Miss, can I eat yours too?"
Her bowl was empty — clean to the point it seemed like it never had food, as if she'd licked it until it shined.
Nemor's eyes widened.
Hana responded firmly:
"Of course not!"
Yuna became completely calm, just waiting.
Hana grabbed the chopsticks with trembling fingers. She thought while looking at the white pasta:
Am I going to die?
She was totally confused. But with the worst courage she could muster, she put some in her mouth.
The taste of each strand of spaghetti melted on her tongue — warm, simple, but unexpectedly comforting. Balanced salt. Soft texture.
There was no mercy.
The food was devoured in a matter of minutes. When she realized it, she had already finished everything — bowl as clean as Yuna's.
---
Minutes passed in absolute silence. Only the sound of breathing and occasional movement of clothing.
Nemor had also stopped eating.
Hana then broke the silence, voice coming out weak:
"Tell me... who are you people, anyway?"
She still trembled visibly.
"Why are you after me?"
Nemor assumed a serious position, opening his mouth to respond. But Yuna was faster:
"Because you're important to us, you know? He said that you can exterminate the—"
She didn't finish.
The house door was opened gently — but the sharp creak of old wood echoed like a scream.
When they turned to see who it was, Nemor's eyes widened.
His parents were entering.
Mrs. Wan was in front, holding a cloth bag with potatoes visible through the thin fabric. Mr. Yeager was right behind, clothes still dirty from field work — dirt stuck to the hem of his pants, sweat stains on his armpits.
When they faced the table where Nemor was seated — no, not just Nemor, but with two other people — their world seemed to stop.
This is impossible! Is this real?
Mr. Yeager's eyes widened intensely. Tears began to form in the corners, shining under the weak light of the room. They streamed down his cheeks in wet trails as he whispered through sobs:
"My baby... my baby has grown so much..." Voice broke. "I always knew you have lots of friends!"
At that instant, Mr. Yeager circled the table with quick steps, grabbing Yuna and Hana's arms simultaneously. Tears fell freely now, dripping on the wooden floor.
Nemor looked at Mrs. Wan, desperate:
"Mom, could you take dad upstairs?"
Mrs. Wan approached and gently grabbed her husband's arms:
"We need to change. Let the kids talk."
Mr. Yeager became serious for a moment, wiping the tears:
"You're right. I'll be back in two minutes."
They climbed the stairs — each step creaking under weight. But Mr. Yeager's eyes didn't leave that table, looking over his shoulder until they completely disappeared on the second floor.
Hana broke the awkward silence:
"So you don't have friends?"
Nemor stammered:
"That's not it! I have plenty!"
Yuna tried to continue:
"So, as I was saying, you can—"
Sasha's voice cut everything off:
"My lord, twelve hours have been completed."
There was no time for him to say a single word.
In that narrow room, the air vibrated violently. Blue rays intertwined with black exploded from nowhere, covering Nemor's body completely. The pressure made the bowls rattle on the table. Artificial wind rose, knocking down a paper napkin that floated before falling.
Hana's eyes widened in absolute terror, witnessing that up close for the first time. It wasn't just Nemor covered by those impossible rays.
Yuna's body was also enveloped — blue and black lights dancing around her like electric serpents.
When everything dissipated abruptly, silence dominated.
Only Hana's trembling body remained there, heart beating so fast it reverberated in her eardrums. Nemor and Yuna were no longer there. Silence was all that remained.
---
Somewhere else — infinitely distant but instantaneously close — the blue and black rays appeared brutally. When they disappeared, they brought Nemor with them.
When his foot landed on the ground, he found an all-too-familiar texture. Irregular earth covered by fog.
He faced the same grayish sky as always. But the black mists danced with different intensity — more absurd than normal, totally dense. It made bones seem to freeze just from being exposed.
When he turned his gaze to the left side, he observed.
Sun was there. Approximately two meters away. Vivid red hair swayed with the intensity of the mist pressing like storm wind.
Upon seeing Nemor, he frowned completely — a mixture of surprise and irritation.
But when both realized the environment, they noticed.
They were in a place with scattered debris, but walls still rose around them — they saw less through the thick fog, but the structure of the place, the size, was like an ancient temple. Broken columns. Crumbling arches. Stones engraved with symbols erased by time.
Sun averted his gaze from Nemor, facing the impossible structure:
"What the fuck is this?"
Both their clothes swayed with strong wind that shouldn't exist.
Then, from the mists five meters away from them, a creature appeared.
It emerged like a solidifying ghost — first a vague outline, then details forming.
Closed eyes. Grayish skin like ashes from a dead fire. But on its forehead there was something different — a times symbol (×) and two golden crosses that glowed intensely even through the fog, emitting unnatural light of their own.
Long, grayish hair fell over skeletal shoulders, undulating slightly as if submerged in water.
Upon seeing that creature, Nemor clenched his fists instinctively, preparing himself.
Shadows emerged at Sun's feet like spreading ink. They materialized into a long black sword — serrated blade that seemed to suck the very light around it. He gripped the handle with enough force to make his fingers hurt.
The creature was approaching. Slow steps. Deliberate. Eyes completely closed — but somehow, they saw everything.
Then a distorted and sinister smile appeared on its macabre face. Lips opened revealing gray and irregular teeth. The smile widened — much more than humanly possible, tearing beyond the corners of the mouth.
That smile caused a physical shockwave in both their bodies. As if the temperature had dropped ten degrees instantly.
Then it came out. One word. Then another. Dragged syllables, coming out as if being ripped from a throat full of ground glass:
"I..."
Pause of three seconds.
"Will..."
Another pause.
"Love..."
The smile widened even more, skin tearing at the corners.
"Killing..."
Last agonizing pause.
"You."
The smile now occupied half the face, impossible and disturbing.
Nemor and Sun felt the purest chill run down their spines — not simple fear, but primordial terror before something that shouldn't exist.
Sun said, voice coming out terrified:
"How the hell... can this sleeper talk?!"
Sasha's voice echoed in Nemor's mind — calm and formal as always, contrasting with the horror of the situation:
"My lord, this sleeper is completely different from everything you've witnessed."
Heavy pause.
She continued, each word falling like stone:
"Danger level: Failed Archangel."
The world seemed to stop.
The creature took another step.
Then another.
The smile didn't diminish.
And its eyes still remained closed — but somehow, they saw directly into their souls.
END OF CHAPTER 10