Eve lifted her pale wrist. Several gashes were knitting themselves together at a pace visible to the naked eye—a recovery as eerie as Lloyd's own. Terror washed across her face. She didn't know how Lloyd achieved such things, but she knew instinctively that nothing about this was benign.
"I… am I corrupted?"
Her voice trembled. She shouldn't have told Lloyd. If she truly had been tainted by a demon, he—being who he was—would not hesitate to cut her down. Yet Eve also understood the nature of demons; their corruption was far more terrifying than death. Between those two fears, she chose honesty.
"No…"
Lloyd studied her for a long time before he finally spoke.
"Demon corruption requires many specific conditions. And someone who's tainted twists and mutates instantly—like Sabo. But you didn't. You're stable… unnervingly stable. Almost like me."
"Like you?" Eve ventured.
Lloyd didn't answer. He rose from the sofa and walked toward her. Flames slowly ignited within his pupils as the power known as Secret Blood awakened inside him.
Only after a long while did that fire fade. Lloyd returned to his seat, confusion clouding his gaze.
"There are only a handful of outcomes after contact with demons. Judging your condition shouldn't have been difficult, but…"
At that but, Eve instantly straightened, sitting as stiffly as a schoolgirl awaiting discipline.
"Eve, there are some things that, once you've brushed against them, you'll never escape. Demons are one of those things."
"In my knowledge, there's a category called a medium. Most people don't possess such a capacity. Even if darkness drifts near them, they remain untouched. Think of it this way—demons and humans live in the same world, the same city, yet demons can't properly see us. We appear to them as blurred smudges… and likewise, they're invisible to us."
Lloyd's voice deepened, gaining an almost arcane resonance. Something unseen seemed to seep into the room—everywhere and nowhere at once.
"But if you learn too much about the dark… the connection strengthens. And in their eyes, you begin to take shape. At the same time, you start to see them."
He let out a humorless chuckle.
"Take me, for example. I'm a walking human medium. With just a trace of certain herbs, my second sight opens—and I see what the living were never meant to."
"Eve, if you want to understand your condition, you'll inevitably learn these things. And once you do, you'll sink deeper. The demons hidden in the fog will sharpen into clarity. You'll gradually become a medium yourself, hunted by shadows you can't escape."
His gaze sharpened, turning grave.
"So the choice is yours. If you seek the truth, you'll strengthen your bond with the dark. Maybe years from now, the connection will fade… but no one can guarantee what happens before that. The door to the abyss stands before you. Whether you step through depends on you."
Eve fell silent. She understood him. Once she knew the truth, her fate would be sealed—dragged toward a forbidden depth she could never climb out of.
"I have a few questions," she murmured. "Will I… become one of those things?"
"Without direct contact with demons? Unlikely. Your state is too stable."
"This anomaly… did it begin tonight?"
"No. Tonight's chaos was triggered by impure Secret Blood. But your condition… it started long before that."
Long before?
Meaning she had crossed paths with demons years ago—perhaps without even knowing?
Her fingers tightened until her knuckles whitened. She stared at Lloyd. At some point, the detective had slipped back into his more familiar form—no longer a cold-blooded executioner, but a lazy miscreant slouched into a comfortable sofa.
Her life had come to a crossroads.
And after long contemplation, she answered with all the seriousness she had.
"…Tell me."
Her eyes were unwavering—steadfast in a way Lloyd hadn't seen in years. The last time he'd witnessed such determination, he'd still been a priest in Fiorenze, listening to children declare their future dreams with stubborn, innocent conviction.
"Can I… know the reason?" he asked quietly. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't go anywhere near these monsters."
Thoughts flickered unbidden—Sabo's twisted end, etched in blood.
Eve's expression dimmed. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke—calmly. Almost frighteningly calm.
"When I was little, I used to have the same nightmare. I didn't know what it meant. I only remember a single scene, repeating endlessly."
"A woman lying asleep in bed. I couldn't see her face, but she felt familiar, almost warm. And then… something crawled out of her stomach. Something like the demons we've seen—it clawed its way out of her."
"I could never see what it was. Every time I was about to, I'd wake up terrified."
"I stopped dreaming about it for years. But the night before my mother died… I saw it again. And the next day, she was gone."
Her voice cracked into a whisper.
"At the funeral, she was laid in a coffin filled with flowers. I—I don't know what drove me, but when no one was looking, I lifted her clothes."
Curled into the sofa, she held her head in both hands.
"And on her stomach… there was a scar. A long, jagged scar—as if something had once torn its way out from inside her."
"I had forgotten most of this. But like you said… as the connection deepens, the memories return. If I keep going, I think I'll finally understand."
This nightmare had followed Eve her entire life. She thought she had escaped it—but age only sharpened its edges. Like Death crawling from that scar, stealing her mother's soul.
She once believed it was all imagination.
But after tonight, everything was cast under the shadow of demons.
Lloyd looked at her—deeply.
Everyone was like this. Eve believed she had a choice. But the darkness, like a swamp, never released those who stepped near its edge. She thought she could refuse—but fate always finds its reasons.
"…I hope you won't regret it," Lloyd murmured, reaching into the sealed corners of his own buried memories.