The Red Room didn't feel like a trap.
That was the trap.
Warm amber light spilled through the curtain, soft as candle glow. The air smelled faintly of tea and cedar and something heartbreakingly familiar—like a home Lina couldn't quite place.
False Mira stood beside the opening, porcelain mask perfect, voice sweet.
"You passed the test," she whispered. "Now come pay the price."
Kai's hand tightened around Lina's wrist. "Don't."
Lina swallowed. Her bones still hummed with the aftershock of that false memory, like her mind had bruises.
Inside the Red Room, Mira stood maskless—eyes wide, face pale—frozen in place as a Veilbound handler rested gloved fingers at her temple like a lullaby with claws.
Mira's gaze met Lina's for one raw second.
Help.
Seren's voice trembled. "The room is quiet on purpose. It lowers defenses."
Reyon tried to smile and failed. "I hate places that look like a luxury lounge but feel like a coffin."
Lina's flame flickered gold at her fingertips, then pulled back. Fire was a beacon here. Truth was a beacon. Even looking too hard was a beacon.
So she did the one thing they'd locked into survival.
She took Kai's hand—firm. Full palm contact.
Anchor.
Kai's breath hitched, his eyes dark under the mask.
Lina leaned in, voice low. "We go in together."
Kai's jaw clenched. "That's what it wants."
Lina stared straight at Mira. "Then we go in anyway."
Seren stepped in, grabbing Lina's free wrist. "We keep contact. No breaks."
Reyon latched onto Seren's sleeve with a shaky grimace. "Great. Human chain into the murder lounge. Very normal."
The curtain brushed Lina's shoulder as they crossed—
—and the ballroom sound died instantly, as if someone had closed a door on music.
Silence pressed in.
Not empty silence.
Listening silence.
The Red Room was smaller than it looked from outside. Plush chairs. A low table with cups already set. A velvet rug that swallowed footsteps. The walls were a deep, soft crimson—like the inside of a heartbeat.
No mirrors.
Which somehow made Lina feel exposed.
A voice drifted from the far corner, warm and intimate:
"Lina…"
Her mother's voice again.
Lina's throat tightened.
Kai squeezed her hand, hard. "Say your name," he murmured.
Lina forced breath into her lungs. "Lina Veris."
"Stay real," Kai said.
"I'm here," Lina whispered, and the mother-voice faded like mist denied attention.
The Veilbound handler didn't turn.
But the room spoke.
Not in words.
In pressure.
A question forming in the space between their heartbeats.
A toll.
False Mira stepped into the Red Room behind them. The curtain fell, sealing the outside away like it had never existed.
Her voice changed slightly—still Mira's tone, but layered with something older.
"Payment," she said pleasantly. "A doorway doesn't open for free."
Reyon swallowed. "We already paid with trauma. Isn't that enough?"
The Veilbound handler finally looked up.
Porcelain mask. Blank smile.
It spoke without moving much, voice smooth as polished stone.
"A memory," it said. "A name… or a bond."
Lina's ribs burned.
🧵.
Kai's death symbol.
Bond severed.
The handler's gaze slid to Kai's wrist.
"Founder's law recognizes you," it murmured.
Kai went rigid.
A chill crawled up Lina's spine. "Don't you touch him."
The handler's blank mask tilted, amused. "We won't. The Council will."
Seren's eyes flared. "Mira—can you move?"
Mira's lips trembled. Her body didn't.
Then, faintly, her voice slipped out—thin, terrified:
"Lina… don't—"
The handler's fingers pressed lightly at her temple again.
Mira's eyes went glassy.
Silenced.
Lina's flame surged in her bones—anger hot enough to taste.
And the Red Room laughed.
Not a sound.
A ripple of warmth that made Lina's anger feel suddenly exhausting, like the room wanted her to lie down and stop fighting.
Reyon's breath stuttered. "Oh, I hate that. I hate cozy evil."
Seren's hand tightened around Lina's wrist. "It's sedation. Emotional anesthesia."
Kai's voice dropped. "It wants you compliant."
Lina's gaze locked on Mira.
"Let her go," Lina said, voice steady.
The handler's mask didn't change.
"Payment," it repeated.
False Mira stepped closer, and for a split second Lina saw something wrong behind the eyeholes—like the person inside was wearing the mask from the inside out.
"What do you fear the most?" Lina snapped suddenly, using the Three-Question Trap like a blade.
False Mira smiled. "Losing you."
"Who do you miss when you're alone?" Lina demanded.
"You."
"What word do you hate being called?" Lina whispered, voice deadly.
False Mira's smile widened. "Selfish."
Lina's stomach turned.
Fake.
Seren whispered, "Too perfect."
Kai's gaze sharpened. "Not her."
The handler spoke, bored. "You can't quiz your way out of payment."
Reyon's voice cracked. "Worth a try."
Then Reyon flinched hard.
Because an illusion flickered in the corner—something he didn't cast.
A figure in a chair, head bowed, mask half-melted into porcelain.
Then another.
Then another.
People Lina didn't recognize.
All sitting quietly as if they'd been invited to rest.
Reyon's eyes widened in horror. "That's… not me."
Seren's breath hitched. "Your sticky illusions are catching on the room. It's reflecting your residue back—making it real enough to scare everyone."
A chair creaked softly.
One of the "seated students" lifted its head—
and smiled at Lina with Kai's face.
Lina's heart slammed.
Kai's grip tightened instantly. "Don't look."
But Lina already had.
The fake Kai in the chair opened his mouth and whispered:
"Frame her. It will keep her close."
Lina's skin went cold.
Mirror Tax trying again.
Reinforcing the false memory.
Lina shut her eyes hard, breathing through panic. "Not real. Not mine."
Kai's voice was low, fierce. "Say your name."
"Lina Veris," she gasped.
"Stay real," Kai said.
"I'm here," Lina whispered, and the fake Kai's voice faded like a bad dream denied oxygen.
Seren took a shaky breath and lifted her chin. "I'm borrowing," she said, voice trembling. "I need the last words in this room."
Kai snapped, "Seren—"
"I know," Seren whispered. "But I need the rules."
Seren closed her eyes.
Echo Borrowing pulled the air tight around her like invisible hands.
When she spoke, it wasn't fully her voice anymore—older, fractured, exhausted:
"I left… but my laugh didn't."
Lina's chest tightened.
Mirror Tax.
A harmless memory taken.
Seren's borrowed voice continued, quieter:
"The door takes what makes you human… so you'll fit the mask."
Seren flinched, choking as another whisper slipped through her mouth—soft, not hers:
"Pay in truth."
Seren's eyes snapped open, terrified. "It spoke back again."
The handler's mask tilted. "Good. You're learning."
Kai's wrist suddenly burned—white-hot.
His Oathbreaker mark flared under the glove like a living brand.
And from somewhere outside the Red Room—through the walls—came the Councilor's voice, amplified by runes, ceremonial and cruel:
"By Founder's law… swear obedience."
Kai staggered.
Lina tightened her grip so their hands didn't break contact.
"Don't," Lina whispered fiercely.
Kai's breath went ragged, pain cutting through him. "I—won't—"
The mark flared brighter.
The Red Room seemed to enjoy it.
The handler spoke softly, almost tender: "Choose."
Lina's blood turned to ice. "Choose what?"
"A memory," the handler said. "A name… or a bond."
Lina looked at Mira—frozen, terrified, alive.
Then at Kai—shaking with pain, fighting control.
Then at Seren—voice stained with dead echoes.
Then at Reyon—horrified by the residue of his own mind.
Lina swallowed hard.
"I pay," Lina said.
Kai snapped, "No."
Lina squeezed his hand. "Yes."
Her flame rose—small, controlled—gold like a vow.
"Take something harmless," Lina whispered to the room, voice shaking. "Take a smell. A song. Something small."
The Red Room fell perfectly still.
As if considering.
The handler's mask leaned in slightly.
"And if it wants something bigger?" it asked, almost curious.
Lina's ribs burned.
Her tether pulsed.
🧵.
Kai's symbol.
Bond severed.
Lina forced her voice steady.
"Then it'll have to fight me for it."
The Red Room's warmth surged—accepting the offer like a mouth closing on candy.
Lina gasped as something slipped out of her mind—soft and bright—vanishing.
Not Mira's laugh again.
Something else.
The scent of rain on stone.
A harmless comfort.
Gone.
Lina's eyes stung.
The handler lifted its fingers from Mira's temple.
Mira swayed, suddenly able to breathe again.
And Lina surged forward, still holding Kai's hand, pulling Mira into the chain with her free arm.
Touch.
Anchor.
Mira clung to Lina like a lifeline, shaking.
"I—I heard you," Mira whispered hoarsely. "But the room—Lina, it makes you… want to stop."
"I know," Lina whispered, throat tight. "We're leaving."
False Mira smiled. "No," she said softly.
The curtain at the entrance didn't open.
Instead, a second doorway appeared behind the handler—one that hadn't existed.
A thin slit of darkness, edged with red light.
The handler's voice softened like an invitation:
"Payment accepted," it murmured.
"Now… the doorway."
Lina's breath caught.
Because she understood with sudden clarity—
the price wasn't just a memory.
It was a direction.
A forced path.
A door that didn't lead back to the ballroom.
And above that new doorway, letters carved themselves into the air like fresh wounds:
DOWN.
Kai's grip tightened.
Mira's nails dug into Lina's arm.
Seren whispered, terrified, "Below."
Reyon's voice broke. "The cage."
And the handler's mask smiled blankly as the door opened wider and whispered:
"Welcome to what the academy is holding down."
To be Continued© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.