* * *
“There’s no such thing as ‘nothing’ between people. Even if you’re forced together by duty, that’s where the relationship starts. Be it friendship, necessity, love—whatever. There’s always something between two people. And when those directions don’t align… it breaks down. Just like with me. So, what are you calling that ‘something’ between you two?”
Her flat, emotionless voice spilled out those words like a rapid-fire assault.
But for just a moment, those otherwise empty eyes seemed to shimmer with a faint flicker of life.
For the first time, the woman—who always looked dead inside—seemed almost… alive.
That’s why Ben couldn’t answer.
Sure, the hands choking him played a part, but more than that—it wasn’t a question he could answer lightly.
He didn’t even know the answer himself.
“…I hope you feel it someday, too.”
“Feel… what—ugh, I—can’t—breathe—”
After a brief silence, her eyes cooled, the spark gone.
Her grip tightened around his throat.
His hands were already busy trying to block the knife; now with both her hands occupied, his odds were worsening by the second.
Desperately, Ben tried to locate Enten beyond the woman’s form, gasping for air.
When Enten mentioned losing limbs, maybe this is what he meant.
Bang—!!
A gunshot split the air, sharp enough to rupture his eardrums.
Squelch—
At the same time, Irina Sheril collapsed on top of him, warmth—her blood—pouring out.
Blood drenched his vision so completely he couldn’t even tell where the bullet hit.
Her head was still attached, so it didn’t go through her neck, but the overpowering stench of blood made him dizzy.
Ben hurriedly pushed her off and forced himself upright.
“God… I nearly died…”
“My bad, truly. Only had one round left, y’see. Couldn’t just waste it, could I?”
Ben wiped the tears that had welled up from lack of air, his voice weary.
His hands were sticky with blood; he was probably an absolute mess by now, but he didn’t have the energy to care.
Enten seemed equally worn down, tossing his empty gun aside with a bitter smile.
“Put a direct line to Central Command. Once those Section 6 bastards stabilize the Guides, things should settle down here.”
“Good. I’ll head to Haimar now.”
It had been rough, but the situation in the central hall looked nearly under control.
Now, all that was left was reaching Haimar.
Ben wasn’t sure how to explain his current state, but that could wait.
The priority was resolving this mess, and hopefully, Roilnia’s side had wrapped things up as well.
Honestly… Did Haimar Eilec even understand what he was going through?
That thought popped into his head out of nowhere.
He was in this mess to keep Roilnia and Haimar from meeting, but at this point, maybe letting them meet would’ve resolved things faster.
But considering that ominous woman… letting them meet seemed like a terrible idea.
Either way, it was true that worry for Haimar Eilec dictated his every move.
Haimar wasn’t fully stabilized as a Guide yet, and avoiding unnecessary risks was critical.
Steadying his breath, Ben forcibly shook off the exhaustion clinging to him.
“Be careful out there. I’d pitch a tent and sleep here if it weren’t so damn cold.”
Enten, slumped against a wall, waved lazily and shivered.
Ben felt it too.
At first, he thought it was just his blood-soaked clothes making the cold worse, but aside from the shattered windows, the temperature shouldn’t have dropped this much.
Sure, the wind had been cutting even before they entered the hall, but it hadn’t felt this freezing.
“…Yeah. It’s strange.”
Ben replied, scanning the surroundings.
His breath visibly puffed out, white against the air.
Breath?
The chill he felt was no longer just a sensation—it was tangible.
Why did this feel so unsettling?
It was just colder, that’s all.
That’s all it should be.
But deep in his instincts, something whispered danger.
“What the hell is… that?”
And why did those instincts never fail him?
Enten pointed just a few steps away—practically right beside Irina Sheril’s collapsed body.
The space itself seemed to split apart vertically, like it had been slashed by a blade.
How the hell…?
The air tore open like a mouth gaping wide.
From within, a slender leg emerged, high heels tapping against the ground connecting the two spaces, unnervingly slow.
Of all the people Ben never wanted to see standing here…
“What the hell, Irina Sheril… Don’t tell me you’re dead already?”
Confusion flickered across Ben’s face as his eyes met the red-haired woman’s sharp smile.
“Why… are you here…?”
Ben forced his trembling voice steady, every word bitten off like it hurt to speak.
He wanted to look away from the bloodstains on her coat, from the gore clinging to her hands.
He didn’t want to know whose blood it was.
Yet, contradictorily, even as he threw out the question he didn’t want answered—he desperately needed the answer.
“Am I not allowed to be here? Anyway, here’s a little reunion gift. Take it.”
Thud—!
Roilnia, stepping fully from the torn space, reached back into the still-open rift and yanked something out like tossing aside a sack.
Too large to be a “gift” in any reasonable sense, the body crashed to the floor with a heavy, unmistakable thud.
“…Lusna Nigel?!”
The owner of the bloodied, wounded face was unmistakably Lusna Nigel, Elgran’s guide—unless Ben’s eyes were deceiving him.
Moreover, there was a massive wound in his abdomen, as though something had pierced straight through him, and blood was gushing out like a fountain.
Alarmed, Ben rushed over to the fallen man to check his condition, while Enten, dragging his own injured leg with a grim expression, sat down nearby.
“Stay with us, Mr. Lusna!”
“Ugh….”
Ben quickly scanned the wound, but the bleeding was so severe, he couldn’t properly assess the extent of the damage.
All he could clearly see was a large shard of glass embedded in his abdomen, likely the cause of the injury.
Carefully, he moved the blood-soaked clothing aside, while Enten meticulously examined the wound as if he could see more than Ben could.
“Looks like the external oblique and transverse abdominal muscles are torn. All we can do here is stop the bleeding. If we pull that shard out, the bleeding’ll get even worse.”
Without hesitation, Ben stripped off his jacket and roughly tore away the inner lining, which was relatively less soaked in blood.
Lus’s condition had deteriorated to the point where his naturally darker skin looked unnaturally pale, and no matter how many times Ben called his name, he couldn’t get a response.
Grimly, Ben pressed one half of the ripped fabric against the side of the wound that didn’t have the glass shard, trying to stanch the bleeding.
“Do you like the look of him now? I was merciful enough not to kill him. Fighting while trying to protect someone is pointless. That’s the difference between you and me. A guide? They’re nothing but a leash around an Esper’s ankle.”
Even in the chaos, Roilnia’s grating voice pierced through, making Ben grit his teeth as he glared at the woman.
The very person who caused all of this stood there, casually talking about someone else’s wounds, debating their worth as if it were nothing.
It disgusted him, especially because she undoubtedly knew how important Lus was to someone—and yet dismissed it like it was meaningless.
“You don’t get to decide that. Where is Elgran?”
“Hmm~ That’s exactly what I wanted to talk about. I’m done playing hide and seek.”
Roilnia’s voice dripped with mockery, completely unfazed by Ben’s fury.
In fact, she acted as if she’d been through this kind of confrontation countless times before, practically toying with the emotions hurled at her—feeding off anger, fanning hatred, enjoying being hated.
“She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?”
Enten’s voice trembled as he pressed against Lus’s wound to stop the bleeding.
If Haimar overwhelmed others with sheer power and charisma that radiated from his core, Roilnia exuded something far more nauseating—a twisted desire and inexplicable malice rooted deep in her warped self.
Unconsciously, Enten had likely sensed that the moment he laid eyes on her.
“If you’re going to keep asking the same question, even if you rip my mouth apart, I won’t tell you.”
“No need. I hate prying too much anyway. Just because you don’t answer doesn’t mean I can’t find him.”
Ben forced himself to steady his emotions, retorting sharply.
But Roilnia simply tapped her high heels against the floor, replying without a hint of concern.
And she wasn’t wrong—considering her abilities and physical prowess, finding Haimar was only a matter of time, even without Ben saying a word.
* * *
