* * *
Something fell in a flurry toward her face.
Looking closely, she saw it was the hour hand, the minute hand, and the second hand.
She was choking, submerged in an overwhelming flood of numbers.
‘Is this… the flow of time?’
she managed to wonder—but then even that idea seemed hazy and uncertain.
Only one question remained in her foggy, frozen consciousness.
Who… am I talking to right now?
[10th floor.]
Like flipping a switch, the world abruptly shifted.
Her vision snapped back into place.
All the sensations that had slipped from her body rushed back in an instant.
She felt the clutch bag in her hand, both feet firmly planted on the elevator floor.
The elevator doors opened gently, revealing the engraved design on the panel—and the tall man standing just beyond it.
“It’s been a while.”
Despite the calmness of the greeting, she couldn’t respond right away.
His name lingered in her throat like a groan, refusing to come out.
Even though it could have come off as rude, Haimar Eilec just smiled gently and stepped into the elevator, unfazed.
With his long legs, it only took a few steps to close the distance, and to Hoaphilen Legius, every movement felt like it was unfolding in slow motion.
Haimar turned slightly, pressed the button, and calmly stared at the floor indicator, unlike her own chaos.
Though the elevator wasn’t cramped, just the presence of Haimar standing some distance beside her made her breath catch in her throat.
She’d undergone years of mental defense training—her barriers were thick, never once breached.
Other psychics had never been able to read her deep thoughts or memories, and if anyone had tried to attack her mind without consent, she wouldn’t have remained sane.
So Haimar shouldn’t be able to read anything beyond surface thoughts either.
And yet… the feeling of sinking into that bottomless abyss still clung to her.
– How can you be so sure?
A voice whispered inside her.
Her once-solid certainty began to crack.
What if he’d found a way to bypass even her strongest mental defenses?
What if that hallucination wasn’t just in her head?
If it really happened, then how much does he actually know?
What did she say?
Can she even trust herself?
The doubt grew, rapidly and without end.
Not being able to trust your own mind was a terrifying feeling.
Her rationality screamed it wasn’t possible, but her instincts fanned the flames of paranoia.
“When… did we last meet?”
“That’s so cliché. Not even good enough for a cheesy romance line.”
With hands casually tucked into the pockets of a perfectly tailored long coat, Haimar gave a light, amused scoff.
In the silent, oddly calm air, Hoaphilen noticed something strange—the elevator had stopped moving.
The floor number hadn’t changed.
“Instead of that bargain-bin line, how about I share something I kindly prepared just for you? Want to hear it?”
“…What the hell?”
“For the record, you don’t get to say no. Just shut up and listen.”
The voice that had always sounded sweet now held a chilling edge—like a blade.
A worn-out cliché from some random piece of literature she’d read before came to mind: summon a demon to make a wish, and you must pay a price.
She couldn’t help but feel this was exactly that kind of situation.
Give up one thing to gain another.
She had already lost so much that she thought she had nothing left to fear—but in front of this man, she always felt small.
A nameless anxiety that made her question even herself gnawed at her spirit.
“…Are you saying you will wait for her with a regeneration ampoule in hand?”
“Me? That’s a laughably naive thought.”
What Roilnia wanted most right now was a top-tier regeneration ampoule to restore her arm.
If they wanted to lure in a sharp and fast-moving woman like her, they’d have to not only use a genuine ampoule, but also create a perfectly advantageous setup.
And still, the ampoule must never end up in her hands.
It would be better to kill Roilnia in her current, damaged state than to let her recover and gain the upper hand.
But this was all just Hoaphilen’s plan.
The odds of Haimar helping her?
Zero, and shrinking.
She could already predict—painfully—that whatever came out of this man’s mouth next would not align with what she wanted.
Hoaphilen bit her lower lip and swallowed hard.
She had expected he wouldn’t lend a hand, but she never imagined he’d interfere like this.
Just what kind of mess was he planning to make of everything?
“The regeneration ampoule the Director keeps like a precious treasure…”
Stay calm, Hoaphilen Legius. Even if this is just a game to him, just another way to tease you—there will be a chance to turn the tables.
Objectively, the only bait that could plausibly lure Roilnia while still being under Haimar’s control was the regeneration ampoule.
That much, she had expected.
“Among all your many subordinates…”
She focused intently, trying to gauge Haimar’s true intentions from his casually tossed words.
“Aren’t you curious who’s holding it?”
…What?
“I’m curious.”
Her thoughts ground to a halt.
Hoaphilen’s eyes, always fixated on what lay ahead, widened and wavered.
It was like threads on a loom, once woven into a careful design, suddenly tangling beyond repair.
Regeneration ampoules used to recover lost limbs weren’t just expensive—they required cutting-edge technology.
Very few were even produced, and only a tiny number of people within Central managed them.
Ordinary personnel didn’t even know where they were stored—if they knew they existed at all.
That’s why she’d guarded the ampoule meant to be used as bait with the utmost secrecy.
But now—someone had it, and she didn’t even know who?
“That… That’s impossible.”
If Haimar was the one controlling the game board now, she would be starting the match with incomplete information.
That meant she’d have no advantage over Roilnia.
A panic she couldn’t suppress began to consume her.
When? Where? How?
Questions crashed over her like a wave.
Her trembling lips mirrored her racing, disoriented mind.
Hoaphilen struggled to stay calm.
Rash anger wouldn’t help her now.
If Haimar was going this far to screw her over, then chances were, he had already made a move against Roilnia too.
The moment Roilnia came to mind, Hoaphilen’s reason—already shrunk in fear—shouted at her: ‘This is the time to gather information.’
“…Did you perhaps… make Roilnia Ranilgraf move?”
“Who knows? Whether she comes drooling at the mouth or not, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Let’s summarize.
Hoaphilen Legius had just been dropped into the middle of a game she didn’t even know had started.
One of her own subordinates might be unknowingly carrying the real ampoule, caught in Haimar’s scheme.
Her entire network of informants, fooled by false information and misdirection, might already be scattering countless bait drops in hopes that Roilnia would bite.
If that’s the case—when would Roilnia hear about this?
How would she act once she did?
As she calculated the endless possibilities, a searing migraine hit her.
Roilnia might act cautiously, filtering every piece of intel before making a move—or she might just go wild, snapping at every baited hook she came across.
Amidst all this uncertainty, only one thing was clear to Hoaphilen:
If Roilnia gets the ampoule first, her chances of winning plummet.
But if she gets to it first and handles it correctly, there’s still a chance she can bring Roilnia down with her own hands.
“Just think of it as a simple game of tag. Let’s see who finds it first. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”
“You’re absolutely despicable. Just… why…!”
If she failed—and Roilnia regained her original, healthy body and went on a rampage—there’s no way Haimar would be pleased.
He had nothing to gain from ruining the game board like this.
It made no sense to her that he’d go to all this trouble just to mess with her.
What was it that bothered him so much he had to intervene personally?
‘Don’t you really know?’
The voice within her, soaked in unease, whispered again.
A thoroughly crushed mistake held Hoaphilen back by the ankle.
The illusion she’d once thought a mirage… had become reality.
Swept away, drowned, and crushed—there was no escaping now.
“Whether Roilnia gets her hands on the ampoule or not—why should I care? Even if she regrows that arm, how does that affect me?”
His words carried the weight of absolute power.
As if this was the natural mindset of someone who always wins.
“…Do you think I made a mistake?”
She thought she had asked this before.
No—she had.
Everything about this situation now seemed to confirm that the fantasy from earlier had been the truth.
Her fingers, gripping the clutch, tensed with involuntary nervousness.
It was unlike her—but impatience flared.
Only then did Hoaphilen finally turn toward Haimar inside the elevator.
Her face clearly betrayed her growing unease, yet his expression remained unchanged—detached and indifferent, just like when they first got in.
The dissonance etched into her retinas made her skin crawl.
He didn’t feel like the same person anymore.
* * *
