Jonas stood rooted to the spot before Felzein, his gaze held fast by the piercing emerald light emanating from the man's eyes.
It was not the hue he had seen before.
He was certain that, when he had first looked into Felzein’s eyes, they had been a dusky shade of brown and almost black.
But now, that vivid green shimmered like a glow from unfathomable depths both entrancing and ominous.
“Who are you, really...?” Jonas asked, his tone resolute, though the faint quiver at the edge of his words betrayed the fear coiling within him.
Felzein did not answer at once. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
“Me?” he murmured, his voice low and weighted with an intensity difficult to name. “Do you truly wish to know who I am?”
Jonas inhaled sharply, striving to muster what remained of his authority.
“I’d advise you not to play with fire,” he said, his voice low but firm, eyes fixed in a defiant glare.
“Or else...”
SLAP!
A resounding slap tore through the air, sending Jonas’s head snapping sideways. His balance faltered, and he staggered, the sting of the blow blooming across his cheek.
“Or else what?” Felzein’s voice cut through the silence, cold as steel yet thunderous in its weight.
Jonas faltered, his mouth opening slightly, but no words came.
His face now burned partly from the slap, but more keenly from the sheer humiliation.
His men had seen it. And worse, so had his adversary.
“You bloody...”
THUD!
A brutal punch drove straight into his solar plexus, ruthless and precise.
The breath tore from Jonas’s lungs. His body crumpled forward with a sickening gasp, a choked, guttural sound escaping as his insides seized.
“Ughkk…!”
He collapsed to his knees, arms trembling, clutching the cold floor beneath him as though it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.
His complexion had drained of all colour, his breath ragged and shallow.
Felzein remained where he stood, an unyielding silhouette looming above him, his gaze unwavering and merciless, like a judge pronouncing a sentence that could not be appealed.
The eerie gleam in his viridescent eyes flickered, calm, calculating, and utterly devoid of pity.
“Guards!” Jonas cried out hoarsely, still hunched over in agony, desperation lacing his voice.
But the plea fell into silence.
He hadn’t yet realised that every one of his guards now lay sprawled unconscious beyond the chamber doors, casualties of the swift and silent wrath of Cherlyn.
Felzein’s laughter was soft barely a whisper of amusement, but cruel in its certainty.
He took a measured step forward, his shadow spilling across Jonas’s broken form.
“Whom exactly are you calling?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost conversational but beneath it lay the unmistakable edge of a blade.
“Every single one of your men has been dealt with by my fiancée,” he said, each word sharpened to pierce, delivered not in triumph, but as a merciless truth aimed straight at the shattered remnants of Jonas’s pride.
Jonas stood frozen. His eyes widened, a tremor in his breath betraying the storm within.
Slowly, as though dragged by an unseen force, his gaze shifted to Cherlyn. Poised, serene, and maddeningly unshaken.
“So it’s true, then… this man is your new paramour?!” he rasped, his voice fraying at the edges, caught somewhere between anguish and disbelief.
“You! How could you? You laid hands on Professor Vaf!” he cried, the accusation bursting forth like a wound torn open.
For so long, Jonas had revered the enigmatic figure of Professor Vaf, a man cloaked in brilliance, a name whispered with admiration.
He had believed Cherlyn to be promised to that very legend, to the elusive genius he had idolised from afar.
What he had never imagined or what had never crossed his fevered mind, was that the man who had just struck him down, the one who now stood tall amidst the wreckage of his pride, was none other than Professor Vaf himself.
Felzein. The name settled upon his tongue like ash.
There was a cruel irony to it all. Jonas had never seen Vaf’s face. No one had.
The world had known only the echo of his intellect, the shadow of his reputation.
His identity had been guarded, veiled behind layers of secrecy and subterfuge.
Even within their clandestine organisation, only the innermost echelon had ever glimpsed the man beneath the legend.
And Jonas, ambitious, loyal, yet ultimately dispensable, had never been counted among them.
Now, broken and breathless, he beheld the truth far too late.
The man who had brought him to his knees was no phantom of myth, no distant idol.
He was here. He was real. And he was furious.
“Agent Lyn!” Jonas choked, fury mingling with humiliation. “How could you stand there say nothing while he struck me down? We are comrades! We serve the same cause!”
Cherlyn exhaled deeply, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion as she retorted,
"You're the one who's out of line, Jonas! Accusing my fiancé of theft without a shred of evidence!"
"Agent Lyn! Come to your senses!" Jonas cried, desperation creeping into his voice.
"This man stole the golden card belonging to your late fiancé! Or... unless you were the one who gave it to him?!"
His index finger shook as he pointed accusingly at Felzein, though beneath the fury lay confusion and disbelief.
"Who gave it to him, then?! It’s his own golden card! Stop slandering me!" Cherlyn snapped, her eyes gleaming with fury.
"I'm not slandering you... The proof..." Jonas faltered, his voice caught in his throat.
Cherlyn’s words had collided with the logic he had clung to so tightly.
"What... what did you just say?!" Jonas stammered, voice shaking. "His own card?!"
"Yes! The golden card is his! What of it?!" Cherlyn replied, unflinching.
"What?!" Jonas, still on his knees, began trembling uncontrollably. His face drained of all colour.
"It can't be... It simply can't!" he shrieked, almost hysterical.
"If that card belongs to him, then that would mean he is..." Jonas stopped short. His eyes widened as though they might burst from their sockets.
"Exactly!" Cherlyn cut in swiftly. "The man standing before you is Professor Vaf! The real Professor Vaf!"
"Whaaat?!" Jonas roared. "That’s impossible! Professor Vaf is dead!"
"I thought so too until fate brought us face to face again," Cherlyn said, her tone composed.
"P-Professor... Vaf...?" Jonas stuttered, his gaze fixed on Felzein.
"Bingo! What? Fancy another beating?" Felzein asked, smirking.
"I... I..."
THUD!
Jonas collapsed, his body giving way entirely. The truth had overwhelmed him.
"Fool," Felzein muttered. "Claims to respect me, then accuses me of theft."
"That’s on you," Cherlyn replied curtly.
Felzein turned to her, "Why am I the one being blamed?"
Cherlyn sighed in frustration, "No one’s ever known what Professor Vaf truly looked like. Now that you’ve resurfaced, of course people are stunned. Some to the point of fainting."
"You included, if I recall," Felzein teased, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly grin.
"Hey! That was an accident!" Cherlyn shot back, her cheeks reddening.
She remembered all too well the moment she, too, had fainted upon learning Felzein was still alive.
"You’re just making excuses now," Felzein said with a light chuckle.
"Enough! Wake Jonas up!" Cherlyn snapped, glancing at her watch.
"It’s nearly eleven. We’ve a flight to Japan to catch!"
"Why is it always me dealing with this nonsense?" Felzein grumbled, kneeling down. "She’s a doctor, for heaven’s sake!"
"What was that?!" Cherlyn barked.
"Nothing," Felzein replied swiftly. "Just... he smells appalling."
"Always deflecting!" Cherlyn huffed.
With practiced calm, Felzein knelt beside Jonas’s unconscious form and unzipped a small medical pouch hidden beneath his jacket.
He checked Jonas’s pulse. Weak, but steady.
Next, he lifted one eyelid and shone a small penlight into the pupil.
The reaction was brisk, indicating a brief loss of consciousness rather than any cerebral trauma.
Felzein sighed, then retrieved a small bottle of smelling salts. He waved it gently beneath Jonas’s nose.
Within seconds, Jonas stirred.
His brow furrowed, his head rolled, then he gasped and coughed.
"Ugh... Wh-what happened...?"
"Finally awake," Felzein muttered flatly, stowing the bottle away.
Jonas opened his eyes slowly. Though his vision was blurred, Felzein’s voice rang clear.
"You’re not dead. Unfortunately," Felzein quipped with his usual sardonic edge.
Jonas tried to sit up, but his body resisted. Felzein placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Easy. Breathe. You fainted. Cherlyn’s honesty must’ve short-circuited your tiny brain," he added with a mocking grin.
"Felzein!" Cherlyn snapped. "Focus!"
"Yes, yes..." he muttered, rising to his feet. "At least he’s conscious. What happens next is your problem."
Cherlyn let out a sharp breath, then knelt beside Jonas, who was now regaining full awareness.