"Is everyone prepared?" Tomoya muttered, his voice laced with a quiet intensity, as he observed through the vast window of the house. The gates creaked open, revealing a procession of officers and three faces he knew all too well.
He had suspected this visit was imminent since his earlier interaction with Dryzza and Sai. With a sigh of resignation, he couldn't help but flick his imaginary long hair in a dramatic flourish before turning to the five maids standing in wait behind him.
"So, how do I look?" he inquired, purposefully inclining his face toward them, eager for their judgment. In unison, they raised their thumbs, a silent affirmation of his presentation.
"Totemo ii desu, Tomoya-sama! Hontō ni, onaka ga yokatta hito mitaina kanji desu."
("You look incredibly good, Tomoya-sama! Like a real person with stomach issues.") Kotomi, the youngest of the maids, smiled as she tapped his shoulder.
Haneul, around his age, also tapped his other shoulder.
"Geunyeo neun ilgga, Tomoya-ssi. Jinjja mi sugu sokimyeon ga dehidoreishyeon naji al geos gatayo." (She's right, Tomoya-ssi. You really look like you're about to die in dehydration)
Tomoya could only manage a grimace as he regarded the two seemingly innocent, yet undeniably naive girls.
"Just fix my makeup, you little imbeciles," he hissed, and without hesitation, the two girls quickly applied the finishing touches to his 'ill' appearance.
Not too much tho since he just talked with Dryzza earlier, it would be too suspicious if he went all saggy in just a short span.
Once satisfied, he swiftly made his way to Samantha’s room, where he allowed one of the nurses overseeing her care to adjust his IV. The nurse promptly inserted a cannula, prepared for any eventuality should Zach and his team decide to manipulate the situation, including tampering with his IV.
He had ensured the room was thoroughly cleaned, leaving no trace of hair or blood that might provide clues for those intent on uncovering more about Samantha’s condition.
As he prepared to lie down, Tomoya cast a final glance at the nurse and the maids.
"Remember what we discussed," he instructed in a low, firm voice. "Do not provide any context to their questions. Simply shrug and walk away. Understood?"
Each person nodded in agreement.
"Now, the two of you," he gestured toward Kotomi and Haneul. "Go to Shane. Make sure she is comfortable."
Once again, they raised their thumbs in silent affirmation before departing, leaving the nurse and the remaining three maids to resume their tasks, careful to maintain the facade and avoid drawing suspicion.
Takumi had already briefed everyone thoroughly the moment they arrived with Samantha at the manor. Their confidence was unshakable; they were certain that their plan would remain undetected—although they did not expect a search warrant of all.
Tomoya let out a deep sigh, his tension palpable, as the sound of the door opening echoed through the hall, followed by the steady rhythm of footsteps.
As Tomoya prepared to feign sleep, the subtle vibration of his phone disrupted his plan. Initially, he tried to ignore it, but the persistent buzzing forced his hand. With a furrowed brow, he retrieved the device, only to find Kathleen’s name flashing on the screen.
Without hesitation, he answered, his tone sharp and hushed as he spoke, mindful of the approaching footsteps of Zach and his associates.
“You couldn’t have picked a worse time, Kath,” he muttered, his voice teetering between a whisper and an urgent reprimand, the gravity of the moment unmistakable.
Before he could say more, Kathleen’s voice cut through, mirroring his urgency. “Something’s happening to Christian.”
Tomoya stiffened, his mind racing. “Zach’s tearing through nii-san’s entire manor as we speak. What about that?”
Her response was swift and chilling. “Christian is starting to see dead people again. What about that?”
It wasn’t supposed to carry much weight, but Tomoya faltered.
“I don’t know,” Kathleen continued, her voice uneasy. “But he asked me to find out how Shane is doing.”
Tomoya pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “Kath, I swear to God, this isn’t the time,” he hissed, lowering his voice further as faint footsteps echoed in the corridor, drawing closer. “I’ll update you as soon as Zach is gone. I can’t risk staying on the line—they might find out about our little act going on here."
“Alright,” Kathleen whispered despite not knowing what he really meant, her tone instinctively mirroring his.
Without another word, she ended the call, leaving Tomoya just enough time to slide his phone beneath the blanket as the footsteps reached his door.
Slowly, it opened. Its sound a whisper in the thick silence. Tomoya lay motionless, eyes shut tight, unable to discern who entered. No words were spoken. Instead, a chilling presence filled the room, circling him with measured slowness.
He could feel it looming over him, its weight pressing down on the air, suffocating and unnerving. Then, as quietly as it had come, the presence receded, leaving only the faintest echo of something sinister. The door clicked shut, and Tomoya remained still, haunted by the silence that lingered long after.
Just as Tomoya prepared to exhale the breathe h hadn't realized he was holding, the door creaked open again. This time, the sound was slower, more calculated—its careful rhythm tightening the knot of dread in his chest.
His mind teetered on the edge of frustration, ready to curse the nightmarish situation, when a faint voice pierced the silence behind him.
It was soft, so fleeting, it seemed as though it might dissolve into the thin air. Yet, every fiber in his being froze. He knew that voice.
His eyes flew open, and instinct overpowered caution as he turned over, his movements so sudden he nearly slipped off the bed. His gaze locked onto the figure standing at the doorway, and for a moment, reality itself seemed to tilt.
His breath caught in his throat as disbelief clouded his mind.
I his shock, he didn't even notice the cannula ripping free from his arm, nor the dark splatter of blood that stained the floor below.
She moved towards him, her steps halting and unstable, her legs trembling as though they were unfamiliar with the act of walking. Her face, pale and ghostly under the dim light, was unmistakable.
"Sh-Shane..."