"J-Junel! What’s going on? What are you doing?" Samantha’s voice cracked as fear tightened its grip on her throat.
Her feet stumbled backward as Junel advanced with slow, deliberate steps, his shadow looming larger under the dim light. Samantha’s heart pounded wildly, her eyes flicking between the knife in his trembling hand and his face—blank, emotionless, and eerily pale. His movements were mechanical, devoid of humanity, as if he were a puppet pulled by unseen strings.
"C-Cut it out, Junel!" she pleaded, her voice breaking into a desperate groan. "One more step, and I’ll scream! The guards—they’re right outside. I swear, I’ll sue you!"
But Junel didn’t stop. His gaze, glassy and unfocused, passed through her as though she weren’t there. He moved with a haunting slowness, each step a deliberate march toward her.
Samantha's stomach churned as she realized something was horribly wrong. This wasn’t Junel—at least not the Junel she knew. It was as if a stranger had stepped into his body, someone—or something—else entirely.
Samantha, still trembling, felt her body betray her as her legs refused to respond, rooted to the cold tiled floor as if they had locked in place. Panic flooded her senses, her breathing ragged and uneven, while her mind raced for an escape.
Her hands groped blindly along the edge of the counter, desperate to find anything—anything at all—that could serve as a weapon or shield. The tension between her and Junel was suffocating, every second stretching into eternity as his silent, mechanical advance continued.
Samantha's fingers brushed against the sharp edge of the counter, and a sudden sting made her flinch. Her attention was momentarily stolen by the pain, her eyes widening as she saw a tiny bead of blood emerge from the wound.
She instinctively pressed her finger against her shirt, her focus consumed by the pain and the sudden vividness of her vulnerability.
For just a moment, she lost sight of Junel, the room around her fading into a blur of fear and adrenaline. The silence pressed against her ears, heavy and unsettling.
When Samantha finally looked up, her heart stopped. Junel was no longer across the room—he was towering over her, his face twisted into a chilling grin that didn’t reach his lifeless, empty eyes.
Her breath hitched as she saw his arm raised, the knife glinting under the faint light, poised for a brutal strike. Time seemed to slow, the seconds dragging painfully as she stared at the blade and the predator wielding it.
• • •
Takumi glanced at the digital clock glowing faintly on the car's dashboard. The numbers flicked to 2:59 AM, a haunting hour when the world seemed to hold its breath. He exhaled softly, shifting his gaze to the dimly lit streets outside. Shadows stretched long under the streetlights, dancing across the asphalt in unsettling patterns. The city was asleep, yet the quiet carried an unnatural weight, as if it were waiting for something ominous to unfold.
His butler, a stoic figure behind the wheel, remained as silent as the night itself, offering no conversation to pierce the eerie stillness. The hum of the engine was their only companion, a faint, rhythmic drone that barely seemed to belong in the heavy silence of the moment.
Takumi leaned back against the leather seat, fingers drumming against his knee in a rare display of restlessness. His mind churned. Bringing Zach into his plans was a calculated risk, one he hadn't entirely reconciled with himself.
As manipulative as it felt, it was necessary. Zach’s obsessive fixation on the Takahashi Manor case was a tool Takumi intended to wield—no, exploit.
It’s not betrayal, he told himself, though the thought carried little comfort. It’s strategy.
He knew the weight of what he was asking, the legal gray areas Zach was stepping into under his influence. But for Takumi, this was a battlefield, and Zach was just another weapon.
The cops were meant to handle the syndicates lurking in the city’s underbelly—it was their sworn duty—but Takumi understood better than most that fighting crime wasn’t as simple as upholding laws. It was a labyrinth of shadows, and justice often required stepping into the dark.
He sighed again, his thoughts tumbling deeper. Convincing Zach was one thing, but success was far from assured. It felt like trying to dam a river with bare hands, the current too strong, relentless, and wild.
Each move carried risks that could drown him and everyone involved. Yet Takumi couldn't falter. He’d seen too much, lost too much to let hesitation take root.
The car rolled to a gentle halt in front of the sprawling gates of the Takahashi estate. The glow of the overhead lamps bathed the entrance in a soft light, casting long shadows across the cobblestone driveway. Takumi peered out, his sharp eyes scanning the grounds before greeting the guards stationed at their post.
Anthony, the head guard, stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor accompanied by a polite smile. “Good evening, master. Everything’s secure.”
Takumi nodded, though his gaze lingered on the estate’s windows, dark and uncharacteristically quiet. “Good to know,” he said, his tone measured. “Have the maids brought the snacks as requested?”
Anthony hesitated briefly before Anwar, another guard, spoke up while adjusting his holster. “Not yet, master. We tried calling, but no one’s picking up. Gerald, the new recruit, went inside to check about ten minutes ago.”
Takumi’s expression tightened ever so slightly, though he masked it with a faint smile.
“I see. Gerald’s inside, then.” He glanced toward the towering structure of the estate, its silhouette imposing against the starless night. “Let’s hope he didn’t get lost. It’s a big house for a first-timer.”
Anthony exchanged a glance with Anwar, the latter nodding subtly. “He knows the protocols, master. If there’s anything unusual, he’ll report back right away.”
“Good,” Takumi said, though a flicker of unease crossed his face. “Still, let’s not leave it to chance. Anwar, accompany me inside. Anthony, I trust you keep a watchful eye around here. We never know."
Anthony stiffened, his professional instincts immediately on alert. “Understood, master.”
Takumi knew he was just being paranoid, but his cautious nature wouldn’t allow him to ignore the lingering unease. The stakes were far too high to dismiss any oddities, especially with the puzzle pieces of recent events pointing to something far more sinister.
Tomoya’s earlier call weighed heavily on his mind. The report about Junel’s peculiar conversation with Kim was concerning, particularly Kim’s insistence on keeping Junel from returning home. Under normal circumstances, this could have been dismissed as a mere personal matter—a clandestine affair, perhaps.
But given what they knew about Kim and Kaiser, it painted a much darker picture. Both were key players in a syndicate notorious for abducting cursed individuals, people whose very existence defied natural laws.
Takumi’s suspicions deepened when Jay and Ruby shared critical information about the syndicate’s plans. They had used the chaos of the previous night as a diversion, a perfect cover to further their agenda of accessing the other realm.
The realization that their plan had failed did little to ease Takumi’s concerns. If anything, it made him certain that the group was now watching their every move, regrouping, and plotting their next step.
Junel’s unwitting involvement added another layer of complexity. Takumi had strategically kept Junel close, hoping to use his connection to Kim as leverage. Yet, despite his proximity to the syndicate, Junel appeared oblivious to their schemes, his innocence frustratingly evident.
This only added to Takumi’s unease—if Junel wasn’t a conscious participant, then his presence near the syndicate was either an incredible coincidence or part of an even more intricate trap.
Takumi inhaled deeply as he approached the mansion after the butler parked the car, his thoughts churning like a storm. Paranoia or not, he couldn’t afford to make mistakes.
Anwar and the butler trailed behind him afterwards, their footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble floors. The air felt unnaturally heavy as they approached the door, a faint metallic scent already hanging in the air. When Anwar reached for the handle, a faint tremor betrayed his nerves, but he pushed the door open regardless.
The scene that greeted them froze all three in their tracks.
Across the dimly lit hallway, illuminated by the flickering glow of a single wall-mounted sconce, stood a woman. Her figure was unnaturally still, like a statue carved in horror.
She wore a long, flowing white nightgown that should have signified innocence and tranquility, but now it was grotesquely soaked in blood. The crimson stains spread across the fabric like a macabre tapestry, still fresh enough to glisten under the dim light.
In her trembling hand, she held a knife, its blade dripping with blood that pooled onto the floor in a slow, steady rhythm. The metallic scent of iron was suffocating.
Her face, obscured by loose strands of hair clinging to her damp skin, betrayed no emotion. Her eyes, however, burned with something between terror and delirium, locked on the lifeless figure at her feet.
The man beneath her was sprawled across the cold floor, his body unnaturally contorted as though he had fallen mid-struggle. Blood pooled around him, seeping into the cracks of the tiles, and his pale face was frozen in an expression of shock and agony. His chest bore deep, jagged wounds, the kind inflicted with unrelenting force and malice.
The only sound in the room was the soft, erratic drip of blood from the knife. The woman's breathing was shallow, almost imperceptible, as if she were suspended in a trance. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, its shadows growing darker, more oppressive.
Takumi’s heart thundered in his chest as he tried to make sense of the scene. Anwar instinctively reached for his holsterz his eyes darting between the woman and the body. The butler, usually unflappable, whispered under his breath, his voice trembling.
Anwar’s instincts kicked in as he reached for his firearm, his movements swift and decisive. His eyes locked on the woman, a grim determination in his stance. "Stay where you are!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding, echoing through the hallway like a gunshot.
The woman flinched but didn’t move, her knuckles whitening as her grip on the knife tightened. Her head tilted slightly, her face partially illuminated by the flickering sconce, revealing wild, unfocused eyes.
“Don’t make me do this,” Anwar warned, his hand steady as he prepared to aim.
But before he could draw his weapon fully, Takumi lunged forward, grabbing his arm. "No!" he shouted, his voice trembling with urgency. "Stop, Anwar!"
Anwar hesitated, his confusion evident as he glanced at Takumi. “M-Master, she’s armed, and there’s a body—”
“I said stop!” Takumi snapped, his hand tightening on Anwar's arm. His gaze shifted back to the woman, his face pale as recognition dawned. His lips parted, and his voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Shane?"
The woman’s head jerked slightly at the sound of her name, her bloodshot eyes finally meeting Takumi’s. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in her expression—recognition, guilt, or perhaps sheer madness—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
Takumi’s eyes moved to the man on the floor, his breath hitching when he recognized the lifeless face.
"No," he whispered, taking an involuntary step forward. His stomach churned as the realization hit him like a freight train. He knew both of them.
"W-What did you do, Shane?"
Samantha blinked, her lips trembling as if she were about to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a choked sob escaped her throat, and her knees buckled slightly. The knife in her hand wavered, catching the light as it dipped lower, its deadly edge still wet with blood.
Takumi stepped in front of Anwar, shielding her from the gun's line of sight, his heart pounding as he tried to maintain control. “Put the gun away, Anwar,” he ordered, his voice low but firm. "She
won’t hurt anyone else."
“How can you be sure, master?” Anwar hissed, his gaze darting between Takumi and the blood-soaked Samantha.
“Because I know her,” Takumi replied, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind. His eyes didn’t leave Samantha's trembling form. "Please."