The hospital cafeteria exuded an almost eerie stillness despite the occasional clatter of cutlery and murmured conversations. Its sterile, fluorescent lighting gave everything a pale glow, and the faint smell of antiseptic mingled with the aroma of cheap coffee.
Tomoya sat across from Jess, his body language rigid and unwelcoming. The tension between them was palpable, thick as the silence that had settled around their table. Jess had barely touched her salad, her fork occasionally poking at the lettuce while her gaze remained fixed downward.
"How’d it come to you that I would just hand you the grimoire that easily?" Tomoya’s voice cut through the silence, his tone sharp and laden with irritation.
His arms were crossed, his posture unyielding. It wasn’t in his nature to entertain vague requests, especially not when they revolved around something as dangerous as Samantha’s grimoire. Jess’s unwillingness to provide any meaningful explanation only fueled his skepticism.
Jess shifted in her seat, her fingers trembling slightly as they gripped the edge of the table. "I told you I can’t tell you the truth," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I could lie, but I don’t want to. I just want me and this baby to live."
She’d repeated the same words like a broken record, and it frustrated Tomoya to no end. He leaned forward, his fingers drumming against the table impatiently, trying to make sense of her cryptic pleas.
"If you can’t give me a solid reason, then I have better things to do," Tomoya muttered, pushing back his chair with a screech. His gaze lingered on Jess, hoping for a sliver of honesty that could change his mind. Jess didn’t look up, her focus still on the untouched salad.
As Tomoya turned to leave, Jess’s voice stopped him in his tracks. "Freedom," she said, her tone so faint it was almost swallowed by the ambient noise. Tomoya froze, then turned back to face her. Jess still wouldn’t meet his gaze. "That grimoire is the only thing that can free me from them."
"Them?" Tomoya repeated, his curiosity piqued. Slowly, he reclaimed his seat, his sharp eyes studying Jess’s every move. Her hands trembled as she finally raised her head, meeting his gaze with a mix of desperation and fear.
"I want all of this to be over," Jess admitted, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "I’m so tired, Tomoya. She promised me freedom in exchange for the grimoire. Please, please let me have it." Her plea was raw and heartfelt, but it only deepened Tomoya’s suspicions.
He leaned back, his arms crossed as he mulled over her words. "Who’s ‘she’?" he asked pointedly. Jess averted her gaze again, her silence speaking volumes. Tomoya could tell she was terrified—not just of him, but of something or someone else entirely.
"Yes or no," Tomoya pressed. "Can you answer with that?"
Jess shook her head, then nodded, her erratic response leaving Tomoya baffled. She began glancing around nervously, her eyes darting to the security cameras mounted on the cafeteria walls. Her behavior was unsettling, and Tomoya’s mind began to race with possibilities.
He studied her carefully, noting the way her hands trembled and how she seemed to shy away from speaking too loudly. It clicked—she was being watched, maybe even wired. Advanced surveillance methods, like microtransmitters hidden in seams of clothing or subdermal implants, weren’t beyond possibility. The technology could record conversations and transmit real-time data to whoever was monitoring her.
Jess’s paranoia was justified, Tomoya realized. Whoever “they” were, they had her under constant surveillance, and any wrong move could jeopardize her safety. He rubbed his temples, weighing the risks. Helping Jess could mean putting himself in the crosshairs of a dangerous group, but leaving her to fend for herself felt equally wrong.
Finally, he sighed, his resolve softening slightly. "If you want my help, Jess, you’re going to have to trust me," he said, his tone gentler now. "But if you’re hiding something that puts us both in danger, I need to know before it’s too late."
Jess looked at him with tear-filled eyes, her lips trembling as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Tomoya's thoughts raced with urgency, the weight of his predicament pressing down like an anvil. The grimoire, an ancient tome brimming with esoteric knowledge, had consumed his focus since the day he spirited it away from Samantha's library.
Yet, despite his relentless study, its labyrinthine codes and cryptic symbols eluded him, their secrets locked behind layers of riddles. One misstep could lead to catastrophic consequences—potentially opening every conceivable realm and thrusting humanity into chaos.
He knew the stakes of handing over the grimoire to Jess were immeasurable. Its power, coupled with the possibility that Jess’s mysterious allies might possess the means to decipher its true nature, filled him with trepidation. The mere thought of its potential misuse sent a chill down his spine. But was denying her the grimoire truly the safer option?
In a moment of doubt, a fleeting thought crossed his mind: Rener. Could the enigmatic entity, one of the very beings entangled in this chaos, provide guidance? The idea seemed absurd, but desperation has a way of making the implausible appear possible.
Tomoya broke the heavy silence. "Can you give me time?" The words tumbled from his lips before he could fully grasp the implications. Offering Jess even a glimmer of hope contradicted the rationality he prided himself on. His intellect screamed that emotional decisions rarely bore fruitful outcomes.
Jess’s response was immediate, her voice trembling. "How much time do you need? Because me and my baby… we only have until midnight to live."
The calm delivery of such a grave statement startled Tomoya. The clock read 11:43 PM—her declaration left him with mere moments to decide. He studied her, parsing her sincerity. Was this urgency a manipulative tactic or a genuine plea?
"I understand how much that grimoire means to you," Jess began, her voice faltering. "It’s a connection to Shane… to the woman I hurt."
She paused, inhaling sharply as if bracing herself for judgment. "But believe me, I never wanted any of this. I was cornered, manipulated, and now I can’t bear to lose anyone else because of me."
Jess’s admission, though fragmented, resonated deeply with Tomoya. Her words carried the weight of regret, entangling her grief with his own unresolved emotions about Shane. Yet, acknowledging her pain did little to resolve his inner conflict.
Tomoya’s mind churned, dissecting her motivations and their shared history. Jess’s plea wasn’t random; it stemmed from a place of genuine desperation. And yet, the shadow of his past loomed large, reminding him of the sacrifices that had brought him here. He couldn’t ignore the very real danger of acting on emotion rather than logic.
"If there’s another way…" Jess trailed off, her sentence left incomplete as Tomoya raised a finger to silence her. Though no words followed, the gesture conveyed his need for space to think.
Tomoya was keenly aware of the precarious position they found themselves in. The clock continued its relentless march toward midnight, the deadline Jess had set for her survival.
And as much as he wanted to believe he could resolve this with intellect alone, he couldn’t shake the haunting memories of Shane—the woman whose disappearance had forever altered the trajectory of his life.
Here’s the rewritten text expanded into longer, intellectual paragraphs:
Tomoya mouthed the name, "Shane," his lips pressed into a thin line as an internal war waged within him. Memories of her—the pain, the sacrifices, and her unyielding compassion—clouded his thoughts. Jess’s plea resonated against this backdrop of recollection. "What do I do, Shane?" he whispered inwardly, his hands trembling slightly. He knew her well enough to anticipate her answer. Even in the face of betrayal, Shane would have chosen to save Jess. That was her nature—a beacon of forgiveness and humanity, even in the darkest hours. Yet, this realization made the decision heavier for Tomoya, whose sense of justice warred with his lingering grief.
Frustration swelled as he dragged a hand down his face, the weight of indecision bearing down. Time was slipping away, and Jess's demand left him no room to deliberate further. She was asking too much, offering too little. And yet, the thought of her dying—her and the unborn life she carried—gnawed at him. He felt his pulse quicken, anxiety escalating as he remembered where the grimoire truly was: not with him, but secured back at his home. The oversight made his skin crawl, amplifying the urgency of the situation.
"Fine! Come with me," Tomoya finally snapped, his voice sharp as he shot up from his seat. He moved with a purpose, forgetting entirely that Jess was pregnant and unable to match his pace. His impatience overtook his better judgment. Only as she stumbled slightly did he bark, "Wait here, then!" gesturing for her to sit down as he stormed off, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. The parking lot wasn’t far, but every step felt heavy with uncertainty and anger.
As he reached for his car door, a figure on the other side made him halt abruptly. “WHAT THE FUCK!” Tomoya yelled, his voice echoing through the empty parking lot. Rener stood there, his presence as unnervingly calm as ever. The sight of him only added to Tomoya’s boiling frustration. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, RENER!” The words spilled out, charged with disbelief and fury. He wasn’t in the mood for cryptic appearances or enigmatic remarks.
Rener, unperturbed by Tomoya’s outburst, simply raised a hand, revealing the object that made Tomoya freeze. The grimoire. “Looking for this?” Rener asked nonchalantly, tossing the ancient tome toward Tomoya as if it were a mere baseball. Tomoya lunged forward to catch it, his heart racing as he cradled the fragile book protectively. “What the hell—” he stammered, struggling to reconcile the absurdity of the moment. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”
Rener shrugged, his demeanor as detached as ever. The nonchalance only fueled Tomoya’s confusion. “And why are you here?! Why do you have this?” Tomoya demanded, his voice rising with every word.
“I’m saving you time,” Rener replied flatly. “Now go back there and hand that over to that woman.”
Tomoya stared, dumbfounded. Rener’s words didn’t align with the gravity of the situation. It took several seconds for him to form a coherent response. “Man, are you high? Do you even realize what’s going on here?!” His tone was incredulous, tinged with frustration. The absurdity of Rener’s calmness juxtaposed with the urgency Tomoya felt only made the situation more surreal.
“I do,” Rener replied coolly. “That’s why I brought it for you.” His words were maddeningly cryptic, leaving Tomoya more bewildered than before. He searched Rener’s expression for some semblance of clarity, but there was none to be found.
Tomoya stood there, gripping the grimoire as if it were the only tether to reality in an otherwise incomprehensible situation. His thoughts spiraled, backtracking through every bizarre encounter and decision that had led him here.
He couldn’t understand Rener’s motivations—or anything at all, for that matter. For a fleeting moment, his mind even wandered to unrelated absurdities, like Kaiser and Kim kissing. No, he thought bitterly, he didn’t understand anything. Not since the day he was born.
Before he could fully process the spectacle, a smoke condensed into a humanoid form. Rener materialized beside him, the demon's presence suffocating as usual. Tomoya didn’t flinch this time.
His brows furrowed instead, his lips curling into a thin line. “What evil are you plotting now?” he asked, his voice hushed but sharp. He was acutely aware that Rener was visible only to him, a phantom figure in the mortal world.
Rener’s piercing eyes gleamed in the dim light, his expression unreadable. “Evil?” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with a mockery that sent shivers down Tomoya's spine. “You kept misunderstanding me, Tomoya. This isn’t about destruction—it’s about strategy,” Rener gestured lazily, his fingers curling as if beckoning power from the air.
Tomoya’s grip on the grimoire tightened. “And why are you so eager to hand it over?” he countered, his gaze fixed on the ground, unwilling to meet Rener’s haunting stare. “Do you have any idea what could happen if it falls into the wrong hands? Or worse, if Jess uses it for something catastrophic?” His voice lowered further, the weight of his own doubt pressing down on him.
Rener’s lips curved into a sly smile, and his cold hand landed on Tomoya’s shoulder, sending an involuntary chill through his body. “Trust me,” Rener murmured, his tone both reassuring and sinister. “Giving her the grimoire will grant you the upper hand against an old friend.” His words lingered like a curse, each syllable dripping with calculated intent.
Tomoya’s retort froze in his throat as his attention was drawn to the elevator at the far end of the basement parking lot. A figure stepped out, clad in a pristine white coat that glowed faintly under the flickering lights.
Tomoya squinted, trying to make out the face of the man as he approached. The sight of him brought an unsettling rush of memories, like fragments of a shattered mirror piecing together.
“Victor,” Tomoya whispered, the name slipping out before he could stop it.
Rener’s hand squeezed his shoulder lightly, as if anchoring him in the moment. “That’s right,” the demon murmured. “Victor. A soul Takumi stirred once upon a time.”
His voice carried a cryptic amusement, the implications of his words unclear yet deeply unsettling. “Now,” Rener added with an air of finality, “go back to Jess. Give her the grimoire.”
Tomoya spun around, his frustration boiling over. “Wait—what are you even talking abou—” But Rener was gone. The smoke dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving Tomoya alone with the oppressive silence of the parking lot.
The faint echo of footsteps brought his focus back to Victor, who continued his approach towards the car parked coincidentally beside Tomoya's.
The sight of him brought an inexplicable sense of dread to Tomoya. He didn’t wait to analyze his emotions or decipher Rener’s cryptic remarks. Before Victor could get any closer, Tomoya turned on his heels and fled, the grimoire clutched tightly in his arms.
Every step he took seemed to echo louder, urging him to move faster. Rener’s words and Victor’s presence left questions swirling in his mind, but answers would have to wait. For now, survival—and the grimoire’s safety—came first.