Tomoya dragged himself back home, his mind and body weighted by the events of the night. He didn’t bother dwelling on Jess’s fate if her accomplices realized the grimoire he’d handed her was a forgery.
  Exhaustion had dulled his senses, and the moral complexities of his choices faded into the background. Reaching his condominium, he allowed the familiar silence to envelop him. He assumed Kathleen was in good hands with Theresa, sparing him one less worry for the night.
  Collapsing onto the couch, Tomoya felt the day’s tension seep into the room. The empty space around him, although spacious, felt oppressive, as if the walls themselves carried the weight of his secrets. 
  Pulling the grimoire from his coat pocket, he placed it carefully on the table next to his laptop. The book’s presence filled the room with an ominous aura, a silent reminder of his uneasy alliance with Rener.
  The thought of working with Rener makes his skin crawl. What would Takumi think if he found out? The betrayal and the irony stung. Rener, after all, wasn’t just any demon. He was Takumi’s godfather—a detail that never failed to confuse Tomoya’s moral compass. 
  Chuckling bitterly, he muttered to himself, “What a twisted family dynamic.”
  Glancing at the grimoire, he felt an internal tug-of-war. Part of him yearned for the oblivion of sleep, but an inexplicable impulse made him reach for his laptop. 
  He didn’t know why—perhaps it was sheer habit or the comfort of diving into something technical. As the laptop screen glowed to life, his fingers instinctively opened his hacking software, the interface cluttered with code and complex encryption tools.
  Tomoya’s skills with technology had always been his refuge. Navigating through Christian’s data, he sought solace in the structured logic of files and records. Relief washed over him as he reviewed Christian’s progress.
  The man’s vitals and recovery data were promising. Based on the medical notes, Christian might wake soon, though the involvement of demons cast a shadow of uncertainty over the timeline.
  Satisfied, Tomoya began closing the tabs but paused, his mind veering toward Scott. His instincts urged him to look, though he hesitated. The man’s situation was tied to a web of lies, danger, and conspiracies. 
  Curiosity won out, and Tomoya accessed Scott’s records, the screen flooding with encrypted data. Breaking through the initial layer of security, he encountered an overwhelming maze of medical jargon.
  “Damn it,” he muttered, leaning forward as he cross-referenced terms he didn’t understand. After several minutes, his breath caught. 
  Scott’s records indicated he was on the brink of being declared brain-dead, pending further tests. The realization felt like a punch to the gut. As his fingers flew across the keyboard, decrypting a second layer of data, he uncovered something even more startling—plans for Scott’s transfer to the United States, scheduled the day after tomorrow.
  What struck Tomoya as odd was the level of security around this information. The file was deeply buried, requiring advanced cracking skills. 
  “Why all the secrecy?” he whispered. The implication of a covert transfer gnawed at him. 
  As he delved deeper, Tomoya noticed anomalies in the data—subtle red flags suggesting tampering. The transfer wasn’t just medical; it had layers of logistical complexity usually reserved for classified operations. 
  It wasn’t hard to imagine that Scott’s situation wasn’t just about his health. There were players in the shadows pulling strings. He used to dislike Scott, but thinking that he had only been used all along makes his gut twist.
  The room seemed to close in on him as he contemplated his next move. If Scott was being moved in secret, it meant there was something—or someone—that made him valuable even in his current state.
  Tomoya pressed his fingers to his temples, attempting to ease the growing tension. Scott’s abrupt shift in character towards Samantha felt like a jarring puzzle piece that disrupted the fragile framework of his theories. The implications hit like a thunderclap, leaving him grappling with a surge of questions.
  “Could it be that Scott was aligned with Jess all along?” he murmured, a chill running through him as he recalled how they had so easily welcomed Scott into their fold during the search for Samantha.
  The realization came like a spark of clarity. “Scott must have known about Shane from the beginning,” Tomoya whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. Although these were still conjectures, the sudden change in Scott’s demeanor lent a disturbing coherence to the narrative.
  “He manipulated Shane,” Tomoya concluded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Her connections were his way in. And Jess—she’s known all along. If she’s collaborating with Victor…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head as the pieces shifted uncomfortably in his mind. 
  “Then Victor must also know about Shane. This whole thing has been a coordinated effort, leveraging Kathleen’s ties to Shane as a means to access the other realm.”
  Tomoya’s mind spiraled as the connections became increasingly tangled. He felt as though his thoughts were unraveling, the tenuous links fraying under the weight of so many uncertainties. 
  What was clear, however, was that Victor, Jess, and Scott were part of a larger conspiracy. And behind them loomed the shadow of an unknown figure—someone powerful enough to orchestrate their movements and fixate on the portal.
  “To what end?” Tomoya muttered, the question hanging ominously in the air. No one seemed to have the answer, leaving them adrift in a sea of speculation.
  His gaze dropped as he thought of Scott. “If only he were here,” Tomoya said softly. For all his suspicions, he couldn’t shake the memory of Scott shielding Kathleen with his own body that almost cost him his life.
  That act spoke of genuine care, at least for Samantha. Despite the tangled web of deceit, one truth stood out: Scott’s motivations, while enigmatic, weren’t entirely malicious. He actually loved Samantha after all, and that is something Tomoya could tell.
  The laptop screen flickered slightly, drawing Tomoya’s attention back to the code. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he debated whether to dig further. Every instinct told him to stop, to avoid getting entangled in another dangerous situation, but his curiosity burned brighter and he decided to follow the breadcrumbs, unraveling layers of encrypted files until he hit a firewall so dense it felt almost alive.
  Sweat beaded on his forehead as he worked. This was no ordinary medical record; it was cloaked in layers of encryption rivaling government databases. Whoever wanted to keep this hidden wasn’t just being cautious—they were sending a message: Stay out. But Tomoya wasn’t one to back down. The firewall’s resistance only fueled his resolve.
  As the final layer of encryption cracked, the file opened with a simple message: “Access Restricted: Unauthorized Attempts Will Be Reported.” Tomoya froze, realizing the risk he had just taken. This wasn’t just hacking—it was crossing into a realm where powerful entities, both human and otherwise, would notice his presence.
  He closed the laptop abruptly, his heart pounding. For the first time in years, Tomoya felt genuinely afraid. Whatever he had stumbled upon was far bigger than he had anticipated. Scott’s transfer, the secrecy, the involvement of demons—it all pointed to something catastrophic brewing beneath the surface.
  "If Scott is not their ace, then he must be their sacrifice in this twisted game."
  Tomoya’s gaze drifted to the grimoire on the table. Its presence seemed to mock him, a silent reminder of the chaos he was entangled in. 
  "If only Rener would grant me some insight for this mess," Tomoya muttered, his voice laced with frustration. Shifting the blame seemed inevitable, but deep down, he knew better than to fault anyone but Takumi—and perhaps himself.
  Takumi had been given freedom and still chose to tread a perilous path, one that now left chaos in its wake. Tomoya sighed, recognizing the hypocrisy in his own thoughts.
  “Who am I fooling?” he chuckled bitterly, almost groaning at the irony. He would likely have made the same decision if he were in Takumi’s place. His feelings for Samantha were too profound, too rooted in the past, to allow him to stand idly by. Even knowing the risks, he couldn’t let go of the hope that they could still save her.
  This wasn’t just about consequences anymore; it was about redemption, about fulfilling an unspoken promise to someone he had once loved.
  For now, though, he had to narrow his focus. “Dryzza comes first. The rest will follow,” he resolved.
  As the night passed in a blur, Tomoya awoke feeling as if he’d only closed his eyes for mere moments.
  Tomoya had assigned himself a crucial task for the day: tailing Dryzza. It wasn’t a decision made lightly, as missing this opportunity could mean losing track of her for who knows how long. Kathleen and Christian would have to wait; he didn’t have the luxury of dividing his focus. Time was of the essence, and Dryzza’s unpredictable movements made this mission too critical to postpone.
  Parking a safe distance from Dryzza’s station, Tomoya briefly considered stopping by Takumi’s house to share what he had uncovered the night before. Victor’s sudden appearance, the potential danger lurking around, and the forged grimoire—all of it weighed heavily on his mind. Yet, something held him back. 
His memory, ironic for someone with such a sharp intellect, often betrayed him in moments like these. Tomoya knew his limits; multitasking wasn’t his forte. When his attention fixed on a single objective, everything else risked slipping through the cracks, and he couldn’t afford mistakes now.
  Dryzza arrived moments later, stepping out of her car. Even from a distance, Tomoya could see the exhaustion etched on her face. Her movements were deliberate yet weary, her demeanor marked by sleeplessness. The thought struck him: had Rener visited her dreams? It wouldn’t be out of character for the enigmatic demon to manipulate people in their most vulnerable state.
  “Wonders,” Tomoya muttered under his breath, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel in a steady rhythm. Rener’s motives, always obscure, loomed large in his thoughts. If he had indeed reached out to Dryzza, what could it mean for her—and for the tangled mess Tomoya found himself in?
  The hours dragged on, and Dryzza remained inside the station. Tomoya's patience was wearing thin, but the scene outside the building piqued his interest.
  Reporters were gathered, their presence suggesting something significant was unfolding within. Some of them were familiar faces, journalists who had covered Samantha’s case and the horrifying string of murders tied to her. Their presence reignited old doubts that Tomoya had tried to bury.
  The children’s murders had been deemed resolved, yet the victims' families had never accepted the conclusion. They’d fought relentlessly for the cases to be reopened, driven by an unshakable belief that the real perpetrator remained at large. 
  Samantha’s name had been tied to those horrifying crimes in whispers and rumors, yet no concrete evidence has ever emerged to confirm or refute such claims.
  As the idea took root in his mind, Tomoya couldn’t ignore the possibility. What if Samantha, his beloved Shane, has been truly involved in the children’s deaths? The thought was almost too much to bear. 
  The connections between her disappearance and the murders felt tenuous, but they were impossible to dismiss entirely.
  Tomoya’s gaze returned to the station. Dryzza’s continued absence from public view only deepened his suspicions. What if she had escaped his keen eyes?
 “No, she’s still inside.”
 “HOLY FUCK!” Tomoya nearly jumped out of his skin as Rener suddenly appeared in front of him, just outside the car.
 Rener’s eyes lit up with amusement at Tomoya’s reaction, and with a subtle movement, he materialized in the passenger seat beside him.
 “COULD YOU STOP DOING THAT?!” Tomoya groaned, glaring at him.
 “I assumed you’d have gotten used to it by now,” Rener replied with a smirk, leaning back as if he belonged there.
 Tomoya rolled his eyes so dramatically it felt like they might get stuck. “Piss off!” he hissed, his tone half-serious. “And for the record, demons can’t read minds, so how’d you know what I was thinking?”
 Rener chuckled softly. “Demons don’t need to read minds when we can read faces. Yours is practically a movie with subtitles.” He shrugged. “And relax. The woman will stay inside the station until evening.”
 Tomoya squinted at him, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve been extra chatty since last night?”
 Rener’s smirk grew. “I have my reasons. I believe I explained some of them already. Besides,” he paused, his tone softening, “there’s one more favor I need to ask of you.”
 Tomoya’s face twisted into an annoyed grimace. “Can’t you handle it yourself?”
 “If I could, I wouldn’t bother asking.”
 Tomoya sighed, the weight of the situation pressing on him. “Fine, what is it?”
 For a moment, Rener said nothing, allowing the silence to grow heavy. Finally, he spoke. “Takumi and I parted ways a long time ago, bound by a deal to never cross paths again. Yet, against my better judgment, I’ve bent that rule more times than I care to admit. I kinda ran out of chances.”
 “And your point is?” Tomoya prompted, his voice edged with impatience, dismissing Rener's words.
Rener exhaled deeply, his gaze distant. “On the third night from now, a door will open—one you’ll have to unlock alongside people you will need to trust. Once it’s done, there will be no turning back. Some outcomes may work in your favor, but most will spiral into chaos, driven by forces waiting for the two realms to converge."
Tomoya’s heart raced. “But... the third night from now?!” he repeated, the words striking him like a cold slap.
 Rener nodded solemnly. “Yes. Once the door opens, you’ll face choices that could change everything—for better or worse. But you’ll have both grimoires by tonight. Use them wisely, Tomoya, and you will have the upper hand.”
 There was an unfamiliar weight in Rener’s gaze as he turned to face Tomoya fully. For reasons he couldn’t explain, Tomoya felt an unsettling finality in the air. His chest tightened, his instincts screaming that this moment was more significant than Rener let on.
 Rener's tone grew heavier, carrying the weight of an earnest plea. “And to secure your victory, ensure Takumi refrains from using his eyes again, under any circumstances. Both of you are gifted with intellect, but intellect alone, untempered by emotional depth, can lead to devastation. Only through balancing logic with empathy can the right course be navigated.”
 He paused, placing a firm yet almost compassionate hand on Tomoya's shoulder, his gaze unyielding. “I need you to help him, Tomoya. This is the final request of a demon who has vowed to atone for his transgressions. I trust that you will honor this plea.”
 Before Tomoya could respond, Rener disappeared, his departure leaving behind a coldness that seeped into the air. Tomoya sat frozen, staring at the empty seat.
 It wasn’t the first time Rener had vanished so abruptly, but this time felt different—heavier. There was something in the way Rener had looked at him, in the way his voice lingered.
 "He's a demon; of course, I'd never truly understand his nature," Tomoya muttered, his voice tinged with frustration as he tried to quell the unease swirling in his thoughts.
 Still, he couldn't shake the uneasiness Rener's words had bought. At this point, with alliances shifting and demons potentially joining with other forces, Rener had become an irreplaceable ally. Whatever his nature, Rener was all they had. 
 Losing him now would be catastrophic—especially with the looming inevitability of the door being opened tomorrow night. It was a gamble, but Tomoya knew their survival hinged on Rener's guidance.
 "Focus! Focus! Tomoya, focus!" he muttered to himself, tapping both of his cheeks in a desperate attempt to regain his concentration. He quickly refocused on the station, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Zach entering.
 Moments later, Zach emerged, flanked by other detectives. They quickly piled into their cars and sped off, their urgency unmistakable. Tomoya knew he couldn’t afford to lose track of them.
 In a panic, he grabbed his laptop and started digging into the station's database. However, this time, something was different. A new firewall had been set up—one far more sophisticated than anything he'd encountered before. Tomoya's fingers flew across the keyboard, trying to bypass the layers of security.
 He encountered a series of complex encryption algorithms designed to prevent unauthorized access. The firewall had been implemented with an advanced AI-based system that adapted to his methods, blocking each attempt with increasing precision. It was as if the system was anticipating his every move, learning from each failed attempt.
 The process felt more like a battle of wits than a technical task. Tomoya felt the weight of his failure creeping up on him. He tried several different approaches—using familiar methods of code injection, even trying to exploit possible weaknesses in the IT infrastructure—but each time, the firewall pushed him back.
  This wasn’t just a security measure; it was a carefully crafted, real-time defense system that had been designed to withstand even the most persistent hackers.
 Eventually, the screen flashed a warning: "Access Denied. Multiple unauthorized attempts detected." Tomoya cursed under his breath, realizing it was almost impossible to crack. The station's IT team had certainly been aware of some unauthorized access, likely tracing it back to him.
 Frustrated, he reluctantly closed his laptop. At this point, the only thing he could be certain of was that Valentine—whoever was running the IT operation—had figured out that someone had been hacking into their records. And he knew it wasn't just a coincidence that the security had been tightened now.
 "SHIT!" Tomoya cursed, his body tensing as he quickly secured his laptop under the seat's storage compartment. He turned sharply toward the driver's window, only to freeze when he saw Dryzza standing just outside, arms crossed with an expression that could freeze the air around them.
 Her fist had knocked twice against the windshield, the sound sharp and sudden enough to send a jolt of panic through him—a mini heart attack, if you will. The sight of her now only added to the feeling of dread, as if the earth beneath him could split open and swallow him whole to escape the inevitable confrontation.
 The moment their eyes met, Tomoya knew. That look in Dryzza's eyes was unmistakable—a silent, piercing acknowledgment that whatever future he had hoped for, whatever plans he'd made, had already been shattered. The weight of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks. He had unwittingly altered something significant, and the path forward had become a twisted mess of consequences he couldn't control.
 Is he still able to meet Dryzza tomorrow night? Because one quick question. What the fuck?— is something Tomoya would yell.