036 The Truth - Part 2 - Evelyn’s POV

  Mark stepped into the room, his brows furrowed in that familiar way that meant he was already trying to figure out what had just happened. He gnced between me and Mirai, clearly sensing the tension in the air. He hesitated near the doorway, his hand tightening around the pstic bags he carried.

  “…What’s going on?” Mark asked, his gaze flicking between us. His voice was steady, but I caught the subtle edge of suspicion beneath it.

  I smiled. It was an easy, practiced smile—the kind that disarmed people without them even realizing it. "Nothing to worry about," I said lightly, standing up from my chair. My heels clicked softly against the floor as I crossed the room toward him.

  Then I hugged him.

  Mark tensed for a second, clearly not expecting it, but he didn’t pull away. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my chin against his shoulder. His scent was familiar—clean detergent mixed with a faint trace of sweat from training. Beneath that, though, I could feel the steady, grounding presence of him. Stronger than when we started. Better.

  I pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes searched mine, confused but cautious. "I’ll have to go now," I said.

  Mark’s expression tightened. "Go where?"

  I smiled wider and ignored the question. Instead, I reached for one of the pstic bags hanging from his wrist. He let me take it without protest, his gaze sharpening as I peeked inside. Shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, a few other essentials. I nodded approvingly.

  Mirai, who had been sitting stiffly across the room, finally spoke up. “What’s that?”

  I turned toward her. She was watching me with that careful, guarded expression she always had when she wasn’t sure whether to trust me or not.

  "Essentials, of course!" I said brightly, holding up the bag.

  Mark’s brows knitted together. "Yeah, they were in the list…"

  I nodded. "Of course. I gave you a list of things a girl needs."

  "…Things a girl needs?" Mark repeated slowly. His gaze darkened with suspicion.

  Mirai flushed slightly, her eyes flicking to the bag with dawning realization.

  I ughed softly. "Don't worry, it’s nothing scandalous."

  Mark sighed, clearly too tired to press the issue further. I handed him back the bag and stepped toward the door.

  “Well then,” I said, turning toward them with an easy wave. “I’ll be going now. Don’t forget what we talked about, Mirai.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. Smart girl.

  Mark watched me with narrowed eyes. "You’re being weird."

  I smiled one st time. "That's nothing new, dear."

  And with that, I left, leaving the weight of the room behind me.

  I didn’t make it far.

  "Remember, always use protection!" I shouted over my shoulder, my voice echoing down the hall.

  I heard Mark choke. Mirai made a soft, horrified sound that was halfway between a gasp and a squeak. Oh, that was satisfying.

  I grinned to myself as I stepped around the corner. I couldn’t believe I had just tried to gaslight a kid into thinking she loved my son. I mean, really—what kind of terrible person does that?

  Apparently, me.

  I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I walked toward the elevator. This was low, even by my standards. But it was necessary. Mirai was the key to everything. She just didn’t know it yet.

  Still… I had to give it to Mark. His loyalty to his psychotic mother was truly phenomenal. Not many sons would tolerate being roped into a multi-dimensional chess match orchestrated by their unhinged parent. The fact that Mark not only put up with it—but followed through—meant I had raised him right. Kind of… Maybe? Meh… I knew I’m a terrible mother.

  Judging by the way Mirai had hovered and crooned over him, she was already attached. She wasn’t aware of it yet, but I could see the cracks forming. The way her eyes softened when Mark spoke. The way her body angled toward him, unconsciously seeking his presence.

  Not romantic yet—but so far, so good.

  I sighed. God, I felt disgusted with myself. But I didn’t have the luxury of feeling guilty. If I wanted to protect Mark from his doomed fate, I needed to py dirty.

  Because I hadn’t told Mirai the whole truth about the prophecy.

  Everyone knew about the prophesied hero—the destined savior of the world, blessed with extraordinary power, fated to end the age of dungeons and monsters. That hero was Mirai. But what they didn’t know—what I knew—was that stories like this always had a bancing force.

  A hero. And a devil.

  And the prophesied devil just so happened to be my son.

  I knew in my heart there was no stopping it. Prophecies in this world were irreversible, coded into the very foundation of reality. Even with my meta-knowledge from the game, I could only do so much. That’s why I had to be so harsh on Mark. I had to make him strong. Give him the tools he’d need to fight fate.

  But strength alone wouldn’t be enough. Mark needed Mirai. She was the one variable the story hadn’t accounted for. The hero and the devil—intertwined. If Mirai fell for Mark, if she made him her reason to fight…

  Well, then maybe fate could be cheated after all.

  The elevator dinged softly as it arrived. I stepped inside and pressed the button for the highest floor. The ride was quiet, just the soft hum of the machinery as the numbers ticked upward.

  When the doors opened, I stepped out into a dimly lit hallway. The air felt colder here. Staler. The Academy’s upper floors were restricted to faculty and authorized personnel—except I had long since stopped letting rules get in my way.

  I walked down the corridor, heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The hallway was empty, lined with dark wooden doors and softly glowing wall sconces. It reminded me of a hotel—cold, elegant, and impersonal.

  At the end of the hall, I stopped in front of a door marked with a single brass pque: REINA.

  I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and knocked.

  "Come in," Reina’s voice called from within.

  I opened the door and smelled blood.

  Reina stood near the window, silhouetted against the night sky. Her long brown hair flowed down her back, and her reddish-brown eyes gleamed in the low light. She didn’t turn around as I entered.

  And then blood.

  It was everywhere—slick and wet on the marble floor, spttered across the walls in jagged streaks, and pooling beneath the dismembered bodies scattered around the room. The metallic tang of it filled the air, sharp and nauseating.

  The dead men and women y at odd angles, limbs twisted unnaturally. Some were missing arms, others their heads. One poor bastard’s torso had been nearly cleaved in two, his internal organs spilling out onto the floor in a steaming mess.

  I stepped over a severed hand, heels clicking softly against the blood-soaked floor. A few of the bodies twitched—nervous system misfires, or maybe a lingering trace of life that would soon fade entirely.

  "Busy night?" I said dryly.

  Reina stood near the window, framed by the city lights beyond the gss. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, the reddish brown of her eyes glinting faintly in the low light. She didn’t even bother to look at me as she wiped blood off her gloved hand with a crisp white cloth.

  "Necessary cleanup," she replied coolly.

  My gaze swept the room. Some of the dead wore uniforms—mercenaries, from the look of them. Professionals. Others were dressed in bck tactical gear with no identifying marks. That meant they were probably from one of the underground syndicates. The kind you didn’t hire unless you had serious money to burn.

  "Assassins?" I asked.

  Reina’s mouth curled slightly. "Naturally."

  I let out a low whistle. "That's bold. To send them here."

  "They were after me, that’s for sure." Reina’s tone was calm—matter-of-fact, like she was discussing the weather. "Seems the higher-ups have stopped pying games."

  My eyes narrowed. "And Merrick?"

  "I told you, he was done with that life… he won’t involve himself with this silliness anymore!"

  I sighed and rubbed my temples. "Great. That’s just fantastic."

  Reina finally turned, her gaze cold and assessing. "You look tired, Evelyn."

  I ughed under my breath. "Oh, I'm exhausted."

  She tilted her head. "Do you want to sit down?"

  I stepped over a corpse and leaned against the wall instead. "No, thanks. I’d rather not stain my clothes."

  Reina’s smile sharpened. "Probably wise."

  I gestured toward the nearest corpse. "Any survivors?"

  "One," Reina said, her eyes darkening. "In the next room. He’s sedated. For now."

  "I assume you’ll be handling the interrogation?"

  Reina’s smile widened into something sharp and dangerous. "Of course."

  I sighed. "Just don’t kill him too quickly. We need information."

  Reina’s reddish brown eyes gleamed. "I’ll try to restrain myself."

  I let my gaze drift across the carnage one st time before pushing off the wall. "You know this means they'll escate, right?"

  "Of course," Reina said. "They’ve already crossed the line. It’s only a matter of time before they stop using hired help and come for him directly."

  I closed my eyes briefly, trying to tamp down the rising anger in my chest. Mark had enough to deal with. He didn’t need this too.

  "They’re accelerating the timeline," I muttered.

  "Yes," Reina agreed. "Which means we’ll have to accelerate our own pns."

  I opened my eyes and smiled grimly. "Looks like it’s going to be a long year."

  "You know," Reina began, voice light, almost bored, "this arrangement of ours is rather convenient, isn’t it?"

  I arched a brow. "Because you get to use me as a weapon?"

  Reina’s smile widened. "I meant because we both have someone to protect."

  My gaze darkened. "Mark."

  "And Ron." Reina’s tone softened, just slightly. “I still don’t have an idea how Mark fits into this, but whatever.”

  I sighed. "Yes."

  For all our differences, that was the one thread that bound us—our desperate, ruthless need to protect them. Mark was my son; Ron was Reina’s little cousin. It wasn’t mere sentimentality.

  Reina tilted her head. "Did you ever figure it out yet? The cure to insanity?"

  I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the weight of her stare. "No."

  "Hmm." Her eyes sharpened. "Still hiding it from me?"

  I dropped my hand and sighed. "I’m not a precog."

  Reina’s eyes narrowed. "You’re suspiciously good at pying the game for someone who’s not seeing ahead."

  "I’m already insane," I said bluntly. "You can’t cure what’s already broken."

  Reina ughed under her breath, eyes glittering. "Fair point."

  That was why she was cooperating with me. Reina thought I was one of them—one of the cursed few gifted with precognition… just like Ronald Ardent. The truth was simpler and so much crueler. I wasn’t seeing the future. I was surviving it. Over and over and over again.

  Reina pushed off the wall, arms stretching above her head. "So why Merrick?"

  I stiffened.

  Reina’s smile sharpened as she prowled closer. "Why are you so obsessed with him?"

  "I’m not obsessed." My voice was colder than I intended.

  Reina’s lips twitched. "You sure about that?"

  I narrowed my eyes. "Merrick’s the only one who can kill him."

  Her smile slipped, just slightly.

  "In every pythrough," I continued, "in every outcome I’ve seen… it’s always Merrick. He’s the key. If I want to end this, I need him."

  “And you say, you are not a precog,,,: Reina studied me, head tilted in quiet amusement. Then her smile returned—sharp, pyful, dangerous.

  "Maybe he’d agree to your whims if you let him shag you," she suggested casually.

  I blinked. Then, despite myself, I considered it.

  "Hmmm…"

  Reina’s expression froze. Her lips twitched. "You’re joking."

  "Am I?"

  Her smile faltered. "You’d seriously—?"

  "No," I said, ughing. "But it’s not the worst leverage."

  Reina groaned, rubbing her face. "I was joking."

  I smirked. "So was I."

  Her eyes narrowed. "You’re dangerous."

  "You’ve known that for a while."

  Reina’s eyes gleamed. "Yes. And I’m starting to think it might be contagious."

  Alfir