A suffocating tension filled the small cabin, thick enough to feel, as the faint sounds of the café outside continued in distant contrast to what was unfolding within, the soft clatter of utensils and muted conversations now reduced to a dull backdrop against the sharp, controlled presence Damon carried in the room.

The second young man shifted slightly, instinctively trying to move, perhaps to step back, perhaps to reach for something—anything—that could help him escape the situation.

Damon noticed immediately.

"Don’t try anything else," he said in a low, measured voice, one that did not need volume to carry weight, "like activating your resonance... that will only give me an excuse of self-defense to do what I wish to do."

The implication settled heavily as both of them froze.

Their bodies stiffened as they exchanged quick, terrified glances with each other, their fear no longer hidden, their breathing uneven as they stood trapped under his gaze.

Damon observed them calmly.

"Good... it looks like you understand, right?" he said, almost conversationally.

They nodded.

Quickly.

Desperately.

Satisfied, Damon tilted his head slightly as he continued, his tone maintaining that same unsettling calm.

"Alright then... I will just ask some questions, and you will answer," he said, pausing just briefly before adding with a faint smile, "and oh... not like before, exaggerating your voices... we need to make sure your voices stay in this room, okay?"

He did not wait for a response.

"So... what was your motive in doing all this?"

As he spoke, he removed his hand from the injured young man’s mouth, allowing him just enough freedom to breathe and speak, though the threat remained clearly present.

The two young men looked at each other.

Hesitating.

Clinging to the last fragments of denial.

"W-what do you mean...?" the second one stammered, his voice shaking, "w-we were just talking..."

Sigh!

Damon sighed slowly.

His free hand rose to his forehead as he rubbed it lightly, as though mildly inconvenienced.

"...So this is how it’s going to be, huh," he muttered under his breath, his tone almost tired, "you see... I don’t have much time here."

Before the words could fully settle—

His hand moved again.

The sickle came down.

Harder.

A sickening sound followed as it struck the already injured hand, this time cutting through with brutal precision as fingers were severed completely, blood spilling freely across the table and floor as the young man’s body convulsed violently in pain.

A muffled scream tore through his throat—

Only to be silenced again as Damon’s hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

"—So you better answer," Damon said calmly, his voice unchanged despite the violence, "if you don’t want all your fingers to be chopped one by one."

The second young man broke completely.

"I—I’ll talk!" he blurted out immediately, his voice cracking under pressure, his fear overwhelming any remaining resistance, "w-we were told to provoke you on purpose!"

Damon’s lips curved into a faint smile.

"Now... wasn’t that much easier?"

***

Inside the quiet cabin, the earlier warmth had long since drained away, leaving behind a silence that felt heavy and uncertain, as Mira sat with her hands lightly clasped together, her fingers fidgeting unconsciously while her gaze kept drifting toward the door, as though expecting it to open at any moment.

Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

With him.

"H-he must be quite hurt by all those words..." she said softly, her voice carrying a fragile concern that she did not attempt to hide.

Serena, seated across from her, watched her for a moment, her expression composed, her posture relaxed, yet her eyes sharp as they studied Mira carefully.

"Seriously," Serena said after a brief pause, her tone calm but probing, "don’t you think anything about how his mother died... because of him?"

Mira flinched.

The question struck deeper than expected.

Her fingers tightened slightly as she looked down for a moment before replying, her voice hesitant yet sincere.

"W-we don’t know yet if that’s true..."

Serena’s gaze did not waver.

"What if I said it is true?" she asked, her tone steady, almost testing.

Mira’s eyes widened as she looked up at her, the weight of those words settling heavily in her chest, her lips parting slightly as her emotions surfaced without restraint, her voice trembling as a faint tear gathered at the corner of her eye.

"T-that... that’s even more pitiful..." she said softly, her words carrying an unexpected warmth despite the sorrow, "if it is true... then that means... he must have been carrying all of that alone..."

Mira’s voice trembled slightly, yet she did not stop, as though once the thought had formed, she could no longer keep it contained, her words flowing out with a quiet sincerity that carried more weight than she realized.

"N-nobody would push their loved ones toward harm...," she said softly, her fingers tightening together as she tried to steady herself, "h-he...how much had he suffered alone."

Her gaze lowered, her lashes trembling faintly as the emotions continued to build.

"H-his father turned cold toward him... even his fiancée left him at such a time..." she continued, her voice breaking just slightly before she forced herself to go on, "it’s like... everyone only blamed him... nobody even considered... t-that he lost his mother too..."

A faint tear slipped free, though she didn’t seem to notice.

"A-and he has to live with that... for the rest of his life..."

Silence followed as Serena watched her closely.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not in irritation, but in contemplation, as though measuring something beyond just Mira’s words, before she exhaled quietly, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"You are too kind, Mira," she said, her tone calm, yet carrying a faint edge of realism, "always choosing to see the good in everything."

She paused briefly, her gaze shifting toward the door for a fleeting second before returning to Mira, her expression settling into something more serious.

"I will warn you again," she continued, her voice steady now, firm without being harsh, "don’t get too close to him..."

There was no hesitation in her next words.

"He is far more dangerous than I thought before today."

***

"Why did you want to provoke me?"

Damon’s voice was calm, almost conversational, as though the blood on the table and the trembling bodies in front of him were nothing more than an inconvenience, his gaze fixed steadily on the two young men.

The injured one swallowed hard, his entire body shaking as he struggled to speak through the pain, his voice uneven and broken.

"W-we were told... if we provoke you enough... y-you will lose control of your strength... and cause a disaster... c-causing you to be expelled..."

Damon’s eyes lowered slightly.

...Just as I thought.

He did not linger on it.

"So tell me," he continued smoothly, his tone unchanged, "who acted as the thief... was it one of you... or do you have a third accomplice?"

The two young men exchanged confused glances, genuine this time, their fear momentarily overshadowed by uncertainty.

"W-what thief?" one of them asked, his voice trembling.

Damon let out a quiet sigh, lifting the sickle slightly, the motion alone enough to make both of them stiffen in panic.

"W-we really don’t know what you are talking about!" the second one blurted out urgently, his words tumbling over each other.

Damon paused.

Then—

He chuckled softly.

"So you are saying... you being here is a coincidence?" he asked, his tone carrying a faint, dangerous amusement.

The young man lowered his head, his voice barely holding together.

"W-we followed you here... w-we were on your tail the whole day..."

Damon’s brows furrowed slightly.

...They don’t seem to be lying.

And right now... they have no reason to.

His gaze sharpened again.

"Then why didn’t I detect you?" he asked.

The second young man quickly fumbled with his belongings, pulling out a small artifact, its surface etched with faint, shifting patterns.

"T-this... helps in masking presence..." he said, holding it out with shaking hands.

Damon took it, observing it closely, his eyes scanning the intricate engravings as the young man continued hurriedly.

"W-we followed you the whole day... and when we saw you stopping in front of the café... talking with the young duchess and Miss Mira... we entered through the side door..."

Damon’s brows furrowed deeper.

His thoughts moved rapidly.

...Wait.

Then who was that thief?

Was that... all just a coincidence?

His mind retraced the sequence.

There is no way this could have been planned so precisely...

No one could have known Mira would be with me today before this morning...

And these two... they don’t look capable of pulling something like that together on the spot...

A quiet realization began to form.

...Then what exactly was that?

Damon lifted his gaze back toward them, his expression returning to that same controlled calm.

"Who asked you to do this?"

The question hung in the air. The two young men froze.

Their eyes shifted toward each other then away.

Hesitation.

Fear.

Conflict.

"W-we..." one of them started, only to falter as his voice caught in his throat.

Damon’s grip on the sickle tightened slightly.

"I don’t have time," he said quietly, his tone losing even the faintest trace of patience.

The pressure in the room rose.

And just as the words were about to be forced out—

Something changed.

A sudden disturbance rippled through the air, subtle at first, then growing rapidly as the atmosphere itself seemed to distort, a strange pressure pressing down from all directions as faint winds began to swirl unnaturally within the enclosed space.

Then—

A sharp sound cut through everything.

"DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!"

All three manacrons lit up at once.

A cold, mechanical voice followed immediately.

MANA DISRUPTION DETECTED NEARBY.

THERE IS A CHANCE A BREACH MIGHT OPEN.

PLEASE EVACUATE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.