Fiona frowned. "Not the right time?"
There is never a right time—but looking toward the bedroom where Salazar was resting… it was too risky.
Especially with Weinstein's threat looming sooner or later. "Not the right time," I repeated.
Fiona stayed quiet for a long moment, then nodded. "I understand." She lifted a brown paper bag she'd been holding since she arrived. "At least take this."
I hesitated before accepting it.
"I don't really know what you like," she added. "And it seems those two have united in keeping their distance from me."
She meant Mama Enna and Mama Val. Mama Enna… they'd never really been on good terms since that day. As for Mama Val…
"Alright," I said quietly.
Fiona checked her watch. "I should go."
I tensed. "That's it?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
She paused, giving me a look I didn't fully understand—one I'd probably give myself in a mirror. "The person who let me in said not to be too conspicuous." Fiona gestured toward the CCTV camera mounted on the nearby ceiling. "And we can't go inside, so…"
"Mama Val knows." I lowered my head. And there, I really said it. "About what we did. About… our relationship."
"So?"
I froze, my gaze lifting slowly.
Fiona stood perfectly still, unshaken. As if this was something she'd considered from the start—or if she hadn't, it didn't bother her.
For a second, a foolish, hopeful delusion blinded me. That maybe Fiona felt the same way. That maybe we could actually be—
"Everything I did falls within my mission's obligations," she said, her voice even. "Sooner or later, one of us three would have had to perform the Marking. She will understand that. She should."
My hopes didn't just fall—they were torn into tiny shreds and trampled.
So stupid. So melodramatic. Of course. From the beginning, this was a broken expectation. Something deviant. Something that was never going to happen.
"So that's how you've seen me this whole time? An obligation?"
Fiona was quiet again. Her expression didn't change. "We're family," she said softly. "I'm just helping where I can."
Something flared inside me—hot and sudden—and I felt my body move almost on its own.
My eyes locked onto hers, blazing, but Fiona just looked back without resistance.
And that's when I saw them. Two shadowy figures approaching from the direction of the elevator hallway—or maybe the stairwell. Both wore dull gray robes and old-fashioned round hats.
"I heard our target was a boy. So who's the woman?"
"An uninvited guest. We can deal with her, too—"
CRASH
One second, Fiona was in front of me, exposed. The next, she seemed to merge with the air itself—a movement like wind meeting lightning—and suddenly she was standing between them. In her hand, a Mana Dagger glowed, already raised.
No, not just raised. From its tip dripped a dark, thick fluid. It hit the floor, leaving smears of red.
Blood.
Something about it sent a strange chill through me, and everything began to seem so dreamlike.
***
Fiona didn't look away. She was certain her slash had been efficient—straight to a vital point. And it had connected: the blood was proof.
But the wound closed almost as soon as it opened. Torn tissue knitted itself back together. In an instant, the bleeding stopped.
The figure lunged to grab her. Fiona dodged in the same motion, driving a powerful kick into his chest.
He slammed back against the wall. His partner was already in a fighting stance.
Inverse-type Ether: self-healing.
Fiona didn't like opponents like this. Pain rarely worked on them. You needed something overwhelming—a destructive burst—to put them down for good.
"What do you want?" A pointless question, but a little negotiation could buy time. Her eyes scanned the hallway, searching for an escape route for Cain and herself. This narrow space wasn't in her favor.
"Well, well… if it isn't the famous Black Death?"
The second man tipped his hat back, revealing a face Fiona didn't recognize. Not an S-Class Hunter. Not on any special watchlist.
"You don't remember?" He had military-short hair and a thick scar running from one cheek to the other.
Fiona said nothing.
The man gritted his teeth, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "I'm Ashford McKallean. Your rival since the academy. You… you always used dirty tricks back then. And they—those corrupt officials—just praised you. Ignored my talent. And—"
"Never heard of you." Fiona's reply held no malice. Just fact.
The Academy… her teenage years… they weren't memories she cared to keep.
But the words cut deeper than any blade. Ashford laughed—a bitter, wounded sound. "Of course. People like you always do this. Think you're the greatest because of one or two fleeting achievements, when—"
WHOOSH—THUD!
"Too noisy."
It was a small punch that carried escalating force—a technique from tactical martial arts she'd learned as a child. But it didn't land where she'd aimed. Instead of Ashford's chest, it struck his partner, who had somehow gotten up and thrown himself in the way.
"Ugh—!" The man staggered, coughing, blood spraying from his mouth. He gasped, struggling for air.
Before Fiona could reset, Ashford was already moving. He thrust something like a Mana Dagger toward her neck. Fiona parried—
—but Ashford whispered, thick with triumph, "Got you!"
One of his eyes, fixed right on hers, glowed with an eerie blue light.
For a moment, Fiona lost everything. Vision. Awareness. A dizzying, weightless disorientation—but it was enough.
Ashford's companion was the real threat. He gathered energy in his palm, aiming for a pressure point that could knock her out. Or worse.
But he stopped.
Not by choice. Not because Fiona broke free from Ashford's hold.
Because of something else.
He froze. Trembled. Shook.
As if an icy wall had closed around him. As if something worse than a nightmare was drawing near. Every breath turned suffocating—so much so that he seemed to forget how to breathe. All after his eyes met that creature's gaze.
A pair of yellow irises. Sclera black as void. Staring like it could tear him apart at any moment.
What… is that?
The creature opened its mouth. Its voice was quieter than a grave, heavier than death.
"…PERISH."
And so he perished.