The boy's condition was worsening; they had to act quickly.
Zach rushed over and gently laid him on his side.
Aylin and the others stepped back to calm the space around them.
Billy sensed Karina's distress. To protect the child from the chaos, he carried her away from the scene.
Ten minutes passed before the seizure ended.
The boy's half-conscious body slumped to the ground.
The air around him felt heavy—thick enough to drown your heartbeat in fear.
Zach looked at Aylin; their eyes met, filled with unspoken words.
Someone had to begin, so Zach did.
"Aylin... I know how much saving lives matters to you, but this boy...
There's something in him that keeps gnawing at me.
We can't risk the safety of the whole group for one person. I hope you understand."
Aylin looked overwhelmed, doubt creeping in.
She sighed, visibly shaken.
"Zach… I really don't know what to do. I'm afraid abandoning him would be wrong.
If I give up… does that make me a hateful person, someone who risks a life for selfishness?"
Zach knelt beside her, his eyes locking into hers.
"Aylin, this isn't selfish. You're the most sincere person I've ever met. Believe in yourself.
If it's too hard for you, then let me be the bad guy—the one who makes choices like this."
Zach's words soothed her like a slow-acting balm.
Even so, she didn't want her guilt laid on anyone else's shoulders.
They had to reach a decision.
So Zach asked her to step away and stay with Karina.
He and Joshua would take care of the rest.
The plan was simple:
Once the boy woke up and was stable enough, he would be interrogated.
Zach had to make sure this boy wasn't a threat to their group.
Joshua hesitated.
"Zach… Are you sure about this? Don't you think you're being too harsh?
He might be innocent. How could someone so weak be dangerous?"
Zach grew irritated.
He ran a hand through his hair, smirking bitterly.
"Innocent? Joshua, do you really believe someone wrapped in a blood-drenched aura can be innocent?
This world has no mercy. It makes no distinction between guilty and guiltless.
All you have is yourself—and your choices."
"Just don't let his fragile appearance fool you…
Because in this place, weakness doesn't always mean weakness.
Sometimes, a hidden devil is simply masking its strength."
Joshua fell silent. Maybe Zach was right.
---
Nearly half an hour passed before the boy regained consciousness.
He tried to assess his surroundings—there was no meadow, no gray sky.
Just cracked walls, the smell of mold and damp earth. Two shadows loomed nearby.
He hesitated, then pulled himself together, attempting to sit.
A jolt of pain surged from his spine to his skull.
"Ugh… it hurts. Damn…"
The sound of footsteps approached.
A tall man stepped forward. In the dim lighting, his face was barely visible—just a shadow across his features.
He drew nearer, revealing neatly combed hair and a small scar stretching from his left eye.
His voice rang firm and full of energy.
"Hey, you alright? Can you sit up?"
The boy couldn't speak—his body was too weak, his tongue still numb from the seizure.
He tried to communicate with hand gestures.
But the man didn't seem to understand.
Suddenly, someone else approached and moved the first man aside.
This new figure carried a sharper presence.
His footsteps were heavy, cutting—his aura precise and glowing.
At that moment, the boy felt if he made a wrong move, a blade would surely find his throat.
He seemed nervous—yet curious too.
This could be his chance. Maybe someday he'd discover his true identity. Recover his lost memories.
Even in the dark, the man in front of him looked striking—his beauty and charisma impossible to hide.
Thankfully, he understood the boy's gestures.
He could see the boy was unable to speak.
With a calm yet icy tone, the man said:
"You should rest a little longer. I'll go get some medicine."
He left them alone.
The muscular man sat quietly in the corner.
He looked like he wanted to speak, but bit back every word.
Muttering softly to himself, he remained silent.
The boy was curious, but unable to speak. He exhaled a weary sigh.
Ten minutes later, the striking man returned, holding a small vial.
"Hey... open your mouth..."
His tone was so firm, the boy couldn't refuse.
If he'd commanded him to kill himself, he might have obeyed.
The boy opened his mouth and took a sip of the liquid.
It burned and tasted so bitter that he felt nothing could ever wash it away.
He wanted to spit it out, but a strong hand clamped over his lips.
"You're not allowed to spit it out. Swallow every drop."
It was cruel, but there was no other choice.
He gave in, gulping the rest.
His eyes narrowed and his brows tensed.
"Ugh… it tastes awful. I feel like my whole body's melting."
The bitterness worked instantly—numbness faded.
Now he could speak.
The man's golden eyes blazed—like flames flickering in silence.
"Now you can talk, right?"
The boy nodded slowly.
His heart beat like a drum, warning him not to act rashly.
The man introduced himself and his companion.
"I'm Zach. And that man over there is Joshua."
Zach stepped forward to study the boy's face.
"I hope you'll cooperate, so there won't be any problems. Understand?"
The boy, tense and timid, entwined his fingers and nodded weakly.
"Um… yes."
Zach, satisfied, took a seat on an old wooden chair across from him.
"We're the ones who saved you. That means we have the right to ask:
Where are you from, and what group do you belong to?"
The boy froze.
Where was he from? What group?
He had nothing. No name. No memory. Not even a lie.
But Zach's gaze demanded a clear answer—not vagueness, not ignorance.
The boy had no choice.
He bit his tongue and muttered with hesitation:
"I… I don't know. A group? I really don't know anything."
Without realizing it, he started crying.
He tried to hold back the tears, but couldn't.
All the pain, fear, and confusion poured out—his tears became his relief.
But Zach had other thoughts.
He believed the boy was manipulating them, seeking sympathy through tears.
Joshua, however, was deeply affected.
He started to believe this boy might actually be innocent.
Suddenly, the room lit up with white sparks.
Zach activated his ability.
Sharp ice spears formed in mid-air, lunging toward the boy.
The air froze.
The boy's body shivered from the cold.
The tips of the spears stopped—just inches from his face.
Zach repeated:
"This is your last chance. Think carefully and answer. Who are you?"
The boy sat inches from death.
Oddly, it didn't scare him like before.
Maybe this kind of death wouldn't be as painful.
He gave a wilted smile and said:
"I don't know who I am. I don't know… I really don't. I know nothing."
His voice was hoarse and broken.
He repeated the same words—who am I...
His eyes hollowed—lifeless, drowned in grief and emptiness.
Maybe, with a little mercy, he could find himself again.
Joshua, shaken by the boy's sorrow, knew Zach had to be stopped.
"I need to go get Aylin… This isn't right. We have to stop Zach."