Misfit faction, North residential spine
Few minutes after his talk with Kael jinhai, Tel Suyin walked the hallway with a cigarette balanced loosely between his fingers.
The light above flickered once—subtle, almost polite—but that was enough.
He stopped.
The air felt wrong. Too still. Sound dulled, like the world had been wrapped in cotton. Tel exhaled smoke slowly and didn't bother looking around at first. He already knew.
"This isn't real," he said calmly.
The hallway dimmed further.
When he turned, a figure stood behind him.
It was not solid. Not truly. Fog twisted inward, compressing itself into the vague outline of a human body. No face. No eyes. Just a suggestion of shoulders, arms, a head where one should be.
Something that understood the idea of a person, but not the details.
Tel didn't reach for a weapon. He didn't step back.
Instead, he inclined his head slightly.
"You're late," he said.
The fog pulsed.
A voice followed—layered, distant, as though spoken from several places at once.
"Lian Ye."
Tel's fingers tightened around the cigarette.
"So that's what you want," he replied. "You don't usually interrupt me for small talk."
The figure drifted closer, its form blurring and sharpening at the same time.
"Information on him is… incomplete," it said.
"Yet he is connected. Deeply. To something within the God Order."
Tel pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, expression unreadable.
"That's not new."
"What is new," the figure continued, "is movement."
The hallway darkened until the walls were barely visible.
"Abilities are changing," it said.
"Evolving. Misaligning."
"If left alone, it may result in instability."
Tel listened in silence.
No denial. No questions. Just attention.
"Watch him," the fog said at last.
"Closely." Then— Nothing.
The hallway snapped back into place.
The light buzzed overhead. Sound returned all at once—footsteps in the distance, the hum of the building, the faint echo of voices far away.
Tel was leaning against the wall.
Harder than before.
His lips were tinged purple. His skin pale. Cold.
For a brief moment, he looked like a corpse that hadn't realized it was dead yet.
He inhaled sharply, steadied himself, then straightened.
Without another glance down the corridor, Tel walked into his room and shut the door behind him.
---
Misfit faction, west wing residence.
Lian Ye sat on his bed, contemplating whether to read the folder now or wait a little longer. The information in the new file was even worse than before, more fragmented.
He debated checking it out.
Debated ignoring it for a while.
That indecision lasted exactly three seconds.
A knock sounded at the door.
He turned, already expecting a familiar face.
It wasn't Hei Zhen.
Not Rin Shen.
Not Tel Suyin.
It was a girl.
Black hair fell neatly past her shoulders. Her skin was smooth, almost unreal under the dim light. Her eyes—light grey—held a quiet, unreadable calm. She wore a short black skirt and an oversized sweater that swallowed her frame.
She looked like a teenager who had wandered into the wrong building.
Lian Ye frowned.
"Yes?"
She smiled faintly. "Captain Hei Zhen requests your presence."
"…Now?"
She nodded. "I'm his assistant."
That alone was strange.
Hei Zhen didn't have assistants.
Still, Lian Ye didn't question it or protest, instead he agreed. She didn't linger—only turned and began walking down the hall, as if she already knew he would follow.
He did.
They took a path Lian Ye hadn't walked before.
As soon as they stepped past the corner, the corridor vanished.
---
Cinder hall, misfit faction.
They stood before massive metal doors—ancient, heavy, etched with symbols worn smooth by time. Candles lined the floor in a perfect path leading forward, flames steady, unmoving.
A warning dressed as an invitation.
"This way," the girl said.
She opened the doors.
Inside was the obsidian gallery.
The walls were covered in portraits—past captains, vice-captains, figures whose names had become legends. The floor was black, so dark it swallowed light entirely.
Even reflections refused to exist there.
Above them, the ceiling was a vast glass dome.
Beyond it—Space.
Not the sky.
Not stars.
Space.
An illusion so perfect it made Lian Ye's stomach tighten.
At the far end, descending from the steps, was Hei Zhen.
He wore his usual captain's attire, immaculate as ever. A small smile curved his lips—too smooth, too practiced.
Lian Ye took a step back.
"That's new," he muttered.
Hei Zhen raised a hand. "You may leave," he said to the girl.
She bowed her head slightly and exited.
The doors shut.
The sound echoed.
Lian Ye blinked.
The world flipped.
Suddenly, he was upside down.
His arms and legs were bound, spread wide, restraints locking him in place. His body was suspended in the air, positioned unnervingly like a crucifix.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
Hei Zhen stood before him.
The smile was gone.
What remained was cold. Calculated. Ancient.
Hei Zhen stared directly into Lian Ye's eyes, studying him for a long moment before sighing softly.
"…Why," he asked, voice calm and deadly,
"did you kill Bai Qiren?"
The name hit like a blade.
Lian Ye's eyes widened.
He tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
No defense.
No denial.
No explanation.
Only silence.
And the realization that the man standing before him could end his life—
Whenever he decided to.