Chapter 6 — The Name of the Shadow
The rain was still falling, fine and silent, sliding down the broken windows of the warehouse like forgotten tears. Inside, the air smelled of metal and cold dust. Slivers of light filtered through the grimy glass, casting shifting shapes on the floor, as if the shadows themselves were watching.
Eloïse stood upright, trembling, her eyes locked on Ken. They reflected a storm of emotions: fear, anger, but above all, profound confusion.
Opposite her, Ken remained still. Yuri's hand on his shoulder seemed the only thing keeping him grounded.
"Wh... what are you doing here?" Eloïse asked, her voice barely audible. The tremor in her throat betrayed her otherwise steadfast will.
Ken exchanged a glance with Yuri before replying, his voice harder than intended:
"And you… what are you doing with him? With the Black Angel?"
Silence thickened. Behind her, in the shadows, the masked figure remained motionless, almost unreal. A faint metallic echo accompanied his step as he moved into the pale light. The black mask, polished like glass, reflected the pallor of the day. No face, no emotion—only cold majesty.
"Eloïse," Ken murmured, his voice steadier now.
"I need an explanation."
She inhaled deeply, gathering her courage.
"Eddie helped me," she finally said. "I wanted to understand. Understand what happened that night… what you refuse to tell."
Her gaze fell on the man tied to a chair in the center of the room. Even Boas. His wrists bound, head bowed, breath uneven.
"I know he has something to do with all this," she added in a broken voice. "I know he was there that night."
The shadow moved.
The Black Angel stepped forward, his arms crossed behind his back. His voice resonated, deep and deliberate, like a verdict.
"Something to do with it? No. He wasn't merely present. He orchestrated the scene. He gave the orders to shoot."
Eloïse stumbled back.
Yuri's jaw tightened.
And Ken felt something inside him crack.
"You lie," he growled.
The Black Angel tilted his head slowly.
"No, White Wolf. Not this time. Even Boas was never just a policeman. He's an infiltrator, paid by those who wanted your head… and Ayato's."
Ken's gaze darkened.
"And why tell me now? Why here, in front of her?"
A silence. Then the black mask turned to Eloïse.
"Because she deserves to know how rotten the world she thinks she knows really is."
The light flickered for an instant. A gust of wind slammed the door. The sound of the raindrops intensified, like a heartbeat gone mad.
Even slowly lifted his head. His lips twisted into a smirk of contempt.
"Ah… the great White Wolf. Still so naive. You want to know what I saw that night? Your eyes. Your screams. The moment you realized your comrade wouldn't rise again. You trembled. You begged… pathetic."
Ken's blood ran cold.
Every word pierced him.
Memories, still fragmented, surged like a violent wave—the cold, the blood, Ayato's fading face in the rain.
Yuri placed a hand on his arm, but Ken gently pushed it away. His gaze grew darker.
"Go on," he said in a low voice. "Go on and see how far you'll go."
Even smiled further, revealing a broken tooth.
"Until I see you die too."
That was the last thing he said.
A sharp crack split the silence.
The light flickered.
A warm breath swept through the room.
Even collapsed, his head thrown back, a crimson stain spreading across the concrete.
Eloïse screamed.
"My God!"
The Black Angel lowered his weapon slowly. The barrel, still smoking, drew an invisible line in the air.
"We respect the dead," he said calmly.
Then he lifted his gaze to Ken:
"And we don't let traitors speak."
A leaden silence followed.
Even the rain seemed to pause.
Eloïse stepped back several paces, hand pressed to her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
Yuri watched with cold mastery, but his fingers clenched on his weapon betrayed his tension.
Ken stayed still.
He looked at Even's body sprawled in a pool of blood.
He wanted to feel relief.
But what he felt was emptiness—a black chasm where rage and helplessness merged.
The Black Angel turned slowly on his heels, his coat brushing the floor.
"One pawn," he murmured. "The real culprits are still alive."
Suddenly, heavy knocks reverberated at the door. Three, four, then a deep, authoritative voice thundered through the metal:
"Release my grandson immediately!"
Ken's heart froze.
That voice… he knew it.
The grandfather of Ayato—the feared, respected man no OIMEN member dared defy.
Yuri exchanged a worried glance with Ken.
"What's he doing here?"
Eloïse, still in shock, shook her head.
"He knew we were here…"
The black-masked figure turned one last time. The Black Angel's voice cut through the silence, graver than before:
"You will not see me under this face again. But remember my name."
He stepped close to Ken, close enough for him to feel the chill of his aura. Then, in a low whisper:
"Ezekiel Torne."
Ken flinched.
A lightning strike of thought ran through his mind.
A fragmented memory: a figure in the snow, a scream, blood. This name… he had heard it before.
Before he could speak, Ezekiel stepped back, then vanished into the shadows.
A breath, a shadow… and nothing more.
The door burst open.
Two men in black suits entered, followed by an imposing old man. His cane clicked sharply against the floor.
His eyes, steel-gray, settled on Ken.
"Ayato," he said slowly.
A silence fell.
"You've attracted death again, even after all that's been taken from you."
Ken wanted to respond, but no sound came.
The old man approached, placed a hand on his shoulder. His gaze pierced the soul.
"The dead always come back to claim what is owed," he murmured.
Then he turned.
"Come. We have much to discuss."
Eloïse wanted to intervene, but Yuri gestured for her to stay.
Ken followed the old man, each step echoing like a death knell.
Outside, the rain had ceased.
The gray, bleak sky seemed to hold its breath.
---
That night, Ken did not sleep.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he stared at the window.
The city shimmered under the rain, spectral and distant.
Ezekiel's words spun in his mind like an incantation:
> "The real culprits are still alive."
His fists clenched.
He was no longer just a survivor.
He was a bomb, ready to explode.
In the darkness, his reflection in the glass split.
For a second, he thought he saw Ayato behind him—the real one, calm and hard-eyed.
Then the image vanished.
"I will keep my promise," he whispered.
But at that very moment, he did not yet know if it was a promise of vengeance…
or a declaration of war.