Lane's honeyed voice and the pure, guileless smile dancing on his face seemed to thin the heavy, stagnant air of the dungeon.
Yuri looked down at his own trembling fingers and then at Lane's steady, tiny palms.
In Lane's eyes, that bone-chilling silence had vanished.
Replaced by a warmth that felt like an invitation to let down one's guard.
The storm inside Yuri's mind began to ebb away.
He drew a long, shaky breath.
'Perhaps I was the one making a mistake,' Yuri thought to himself.
He felt as though the oppressive gloom of the cell and his own frayed nerves had conjured a phantom of terror.
How could this fragile child, whose eyes shimmered with such innocent hope for friendship, be a source of dread?
A pang of guilt for his earlier suspicions began to prick at him.
Yuri slowly reached out, his hand closing over Lane's.
In Lane's touch, there was no trace of that 'grave-like chill'—only a softness that felt like a silent promise of trust.
"Of course, Lane," Yuri said, a newfound sense of belonging steadying his voice.
"In the suffocating dark of this place, a friend like you is nothing short of a blessing."
A radiant smile bloomed on Lane's lips.
And with a burst of childlike excitement, he gave Yuri's hand a gentle shake.
He was beaming with a joy so raw and simple that, for a fleeting moment, even that desolate corner of the dungeon felt alive.
Luka remained motionless, his back pressed hard against the cold stone.
Not a single word escaped him, and his eyelids didn't flicker once.
He was a silent witness to the way Lane had, with a mere smile, dissolved the deep-seated terror in Yuri's heart like mist under the sun.
Luka's face was as unreadable as a still lake.
But a wordless warning continued to ripple in the depths of his gaze.
He was watching this display of 'absolute innocence,' weighing its impossible perfection.
Lane released Yuri's hand and turned a glowing gaze toward Luka.
His eyes sparkled with a mischievous, sweet glint, as if he had just stumbled upon a magnificent treasure.
"Look, Luka! Now there are three of us," Lane chirped.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile widened.
"Everything will be okay now, won't it?"
A bitter tang still clung to the back of Luka's throat.
He looked at Lane's flawless face, and then cast a sideways glance toward the dark shadows.
Where the echo of 'Chaos' still hummed, buried deep within his memory.
Luka let out a long, quiet breath of relief.
As the small figure stepped fully into the dim light, a familiar face emerged from the blurred pages of his memory.
This was the same girl who had been with them in that first dark cell.
The one Lane had tenderly cradled and lulled to sleep.
Luka remembered the sheer terror that had filled her eyes that night, and how calmly Lane had absorbed her fear.
The girl emerged from behind Yuri, her steps hesitant but deliberate.
The edges of her frock were stained with dust, yet the haunting dread that once consumed her eyes had softened.
She fixed her gaze on Lane, looking at him as if he were her only safe harbor in this world.
She moved closer to Lane, her voice soft and laced with genuine concern:
"Lane Bhaiya... are you okay?"
The word 'Bhaiya' echoed through the cramped dungeon like a soothing melody.
Luka noticed a subtle shift in Lane's expression.
The practiced smile he had worn for a stranger vanished.
Replaced by a spark of authentic, old recognition the moment he saw her.
Luka felt no suspicion toward this girl.
He knew she was just like them—a fragment of life caught in this encroaching darkness.
He realized that even during that deep conversation between Lane and the girl back then, her name had never been mentioned.
The girl placed a small, gentle hand on Lane's shoulder, as if confirming he wasn't hurt.
Then, she turned her head toward Luka, offering a faint, weary smile.
"Hello... my name is..."
She began to speak, but her voice trailed off like a fading breeze as she cast her gaze downward.
The young girl took her small steps one by one.
She clenched her fists, tightly grasping the edges of her plain, black prisoner clothes with both hands.
Her grip was so firm that it pulled her frock slightly upward.
With tiny, measured steps, she walked directly toward Lane, who was standing before her, and came to a halt.
She tilted her head up slightly, pouring all her concern into Lane's eyes as she asked once more:
"Lane Bhaiya... are you okay?"
Lane remained standing still, his gaze fixed on the girl's innocent face.
Then, Luka's voice broke the silence.
His sharp eyes were observing the girl's nervousness, though his mind remained calm.
"You were just about to tell us your name," Luka asked in a very quiet tone.
"What is your name?"
Lane slowly turned his head to look at Luka.
The little girl hesitated; her grip on her clothes tightened even further as she lowered her gaze to the floor.
Her voice echoed like a suppressed whisper within the dungeon walls.
"My name... my name is Aaya."
Luka accepted the name simply.
To him, it was an ordinary name that matched the little girl's simplicity.
He looked at Aaya's face for a moment, as she stood there with her eyelashes lowered.
A peaceful stillness settled over the dungeon.
A soft silence filled the dungeon after Aaya spoke her name.
Lane shifted slightly, turning his head in a slow, deliberate motion toward Luka.
Luka's gaze was still fixed on the girl, whose age seemed to mirror his and Lane's own.
Luka softened the stark lines of his face.
He took a step forward, studying Aaya's features with profound attention.
Her wide eyes, her dust-streaked cheeks, and the tiny hands still clutching her clothes.
There was a depth in Luka's gaze, as if he were weighing the sheer innocence held within that small frame.
A very faint, genuine smile touched Luka's lips.
He spoke in a voice that was unexpectedly tender:
"You are quite lovely... just like your name."
There was a sense of belonging in his words that instantly absorbed the nervousness clouding Aaya's face.
She slowly lifted her lashes and looked at Luka.
A pale but comforted glow flickering across her features.
Lane watched all of this in silence.
That mysterious calm had returned to his face, though the glint in his golden eyes suggested something deeper.
Within the dungeon walls, there were now four of them—Luka, Lane, Yuri, and little Aaya.
And an unspoken bond had begun to weave itself between them.
The sweetness of Luka's words still lingered in the air when, suddenly, the atmosphere of the dungeon seemed to freeze for a heartbeat.
Lane, who had been standing perfectly still, saw his pupils contract sharply.
A piercing flash ignited in his golden eyes, like a torch suddenly lit within a pitch-black cavern.
The light was so intense and unnatural that it claimed the entire corner in the blink of an eye.
But as quickly as that flash had appeared, it vanished just as mysteriously.
A mere fraction of a second... and Lane's eyes returned to their normal, calm state, as if nothing had happened.
Lane pressed his hand against his forehead, his fingers rubbing his temples with slight pressure.
The smile he had worn was gone, replaced by a flicker of restlessness.
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to suppress a wave rising within his mind.
"My head..." Lane's voice was somewhat heavy and muffled.
He took a labored breath and slowly shook his head.
"Luka, my head... it hurts so much."
There was no trace of physical illness in his voice, but rather a sense of confusion.
As if a deafening noise were echoing inside his ears.
Luka's smile vanished instantly.
He noticed that the ethereal peace on Lane's face had shifted into a strange, internal struggle.
Yuri and Aaya froze as well.
That corner of the dungeon, which only moments ago had been filled with the warmth of friendship.
Began to grow cold again at the sound of Lane's altered voice.
Lane's fingers dug deeper into his temples, as if he were trying to crush a rising clamor within himself.
His face contorted sharply in agony, and a moment later, his knees buckled.
Without a sound, Lane collapsed onto the cold floor like a lifeless stone.
"Lane!"
The cry ricocheted off the dungeon walls.
Luka and Yuri lunged toward him simultaneously.
Aaya stood frozen where she was, the old terror returning to her eyes in an instant.
Without wasting a heartbeat, Luka and Yuri gathered Lane's limp body into their arms.
Lane felt incredibly light, yet as they lifted him, Luka sensed an unknown weight pressing against his own chest.
Together, the two of them supported Lane's frail form and gently laid him onto the wooden plank in the corner.
Lane's eyelids remained sealed shut, heavy as stone.
Luka sat on the freezing ground by his head, while Yuri knelt on the other side, checking Lane's pulse.
The deep silence and the darkness of the dungeon—things that had never bothered Luka before—now felt predatory.
He had never been one to care for others; his heart had never raced with concern for a living soul.
But today, looking at Lane's pale, shadowed face, something within Luka was fracturing.
He realized that the impenetrable fortress he had built against the world had crumbled in Lane's presence.
He was being drawn toward him—an unspoken pull he couldn't name, but could certainly feel.
Lane's pain had become his own.
Luka's hand moved instinctively toward Lane's forehead, his fingers trembling in the air.
Yuri noticed the intense agitation etched across Luka's features.
Knowing nothing of Luka's true nature, he saw only a deeply worried friend.
Yuri said softly, "You... don't worry. He has only fainted. Perhaps the exhaustion has finally overwhelmed him."
Luka offered no reply.
His eyes remained anchored to Lane's face like a protective shield.
As if he intended to block every evil in the world from reaching him.
Yuri watched him, seeing only a dedicated friend who refused to leave Lane's side. He remained completely unaware of the cold, impenetrable walls Luka usually kept around his heart. For Yuri, this was simply a bond between two friends, nothing more.