The villagers stayed longer than expected.
Most laughed, talked, and shared stories as the Circle ate. The academy kitchen was fuller than it had been in weeks—warm food, warm voices, life slowly knitting itself back together.
But one villager didn't join in.
Kaito noticed him near the doorway.
An older man stood apart from the others, hands folded tightly in front of him. He hadn't touched the food. His eyes kept drifting to Kaito, then away, like he wasn't sure whether looking was safe.
Kaito set his bowl down.
"Hey," he said quietly, approaching. "You okay?"
The man startled. "I—yes. No. I mean… not really."
Up close, Kaito could see it: the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders stayed rigid like he expected something to strike at any second.
"You should eat," Kaito said. "It's good."
The man shook his head. "I can't."
That answer alone sent a chill through Kaito.
"Why not?"
The man swallowed. "Because if I sit down, I might stay. And if I stay… I might say something I shouldn't."
Kaito's expression hardened. "You already are."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, the man leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "They're not gone."
Kaito didn't blink. "Who?"
"The ones who attacked you. The ones who stayed behind after the alarms." His hands trembled. "People think they fled. They didn't."
Aria, who had noticed Kaito leave, approached slowly. "What do you mean?"
The man glanced at her, then back at Kaito. "I work nights. I clean the lower canals. Old passages. Places the city doesn't remember."
Kaito felt his chest tighten.
"I've seen marks," the man continued. "Fresh ones. Not from beasts. Not from smugglers." His voice cracked. "From soldiers. Organized. Patient."
Ryo joined them now, his smile gone. "You're saying they're hiding in the city."
The man nodded. "Not just hiding. Watching."
Kaito felt that old instinct stir again—the sense of being measured.
"They talk about you," the man said softly. "Not like an enemy."
Kaito's jaw tightened. "Then how?"
"Like a problem that needs solving."
The words hit harder than any threat.
"They know your routines," the man went on. "They know who you protect. Who you eat with. Who bleeds when you fall."
Mira sucked in a quiet breath.
"Why tell us now?" Aria asked.
The man met Kaito's eyes directly for the first time. "Because last night, I heard one of them say something that scared me more than the attack."
Kaito leaned in. "What did they say?"
"They said… 'He's healing. That's fine. We don't need him dead.'"
A pause.
"We just need him to choose wrong."
The room felt colder.
Dex growled low at Kaito's feet.
The man stepped back, as if relieved the words were finally out. "I won't be staying," he said. "But you deserved to know."
He bowed once—to Kaito, then to the Circle—and left without touching the food.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Finally, Kaito exhaled slowly.
"They're still here," Aria said.
Kaito nodded. "Yeah."
His hand tightened unconsciously.
"And they're not rushing," he added. "Which means they think time is on their side."
Ryo grimaced. "So what do we do?"
Kaito looked around at the Circle, at the half-eaten food, at the warmth that had only just returned.
"We don't panic," he said quietly. "And we don't make it easy for them."
Dex pressed closer to his leg.
Outside, the city lights flickered—unaware that something patient and dangerous was already woven into its streets.