"The heck are you doing?!"
A girl's voice, strained, echoed through the narrow alleyway just a few blocks from Tsukuru Central Station. Her wrists were locked in a firm grip, her back pressed against the cold, damp bricks of the alley wall. Struggling against the unyielding hold, she glared up at her captor with sharp, panicked eyes.
The man restraining her was Toyama Ichiro, an investigator from the Esper Association. His expression was like a hawk that had finally cornered its prey. His grip on her wrists was ironclad, not even a hint of mercy reflected in his gaze.
"You still have the nerve to ask that…" he said, his voice dripping with disdain. He leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing. "Tell me—did you feel nothing when you drained those poor souls? Did you even hesitate when you stole their life force?"
His tone was harsh, almost accusatory. Aneira's breath hitched for a moment, but she quickly steeled herself.
"What… what are you talking about?" she replied, voice wavering just slightly, but her gaze remained sharp and unyielding. She twisted her arms, but Ichiro's grip didn't falter.
Ichiro scoffed, his eyes scanning her face as if searching for cracks in her resolve. "Playing dumb won't save you," he said, voice dropping an octave. "I know exactly what you are."
Aneira swallowed hard, her mind racing. Of course, she knew what he was talking about—how could she not? She could still feel it, even now: the residual whispers of the Spectre that once inhabited her, clawing for dominance, feeding on her desperation. She hated it… hated herself for what she did under its influence. But that didn't mean she was ready to confess to anything.
She looked away, eyes fixed on the grimy pavement beneath her feet. She bit her lip hard enough to taste iron. "It wasn't my fault… I just needed to survive," she told herself. That justification had become her shield—her way of coping. The Spectre forced her hand; she was just along for the ride.
"Cat got your tongue?" Ichiro's grip tightened slightly, pulling her back to the moment.
Aneira snapped her gaze back to him, eyes fierce. "I don't know what you're talking about," she repeated, more forcefully this time. Her voice was sharper, masking the fear bubbling underneath.
Ichiro's eyes narrowed, scrutinising her expression. "Still denying it, huh?" His voice grew colder. "You really think you can just walk away from this? That you can keep playing innocent?"
Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears. She had to survive. If she confessed, if she admitted what she was, her life was over. Normalcy would be a distant dream, replaced with interrogation rooms and cold, iron bars.
Aneira clenched her fists. "I haven't done anything wrong," she hissed, her voice trembling just enough for Ichiro to notice. It's not a lie, cause she truly believes what she said.
For a moment, there was silence between them, thick and suffocating. Ichiro's eyes never left her face, searching for any sign of remorse… or weakness. But she held her ground, unyielding, determined.
He finally exhaled sharply, his grip on her wrists loosening just a fraction. "You think you can hide it? From me?" He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm not going to stop. Not until I get the truth."
Aneira didn't respond, her jaw clenched tightly, eyes glaring up at him with a mixture of fear and defiance.
"Ichiro… stop what you're doing."
A firm voice cut through the tension, causing Ichiro to turn his head. A woman stood at the end of the alley.
"What are you doing here?" Ichiro asked, his grip on Aneira still firm.
"Stopping you from making a mistake," the woman replied, stepping forward without hesitation.
Ichiro's eyes narrowed. "Mistake? She's a Spectre host, You should know the danger of leaving her unchecked."
The girl crossed her arms, unfazed. "And you should know not to jump to conclusions without proof. That girl… she's not a Spectre host."
Ichiro's grip faltered slightly. "How can you be sure?"
The girl pulled out a sleek tablet, tapping the screen before holding it up for him. "New case just came in," she said.
Ichiro scanned the screen, his brow furrowing. "Another attack… this morning?" His eyes flicked back to Aneira. "But that doesn't clear her."
"No," the girl admitted. "But it proves she didn't do this one. And the cases are identical to the previous cases."
Aneira's eyes widened slightly, relief washing over her as Ichiro's grip finally loosened. She rubbed her wrists, keeping her gaze low.
Ichiro stepped back, suspicion still lingering. "If you're wrong…"
The girl stepped between them. "We follow the evidence, not hunches," she said firmly.
Ichiro's jaw tightened, but he turned away, leaving without another word.
The girl watched him go before glancing back at Aneira. "You alright?"
Aneira nodded. "Yeah… thanks," she murmured.
"Be careful," The girl said simply before following after Ichiro.
Aneira stood there for a moment, catching her breath. The weight of suspicion had lifted—for now. But as she watched them disappear, she knew this wasn't over.
"Another case, huh? That means another poor soul becomes a slave to a Spectre…"
The thought lingered in Aneira's mind for a moment before she shook her head, clicking her tongue in irritation.
"Ugh… why should I care? It's none of my business…" she muttered, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets and walking away from the alley.
Her footsteps echoed against the pavement as she distanced herself from the scene. All she wanted now was to return to her apartment, lock the door, and finally sleep without the constant sense of dread shadowing her.
The journey back felt unusually long, but she paid it no mind. The weight of exhaustion hung heavy on her shoulders, dragging her forward with only one goal in mind—rest. When she finally reached her door, she fumbled with the key, almost dropping it twice before managing to twist it in the lock.
Aneira stepped inside, the familiar scent of stale air and lavender air freshener greeting her. She didn't bother turning on the lights; her feet carried her straight to the bedroom. Without even taking off her coat, she collapsed onto the mattress, the springs creaking under the sudden weight.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she drifted into sleep without fear clawing at her mind. Free… I'm finally free… That thought was the last thing she remembered before darkness took her.
But not long after, her stomach growled loudly, snapping her back to consciousness.
"Ugh… right. I need to eat," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and forcing herself up. Her body protested, but the hunger gnawing at her stomach was impossible to ignore.
She shuffled into the kitchen, her slippers dragging against the floor. Humming to herself, she began rummaging through the fridge, pulling out some leftovers and setting them on the counter. As she prepared the food, a strange feeling of contentment washed over her. For once, she could just… exist. No need to constantly hunt for people to drain for life force.
But then, everything went dark.
The hum of the refrigerator died instantly, and the subtle whirr of her ceiling fan stopped. The lights flickered once, twice… then nothing.
"Power outage?" she wondered aloud, blinking into the darkness. Her hands patted around the counter until she found her phone, clicking the flashlight on. A thin beam of light cut through the shadowy room.
Aneira walked toward the window, her footsteps cautious. She pulled back the curtain and froze.
There was… nothing.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a step back, heart hammering in her chest.
"What… the hell…?" she whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.