Chapter 71 —
Lyra's POV
"Welcome home."
The voice echoed through my penthouse.
I aimed my pistol toward the staircase.
My finger rested firmly on the trigger.
"Show yourself."
Silence.
The figure didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't react.
Lightning flashed outside.
For the briefest second—
The room was flooded with white light.
And the figure...
Was gone.
I frowned.
No footsteps.
No doors opening.
Nothing.
Impossible.
My phone was still pressed against my ear.
"Kieller."
His breathing was uneven.
"What do you see?"
"...Nothing."
"Describe everything."
I slowly climbed the stairs.
One step.
Then another.
The hallway was empty.
The guest rooms.
Empty.
The study.
Empty.
Finally...
My bedroom.
The door stood half-open.
I pushed it gently.
The room looked untouched.
Except—
A projector rested on my desk.
Its tiny green light blinked.
Realization hit me.
"The figure..."
"It wasn't real," Kieller finished quietly.
"A projection."
Someone had hacked my penthouse.
Again.
Not to kill me.
To remind me they could.
I picked up the projector.
On its base, engraved neatly into the metal—
PROPERTY OF ECHO.
My stomach tightened.
The lights suddenly returned.
Everything looked normal again.
Almost.
Then my eyes landed on something sitting on my bed.
A wooden music box.
Old.
Hand-carved.
Decorated with tiny snowflakes.
I froze.
No.
That...
That couldn't be here.
My hand trembled as I picked it up.
Without thinking—
I wound the tiny key.
The melody began.
Soft.
Gentle.
A lullaby.
My heart stopped.
I knew this song.
Not from memory.
From somewhere deeper.
Somewhere buried.
The room blurred.
My breathing became shallow.
A little girl's laughter echoed inside my head.
"Again!"
"One more time!"
Another voice.
Warm.
Loving.
"Not before bed, princess."
Mom.
Tears welled in my eyes.
The music continued.
Flash.
Snow.
Flash.
A fireplace.
Flash.
Ally dancing around the living room.
Flash.
A woman kneeling before me.
Her face...
I couldn't see her face.
Only her smile.
And then—
Blood.
Everything turned red.
The music stopped.
The room disappeared.
Memory
I was six years old.
Hidden beneath a metal bed.
Someone held my hand tightly.
Ally.
She was crying.
"Don't make a sound."
Heavy boots echoed through the hallway.
Men in white coats.
One of them spoke.
"Search every room."
Another answered.
"The younger one is still missing."
I covered my mouth.
Trying not to breathe.
Then—
The bedroom door burst open.
Light flooded underneath the bed.
A pair of polished black shoes stopped inches away.
Someone crouched.
A gloved hand reached toward us.
I squeezed Ally's hand.
She squeezed back.
Then she whispered—
"I love you."
The hand grabbed her.
"No!"
I screamed.
I lunged after her.
Small hands.
Tiny fists.
Worthless.
She was dragged away.
Still reaching toward me.
Still crying.
"Lyra!"
The last thing I saw—
Was a silver ring on the man's hand.
Exactly the same ring.
The one from the staircase.
Present
I collapsed onto the floor.
The music box rolled across the room.
My entire body shook.
Not from fear.
From memory.
"I remember..."
I whispered.
"I remember..."
The bedroom door suddenly opened.
I spun.
Gun raised.
It wasn't the mastermind.
It was Kieller.
Still wearing his hospital gown.
A bandage wrapped around his chest.
Barefoot.
Breathing heavily.
He looked like he'd escaped the hospital.
His silver eyes found mine.
Then the music box.
Then...
The tears running down my face.
His expression changed instantly.
He knew.
"What did you remember?"
I couldn't answer.
Not immediately.
Because for the first time...
I remembered the night Ally disappeared.
And one detail refused to leave my mind.
The silver ring.
Slowly...
I looked at Kieller.
His right hand rested against the doorframe.
No ring.
Thank God.
I almost hated myself for checking.
Kieller stepped toward me carefully.
"Lyra."
His voice was softer than I'd ever heard.
"What happened?"
I looked into his eyes.
Completely broken.
"I remember who took my sister."
The room fell silent.
Kieller's face drained of color.
"...Who?"
I swallowed hard.
My voice barely existed.
"I don't know his face."
I closed my shaking hand.
"But I'd recognize that ring..."
"...anywhere."
Outside the bedroom window—
Far across the street—
A man lowered a pair of binoculars.
His right hand rested on the windowsill.
A silver ring gleamed beneath the moonlight.
He smiled faintly.
Then disappeared into the night.
End of Chapter 71