Henry added, his eyes hardened with tense thought,
"But she didn't possess a spiritual core… Aren't the targets of all these crimes supposed to be those who do?"
Kayden slowly shook his head, something strange beginning to creep inside him.
"Yes… that's exactly what makes it abnormal."
From the balcony, Adam's voice cut through like a blade—dry and cold.
"It's not a copycat crime."
His brief silence was heavier than words. Then he continued,
"The killer is the same… but he's deliberately mixing the trails to mislead us, as if confusing us is part of his own twisted pleasure."
He returned from the balcony with slow steps, leaving behind cigarette smoke and seeping cold. His features were tired, yet his voice still carried a harsh, irritable edge.
"But he's wasting his time… confusion won't help him now."
His eyes locked onto Henry—an expectant look, as though waiting for him to confess what he was hiding.
Henry hesitated for a moment, like someone standing on the edge of a well. Then he finally spoke, his voice heavier than his chest could bear.
"…Kayden was right. Kayden won the bet."
Adam froze mid-step. His body stiffened, his eyes widening with sudden sharpness.
"How did you guess correctly?" Adam demanded, disbelief edging toward disgust in his tone.
Kayden turned to face him, meeting his harsh gaze—only to find something deeper than anger within it… a mix of aversion and unjustified hatred.
Adam immediately turned toward Ayrton and said in a voice drenched in bleak dryness,
"I want my salary doubled. Otherwise, I won't show up for the next crime."
Kayden raised an eyebrow in surprise, then muttered with awkward justification,
"I just guessed… can't you guess too?"
But Adam didn't respond. It was as if luck itself had begun to erode inside him, as though he had lost something unseen.
Ayrton exhaled, exhaustion manifesting in his shoulders and his voice.
"Can we discuss salary later? Don't dump your negative energy on me, Adam."
Adam didn't answer. Instead, he returned to the balcony with firm steps and slammed the door behind him, the glass shuddering for a brief moment.
Kayden stared at the door in astonishment, then turned to Ayrton and asked,
"Why is he asking for a raise? Doesn't everyone here get paid roughly the same?"
Ayrton exhaled slowly, his voice coming out like a heavy confession.
"Adam… isn't officially employed by us."
Kayden's eyebrows shot up in shock.
"You couldn't convince him?"
Ayrton paused for several seconds, as if the words were stuck in his throat. Then he shook his head lightly, his tone carrying bitter resignation.
"It was extremely difficult. He looks like a part-time worker… but he isn't. In fact, he's being forced to work with us."
Silence fell.
Every word from Ayrton felt heavier than the last, and the entire room sank into a hidden layer of gloom.
Kayden didn't comment. Henry lowered his gaze, as if something crucial had just been said—something that shouldn't be explored further, as though delving deeper into Adam's story might open a door no one wanted opened.
As for Ayrton, he seemed lost in his thoughts—his features rigid, but his eyes carrying the weariness of years.
After a few moments of drifting thoughts, Ayrton called out in a clearer voice, interrupting the weight pressing on his chest,
"Today, we have two new arrivals… they're twins, and it's difficult to tell them apart. Welcome Kayden Price and Henry Price."
Eyes turned toward them, greetings and welcoming words rising around the room. Henry stood quietly in place, calm and composed, while Kayden scanned the faces with a sharp gaze—half present, half elsewhere.
From afar, Adam remained standing on the balcony, watching silently from behind the glass, a fresh cigarette glowing between his fingers. He didn't join the welcome, didn't move his lips with a single word.
Ayrton looked toward the twins without saying anything.
But inside, he muttered with a bitterness no one could hear,
'I hope your future… is less dark than the one we knew.'
Then he glanced at them again for a moment.
'Can I really not tell them apart?'
At Ayrton's request, Kayden left shortly afterward to check on Fiona, who was still seated in her place beside where the body had been. She was calm to an unsettling degree—motionless like a statue—even though the corpse had been removed minutes ago. She remained in the same posture, as if she refused to acknowledge the passage of time.
He approached her with hesitant steps, then called softly,
"Ma'am?"
She didn't turn toward him, but her voice came out faint, closer to a whisper.
"I want to apologize for bothering you during our first meeting… and for using that annoying ability… I didn't mean you. I was targeting Adam, not you."
Kayden sat down in front of her, keeping a distance that respected her boundaries, and replied with cautious gentleness,
"It's alright… I wasn't bothered."
But his eyes quickly fled from hers. Those light-colored eyes—like the alert eyes of a husky—sent an internal tremor through him, one he couldn't explain.
Fiona noticed his unease and exhaled slowly.
"Do you feel uncomfortable?"
He shook his head in denial, but his voice wasn't convincing.
"No…?"
Her gaze met his directly—sharp, as if illuminating dark corners inside him.
"Liar."
Kayden sighed and rubbed his face with his palm.
"Just a little…"
For a moment, he felt as though he were being interrogated—yet with a soft touch that still carried pressure. Her next words came as if they were knocking on the doors of his thoughts.
"Is it because I'm sitting here?"
He laughed inwardly, mocking himself.
'Why would I feel tense just because I'm sitting with a girl?'
But she didn't give him time to escape. She added in a low voice, sharp as an open wound,
"Or is it because of my eye color?"
Kayden straightened in his seat and said with sincere apology,
"I didn't mean any offense… truly."
She replied with absolute calm, without a trace of irritation,
"I can read emotional states and pick up what's going on in the mind through body language—subtle signals… but now I understand the reason for your tension."
Embarrassment crept over Kayden, and he offered a light, defensive smile.
"You must be very useful in a place like this."
She nodded slowly, her features sliding into a faint melancholy.
"I spend most of my time with criminals."
Kayden hesitated for a few seconds, then asked, as if trying to catch a thread that might lead him further,
"Can anyone have abilities like these? Could I get them too?"
She answered simply, though her words carried a hint of mystery.
"Ask Ayrton… or Adam. But if you decide to ask Adam, it's best to start with a token of appreciation."
Kayden raised an eyebrow with interest.
"Like what?"
Fiona opened her bag, took out a small pouch about the size of her palm, and held it out to him.
"Take this."
He accepted it curiously, turning it between his fingers.
"What is it?"
She said bluntly,
"Sedatives… but you're a smart boy, so I'll be honest—"
He cut her off with a light laugh.
"Drugs."
So now I've become a drug dealer? Wonderful! he screamed inwardly, mocking himself as he tried to suppress his laughter.
Her smile stiffened slightly.
"So you already know?"
He looked at her in surprise.
"Know what?"
She answered with steady calm, as if stating an old truth.
"You don't know? Adam doesn't sleep. His mood is always on the edge of explosion. He chases anything that gives him a moment of happiness, even if it's an illusion. But he isn't affected by them at all… all he wants is the scent—the smell of these sedatives."
Kayden muttered quietly, almost to himself,
"He needs rest… before he resorts to suicide."
Fiona let out a short laugh, tinged with buried pain.
"Even rich kids seem to have a special sense of humor."
He laughed lightly with her, without adding anything.
But then she leaned toward him slightly and said with calm seriousness,
"You're the one paying for this dose, by the way. Adam's been strangely stingy lately. When you give it to him, ask first. Wait for his response, then give him the tip."
Kayden kept looking at her as he continued to roll the pouch between his hands, without objecting. Then she suddenly lowered her voice, as if confessing something personal.
"I'll tell you a secret."
He froze for a moment, then slowly raised his eyes to hers.
"I'm all ears."
She said heavily,
"We've been watching you for a month. We saw your miserable attempts… at suicide. The last time—before you went to church with your mother—we were there. Me, Adam, and Ayrton. I was the one who insisted on coming. I forced Ayrton to join."
She fell silent, watching his expression. His face didn't change, as if carved from stone—but his eyes… his eyes betrayed him for a moment. She understood what he didn't say, what couldn't be seen.
Inside him, emotions raged like a trapped volcano on the verge of eruption.
She continued in a low voice, as if unburdening a heavy secret,
"We saw you smash your head against the ground… hurt yourself with your own hands. But the contract we signed bound us—prevented us from intervening. Even so… I wanted to do something. I've seen countless corpses, stopped the bleeding of dozens of victims, committed unforgivable acts… but seeing you like that hurt me more than all of it."
Kayden's features tightened, and his hand slowly rose to his forehead, as if touching the remnants of that distorted memory—that day still embedded in his soul.
He asked in a rough, broken voice,
"Then why… didn't you help me?"
Fiona hesitated for a moment, then answered with cautious honesty.
"It wasn't in my power. They stopped me… and the agreement was strict. You're from a noble family, and that alone restricted the situation. Maybe you don't realize this because you were born into it, but we've always been careful with people like you. And the contract stipulated that if you died and turned into a soulless being, you were to be stopped—a catastrophe."
She paused, as if afraid of the weight of her own words, then continued,
"I remember Adam being strangely at ease—so much so that he bet on your soul. Ayrton asked him, 'Where does all this confidence come from?' and he replied, 'Because he doesn't look like someone who truly wants to die.' So Ayrton went along with it too—he's not that different from Adam, really. Then… everyone kept watching in silence. After a long time, once we were sure you were still alive, we simply forgot to tell Adam that you hadn't died. That… was the only bet Adam ever won."
A faint smile formed on Kayden's lips, carrying a mix of irony and bitterness. He imagined the scene—eyes watching him from the shadows, silence that wasn't silence but neutral observation, as if he were nothing more than an experiment.
He said calmly, as if surrendering,
"It's fine… you're not to blame. Honestly, I'm very grateful that I'm still here—and talking to you now."
Kayden looked at her for a long moment, then asked in a low voice,
"Why did you join Ayrton and the others?"
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and a cold smile formed on her lips—more like warmthless surprise.
"And why should I tell you?"
Kayden smiled faintly, though his voice carried a shadow of bitterness.
"You've seen me at my worst… I think it's only fair we even the score."
She waved her hand lightly in a teasing gesture, yet it felt as though she were tearing a thin veil between past and present.
"I'll tell you… maybe so we can become close friends. By the way, I have an ability to turn words into scenes… would you like to step into the background with me? You know, to make it more vivid."
Kayden nodded quickly.
Fiona lowered her voice into a deep whisper, as if pulling the first threads from a fabric of darkness.
"Years ago, I was kidnapped. At the time, I was about to marry a man I hadn't chosen—a man my mother chose for me. I was completely submissive, doing whatever was asked of me… just as she had always raised me. Obedience was all that mattered to her."
Suddenly, the walls of the room dissolved before Kayden's eyes. Blurred images formed on the horizon behind her, gradually sharpening—washed-out colors, distant echoes, fractured features returning to life.
Fiona continued, her tone balanced between nostalgia and contempt.
"My mother told me I would live happily… that I'd have plenty of money, good food, travel. She painted me a dream made of gold—a dream I never once truly had. I used to smile shyly when that man gave me expensive clothes, but my heart… was empty. I never loved him. I'd barely met him five or six times."
In Kayden's vision, the images gathered: a young woman in a classic white dress, standing before a large mirror, staring at her reflection with an expressionless face… like a ghost waiting for others to decide her fate.
Fiona spoke softly, as though dragging the chains of the past behind her.
"I used to see that dress in shop windows… I never imagined I'd wear it one day. On the day I left the house, I saw something I couldn't explain—he was handing my mother a large sum of money."