Ayrton smiled—a small smile devoid of merc "Simply put… every wrong answer earns an injury. Let me explain, Kayden. I'll ask you a question—and you'll answer incorrectly."
At that very moment, the door swung open abruptly.
Adam stepped inside.
He was dressed entirely in black, a long coat swaying around his legs—purchased without a second thought for its price. He had decided to use it
He stopped at the entrance, his eyes scanning the place with cold detachment. His hand rested on the door handle as if he were still hesitating to stay. For a moment, he considered turning back—and yet… he didn't leave.
Ayrton gestured to him with an oddly playful grin.
"Adam! Come here. I'll ask you a question—and you answer it with an obvious lie."
A lazy half-smile crept across Adam's face as he folded his arms, remaining exactly where he stood.
Ayrton asked, "When was the last time you slept well?"
"Last night," Adam replied far too quickly, as if his mind had been primed in advance for this kind of question.
Kayden watched him, bracing himself for the punishment. A cold sensation coiled inside him—like waiting for a blade to fall.
Suddenly, Adam gasped, clutching his left eye, and shouted in fury, "You idiot! I'll kill you!"
Ayrton smiled faintly, without a trace of remorse, and spoke lightly, "The pain is real… I merely simulated it. Like molten wax dripping into your eye."
Then he turned toward Kayden, his tone sharpening into something that allowed no evasion. "Now… your turn. Tell the truth if you want to survive."
"Did you ever love Arabella?" Ayrton asked.
Silence hung for a few seconds. Kayden closed his eyes, as though sinking into a dark inner abyss, then murmured slowly, "I never loved her."
His body tensed, ready for the sting of pain or the slap of punishment… but nothing came.
He exhaled heavily in relief before sitting down beside Adam. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to him in silence.
Adam took it with an unreadable calm, pressed it against his eye, and continued to observe the interrogation without uttering a word—as if pain had become just another part of the scene.
Ayrton broke the silence again, his voice charged with seriousness. "Who gave you the spells?"
Ethan answered in a low, hesitant voice, "I don't know him."
Nothing happened. No punishment fell.
The three exchanged silent glances before Ayrton continued, pressing his words as if carving them into stone. "And why did you want those spells? Was your goal truly… to summon a demon?"
"I wanted to summon a demon of wealth…" Ethan spoke, his voice breaking between regret and stubborn resolve. "He told me it would bring money… a lot of it. So I tried."
Kayden stared at him sharply and asked coldly,
"And how do you trust a complete stranger so easily?"
A heavy silence followed before Ethan burst out bitterly, "You don't understand the curse of poverty. Look at you—do you ever worry about your next meal? Or having a roof over your head? No. As for me, I live every moment trembling at the thought of tomorrow. I can't endure this life anymore."
Kayden turned his head away and replied coolly,
"As if acquiring my family's fortune was easy… you're just running from your responsibility."
Before he could finish, a sharp blow struck his ribs—Adam's elbow collided with him suddenly. Kayden bent over in pain, letting out a muffled groan.
Adam leaned slightly toward him and whispered,
"Your brother isn't as cruel as you are. Did you inherit all the bad traits by yourself? The commander tried this ability on your brother before you—and made him tell the truth. You too. Don't you see how unfair that is?"
Kayden snapped his head up, his face darkening as he muttered in a petulant protest reminiscent of Roger, "He started it!"
Kayden spoke aloud, not caring whether he interrupted the interrogation or not.
Adam shot him an annoyed look, then muttered as he pressed the handkerchief harder against his eye, "Be quiet for a bit."
Kayden whispered, narrowing his gaze at Adam,
"What did you do?"
Adam answered lightly, flicking his hand as if swatting a fly. "Nothing… just shut up. You know, some people look better when they're silent—and you're one of them."
His sly smile didn't last long. Ayrton's voice pierced the stillness—low, but weighted with a pressure that belied its calm.
"Do you know a girl named Arabella?"
Ethan froze in place. Silence wrapped around him like shackles. The name hit him like a stone crashing into his chest. A long moment passed before he spoke, his voice fractured,
"No."
The next instant, a violent impact echoed—as though something invisible struck him with brutal force. Ethan doubled over, clutching his head, screaming in agony that tore through his skull.
Ayrton spoke coldly, hands clasped behind his back as he advanced with measured steps.
"You should thank me… I haven't been harsh with you yet."
He came closer, tilted his head slightly, his gaze digging deep into his victim. "So… do you know Arabella?"
Ethan slowly lifted his eyes toward the ceiling, as though the answer were etched into the ancient cracks of the stone. He breathed with difficulty, then forced out his confession as if ripping a word from his heart."… I know her."
Kayden raised an eyebrow in heavy silence, then slowly turned toward Adam, searching his features for any reaction… but Adam remained motionless, expressionless, as if it meant nothing to him.
"How do you know her?" Ayrton continued, this time in a low voice—closer to a whisper that slithered into the ear.
He knew full well that Arabella was involved, and that the thread leading to the truth had to pass through here… through the mouth of this man soaked in guilt and scorched by his mistakes.
Ethan trembled as he answered, his words spilling out like a bitter confession. "She's the one who brought the man… the one who gave me the spells. She told me that if I succeeded… I'd join them… their private organization."
Kayden froze, his eyes locked onto Ethan's face.
He's telling the truth, he thought sharply, searching for even a trace of deceit—a flicker in the eyes, a betrayal in the voice… but he found nothing except raw terror, and lips trembling between the instinct to survive and a deep compulsion to confess.
"What do you know about this organization?" Ayrton asked again—but the question was more than just words.
What unsettled Ethan wasn't the question itself, nor the threats buried behind it… it was that look.
Ayrton's calm gaze that revealed nothing, yet made you feel utterly exposed—like you were doing nothing more than repeating what he already knew… merely a mouthpiece confirming his expectations.
Ethan exhaled deeply, as though his lungs hadn't tasted air in years, then murmured hoarsely, "I'll tell you… but in return, let me go."
Ayrton answered with simple calm, "That… is reasonable."
"The organization includes a large number of enforcers… but they aren't seeking chaos the way you might think," Ethan paused, his eyes darting in fear, as though every word could summon a curse upon him. Then he continued, his voice barely above a confession. "I was told their ultimate goal… is to reach the stage of Synchronization and Reflection."
Kayden shuddered faintly as he whispered,
"Synchronization … and Reflection?"
Before he could say another word, Adam's voice came low and sharp, like a prick. "Enough."
Adam didn't turn toward him, his eyes fixed straight ahead, before he added in a barely audible murmur, "I'll tell you about them later."
Kayden swallowed his silence, feeling for the first time that what was unfolding went far beyond the scope of his curiosity.
Ethan continued, weighing his words heavily.
"Reaching that stage is no simple achievement… it's the beginning of hell itself. And from what I learned… there is only one person among them who has reached the midpoint of a higher stage."
Ayrton tilted his head slowly.
"Have you performed the ritual before?" he asked, his calm carefully measured.
Ethan's voice trembled as he replied, "Once… at sunrise. And the second time… was just before you arrived."
At that moment, Adam's voice rose suddenly, his curiosity unmistakable.
"Did you notice anything different between the two times?"
Kaiden lifted his head, stunned, staring at Adam in genuine surprise. Moments ago, he had been nothing more than a sarcastic observer, barely participating—and now… it was as if he had seized the most dangerous thread from Ethan's words and held onto it with absolute focus.
"Let me think…" Ethan murmured, closing his eyes, summoning the details of the ritual as though recalling a distorted dream.
"The place was quiet… unnaturally silent. But after the ritual ended… I felt stronger. Not an overwhelming strength, but… a kind of lightness. As if I had shed a shell. I don't know how to explain it… but my body no longer felt as fragile as it used to."
Ayrton's eyes never left him. Every word Ethan spoke was etched into his mind with precision, like markings on an investigative board slowly coming together.
Meanwhile, something seemed to stir within Adam. He rose with a strange calm, his steps heavy with silence. He moved away briefly, then returned holding a long rifle that had been hidden in a dark corner.
He sat beside Kaiden again, deliberately slow, slipped the handkerchief he had taken earlier from Kaiden into his pocket, crossed one leg over the other, and rested the rifle across his knee.
Kaiden's voice shook as he asked, a cold sensation crawling up his spine, "What are you doing?"
Adam smiled—a hazy smile, neither comforting nor reassuring—as he tapped his finger rhythmically against the rifle's surface.
"Nothing worth mentioning," he murmured calmly.
Ethan faltered, sensing the air in the room grow heavier, as though an unseen chill had spilled over them.
"Is everything… alright?"
At last, Ayrton answered, a faint smile carved into his face like that of a half-shattered statue.
"Everything is fine."
He then gently patted Ethan's shoulder.
Ayrton cast a scrutinizing glance at Adam, then at Ethan, before commenting in a steady tone,
"But what you said… about feeling stronger. That means the ritual wasn't entirely incomplete."
Ethan froze. He stared at the floor as if it might swallow him whole, then asked in a voice that barely escaped his throat,
"Is the catastrophe… something evil? I mean… is it possible that it's… inside me?"
Silence fell over the place. Even Kayden—who had never known silence—stopped breathing for a moment.
Adam slowly lifted his head. His gaze met Ethan's, and in his eyes was something heavier than his usual mockery.
"Sometimes… catastrophe doesn't come from outside. We are the ones who open the door for it, invite it in… then lie to ourselves and believe we can control it."
Ethan's lips trembled, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"But… I never wanted to hurt anyone."
That was when Ayrton spoke, his voice low, as if mourning an unavoidable truth.
"The tragedy isn't intention… it's ignorance."
Kayden instinctively raised a hand to cover his mouth, as if afraid words might escape that should never be spoken. Then he slowly turned toward Ethan… and in his eyes was a mix of doubt, fear, and something close to pity—yet he dared not give it shape through words.
'This… is terrifyingly similar to what the charlatan did, Kayden… Does that mean I'm a catastrophe? I need to understand the ritual steps first.'
Kayden gasped inwardly. Shock paralyzed his thoughts for a moment. His heart slammed violently against his chest, but he quickly buried the question deep inside himself, postponing the answer for later.
'I'll ask Colton later.'
He lowered his gaze to the ground again, trying to process the thought, then hesitantly lifted it… only to find Adam staring at him with unsettling steadiness.
Adam smiled briefly—a cold, fleeting smile—then slowly turned his face away as if nothing had happened. But its trace lingered in the air, like a knife that had not yet been withdrawn.
Kayden shifted slightly, now facing Adam directly. Irritation crept into his features.
"What's with that look? Is there something on my face now?"
Inside him, a curse nearly erupted like a volcano, but Kayden swallowed it at the last second, like someone biting down on live embers, unwilling to grant Adam the pleasure of a response.
Adam looked back at Kayden, then at Ayrton. This time, his gaze was heavier—deeper—as if weighing Kayden's soul on a dark scale.
Adam's hand slid across the surface of his weapon, until every second felt like a threat in itself. His fingers tapped against the metal, the sound eerily close to counting down seconds before an explosion.
He leaned in slightly toward Kayden, his voice dropping low enough that Ethan couldn't hear.