Arin returned his gaze to the ground.
He wasn't ready to speak,
And he wasn't ready to hear the truth either.
But he knew…
The shattered chessboard in his mind wasn't just an illusion… it was a reflection of something real, something dangerous.
The place went so still that every sound became audible — Arin's tense breathing, the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the trembling of the mother's hand, which did not dare to touch him.
Then, Aiden broke the silence with his deep, calm voice, like a faint light in a dark room. But his words were like knives, cutting through the space without mercy:
"Arin… she was looking for you. That's why I brought her here."
He paused for a moment, then turned, his voice dropping as if he were dropping the truth onto the floor:
"It seems… she cannot afford to lose her only son, just as she lost the one before him."
Everyone fell silent.
The mother's eyes widened in shock, but she didn't move.
And Arin… didn't even blink.
Aiden moved toward the door. His steps were rhythmic, unhurried, but each one carried the weight of years of hidden secrets.
Outside, in front of the pharmacy...
Cera sat on the edge of the sidewalk, where the tiles still held the warmth of the sun that had set moments ago. But the air wasn't suffocating… instead, beautiful, light summer breezes brushed against her face, stroking her pain with tenderness. The leaves of nearby trees rustled softly, and a few strands of her hair slid down her cheek; she tucked them back with her fingertips, then lifted her gaze to the sky. The stars were bright, like glass beads scattered on blue velvet.
She opened her phone and checked the time. Then she leaned her head back against the wall behind her. She closed her eyes and inhaled the summer night air, mingled with the scent of warm earth and sleeping plants.
Then, the car lights appeared from the end of the road.
Every beat in her chest throbbed with power…
She stood up, her heart racing ahead of her feet.
As soon as the car stopped and Aiden stepped out, she rushed to him. She embraced him as if she were taking shelter from life itself. Her tears flowed silently, but the breezes were her only witness.
Aiden remained still at first; he didn't return the embrace immediately, nor did he speak. He ran his hand over her cheek, which had cooled slightly from the air, then wiped her tears with his fingertips.
Finally, he held her again, while the breezes surrounded them, as if embracing their sorrow as well.
Inside...
The mother remained standing in her place, motionless. She didn't shed a tear, but her gaze toward Arin was filled with a scream that never came out.
Her lips moved slowly, her voice emerging as if the wind carried it from a deep well of regret:
"Aiden… he has truly grown up."
But Arin, whose mind was still haunted by the image of Aiden leaving, raised his head slowly. His eyes were like glowing embers, oozing with angry disappointment.
"Grown up? Like this?"
His voice was fragile at first… then it hardened, as if a wound had been ripped open anew.
"You have no idea what he went through… Don't try to play the role of the tender mother now. You missed your chance."
He dropped the words slowly, letters heavy as if he were shedding them from his shoulders. Then he turned his face away.
For what lay between him and her… was more than silence. It was a delayed death.
In the dark corner of the prison...
Where neither light nor sound reaches, a man crept in with the silence of ghosts. He wore a guard's uniform, but his steps were unlike the others… light, precise, as if the ground dared not make a sound beneath him. His face was covered by a low military cap and a black mask that hid his expressions completely, showing only his eyes, which glinted with a strange brilliance.
He headed toward cell number (7)… the cell where madness itself was kept: Luna.
He turned the key swiftly; the creak of the lock was faint but enough to wake a sleeping beast. He opened the door slowly…
Inside, Luna sat on the floor, her hair dishevelled, her features a mix of innocence and insanity. She raised her head, and as soon as her eyes met the man's, a smile spread across her face… a smile that wasn't human. It was a demonic, mad grin that made the air in the cell turn cold instantly, as if something dark had taken a breath there.
The man handed her a small knife and a black pistol. She grasped them as if reclaiming a piece of her soul. As if the blood was calling her.
She stood up… her back slightly hunched, her shoulders arching forward, as if she were transforming into another creature. Then she straightened up, and with a cold gaze, she pushed the cell door open.
In moments, the prison turned into a theater of death.
The bodies of the guards began to fall one after another, their frames swaying like puppets with cut strings, blood painting red streaks on the grey walls.
She was laughing… her laughter echoed through the hallways like the sound of breaking bones—a mad, terrifying laugh that rose above every other sound. The laugh of a woman liberated from every bond, and every sanity.
Her right eye twitched with ecstasy, and her lips trembled from the intensity of her laughter. She looked as if she were dancing over death.
From amidst the shadows, the mysterious man vanished, leaving behind the gates of hell wide open.