“Does she really have wings? Did you ever see them?”
“Are you kidding?” Kira shot him a look that questioned his sanity. She leaned back against the grimy wall, rolling the cigarette between her fingers. “It’s just bullshit crazies say when they’ve lost touch with reality.”
Where is all this screaming coming from?
Johan held his breath, eyes closing as he focused. A distant voice echoed through the walls—muffled, distorted, but definitely pissed off. He couldn’t catch the words, just the anger buzzing faintly through the house.
For a wild, heart-skipping second, the impulse seized him: lunge, jam the thermos to her lips, force the contents down her throat.
Then, just as quickly, the thought vanished.
The idea of “rotting together as ghost soulmates” didn’t land as romantic. It hit Seojun like a physical blow, a chilling confession that stole the feeling from his tongue. His mind seized, every synapse screaming the same frantic message: Pretend you didn’t hear that. Pretend this isn’t happening.
Seojun wanted to kick himself. Hard. Like, really hard. What the hell was he thinking, just handing the knife over to Camry like that? He mentally slapped himself a few times for good measure. He deserved it. Probably deserved a few more slaps upside the head too.
The glass was cold against his fingertips, exactly as expected. But beneath that chill, something else pulsed... a faint, unexpected warmth. Behind his closed eyelids, a spark of light bloomed in the darkness. Regret knotted instantly in Seojun’s stomach, but it was already too late.
Seojun staggered back, his empty stomach churning with nausea. The room spun around him as he grabbed for the heavy curtain, desperate to steady himself. Unfortunately, the old fabric couldn’t handle the weight of a grown man, even a slender one. It tore from the wall with a rip, tangling around his legs as he stumbled.
“I’m not sure if malice tastes sweet or salty. Never tried it.” Johan said, his face giving nothing away. “But at my house, stuff that questionable wouldn’t even make it onto the menu.”
Madison’s anger seemed illogical. Yes, Johan had spouted some half-baked, maybe offensive nonsense, but she was the one who tried to stab him in the head first. Details.
“I still don’t get it. Madison, honestly, what’s going on?”
Johan awkwardly turned the stiletto heel over in his hand. He had no idea how to use a shoe as a weapon. He wondered if he’d said something wrong about that video on her phone. But no, he liked it. Even complimented it. The more he thought about it, the more wronged he felt.
Not even the most intense thriller movie could match this moment. Johan crouched, eyes fixed on the small screen, his heart pounding wildly. When his worst fear didn’t happen, he exhaled slowly, momentary relief washing over him. It didn’t last.
“Took you long enough, Camry.”
Leimia stood with her arms crossed as Camry finally entered the room. Sunlight streamed through the doorway, illuminating swirling dust particles as Camry pushed a strand of hair from her face, her smile brightening the musty space.