So, there they were, Seojun’s truck rumbling onto a pretty deserted-looking road, tailing the van up ahead. Brown and Luciel were in that one. The sky overhead was a vast, clear blue. A cool morning breeze rustled through the reeds, and every so often, the sweet chirping of birds would sneak past the truck’s windows.
Kira headed down the stairs first, leaving Johan smiling quietly to himself. She paused, fingers hovering over the railing. It looked grimy enough to leave black smudges on her palms, so she opted for the wall instead, placing one hand carefully against it as she cautiously stepped down.
“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.