Lucien's fist came down again.
Hard.
The impact echoed through the mansion as it slammed straight into Ella's face—no, not Ella anymore.
Whatever had been wearing her skin.
For a brief moment, her beauty still lingered. The kind that would turn heads, the kind that explained why Jamie's father had brought her into this house without hesitation.
But under Lucien's blows—
That illusion began to break.
Cracks spread across her face like shattered porcelain. The skin peeled, flaked, and tore away, revealing something beneath it—
Grey.
Lifeless.
Cold.
Like a corpse that had long since forgotten what it meant to be human.
Jamie staggered back, horror flooding his expression.
His father had been a puppet.
And now—
So was she.
But what truly unsettled him…
Was Lucien.
There was nothing restrained about the way he fought.
No hesitation.
No ritual.
No chanting.
Just raw, overwhelming force.
His fists rose and fell again and again, each strike heavy enough to crack the floor beneath them. The dull thuds echoed unnaturally in the silent house.
This wasn't what Jamie expected.
Not even close.
"Aren't… exorcists supposed to use crosses or something…?" he muttered weakly, his voice trembling.
What he didn't understand was—
Lucien wasn't just hitting her.
Every punch carried something deeper.
Invisible.
But real.
Qi.
It flowed through his body like a current, gathering in his limbs before exploding outward with each strike. It wasn't just physical force—it was something that could reach beyond flesh and bone.
Something that could touch the soul.
And Mary Shaw felt it.
Lucien narrowed his eyes slightly.
Durable…
That was the first thought that crossed his mind.
A normal human skull would have shattered long ago.
Even something stronger—a wild animal, maybe—wouldn't have lasted this long.
But this puppet…
It endured.
The outer layer had already peeled away, revealing its grotesque structure beneath—wooden joints fused with something disturbingly organic.
And yet—
It still held together.
"Impressive craftsmanship," Lucien muttered under his breath.
But that was all it had.
Endurance.
Nothing more.
Mary Shaw tried to rise.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each time—
Lucien forced her back down.
Relentless.
Unyielding.
Until finally—
She stopped resisting.
For a split second, everything went still.
Then—
Her body twisted unnaturally.
A sudden burst of movement.
Lucien's next strike missed.
And in that instant—
She broke free.
The window shattered.
Glass exploded outward as her figure crashed through it and disappeared into the night.
Outside the mansion, the Walker couple sat frozen inside their car.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them dared to.
From the moment Lucien and Jamie entered the house, something had been… wrong.
First—
Silence.
Complete, suffocating silence.
Then—
A scream.
Not human.
Not something that should exist in this world.
After that came a wave of fear so intense it felt like their hearts were being crushed from the inside.
And then—
Nothing.
Followed by continuous, heavy impacts that shook the very air around them.
Old Walker had already moved to the driver's seat.
Just in case.
Just in case they needed to run.
Then—
Crash!
The second-floor window exploded.
A figure fell.
It hit the ground hard—but didn't stop.
It ran.
Fast.
Unnaturally fast.
Under the pale moonlight, they saw it clearly for a moment—
And immediately wished they hadn't.
Its face was ruined.
Broken.
Not flesh—
Not entirely.
Wood.
Fragments.
Something stitched together in ways that should never be possible.
"Oh… God…" Old Walker whispered, clutching his chest.
He didn't dare say the name.
He didn't dare make a sound.
Because deep down—
He already knew.
And what terrified him even more—
Was the realization that the young man inside…
Had forced that thing to run.
Upstairs, Lucien stood by the broken window, watching the fleeing figure disappear into the darkness.
He didn't chase.
Not immediately.
Behind him, Jamie rushed forward, his earlier shock now replaced by something much darker.
Hatred.
"Lucien!" he said, breathing heavily. "You're going after her, right? Take me with you."
His voice was firm.
Resolved.
There was nothing left to lose anymore.
His father was gone.
His wife—
And now, a horrifying realization had taken root in his mind.
Lisa hadn't been part of his bloodline.
And yet—
She was killed.
There was only one explanation.
She had been pregnant.
The thought hit him like a hammer.
His child.
Gone.
His family—
Erased.
Completely.
Lucien glanced at him briefly, then nodded.
"Alright."
He didn't refuse.
Because Jamie wasn't just useful—
He was necessary.
"When do we move?" Jamie asked immediately.
Lucien turned away from the window and started heading downstairs.
"No rush," he said calmly.
"Mary Shaw doesn't appear just anywhere. She needs anchors."
"Dolls."
Jamie followed closely behind, listening.
"There are only two remaining places in this town where she can go," Lucien continued. "One of them was the cemetery."
"I already checked it."
Jamie frowned. "And?"
"All the graves were dug up," Lucien replied. "Every single one. Empty."
Jamie's expression darkened.
"…Ella."
"The one pretending to be her," Lucien corrected calmly. "Yes."
"Moving over a hundred dolls without anyone noticing isn't something a normal person could do."
They stepped outside.
Cold air rushed in, carrying the faint scent of something decaying.
"So there's only one place left," Jamie said quietly.
Lucien nodded.
"The Lake Theatre."
"The place where it all started."
"And where it ends."
Jamie clenched his fists.
For the first time—
There was direction.
Purpose.
They walked toward the car.
Then Jamie stopped.
"Lucien… thank you."
The words came out sincere.
Heavy.
Lucien paused for a moment, then waved it off lightly.
"Save it," he said. "We're not done yet."
Jamie straightened immediately. "What do you need?"
Lucien looked at him.
Then said something that completely shattered his expectations.
"Gasoline."
"…What?"
Jamie blinked.
"Gasoline," Lucien repeated calmly.
Now Jamie was completely lost.
No talismans?
No rituals?
No sacred items?
"Isn't… isn't there something else?" he asked hesitantly. "Like… I don't know… holy water? A cross? Something?"
Lucien gave him a flat look.
"Do you want to kill it," he said, "or perform a ceremony?"
Jamie opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"…I'll go get it."
And without wasting another second, he ran.
Lucien watched him leave.
The night grew quieter.
He exhaled slowly.
Then—
Headlights appeared.
A car pulled up in front of the mansion.
The door opened.
A familiar figure stepped out.
The detective.
This time—
With a shotgun in his hands.
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Finally caught up, huh."