The wind howled outside, rattling faintly against the car windows.
The sky had been dark all day, heavy clouds pressing low as if something unseen was weighing down the atmosphere itself.
Sitting in the driver's seat, the detective clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Damn weather…"
His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, but his eyes never left the building ahead.
The orphanage.
For the past few days, he had been watching it carefully—more carefully than any case he had handled in years.
Ever since Lucien revealed the truth, he understood one thing clearly.
This wasn't normal.
The people he was watching… weren't normal either.
Because of that, he didn't dare take any risks.
The car engine was off.
The windows barely cracked.
Even the talisman Lucien had given him was tucked safely inside his coat, close to his chest.
Time passed slowly.
Too slowly.
Then—
Movement.
The door of the orphanage opened.
A figure stepped out.
Sister Abigail.
The detective's eyes sharpened instantly.
"…Finally."
Without hesitation, he reached for his phone and sent a short message.
Then he started the car and followed.
Inside another vehicle—
Carl glanced at his phone before turning slightly.
"Mr. Lucien… the detective sent a message."
Lucien, seated calmly in the back, slowly closed the Daoist scripture in his hands.
"They've made their move."
There was no surprise in his tone.
Only certainty.
Everything had been leading to this.
After the failed setup at the antique shop, the other side had grown impatient. And under Lucien's subtle interference—especially the evidence shown to Kate—the balance inside the Coleman family had already collapsed.
Conflict.
Separation.
Isolation.
Now, the board was set.
"Let's go," Lucien said.
Carl nodded immediately, starting the engine.
But just as the car began to move, he hesitated.
"Where to?"
He glanced through the rearview mirror.
"The Coleman house… or the suburban villa?"
It was a critical decision.
The detective was already tracking the nun—the real threat.
Logically, they should support him.
But Carl didn't act on instinct.
Not anymore.
He waited.
Lucien's answer came without delay.
"The villa."
Carl frowned slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes—but he didn't question it.
"Understood."
The car accelerated.
For a few moments, silence filled the space between them.
Then—
"You're wondering why," Lucien said calmly.
Carl stiffened slightly, then gave a small, awkward smile.
"…Yeah."
Lucien leaned back, his gaze steady.
"You're focusing on power," he said. "But you're ignoring intent."
Carl listened carefully.
"The nun is dangerous," Lucien continued. "But she's not acting blindly. Everything she does has purpose."
"And Lina?"
A faint coldness appeared in his eyes.
"She acts on desire."
Carl frowned.
"…Desire?"
Lucien nodded slightly.
"She doesn't pretend to be a child because she has to."
"She does it because it gives her what she wants."
Attention.
Affection.
Control.
Things she could never obtain in her true form.
"Think about it," Lucien said. "With her condition… would any normal person accept her?"
Carl's expression tightened.
"…No."
"So she becomes something they can't reject."
A child.
Harmless.
Innocent.
Trusted.
"And once she gains that trust," Lucien continued, his voice lowering, "she tries to turn it into something else."
Carl's face twisted slightly.
"…That's messed up."
Lucien didn't respond to that.
"Her behavior around John already crossed that line," he said instead. "Rejection was inevitable."
"And when that happens?"
Carl's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"She lashes out."
Lucien's gaze sharpened.
"Violently."
The meaning was clear.
Carl swallowed.
"…So John…"
"Already in danger."
"And Kate—who went after them—walked straight into it."
A chill spread through the car.
Carl pressed harder on the accelerator.
"What about the kids?" he asked suddenly.
Lucien's expression didn't change.
"They're safe."
Carl blinked.
"…Safe?"
"For now."
Lucien's voice was calm—but carried a faint, unsettling weight.
"They're not targets."
"They're assets."
Carl didn't speak again.
But the silence that followed felt colder than before.
The police car cut through traffic, sirens blaring as it sped toward the suburban villa.
Within minutes, it arrived.
The moment the car stopped, Carl grabbed his pistol, disengaging the safety with a practiced motion.
His breathing slowed.
Focused.
Controlled.
Lucien stepped out without hesitation.
No tension.
No urgency.
As if he already knew what awaited inside.
They moved quickly across the front yard.
The house stood quiet.
Too quiet.
Carl raised his weapon, eyes scanning every angle.
"Be careful—"
Before he could finish—
Lucien reached the door.
And kicked.
A sharp crack echoed as wood splintered.
The door burst inward violently, slamming against the floor.
Carl froze for half a second.
Then—
The smell hit him.
Blood.
Thick.
Metallic.
Overpowering.
His eyes widened as he stepped inside.
A body lay sprawled across the living room floor.
John.
Motionless.
Covered in blood.
Dead.
"…Shit."
His grip tightened around the gun.
Then—
A sound.
Hoarse.
Weak.
Carl's head snapped toward the sofa.
A figure lay slumped against it.
Kate.
Her entire body trembled.
One hand clutched her throat desperately as blood poured through her fingers. The other lifted slightly, shaking, as if trying to point at something.
"Don't move!"
Carl reacted instantly, stepping forward.
But something felt wrong.
Too wrong.
And then—
Movement.
From above.
A shadow dropped.
Fast.
Silent.
A flash of cold steel descended—an axe, aimed straight at Carl.
Everything happened in a single heartbeat.
Carl didn't even have time to react.
But Lucien did.
His body moved before thought.
A single step.
A precise motion.
His leg shot out—
Impact.
The figure was struck mid-air.
Like a projectile, it flew backward, crashing violently into the wall with a dull, sickening sound.
The axe slipped from its grasp.
Blood sprayed.
Silence followed.
Two seconds later—
Carl exhaled sharply, his entire body breaking into cold sweat.
"…What the hell…"
His eyes snapped toward the fallen figure.
Small.
Frail.
Yet twisted with malice.
Esther.
Or rather—
Lina.
She coughed violently, blood spilling from her mouth as she struggled to lift her head.
Her eyes burned with hatred.
Still alive.
But barely.
Carl's heart pounded in his chest.
Only now did he fully understand.
The bodies.
The positioning.
Kate's desperate movement.
It was all bait.
She had dragged Kate to the sofa.
Used her.
Used everything.
Just to create a single opening.
And in that opening—
She had aimed to kill.
Carl.
The armed threat.
If not for Lucien—
He would already be dead.
A shiver ran down his spine.
"…She planned that…"
His voice came out hoarse.
Lucien didn't look at him.
His gaze remained fixed on Lina.
Cold.
Unmoved.
"As I said," he spoke quietly.
"She acts on desire."
A pause.
Then—
"She kills without hesitation."
The air in the room grew heavy.
And for the first time—
Carl truly understood.
This wasn't just a case.
This was a hunt.
And they had just stepped directly into the predator's den.