The moment Lucien Blackwood stepped out of the police station, the heavy metal doors slammed shut behind him with unusual force.
Then came the cheers.
Actual cheers.
Somebody inside even whistled loudly, while another officer muttered a relieved "Thank God…" without bothering to lower his voice. A second later, several sharp popping sounds echoed from deeper inside the station, almost like miniature firecrackers.
Lucien glanced back once.
The officers who had escorted him out immediately stiffened.
One of them even forced an awkward smile and gave him a thumbs-up, clearly hoping Lucien would continue walking and never return.
"…Interesting."
Lucien calmly adjusted his sleeves and continued down the steps.
During the last few hours, the entire police station had practically become a live demonstration of how desperate Death had become.
The first officer assigned to interrogate him had accidentally stepped into spilled coffee while carrying files. His body slipped sideways, and if Lucien hadn't grabbed his collar in time, the man would have fallen directly jaw-first onto a snapped metal fence rod leaning against the wall.
The second officer had insisted on checking the room personally after hearing rumors.
The moment Lucien stood up from the interrogation chair, the overhead light exploded without warning.
Glass shards sprayed downward while exposed wires snapped loose like whips.
Had Lucien reacted even half a second slower, the glass would have slashed open his neck before the live wires dropped into the puddle beneath his feet.
The third officer learned from the first two.
He carefully inspected everything inside the room before allowing Lucien back in.
He even politely replaced Lucien's chair with his own, convinced he had prevented another "accident."
Then the gas spring inside the old office chair exploded like a bullet.
The metal core punched straight through the ceiling.
After that, nobody in the station wanted to stay near Lucien for more than a few minutes.
Some were frightened.
Others looked at him with outright superstition.
One older officer had quietly crossed himself after walking past the room.
Another had whispered:
"He's cursed…"
No.
Not cursed.
Hunted.
Lucien slid his hands into his pockets as cool evening wind swept through the street outside the station.
His phone vibrated.
He answered immediately.
Scarlett's voice came through at once.
"Lucien? I heard loud noises from your side just now. Were you at some celebration or something?"
Lucien's eyes briefly drifted toward the police station windows, where several officers were visibly peeking through blinds to confirm he was really gone.
"…Something like that."
Scarlett exhaled softly, sounding relieved simply hearing his voice.
"Are you alright?"
"For now."
"And Death?"
"It hasn't stopped."
There was a short silence on the line.
Lucien could hear faint pacing from Scarlett's side.
Ever since the events at the shopping mall, she had become unusually restless whenever they were apart.
"I'm sorry," she suddenly said quietly.
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"For what?"
"For dragging you into this."
Her voice carried genuine guilt now.
"If you hadn't helped me, none of this would've happened to you."
Lucien stopped walking for a moment.
Traffic lights reflected faintly in his dark eyes.
"You're overestimating your importance."
"…That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Despite his flat tone, Scarlett still laughed softly.
The tension between them eased slightly.
Then Lucien spoke again.
"I actually do need your help with something."
"What is it?"
"Come pick me up."
"Where are we going?"
"Nowhere specific."
Scarlett paused.
"…That sounds suspiciously vague."
"Just drive."
Twenty minutes later, a dark minivan rolled smoothly to the curb beside him.
Compared to the destroyed sports car from earlier, this vehicle looked much sturdier.
Apparently Scarlett had developed trauma regarding convertibles.
The passenger door opened.
Lucien got in naturally, leaning back without ceremony.
Scarlett adjusted her sunglasses before driving onto the road.
Morning traffic had long disappeared, leaving the streets unusually calm.
The city lights stretched across the windshield while distant music drifted faintly from roadside restaurants.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Scarlett occasionally glanced sideways at Lucien.
What confused her most wasn't his abilities.
It was his calmness.
Anyone else being relentlessly hunted by an invisible force of death would have collapsed mentally by now.
Yet Lucien sat there looking out the window as though this were an ordinary late-night drive.
No panic.
No fear.
No anxiety.
Just quiet observation.
Eventually, Lucien spoke.
"It hasn't attacked for a while."
Scarlett tightened her grip on the wheel slightly.
"You mean Death?"
"Yes."
"…Isn't that a good thing?"
"It means it's weakened."
Scarlett blinked.
"Weakened?"
Lucien nodded faintly.
"Think about it carefully. If it truly possessed unlimited power, why bother arranging complicated chains of coincidence?"
Scarlett frowned thoughtfully.
Lucien continued calmly.
"If it wanted all the surviving passengers dead immediately, the simplest method would be gathering them onto another plane and crashing it."
"…That…"
She hesitated.
"That actually makes sense."
"Yet it doesn't do that."
Lucien rested one arm against the window.
"Instead, it manipulates tiny details."
"A loose screw."
"A spilled drink."
"A slippery floor."
"A falling object."
"Every death requires layers of interconnected accidents."
Scarlett's expression gradually changed.
"You think there's a limit to what it can do."
"There has to be."
Lucien's voice remained steady.
"Every interference consumes something."
"Energy?"
"Cause and effect."
Scarlett repeated the words quietly.
Lucien continued.
"And if it consumes power, then naturally it must replenish it somehow."
The wind outside became slightly colder.
Scarlett unconsciously slowed the car.
"How?"
Lucien finally turned toward her.
"Soul consumption."
Her face immediately paled.
"The black mortician yesterday…"
"He wasn't merely killed."
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly as he recalled the scene.
"When his heart stopped, I saw his soul leave his body."
Scarlett's breathing slowed.
Then Lucien continued quietly.
"Something swallowed it."
Silence filled the car.
Even the sound of tires against asphalt suddenly felt distant.
Scarlett finally spoke.
"That's not Death."
Lucien didn't answer immediately.
She tightened her grip on the wheel.
"That sounds more like…"
"…an evil spirit?"
Lucien looked back toward the passing city lights.
"To be precise," he said calmly, "an unconscious evil entity."
"Something without humanity."
"Without morality."
"Operating entirely on instinct."
"And that instinct is centered around maintaining a predetermined order of death."
Scarlett felt chills crawl across her arms.
Everything suddenly became much more horrifying.
Before, Death had felt abstract.
Like fate.
Like destiny.
But now…
Now it sounded alive.
Hungry.
Watching.
Waiting.
She swallowed nervously.
"So all those accidents…"
"Feeding."
Lucien finished the sentence for her.
The inside of the car fell silent again.
Far ahead, a traffic signal shifted from yellow to red.
Scarlett slowed the vehicle gently.
At that exact moment—
The radio crackled.
Static burst violently through the speakers.
Scarlett froze.
Then the familiar eerie folk song slowly began playing once more.
The same dead singer.
The same impossible timing.
Cold wind swept through the slightly open window.
Lucien's eyes narrowed faintly.
Scarlett's heartbeat instantly accelerated.
"…Lucien."
"I know."
Black mist briefly drifted across the windshield before vanishing.
The streetlights ahead flickered one after another.
Like something moving through them.
Watching them.
Scarlett's voice trembled slightly.
"It recovered already?"
Lucien stared calmly into the darkness ahead.
"No."
A faint smile slowly appeared on his face.
"It's angry."
And for the first time since this entire nightmare began—
Lucien Blackwood finally felt like he was beginning to understand the thing hunting them.