Azael's POV
Something is wrong. Not in the company. Not in the system. Not in the people. Something deeper. Quieter. Older. I feel it the moment I step out of the elevator. It's not a presence. Not exactly. It's… a disturbance. Like something unseen has shifted slightly out of place. My gaze moves across the hallway. Everything looks the same. Employees moving. Voices low. Eyes avoiding mine. Normal. And yet—not. My jaw tightens slightly. This feeling—I have not experienced it in a very long time. Not since—No. That name does not belong in the present. And yet… it lingers.
I keep walking. Slow. Measured. Controlled. But every step feels… observed. Not watched. Observed. Like something is aware of me. Of what I am. My fingers curl slightly at my side. That should not exist. Not here. Not anymore. And yet—the feeling persists. Faint. Distant. But real. My gaze darkens. "…who's here…" The question is silent. But something in me already knows the answer. I just haven't accepted it yet.
Mira's POV
Mira is late. Again. "…oh no, oh no, oh no…" She hurries through the hallway, clutching her bag too tightly, nearly slipping as she turns the corner. "Careful—!" Someone steps aside just in time. "I'm sorry!" she blurts, not stopping. Her heart is racing. Not because she's scared of being scolded. But because she doesn't want to disappoint. Not again. She reaches her desk slightly out of breath. "…okay… calm down…" She places her bag down. Straightens her files. Sits. Then immediately stands again. "…chair…" She fixes it properly. Then sits again. "…okay." A small exhale escapes her. Everything feels… slightly better.
But then—she pauses. Her fingers rest lightly on the desk. Her expression shifts. "…why does it feel cold…" Not cold like air. Not something physical. Something else. Something quiet brushing past her. Like silence… moving. She looks around. Nothing. Just people. Just work. Just normal. The feeling disappears. Just like that. "…I'm overthinking…" she murmurs softly. And starts working. Unaware that she just brushed against something that should not exist.
Azael's POV
There. Again. The disturbance flickers. My steps stop. Not visibly. Not enough for others to notice. But internally—everything stills. My senses sharpen instantly. Not human. Not supernatural in the common sense. Something older. Something… familiar. My jaw tightens. Impossible. He is gone. He should be gone. I made sure of it. And yet—
"You always did hate uncertainty, Azael."
The voice doesn't echo in the air. It exists in memory. Sharp. Clear. Unchanged by time. My hand clenches slowly. No. That is not real. That is not present. That is—
A memory.
And yet—
I turn my head slightly. Just enough to scan the empty hallway behind me. Nothing. No one. But the feeling remains. Watching. Waiting. Patient. My gaze darkens further. "…Eryx…" The name forms without permission. Without hesitation. And the moment it does—
The silence deepens.
???'s POV
So… you felt it.
A faint smile curves in the shadows above the city. The building stands tall beneath him. Glass reflecting light. Life moving inside. Fragile. Temporary. His gaze rests on it lazily. As if none of it matters. Because it doesn't. Except—one thing does.
"…still the same…" His voice is soft. Amused. Familiar with something that no longer belongs to this time. "Still sharp. Still cautious. Still pretending control means anything." His eyes shift. Not across the city. Not across the building.
Directly to him.
Azael.
Even from this distance—he sees him clearly. Not the man. Not the face. What lies beneath. The hunger. The darkness. The thing that consumes.
"…you haven't changed at all."
A pause.
Then—his gaze lowers. Slowly. Casually. Like he's not expecting anything. Like this is just habit. Observation. Routine. And then—
He stops.
Completely.
Silence stretches.
For the first time—his expression changes. Not amusement. Not boredom. Something else. Something sharper. "…what is that…" The words are quieter now. Focused. Interested. His gaze locks onto a single point inside the building. A single presence. A single existence. Mira.
He doesn't blink. Doesn't move. Just… watches.
"…that's not possible…" Not empty. Not dark. Not corrupted. Not hidden. Just… nothing.
"…no…"
A slow smile forms. Not mocking. Not playful. Dangerous. "That's not nothing…"
A whisper follows.
"…that's untouched."
The wind moves slightly around him. Carrying the shift in his tone.
"…a healer…?"
The word lingers. Curious. Delighted.
"…now this…"
His gaze flicks back toward Azael.
"…this is interesting."
He exhales softly. Almost laughing.
"You always find the rare ones, don't you…"
A pause. Long. Intentional.
"I won't interfere."
Not yet.
"But I will watch."
His voice lowers.
"Just like before."
The wind shifts again. And in the next moment—
He's gone.
Only one thing left behind.
A name.
Unspoken.
But real.
Eryx.
Azael's POV
The feeling disappears. Just like that. As if it was never there. My eyes narrow slightly. No trace. No presence. Nothing. Silence returns. Normal. Controlled. Predictable.
A lie.
Because I felt it. Because I recognized it. Because I know exactly what that was.
"…he's here."
The words settle cold. Certain. Final. My jaw tightens slowly. Eryx does not return without reason. He does not appear without purpose. He does not watch—unless something is worth watching.
My thoughts shift instantly.
One direction.
One person.
Mira.
My gaze darkens.
"No."
The word is quiet. But absolute.
Not her.
Not this.
Not now.
Mira's POV
She finishes arranging her files. Carefully. Slowly. Just the way she practiced. "…okay…" A small nod. A small success. She doesn't notice the way the atmosphere around her has shifted. Subtly. Quietly. People speaking less. Moving more carefully. Avoiding something they don't understand.
She doesn't notice.
Because she's focused.
Because she's trying.
Because she's just… Mira.
And somewhere far above—
Something is watching her.
For the first time.
With interest.
Azael's POV
I step into my office. The door closes behind me. Silence returns. But it does not settle. Because now—there is confirmation. Not proof. Not evidence. But certainty. Eryx is here. Somewhere. Watching. Waiting.
And I know exactly what that means.
This is no longer contained.
No longer controlled.
No longer safe.
My gaze shifts slowly toward the monitors.
Toward her.
Still working.
Still unaware.
Still… untouched.
My fingers rest against the desk. Still. Controlled. But the thought forms anyway. Dark. Sharp. Absolute.
"No one touches her."
Not him.
Not anyone.
Because this time—
I will not allow it.