"Pardon? She was a Glassheart?"

"Yes. Autopsy tests concluded Käthe was a Glassheart. It's unfortunate. I was quite fond of that girl. Though I still wonder how they even began to suspect her."

Lukas listened intently. He was seated in the diner with a fork in hand, pretending to enjoy the meal while keeping his tone casual enough not to raise suspicion.

Across from him, the owner wiped down a glass as he spoke, unaware of Lukas's true identity or the real purpose behind the conversation.

"Sir, do you not find it repulsive?" Lukas asked. "That she's a Glassheart?"

"Who am I to judge them?" the owner replied. "It's not like anyone chooses what race they're born into. In the end, what matters is someone's humanity."

The old timer set his glass down and leaned back.

"A person can be human by flesh, but depending on what they do… would you still call them human?" he continued. "If someone lies, manipulates, steals, kills, destroys lives because they enjoy the power it gives them, are they any better than the demons people insist Glasshearts are? A race doesn't make a monster. Choices do."

"...."

Lukas's jaw tightened, but he kept eating as if the words didn't sting.

"People like to paint Glasshearts as devils," the owner went on, shaking his head. "But I've met humans far crueler than any Glassheart I've seen. If someone throws away their ethics, their morals, their compassion… if they're willing to step on others without a single thought, then what are they? Certainly not human. Not in any meaningful sense."

"...."

Lukas didn't expect to hear something like that in this era. Most people were quick to blame Glasshearts for every misfortune and justify oppression by painting them as monsters.

It was easier to point at a single race and call them the root of society's problems than to admit that humanity had its own demons walking freely among them.

Yet here was an ordinary man, speaking with more fairness than many acclaimed scholars or leaders Lukas had met.

He stared down at his plate, listening as the owner let out a sigh.

"Glasshearts suffer enough as it is," the man said. "People forget they bleed the same. They laugh, they cry, they want to live. But fear makes humans cruel. And cruelty makes them blind."

"...."

The owner had no idea how close to the truth he was speaking. No idea he was sharing these thoughts with someone who had seen entire groups of Glasshearts hunted, betrayed, and slaughtered before his very eyes.

Lukas lifted his cup and took a sip of his juice.

"Sir," Lukas began, "you speak as if you've known one."

The owner wiped his hands on a towel before leaning against the counter.

"I did," he said. "A long time ago. She was a kind girl. Kinder than most humans I've met, to be honest. The world didn't deserve her."

"What happened to her?"

"She died," the owner said. "Not because she was a Glassheart. But because people refused to see she was more human than they ever were."

"...."

Lukas stared down at his plate. For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to speak. Hearing the owner defend Glasshearts so openly stirred the feeling of guilt in his chest.

Just as Glasshearts had been hunted and killed without reason, Lukas himself had killed more than his fair share of humans in the past, just as indiscriminately.

"This world deserves more people like you, sir," he said.

The owner let out a short laugh, surprised by the sincerity in Lukas's tone. "You give me too much credit. I'm just speaking my mind, that's all."

At the dead of night, Lukas took a long drag outside the diner. The ember of his cigarette glowed weakly against the wind, flickering as if it, too, was afraid of being snuffed out.

The police labeled Käthe's death as random violence, but Lukas knew it was the Directorate's doing.

"This city isn't safe."

He didn't know how much the Directorate learned. If Käthe had said even a single wrong thing, even a small hint tied back to him, then he was already marked. And if he were marked, his family wouldn't survive the aftermath.

This city wasn't safe for him anymore.

Not for his wife.

Not for his daughters.

Rain began to fall. He didn't bother with an umbrella. The water soaked through his clothes, trailed down his neck, blurred the streetlights into hazy stains of color.

Then the voices began.

——Don't! Don't…!

The little boy again. The same terrified child who saw something he shouldn't have. Lukas could still see his wide eyes and trembling hands before the child's head exploded under his power.

"...."

He gritted his teeth.

——Devil! You're a devil…!

The old woman followed next. Lukas remembered the way she tried to run, only to collapse mid-stride when he struck her down.

——Monster… You're not human…!

A young father, barely older than Lukas had been back then. Lukas remembered his desperate begging as he pleaded for his wife and son. Lukas didn't listen. The man died with his eyes open.

——It hurts… Mom… it hurts…

A teenage girl, wounded and crawling backward, leaving streaks of blood on the floor as she tried to escape. Lukas's shadow swallowed her cries. He still remembered the way her hand reached out to him in fear.

——Why…? Why did you kill me…?

A man whose name Lukas never learned. A merchant, perhaps. Someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.

——Please, spare them… I'll tell you everything…

A fellow Glassheart who had tried to buy time for his companions. Lukas killed him anyway. They weren't on the same side. Then he killed the companions. And then the witnesses.

——Don't take my brother! Stop! Stop!

Siblings, one dragged away while the other screamed until her voice broke. Lukas killed the brother first. The sister followed moments later.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The rain poured harder as the ghosts of his victims closed in. Children, elders, soldiers, civilians, men, women… all of them stared at him with the same look he remembered in their final moments.

Lukas tightened his coat, walking faster and faster, but every step seemed to pull the ghosts closer.

He had buried that version of himself years ago, convinced he could start over, convinced he could pretend to be ordinary.

No, convinced he could pretend to be human.

"...Gisela.

The moment Lukas returned home, he found his wife sound asleep on the couch. She hadn't even bothered to go to their bedroom. Lukas reached out instinctively, wanting to move a stray strand of hair from her cheek, but he stopped mid-motion.

If she had fallen asleep out here, she must have been utterly drained. Waking her would only add to her fatigue. So Lukas quietly stepped past her and headed to the bedroom.

Lukas closed his eyes and tried to breathe. The next moment, the nightmares crept in.

——Mister…

"…!"

Lukas shot upright with wide open eyes. He looked at the clock. Four hours had passed. He immediately left the room and went toward the living area.

"...."

The couch was empty Gisela, who had been asleep there earlier, was gone.

"…."

He checked his daughters' room next. Relief washed over him when he saw the twins sleeping peacefully under their blankets.

But Lukas couldn't relax.

He knew how Directorate operations worked. First, they observed, waiting for the perfect moment. Käthe wouldn't have died immediately. They must have watched her for days, maybe weeks, before finally making their move.

"…."

If she had been under surveillance, then so could he.

He thought about the past few weeks. About the strange tension About the growing unease he couldn't place.

And about Gisela.

She had been coming home late, always claiming it was work keeping her busy. Yet the more the days passed, the more distant she became, as if she were avoiding him on purpose.

"…."

Slowly and painfully, the pieces began to fit together in his mind. One after another, they fell into place until the picture became clearer, and far more terrifying.

"Don't tell me…"

Was Gisela working with the Directorates?

Had his own wife… betrayed him?

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