Cyn finished putting on the last of his clothes before stepping toward the mirror—Xyrene's dressing table. She was seated, brushing her hair. Cyn approached from behind and began retying her hair into its usual ponytail.

Xyrene spoke absentmindedly as she watched his reflection behind her. What more could she ask for? In terms of presence, charm, and masculinity, Cyn stood at the top of the pyramid. She would love him either way—whether he grew a beard or stayed clean-shaven.

"There's another reason, actually."

Cyn didn't understand what she was referring to. He tilted his head slightly, giving her a puzzled "Hmm?" as if saying, Did you say something?

He was focused entirely on her hair. Xyrene merely smiled.

"The Cursed Pact Weapon—God's False Replica. If we obtain it, we might be able to help that person… assuming healing him through your methods becomes impossible. By using its primary function, we might cure him."

Cyn questioned her. "We don't even know if his injuries are internal. How can you make that assumption?"

Xyrene was surprised, but she answered anyway. "Like you said—it's just an assumption."

Cyn pressed further. "So who is this person we're supposed to heal?"

Xyrene smiled. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't know him. But since you'll run into him sooner or later…

He's from House Solbane. His name is Loxar. Or Lox."

"So what is it about him?" Cyn asked. "Is he some kind of good-luck charm for us or what?"

He knew well that Xyrene would never risk herself to save someone like that unless it benefited her.

Xyrene didn't like it—she hated when he asked too many questions. She wasn't obligated to answer, but she also didn't want him doubting her.

Nor did she want him slipping further out of her control. If she didn't keep a tight grip on him, Cyn would become a double-edged blade.

"And why does it matter to you?"

Cyn wasn't surprised by her sudden shift in tone. "Fine, but I am taking risks here—"

Xyrene cut him off sharply. "Risks? You should be taking risks. You serve me. Did you forget your role? This is your job. And you owe me your life—many times over. I keep you alive. I awakened your scar. I used the core of the priceless Pain Dose on you. After all that, you can't even obey a single order?"

Cyn smiled. How arrogant. That's what he thought.

Slowly, he leaned toward her neck, warm breath brushing against her skin. His breath tickled her. He bit gently on her earlobe—

But unexpectedly, Xyrene grabbed him by the chin with her palm and pushed him away.

Cyn stepped back on his own. "Oh? If that's how it is, then I'll leave. I'll wait for your next orders."

He reached the door, stopped, and turned back. Xyrene watched quietly. He leaned over the drawer, opened it, retrieved a key, hung it around his neck, and smiled.

"Forgot this."

Her eyes shifted lazily—Whatever.

Cyn exited Xyrene's bedroom under her gaze. The moment he heard the door close behind him, her smile returned.

Yes, just like that. Cyn, my little dog—just follow my orders, and everything will be fine.

---

Cyn stepped out of Xyrene's suite and immediately crossed paths with someone in the hall. The man radiated calm and tranquility, yet dressed like a vagabond. His boots were caked with mud, staining the pristine floor. Brown hair, a worn coat—nothing remarkable.

But Cyn sensed something else. Something familiar. Something that belonged to him—coming from that man.

Still, he continued walking.

What a strange pair…

Now that the world around him had started moving, he had to move as well. And the first place to go would naturally be the crime scene—but he wasn't going to make that mistake.

Cyn muttered to himself, "A smart criminal never returns to the crime scene."

That was a lesson from his previous life as a serial killer.

The point wasn't fear of a police ambush—no. The real reason was to avoid leaving additional traces.

They already had enough evidence from the first time. Returning only increased the risk of leaving something incriminating behind.

Cyn wasn't afraid of being hunted. He had the skill to vanish completely—an ability from his old world. But in this world, that kind of disappearance could put him in complicated situations. Here, the best defense… was offense.

And what better offense than interrogating the prisoners they had captured?

Assuming their enemies were doing the same.

" I don't know you well, Gilbert… but I hope you keep your mouth shut.

"And as for you, Tristan—you have a few questions to answer."

Time for dirty work, The one am good at!

---

Inside a dimly lit chamber, the stone walls were covered in charcoal scribbles. A single chair stood at the center, chains fixed to the floor acting as restraints.

Kassal, standing beside Cyn, removed the sack covering the prisoner's head. Bloodstains marked his face, and several deep wounds were still healing.

All earned from his foolish attempt to defend Valgean. Cyn had not let that bravery go unpunished—he made sure to leave fatal, bloody wounds behind.

It was Tristan. He hadn't been tortured—he had already been on the verge of death when they brought him. They treated him just enough to keep him alive—they still needed him.

His eyes were empty. He stared into nothingness like a drugged madman, barely aware of his surroundings.

Kassal shot Cyn a look. "I told you—he's useless in this state. If we make one wrong move, he'll die for sure, and we lose our leverage."

Cyn smiled at Kassal's concern. "And what if he dies? He's going to die anyway—whether he talks or not. No one is coming to save him. And even if someone tries, they won't find him in time."

The chains rattled faintly.

Cyn heard it—but pretended not to. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Kassal's shoulder.

"You see, Kassal… I once experimented on a few test rats. There was this one man—completely silent. He accepted his fate without screaming or begging."

"That was before I told you to adjust the chains. He used our starvation schedule to his advantage. With that behavior, he slipped past my attention and stayed alive. Long enough to lose enough weight to slip his hands and legs free."

"He used my absence from the lab and even managed to escape—only to reach the massive iron gate. He begged the other test subjects to help him… but none moved. They knew escaping was impossible. Even though he tried helping them break free, none accepted. They all stayed in their cells."

"When I came back, I found him loose in the lab, trying to open the air vents to escape."

"As a reward for the test rats who didn't help him, I gave them some meat. Raw human meat."

"They devoured him. Starvation had eaten them alive. Some even licked the blood off the floor. Most of them died from poisoning afterward."

"Idiots… If they had listened and worked together, they could've broken through the vents and escaped. So as punishment for their stupidity, I killed the rest the next day."

Kassal felt the absurdity of the story. "Why are you telling me this?"

Cyn smiled. "There's no meaning to it… not with what we're dealing with right now."

He paused.

"But damn… where did those injuries on his wrists come from? I don't remember giving him wounds like that."

The chains shifted again.

Cyn picked up a metal clamp, grabbed Tristan's trembling hand, and with a swift motion, ripped out one of his fingernails.

A scream tore through the chamber.

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

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