Behind the fragile reunion, the fog did not pause. It shifted, thickened, breathed. Fear condensed within it, heavy and damp, laced with murderous intent so dense it pressed against the ribs. The land itself seemed to draw breath, waiting for another scream.

Yet within that suffocating tension, Guilty Weasel–no, Aizrel–claimed the moment without asking permission.

Azriel broke.

The proud Chief of the Hell Tavern, the man whose name alone had silenced riots and bent criminals into obedience, stood trembling like someone who had wandered too far and finally realized he was lost. Tears he had imprisoned for decades spilled freely now, blurring everything until only the girl before him remained.

"M-My dear…"

His voice cracked before it could take shape. He swallowed, throat burning raw.

"C-Can you… tell me… y-your name?"

Each word came apart as he spoke it, scraped loose from guilt that had never healed.

Silence answered him.

Not cold. Not hostile. Just empty.

Aizrel's mind emptied with it. The wound had already healed.

For the first time since the dagger pierced her chest, even hatred stepped back, though the poison lingered deeper still. She could not tell whether the tightness in her chest came from the toxin, from his presence, or from the truth unfolding before her.

She watched the man in front of her tremble, and for a breath, she did not know whether she wanted to strike him… or shield him.

Azriel lowered his gaze.

"I… understand," he said hoarsely. "I d-don't… deserve to know it."

His shoulders sank, as though finally accepting a verdict long delayed.

Hylisi tightened her grip on Aizrel's hand. Her voice was gentle, but there was steel beneath the softness.

"Sweet girl," she said quietly, "I know how much you've suffered. But what he endured–what he buried–we never truly knew."

She paused. "Can you… forgive him?"

Aizrel blinked.

"Forgive?"

The word felt foreign on her tongue.

She turned slowly toward Azriel, studying his face–the lines carved by command, the regret etched deeper than scars.

"Forgive him for what?"

Her voice steadied.

"My name is Aizrel," she said. "And I am not angry at him."

Azriel's breath hitched.

"But–"

The word lingered, heavy with everything unsaid.

She lifted her eyes. Her gaze did not waver.

"I need to know something," she said. "If you had known my mother was alive… carrying me–would you have accepted us?"

Her lips pressed thin. "Would your family have accepted us?"

Then, barely louder than breath:

"Or… are you too…?"

Azriel dropped to his knees.

"My daughter," he said, his voice breaking completely. "I would have accepted you. Both of you."

His hands shook. "They would have followed me–without question."

Tears slid freely now.

"If… if you had shown your whip earlier, I would never have let you face this alone. I was a fool."

A breath tore from his chest.

"A coward."

He lifted his head, eyes red and pleading.

"C-Can you… call me Father?"

"Just once."

Hylisi turned away quietly and stepped back, giving them space. She did not look over her shoulder.

Aizrel's breath trembled.

"Father."

The word shattered him.

Azriel pulled her into his arms, holding her as if the fog itself might steal her away if he loosened his grip. His hands were clumsy, unsure, as though afraid she might vanish.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For everything I failed to be."

She did not push him away.

After a while, Aizrel spoke again, her voice softer, slower.

"Father… there is one thing I need to ask."

"Anything," Azriel said, brushing hair from her face. "Tell me."

"If we survive this," she said quietly, "will you publicly accept me as your daughter?"

Her fingers curled into his robe.

"Or will I be abandoned again?"

Azriel stiffened–then shook his head fiercely.

"What are you saying?"

"I didn't know. That night was a nightmare beyond reason."

His voice steadied. "How could I abandon you now?"

She closed her eyes.

"Then stay like this," she whispered. "Just for a little while. I feel… safe."

Azriel hesitated.

"I understand," he said at last. "But I can't." His voice softened, not weakened.

"Our companions are still suffering inside that fog. I cannot allow myself peace while they bleed."

Her lips curved faintly.

"As expected," she said quietly. "Leadership comes first. I come second."

"No," Azriel replied firmly. "That isn't abandonment. It's responsibility." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"We will talk. About everything. Later."

He guided her carefully down to the grass.

"Rest for a while, my dear."

Aizrel did not resist.

Azriel straightened. Grief clung to him like ash, but his spine hardened once more as he stepped toward Kiaria–the Patron.

In front of them, within the fog, someone had already vanished without a sound.

A scream tore through the fog.

It was raw, abrupt–cut short as if something had bitten it in half. Every head snapped toward the sound instinctively, bodies tensing before thought could catch up. Even the fog seemed to recoil, its surface rippling where the cry had burst out.

"Iron Clad…" Azriel said sharply. "Iron Clad eliminated?"His eyes narrowed. "How? What just happened?"

"Killed each other," Diala replied, her voice flat, almost clinical.

Ru took a slow step forward, eyes fixed on the shifting mist. "Chief, I suspect the fog is enforcing the token rule. The green hair-strand between Iron Clad members was already broken." He paused. "They were in fighting posture–facing each other. Their hands weren't connected anymore."

He frowned slightly. "What's stranger is their movement. I counted their steps. They walked enough to reach this side."His gaze hardened. "But they never actually moved. It was like their legs were lifting and falling in place. A false walk."

Yi interjected, tone sharp with focus. "There's more. Every time an individual or team is tested–by any action, any emotional response–the fog changes its method completely."He glanced around. "No pattern repeats. Each test invalidates the previous logic."

Azriel exhaled slowly. "Did you read anything from their gestures?"

Ru shook his head. "Too unstable. Fear turns to rage, rage to greed, then to laughter–then back again. It changes every few seconds. It's not readable."

A short laugh cut through the tension.

"Haha."Kiaria tilted his head slightly. "You're both only observing the outer layer."

The group stiffened.

"This was a test too," Kiaria continued calmly. "But not for us."His gaze shifted. "It was meant for Hylisi."

Azriel frowned. "Her? She was with me the entire time. Helping my daughter. She didn't even look toward Iron Clad."

Kiaria met his eyes evenly. "Chief, don't forget–we're still inside an illusory domain. Vision isn't the only channel here. Even without looking, the formation beneath us can manipulate perception, memory, intuition."

He gestured faintly toward the ground. "If you doubt it–ask her."

Hylisi inhaled sharply.

"…Patron is right," she said quietly. "I can feel it–no… it's more like dreaming while awake."Her fingers trembled slightly. "I can speak with you all. See you. But independently, I can still see their faces. Every one of them."

Azriel's eyes widened. "What an incredible… terrifying formation."

He turned to her. "Did you find anything?"

"Yes."Hylisi's answer was immediate.

She lifted her head, gaze steady. "Do you remember the core rule of your tavern?"

Azriel froze.

"That rule is being used here," she said. "The emotional fluctuations–the fear, rage, greed–they're distractions. They exist to prevent us from understanding what's actually happening."

She paused, then added quietly, "One of them didn't vanish."

Silence fell.

"He didn't disappear," Hylisi continued. "He was burned alive."

Azriel's breath caught.

"When I stepped away from you and your daughter earlier," she said, "it wasn't only to give you space."Her eyes darkened. "I saw his face. Burning. Screaming. That image stayed with me."

She clenched her fist. "I looked back at the fog–but the death wasn't visible there. Only to me. His face is still lingering in my eyes."

Her voice dropped."If someone dies next, Chief… it will be because of the rules of your own Hell Tavern."

The words struck deeper than any scream.

"And one more thing," Hylisi added. "I haven't seen Marquis Gen Jin die."

Azriel stiffened. "You think he's alive?"

"I suspect," she said, "that he has already passed."

A violent surge of rage burst from Azriel.

"What?!""If that bastard survived–then I'll kill him myself!" His voice cracked with fury. "I'll stab him with his own dagger. Make him feel everything we endured!"

He turned sharply to Kiaria. "Patron. Can you locate him?"

Kiaria shook his head once. "Not yet. This isn't the right time. If he passed, the formation will protect him temporarily."

Then, calmly, "Don't worry. We are chosen now."

His gaze shifted deliberately to Aizrel, resting nearby."She's the only one among us yet to receive a token. That's where your focus must remain. Leave the rest to us."

Azriel exhaled, anger forced back down.

"We've already lost two," he muttered. "The rest…"He glanced toward the fog, where vague silhouettes trembled. "They're weak. Look at them. Their legs are colliding. They can barely stand."

Kiaria's gaze moved across the group with measured calm. "We divide focus," he said. "Chief, Mu Long, and Sister Lainsa–protect Aizrel. No matter what happens."He paused, then continued, voice steady. "Shade, Hylisi, Ru, Yi–you're with me. We observe. Nothing more."

No one argued.

They fell into position without further words, instinctively accepting the arrangement. The fog shifted, but did not resist–as if acknowledging their compliance.

Then Hylisi stiffened.

Her eyes unfocused slightly, pupils reflecting something none of the others could see. Her breathing slowed, expression tightening as a vision pressed itself upon her awareness.

"Blue Lotus Debt," she said softly.

Only the name.

No movement. No struggle. No screams. No figures.Just the token–floating, isolated, suspended in the fog as if abandoned by reality itself.

Kiaria, Diala, Ru, and Yi followed her gaze instantly. All five of them focused on the people still trapped within the mist, watching for any abnormality–any shift in posture, intent, or emotional collapse.

Nothing.

They were still there. Still standing. Frozen in place by fear so thick it locked their joints. Some trembled. Some clenched their teeth. None dared to take another step.

And yet–

Something was wrong.

They had forgotten the token.

The realization came too late.

Kiaria's eyes narrowed. Diala's breath caught. Ru's fingers twitched as if counting unconsciously. Yi's brow furrowed, instinct screaming contradiction.

The token was gone.

No explosion. No distortion. No visible act of violence.Just absence.

"And we didn't see anything," Diala murmured, tension creeping into her voice.

Ru inhaled sharply. "Wait," he said. "That doesn't make sense."

Everyone turned toward him.

"These aren't novices," Ru continued, eyes fixed on the fog. "They're not weak. Not panicked amateurs." His tone sharpened. "They're experienced treasure hunters. Veterans."

He shook his head slowly."In this level of fear, yes–they'd freeze. But not like this. Not completely."

Silence fell.

"Either," Ru said carefully, "we've forgotten something crucial… or we're being deliberately misled."

The words struck Kiaria like a hammer.

His breath slowed.

"The Yin–Yang…" he said quietly.

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