As the second man raised the iron bar above White, preparing to deliver the final strike, a sudden, unnatural chill raced down his spine. He froze mid-swing, glancing around the dark, dusty construction site with panicked, darting eyes.
"What was that? It feels like someone is glaring at me with pure, absolute anger…" he muttered, his voice trembling.
He tried to force his arm down, but a sudden, violent gust of wind caught his body, hurling him backward into the debris.
"What the hell was that?!" he shouted in a frantic panic.
Blood trickled steadily from his nose. He wiped it with a shaky hand, staring at the thick, crimson smear with wide eyes. Terrified, he turned toward White, who lay bleeding and motionless on the cold concrete, while Aris cowered in the far corner, traumatized and sobbing, her hands pressed tightly over her ears and eyes. A sharp, searing pain suddenly stabbed through the man's skull.
"You will die…" a voice whispered directly into his mind.
"Huh? What? Who's there?" he stammered, his pulse skyrocketing.
"Die…"
Another invisible gust of wind slammed him hard against the brick wall.
"What the hell is happening to me?!" he screamed, pointing a trembling finger at the prone figure of White.
White, still bleeding heavily from his head wound, turned his head weakly. His eyes widened, his breath hitched, and his heart hammered against his ribs. He could hardly believe what he was seeing through the haze of his fading consciousness.
"Bell…?" the word slipped from his lips.
Bell, usually radiating a cheerful and innocent light, was hovering in midair above the floor. Her white hair floated wildly as if underwater, a thick, suffocating dark mist enveloped her small frame, and her crimson eyes glowed with the cold, calculated hunger of a predator.
"How dare you…" she hissed, her voice vibrating with a demonic, discordant frequency.
The heavy iron bar lying on the floor suddenly lifted on its own, swung through the air with lethal velocity, and smashed into the attacker's arm.
"Ahhh!" he screamed as the sound of snapping bone echoed through the room. Clutching his mangled arm, he scrambled toward the stairs, desperate to escape.
But another figure blocked his path. He stumbled to a halt, gasping. "Good, you can still stand. Run, you fool, something is—" he began to yell, but his words were cut short as an invisible force gripped his throat, lifting him two feet off the ground.
"Anyone who tries to harm Papa must die," Bell's voice echoed, chilling and inhuman.
The man gasped, clawing at the empty air, his face turning purple. "W-what… are you…?" He kicked out desperately, finally breaking the hold and collapsing to the floor. He scrambled backward into a corner, shivering in raw, unadulterated terror.
The possessed figure picked up the discarded iron bar and advanced with slow, deliberate steps.
"No! Please, let me go… I'll stop! I swear I'll never do this again!" the man begged, tears streaming down his face.
The iron bar came down on his arm with a sickening, wet crack.
"Whaaa!" he wailed in absolute agony.
"Die…" Bell's voice commanded. Another strike followed, then another. Dark, thick blood splattered across the walls and windows, painting the corner in a gruesome shade of crimson.
"Bell… please, stop!" White crawled toward her, his movements sluggish and desperate.
Bell's movements mirrored the attacker's perfectly. She raised her small hands as though holding the iron bar to her own slender neck. The attacker, compelled by an invisible, crushing weight, did the same. Slowly, the weapon pressed hard against his throat.
With one final, forceful motion, Bell collapsed to the ground, unconscious, the dark, suffocating aura instantly dissipating into the shadows.
White, his vision blurring, gasped for air. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his movements clumsy. With trembling, blood-slicked fingers, he typed a final message.
"Zen… Help… Bring… Police…"
He hit send on the location marker just before darkness finally consumed him. The last thing he saw was Aris, catatonic and weeping uncontrollably, and Bell lying lifelessly on the cold, concrete floor.
Twelve hours later…
"Um…" White groaned, his vision blurring as he slowly awoke to the sight of an unfamiliar, sterile white ceiling.
The memory of the night returned in a fragmented rush—he was in a hospital room. His arm throbbed with a dull, rhythmic pain. Beside him, Bell was curled up in the chair, clutching his hand tightly, tears still streaking her cheeks in her sleep.
"Bell…" he whispered hoarsely.
What was that before? I've never seen Bell like that. For the first time, I felt true fear—not fear of my own death, but fear of what she was becoming.
Perhaps Aisha will have the answers.
A gentle, teasing voice interrupted his dark thoughts.
"So, you're finally awake, sleeping beauty."
Aisha sat comfortably at the bedside table, a faint, cryptic smile on her lips. "You always manage to get tangled in trouble that lands you here. At this rate, I might start thinking you have a hidden fondness for hospital beds."
"Don't joke right now," White murmured, his concern for the others heavy in his voice. "Is Aris okay?"
Aisha's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Quite calm, aren't you? Did that blow to your head make you forget how to panic, or have you just become completely emotionless?"
White gave a weak, tired shrug. "I'm here talking to you, so I guess we succeeded."
"Yes," she said, her tone suddenly shifting to something more serious. "Bell saved you and Aris from something far worse." She walked to his bedside, sitting casually on the edge, her legs swinging. Her voice dropped. "You see, now you have an even bigger debt to pay me."
"A debt? What are you talking about? If you mean taking care of Bell, you get nothing—you left her alone yesterday afternoon," White replied, genuinely puzzled.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Aisha clicked her tongue. "You weren't fully aware of what happened, so I will spell it out for you. I pulled you back from the threshold of death once again."
"Death?" White's eyes widened, his breath hitching.
"Yes," she explained softly. "You were pronounced dead on the way here—no breath, no heartbeat. You were gone."
White hesitated. "If I was truly dead, then why bring me back? There's no logical benefit to you. You must want something."
Aisha sighed, glancing at the sleeping Bell. "She begged me. She couldn't accept the prospect of losing you. She pleaded with everything she had, even risking her own existence."
White smiled faintly, stroking Bell's hair, a profound warmth flooding his chest. But Aisha's earlier warnings echoed in his mind. "You said bringing back the dead is impossible. Then why was I able to return?"
Aisha clapped her hands mockingly. "Impressive—you remembered the rules. Yes, what I said was true… but those rules only apply to Bell's nature." She giggled wickedly.
Before White could press her further, she held up a hand.
"Consider this a final warning. Death can be delayed—but it cannot be outrun forever."
"What do you mean by that? What are you really?" White asked, his unease rising again.
"Don't worry about that right now. Focus on healing. But remember—there will not be a third chance."
With a final flicker, she vanished into the air like a fading whisper.
Bell stirred, rubbing her tired eyes, then looked up to see him awake.
"Good morning, Bell," White said softly.
She began, "Pa…" but tears welled up instantly, and she threw her arms around him tightly, sobbing into his shoulder.
"I'm not going anywhere, Bell," he soothed, holding her close. "See? I'm okay. Please, stop crying."
Her voice trembled. "Bell thought… Bell thought she'd never see you again. You were hurt so badly. Bell felt so helpless…"
White embraced her tightly, calming her frantic sobs. "Everything is okay now. Thank you for saving me," he whispered.
As he comforted her, the door creaked open.
Familiar faces spilled into the room—Shu, his older sister, and Brother Chris—relief flooding their expressions at the sight of him. Questions tumbled out in a noisy, frantic flurry, but through the overwhelming sound, one question burned brightest in White's mind.
"Where are Aris and Zen?" he asked, the dread tightening his throat.