The door opened slowly—with a long, hollow creak that seemed to echo through the chamber like a warning.
She stepped in.
The Lady in Red.
Behind her, there was no light—only a thick, suffocating darkness, as if the world outside had been swallowed whole. Her crimson dress flowed like liquid shadow, and in her hand rested a dagger, its edge stained, catching faint glimmers of dim torchlight.
The room was circular. Six elders sat in silence, arranged evenly around a carved stone floor, their presence heavy, ancient… watchful.
Her eyes met theirs.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then one elder, his voice low and steady, broke the silence—
"So… you have entered."
But as he lifted his gaze fully toward her, his expression shifted. His calm cracked. His eyes widened ever so slightly.
"You…?"
He had expected someone else.
"Elvin…"
A faint smile curled on her lips.
She raised the dagger to her mouth, slowly dragging her tongue along its edge, as if savouring something far beyond taste.
"Am I in the wrong room…?" she murmured softly.
A pause.
"No… I don't think so."
Her eyes gleamed—sharp, alive, unsettling.
"My mind is telling me… I'll find pleasure here."
A breath.
"In killing all of you."
The air changed.
A cold ripple passed through the circle. Even the elders—figures who had witnessed centuries—felt it. Not fear, not fully… but something close enough to disturb their stillness.
One of them spoke, voice tightening just slightly:
"So it seems… Oryn has failed."
Her smile disappeared instantly.
"No."
Her voice cut through the room.
"That man did not fail."
She tilted her head, her fingers rising slowly to her face, slipping between strands of hair, framing her eyes—eyes that shimmered with something broken and ecstatic at once.
"He is traumatized… shattered… hollow."
A whisper now.
"He is… dead from the inside."
Silence.
"The kind of death no one chooses."
Her lips twitched upward again—not with joy, but something far more unsettling.
Then—
Stillness.
Complete.
Her expression went blank. Her eyes narrowed.
"Let's end this party."
She took a step forward—
—and the ground beneath her split open.
Without warning, the stone floor gave way, collapsing into darkness. She fell, her red figure swallowed instantly by the void below.
A heavy thud echoed moments later.
Silence returned to the chamber above.
Below—
A basement.
Cold. Forgotten. Packed with rows of old files and records, stacked like the remains of buried secrets.
Dust drifted through the air.
She lay still for a second… then slowly rose.
Her head tilted.
She inhaled deeply.
And then—
She smiled.
The scent.
Blood.
Faint… but unmistakable.
Her lips parted as a quiet, eerie sound slipped out—
"Hu… hu… hu…"
Not laughter.
Not quite.
Something in between.
And she began to walk toward it.
✧✧✧
The air was already suffocating—thick with smoke, heat crawling along the walls like something alive. Flames whispered at first… then began to spread, licking the pillars, devouring the silence.
Kira's eyes narrowed.
Through the shifting veil of fire, she stepped in.
Unhurried. Unafraid.
The Lady in Red.
Her silhouette flickered between shadow and flame, her clothes untouched as if the fire itself knew better than to dare. The faint metallic scent reached her before anything else, and she inhaled deeply, almost savoring it.
"I smell blood…" she murmured, her voice soft—too soft for a place like this.
Her gaze drifted… and then landed on Kira.
A pause.
A smile, slow and curious.
"Oh… you have a horn now."
Kira froze.
His hand moved instinctively, brushing against his forehead—and then he felt it.
A sharp, solid protrusion.
Real.
His breath hitched for a fraction of a second as realization struck him harder than the heat ever could.
Behind him, the flames roared louder, as if reacting to the moment, curling upward, sealing the space into a burning cage.
She tilted her head, watching him like one would observe something newly discovered.
Something entertaining.
Then, with a faint lick across the edge of her blood-stained dagger, she grinned—
"Let the fun begin."