When Grandfather came in, the old wooden floor let out a creak. The woven basket was placed on the table, but the tension was already hanging thick in the air. Grandfather glanced at Grandmother, Alina, then himself. The silver ring in Alan's irises was answer enough.
"Your grandmother and I grew up inside Danzel, Alina," Grandfather said, his voice hoarse. He sat next to Grandmother, his fingers gripping his knees. "For us, they weren't just an organization. They were home. We were orphans picked up off the streets—fed, put through school, and given enough to eventually marry."
Alina lifted her chin, though the faint tremor at the corner of her lips gave her away. "So your lives were basically bought? You were forced?"
Grandfather's shoulders rose slightly. It looked less like an answer and more like surrender. "What's the difference?"
"Why didn't you run?"
"For what? They gave us a decent life—why throw that away?" Grandmother cut in, her voice thin but sharp.
Grandfather nodded. "It wasn't good, but it wasn't exactly evil either." His shoulders dropped. Clearly, this wasn't the first time he had turned that line over in his head.
Alan stared at him. "Why?"
"We got paid. We could take vacations. Had health coverage." His fingers tapped the table, as if arranging his own memories. "They only asked for loyalty and silence."
"Loyalty is just a leash dressed up in fancy words," Alina murmured, her voice barely audible.
"If I'm being honest, working for Danzel back then was far better than being a government laborer getting openly squeezed dry. Sure, there was harsh treatment for those who couldn't be controlled. But workers got what they were owed: overtime, bonuses, housing. Everything was provided." Grandfather looked at Alina, searching for a shred of understanding. "I'm not saying any of that makes it right. But that's the reality."
"But that line of work was evil, Grandpa. Didn't you think about the victims? The people suffering because of what you did?" Alina leaned forward, pointing a finger at her own chest. "You had hands, you had a brain. Why didn't you use them to rebel? To say no?"
"You ate our food and lived under our roof, Alina. You went to school on the very money you're calling dirty. You benefited from it too, didn't you?" Grandmother cut in, cold.
Silent, Alina refused to back down even as her eyes welled up. "But I thought this orange grove was where our money came from."
"It is. And guess who gave it to us as a retirement package," Grandfather let out a heavy sigh. "Danzel. That's what makes it so complicated."
"Then why did you accept it? Where was your guilt? Didn't you think that far?"
"We thought about it. Every night," Grandmother's voice was hoarse. "But hungry people don't have the luxury of choice. We lived off them for too long that we forgot how to refuse."
Covering her face with both hands, Alina's shoulders began to tremble. Alan placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle, grounding squeeze.
"But neither of you have a Danzel tattoo," Alan said, breaking the tension.
"They were removed when we retired. They paid for it," Grandfather looked down. "So we could be accepted in society."
"Are the marks still there?" Alina frowned, trying to find traces of the past.
Grandfather raised his wrist. The skin was clean. Almost unmarked.
Squinting, Alan studied the nearly invisible scars on Grandfather's skin.
This was no cheap laser removal, let alone a forced cut.
The precision pointed to high-end reconstructive surgery, which was ridiculously expensive.
A cold, efficient machine like Danzel wouldn't throw that kind of money away on ordinary retirees.
Only two options made sense: Grandfather was keeping a massive secret, or he was still useful to them.
In the brutal criminal underworld, sudden generosity always came with strings attached.
A trap? Or were Grandmother and Grandfather just pawns planted here?
Arms crossed, Alan began reassembling the pieces of information he'd just received.
Grandmother got up to brew tea, trying to ease the tension. The clink of cups cut through the silence. Grandfather massaged his temples again.
Taking advantage of the brief lull, Alan stepped forward.
"Sorry," Alan's voice was low, yet demanding focus. "If you were really inside Danzel, Grandpa... you must know about Emerald Moon."
Instantly, Grandfather's movement locked up. The fingers gripping his knees went rigid. Alina turned with a crease of confusion on her forehead. "Emerald Moon?"
"The term popped up again from Dr. Richard," Alan answered, his gaze locked on Grandfather.
Glancing at Alan before looking at Alina, the old man hesitated, weighing how much of the secret was safe to share.
"Emerald Moon is a disaster. A rotten scheme," Grandmother cut in, biting.
"Why?"
"It's an old project," Grandfather began, his voice hoarse. "Years back, there was an Alpha Werewolf—I never knew his name, we just called him Alpha—who grew anxious watching his clan shrink. Many couples were infertile, birth rates plummeted, and young werewolves died before their time."
"Yeah, I've heard that rumor," Alan cut in, his mind already connecting the dots.
"Their clan is dying out. Only about eighty heads left. In a world of eight billion people, they are on the edge of extinction."
"What was the goal?" Alina pressed.
"To spark new births. And the method?" Grandfather stared at Alan. "Humanos. They were targeted."
"Humanos forced to pair up with werewolves?" Alina guessed, her voice rising.
"In theory, yes."
"That's barbaric. They can't force other people's lives like that," Alina protested, horrified.
"Indeed. But as far as I know, the research stalled because the Alpha died before it could go anywhere."
Slowly, the tension in Alina's face softened as her shoulders dropped in relief. "Good."
"What did he die of?" Alan asked, still highly suspicious.
"That's the mystery. He was found in the woods, his body stiff as a statue. No wounds, no signs of an attack. He just died."
"Someone who hated his crazy idea must have taken him out," Alina muttered with a dry laugh.
"The way he died is too strange. Didn't the werewolves investigate?" Alan cut in.
"Edward Dekker, the Alpha who replaced him, did step in," Grandfather answered, massaging his temples. "But they hit a dead end. No bruises, no cuts, let alone a suspect. In the end, Edward gave up and the case was left as a mystery."
"So what happened to Emerald Moon?" Alina urged.
"It went dormant." Grandfather shook his head. "Edward never touched the project again. He was the type of leader who played it safe—pessimistic and detached, a complete turnaround from his predecessor. As long as he led, the project stayed buried."
"Fine by me, as long as that crazy experiment stopped," Alina snorted, trying to find a silver lining.
"Unfortunately, it's not that simple."
Alan's focus sharpened. "Why?"
"Years later, someone refused to let the project be forgotten," Grandfather's voice dropped. "Zylar Grimmwolf. He wasn't of the Alpha bloodline, nor was he Edward's confidant—just a common werewolf. But his ambition knew no bounds. He reopened the research illegally, without Edward's blessing."
"How could he do that?" Alina asked.
"Who knows. Zylar wasn't smart," Grandfather let out a short breath. "But he was reckless. That green-eyed werewolf continued the research in a way that was far more brutal and dirty. He needed live subjects—Humanos to be his guinea pigs."
"Why was he allowed? Didn't anyone fight back?"
"For the clan, for the survival of our kind. Who would dare object when extinction is staring you in the face?"
With a look of disgust, Alina turned her face away. To a Humanos, that threat wasn't some bedtime story—it was a real nightmare that could come for her at any moment.
"Who was the subject?" Alan asked. His voice was calm, yet heavy with tension.
Silent, Grandfather shifted his gaze to Grandmother, as if conveying an old wound reopened.
Alan immediately realized something was off when he saw them avoiding eye contact, while Grandmother's fingers trembled slightly.
"Grandpa, answer," Alina's voice broke the silence. "Who was the victim?"
Grandmother's head dropped. No sobbing. Just silence.
"Your mother... was one of the subjects."
"What?" Alina gasped.
Without a sound, Alan slid closer to Alina. His eyes scanned her quickly—checking her shoulders, knees, and breathing pattern to make sure she wasn't panicking.
"Why did you just stand by? Why didn't you save her?" Alina's voice rose, trembling with mounting anger.
"The news reached us too late, Alina. We had already retired back then, and Hana was an adult. She just said she had business there. During her time in Danzel, she seemed happy, talking about friends, food, new places. Nothing seemed suspicious."
"Why didn't you investigate? How could you do that to your own child?" Tears began to well in Alina's eyes.
"We were devastated when we found out, Alina. Your grandmother cried, trying to call her every single day. But it was often inactive, blocked, or she had changed her number. And you know what she said when we finally got through?" Grandmother's voice trembled violently. "She said she was fine. That work pressure was normal, and the project wasn't as terrifying as we thought."
"Every time we called, her voice was always cheerful. As if everything was perfectly fine," Grandfather added, his voice weakening.
"Why didn't you tell her to leave?" Alina urged.
"We tried. Hana refused. She genuinely wanted to help the werewolf clan."
"That's stupid!" Alina snapped.
Alan understood how her mind worked. To her, it wasn't a sacrifice—it was fatal naivety.
"If Hana never told you anything, how did you know what Zylar did to her?" Alan cut in, steering the focus back to facts.
"We knew from Luveri."
"Dad?" Alina's voice squeaked.
"Yes. It happened after the Danzel headquarters was raided by an intelligence agency."
"The hidden Danzel base was exposed?" Alan asked, surprised.
"Yes. When chaos broke out, Luveri got Hana out. The place was completely leveled. Many police officers and Danzel members died."
"Someone on the inside leaked the location?"
"Yes. The traitor... was Hana," Grandmother whispered softly.
Frozen, Alina stared blankly with a tense face, caught between pride and horror.
"After they escaped, they kept moving. One day I crossed paths with Luveri, and he told me everything. During her time in Emerald Moon, Hana was injected with foreign substances, pumped with drugs, and forced to eat specific foods," Grandfather said, unable to meet his granddaughter's eyes.
"That's torture," Alina stated, her voice cold.
"Yes. It felt suffocating, furious because I couldn't do a thing. But I owe my life to Luveri," Grandfather said, patting his own chest.
Alina nodded slowly. There was still room in her heart to acknowledge her father's bravery.
Instinctively, Alan's mind shifted to a different angle.
A destroyed Danzel would definitely demand revenge. It was their nature.
The question: when, and against whom?
Reflexively, Alan's hands balled into fists inside his pockets.
His thoughts immediately flew to Yuki Haneda.
If he calculated backward, Yuki's father—the intelligence operative—had almost certainly died in that raid.
Alan only hoped Yuki wasn't reckless enough to pick a fight with Danzel.
Especially if Yuki found out Alina's grandparents were former members of the organization.
Alina would automatically become an easy target.
Alan himself would never allow his classmate to touch his girlfriend.
Could Yuki be convinced to forget her grudge?
Running a hand roughly through his hair, Alan glanced at Alina, who was still busy managing her own emotions.
"If Danzel kept moving, how did my mother and father communicate?" Alina asked, clutching the tissue in her hand.
"Through poems in the newspaper."
"How?"
"Luveri read the newspaper every morning. Until one day, he found a poem embedded with a hidden code—words like 'green,' 'forest,' and 'butterfly.' Luveri understood the code, then sent back a poem in the same paper."
"Is that how they connected?" Alina guessed.
"Yes. Unfortunately, Hana was caught. She was interrogated heavily about what information she had leaked. But your mother kept silent until the end. She guarded the secret, until she was finally saved through a joint operation between Hammer and intelligence."
"So Dad was Hammer, and Mom was Danzel?" Alina concluded with a bitter tone.
"Correct. That's why we wanted you to live a normal life. Your existence is a major violation to both sides," Grandfather stressed each word, making the reason behind their strict protection clear.
Letting out a tired sigh, Alina tried to manage a thin smile. This reality was indeed bitter, but she had to start accepting it as a part of her.
Grandfather turned to Alan, his face tightening again. "If the Emerald Moon project is active again, it means the plan is still running. Alan—what's your move?"
"Their target is Humanos. That means I have to keep Alina safe," Alan answered calmly.
"Safe how? You're going to be a bodyguard following me every second?" Alina asked, her tone of protest returning.
"Haven't I always done that anyway?"
Scratching the back of her neck, Alina was too exhausted to argue about overprotection. "Isn't there another way?"
"Like what?"
"Ask Airin. She might be able to help."
"No way. My sister won't take a risk that huge just for my sake," Alan said firmly.
"But she's your sister, why wouldn't she help?"
"That's the price of leaving the clan, Alina. A consequence we have to face together. We can't just piggyback on any faction's safety."
"What about Sean?"
"What would you want him to do?"
"Anything. Help us run, or hide us?"
"Sean is only loyal to the Bernard family, and officially, I'm no longer a part of them. Besides, my relationship with him has never been good."
"Mr. Harrington?"
"I'm not dragging ordinary people into this."
"Then we move countries! Get new identities, or I'll get plastic surgery!" Alina cried out in frustration.
"Instead of running, I'd rather fight," Alan said calmly.
"Don't be ridiculous, Alan! There's only two of us, how are we supposed to win?"
"Enough, enough. Calm down. Let's rest first and cool our heads," Grandfather cut in, stepping between their rising argument.
Alan just stayed silent, letting his brain spin fast to find an opening.
Various worst-case scenarios flashed by in turn. One problem wasn't even resolved before the next stood in line. What would happen to Alan? His own secret. Could Alina handle the next dark truth?