The entire buzz of the fight had faded away now, leaving behind only a desolate, grim emptiness.

And silence.

The infirmary was overloaded with the wounded as Juyeong desperately tried to tend to all of the serious injuries at once, but sooner or later, he was going to get overwhelmed. Hongjoong had sent Seonghwa to help, but it didn't look like he was going to make much of a difference.

Meanwhile, the captain, Wooyoung, Jongho, Mingi, and Shinoko were sitting in the captain's cabin, a dark and grim atmosphere smothering the room. Wooyoung was glaring at Shinoko, whilst the girl in question was trying her best to avoid everybody else's eyes.

Nobody dared to break the silence.

Shinoko sighed, seconds away from breaking down completely. Something twisted inside of her, a feeling she hadn't felt in quite a while, yet she knew exactly what it was.

Guilt.

And it burned all the more in her heart as she let Wooyoung's glare slice into her.

Eventually, she couldn't take it, the tears seconds away from spilling, and she lifted her head, eyes anguished as she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm so sorry about—!"

"Save it," Wooyoung growled. "If it weren't for you—" The holin seemed to realise the magnitude of what had happened – how his friend had been taken, and how he'd been left to the mercy of a merciless captain. He leapt out of his seat and grabbed Shinoko by her collar. The girl flopped guiltily in his grip. "If it weren't for you, San would be sitting here right now! He wouldn't be in the hands of that absolute snake of a woman!"

"I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry..." Shinoko weeped, the tears now free-falling, too much for her fragile being to hold, as she let the guilt consume her. She knew what Cezanne was like. After all, she had stayed by her side for a good four years. She knew what she was like, and she knew exactly what might happen to the poor little demon if he was left in her hands for too long.

"Wooyoung, let her go," Hongjoong said, his fingers at his temples. He sighed. "And we can't even chase her because Jongho's run out of mana," he muttered to himself. "For gods' sake!" he yelled suddenly, making Wooyoung, Shinoko and the others in the room flinch, and he ran a hand through his hair. "What do we do?" the captain sighed, and he slumped back down in his seat. "San's in danger, and we can't even do anything to go godsdamn save him. What kind of captain am I, letting a member of my own crew get kidnapped like that? For gods' sake."

Jongho eyed Shinoko with suspicion.

"But how can we be sure this wasn't just a ruse? I'm talking about her," he said, jerking his chin in Shinoko's direction. "How can we be sure she didn't all plan this out so we were caught off-guard?"

"But Sannie said she wasn't lying..." Mingi said doubtfully.

"Well, remember Cin? She had such a deep façade that it completely changed her aura. It completely tricked us. What's to say she isn't the same?"

Hongjoong sighed.

"Nothing's for certain. But we better lock her up, just in case. We can't trust her."

Shinoko drooped even more.

"What about San's aura notebook? I saw him writing something down in there earlier," Mingi said. "Sannie said that technically Cin's aura didn't change. It's just that the green was covering everything up. He said the same with Seonghwa-hyung's aura too. That there was more than just the black, it was just hidden underneath. Maybe it says something about Shinoko's."

Hongjoong considered for a moment. Shinoko didn't seem like a bad person. She didn't have that savage, heartless vibe about her the other members of Cezanne's crew and Cezanne herself had. He wanted to trust her, he really did.

"Alright. You know where San's aura notebook is, right?"

"Yep," Mingi said, brightening up a little. "It's right here, actually," he said, pulling out a tattered little notebook on one of Hongjoong's shelves. "He left it here 'cuz he didn't want it to get damaged in the battle."

The fairy handed the notebook over to the captain, who opened the book carefully onto its last entry.

Shinoko – baby-blue (innocent/pure), bright red (righteous/courageous), pink (in love)

I think she's trustworthy. It's not like with Seonghwa-hyung and Cin where a 'negative' trait covered the other ones so I couldn't see, so I don't think Cezanne would have sent her to spy on us or something. She also hasn't lied at all, and the bright red definitely means she probably isn't a bad person. Hongjoongie-hyung's bright red as well, so that only gives me positive connotations about her. I think the pink might mean she's in love with Cezanne. It glows brighter whenever she mentions her name. Overall, I really can't see her trying to betray us or anything, so I think I can trust her. I should tell Hongjoongie-hyung later, after the battle.

Hongjoong sighed, placing the notebook gently down onto his desk. He knew how much San treasured the tattered little thing.

"Alright," he said, running a hand through his hair. "It seems San trusts you, and I trust our Sannie. We won't lock you up, but," Hongjoong fixed Shinoko with a glare so chilling and cold that a fear, intense like the pull of a riptide, rooted itself in place inside Shinoko and stayed there, "you try anything funny, and I'll do to you things thousands of times worse than what Cezanne might do to San, alright?"

Shinoko gulped, shivered, and understanding the weight of those words, nodded.

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head, and the tears pooled on her fists, resting on her legs. She collapsed off the chair she sat on, and let her head dip further. "Thank you so much...I don't deserve this, I really don't..."

Hongjoong fixed the girl with a pitiful, sympathetic stare, before getting up and clapping his hands together.

"Alright, Jongho, you go rest up," he said to the maknae. "I want you in peak condition tomorrow – we have a crewmate to save."

And with a steely glint in his eye, the captain strode out of the room.

* * *

San stared with hollow eyes at his surroundings. Chains hung from his wrists, holding them up on his either side, and he was on his knees, head drooping. His clothes were bloody and tattered, and every inch of his body throbbed with a dull, incessant pain.

He had put up a fight, at first. Of course he had. They'd taken him, threatened his friends and blackmailed them. Of course he would fight with every inch of his being to get back to them.

But despite his overflowing Dark Energy, despite the drive and adrenaline that spurred him in every fight, he had been overwhelmed. Of course he had been; he had been one, they had been many. And skilled fighters, as well.

When they managed to subdue the raging demon, they'd locked him up in here – this empty, dusty, cramped excuse for a room, and chained him up. Under normal circumstances, he would have used his Dark Energy to break free and run away, swim across an entire ocean to get back to his crew, his family, if he had to, but Cezanne had never liked the word 'normal'. These chains were Magik-resistant, even able to absorb even the unique type that was Dark Energy, and so he had been left helpless.

Helpless, and alone.

He sighed, pulling inwards with his arms. If Magik wasn't going to work, then he'd have to break free with brute strength alone.

It didn't work.

Of course it didn't.

Just then, the door swung open, and Cezanne swaggered through, grinning arrogantly despite the defeat she had suffered. After all, although she hadn't got what she wanted from her invasion of the ATINY, she had gained something else.

Leverage.

And her delight was scrawled all over her face as she strode in, and stopped in front of San.

"Well hello again, demon," she sneered as she leaned down to his head-level. "How have you been doing? Sobered up, a little? Enough so that you've locked away that fiery, rebellious spirit of yours?"

San responded by spitting in her face.

At once, the captain's face shifted to one of absolute fury as she wiped the demon's saliva from her face with disgust.

"You little...!" she said, raising a fist. She paused, remembered that she held the upper hand here, and her snarl lifted up into a cold smile – sharp, like the edge of a knife. "Not much of a talker, are you?" she said, cocking her head to one side. "Don't worry, dear, I'll make you talk. Just you wait."

And with that, she got up once more, and left the room.

* * *

The days continued in a seamless continuity for San as he kneeled there, in that dark and dingy room, with only a lone gas lamp to keep him company. Until that, too, flickered out, and he was left in darkness. Hunger scraped away at his ribs and the rest of his insides, but he didn't mind too much. After all, he had been living with that feeling constantly eating away at him – for six years. He could deal with going without a meal for a couple of days.

But what worried him was the thirst.

His lips were parched and dry, his breaths laboured and thin. His arms ached from being held up against his will for so long, and he longed for the sweet chill of fresh water to drink.

But nothing.

After that one interaction with Cezanne days ago, he had been left alone. Alone with his thoughts, alone with the worry for his crewmates' safety. Because Cezanne might go after them again. From what he had seen, the injuries many of the crewmates had suffered in that last battle were pretty serious, and San knew they wouldn't be able to hold off Cezanne and her crew a second time.

But he hoped that his being here would mean she would try and get the information out of him, instead of going after his family.

On the third day – or what felt like it – Cezanne finally decided to make an appearance again – this time with two of her crewmates, one of which San didn't recognise. One of them had lilac-blue hair with purple ends; narrowed, almost smug eyes; and fairy wings – the one who had been beside Cezanne the first time they had met. The other was a small, meek looking guy. Skinny, with his clothes hanging off him, seconds away from slipping off him. They were too big for him, but still, he held himself with some of the arrogance all of Cezanne's crew carried, as he glared the demon down, with some sort of wary competition.

"Well then," Cezanne said, her tone a little muted, less arrogant as she glanced at the dagger hanging from her belt. "Have you had enough time to think?"

"Think about what?" San growled. "There's not much to think about when you've just left me in here without any input."

"Well isn't it obvious?" Cezanne cocked her head to one side. "Are you going to give me what I want, or will I have to make you give me it?"

San scoffed. Cezanne raised an eyebrow.

"Let's see who cracks first, then," the demon said challengingly, grinning despite the sweat sheening on his forehead. "I'm not betraying my captain."

Cezanne turned to face the demon fully, a grin spreading across her face.

"Let's see if you're still smiling after Dylan's through with you," she said, albeit a little ominously, and turned to the scrawny boy on her left side. "Dylan," she said. "You know what to do."

"Aye aye, captain," Dylan said, cracking his knuckles as he advanced towards the defenceless demon.

He let himself grin, as he crouched and placed a hand on either side of San's shoulders, and pressed down as firmly as he could.

Then a pain, so intense and excruciating, pulsed through San's veins – or something – and he immediately passed out.