Masachiro woke up to a white ceiling, the sterile scent of antiseptic thick in the air. His head throbbed, his body ached, but none of it mattered.

The moment his eyes snapped open, his voice came rough, urgent—"Where is she?"

Silence.

The officials stood around him, stone-faced, impassive. No one answered. That alone told him everything.

She was still there.

His breath hitched. His pulse roared in his ears as he pushed himself up, but a sharp pain in his ribs forced him back down. Restraints. A binding spell, keeping him in place.

Someone finally spoke.

"We only saved you because you weren't inside the veil."

His world stopped.

Then it snapped.

His fists clenched, the veins in his arms bulging as he struggled against the restraints. "You left her there?!"

Not a single flinch.

Not a single ounce of regret on their damn faces.

He let out a broken, bitter laugh, then it twisted into something else—rage.

"You bastards—" His voice cracked, raw, fury dripping from every syllable. "You used her. You shaped her into a tool, made her think she had to atone for his sins—when she was just a kid!"

No response. Not even a flicker of guilt.

Masachiro gritted his teeth, breath shaking. They took everything from her. Just like they took everything from him.

His hands trembled, nails digging into his palms.

"After this mission," he rasped, "every single one of you—" his bloodshot eyes flickered between them, voice dangerously low—"not those old hags, not the higher-ups—none of you will touch that kid ever again."

The binding spell cracked.

And this time, when Masachiro rose from the bed—no one tried to stop him.

But, A figure stepped forward.

"You're not authorized to leave, Masachiro."

A faceless executive. Another damn cog in the machine.

Masachiro's head tilted, his dark eyes locking onto the man. They really thought they could stop him?

He took a step forward. The executive raised a hand, starting some incantation—

Masachiro moved first.

In a blink, he closed the distance. A fist connected with the man's gut, sending him crashing into the wall. The crack of impact echoed through the sterile room.

The other officials tensed, but none of them stepped forward. Smart.

Masachiro wiped the blood from his split knuckles, eyes wild. "You still don't get it, do you?" His voice was eerily calm, dangerous. "I don't take orders. Not from you. Not from the higher-ups. Not from anyone who left that kid behind."

He stepped over the groaning man, yanked open the doors, and walked out.

If anyone else tried to stop him—

He'd show them exactly why he used to be feared.

Your head throbbed, body aching, the taste of iron thick in your mouth. The world around you spun before slowly settling. The curse loomed ahead, still strong—but weaker than before.

It wasn't your doing.

Something had shifted. The overwhelming, suffocating presence from before had lowered. As if someone had degraded the special grade's power to match yours. Given you a chance.

A fleeting trace of cursed energy still lingered in the air. Familiar. Deeply, painfully familiar.

Your breath hitched.

Suguru.

He was here.

A lump formed in your throat as you pushed yourself up. Your fingers clenched into the dirt beneath you, grounding yourself as your thoughts spiraled.

Why?

Why would he come all this way? After all these years. After leaving you behind. After becoming the very thing that cursed your existence.

Why would he help you—but not stay?

A bitter laugh left you. It sounded hollow. Broken.

This was worse than if he had never come at all.

Because now you knew.

He still cared.

Somewhere, deep down, under all his hatred for non-sorcerers, under the weight of his sins—he hadn't been able to just let you die.

But he wouldn't come back either.

He had saved you from death.

Yet left you to keep living in this hell.

Meanwhile, Suguru Geto walked through the dimly lit streets, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, his expression unreadable.

The night air was thick with humidity, the distant sounds of the city echoing around him, but he barely registered any of it. His mind was elsewhere—still stuck in that cursed place.

Still stuck on you.

He hadn't meant to intervene. He had only come to confirm what he had already heard—that they had turned you into a weapon. That you were still alive, still fighting their battles, still shackled to a life he had abandoned.

And yet, the moment he saw you on the ground, barely breathing, something inside him twisted.

It was pathetic, really.

After all these years, after all his choices—he still couldn't sever that last thread.

He had helped you. Just enough. Lowered the special grade's power, gave you a chance, then disappeared before you could see him. Because what would he even say?

"I'm sorry?"

"Come with me?"

He scoffed at the thought. You wouldn't come. You were too deep in it now. Just like he had once been.

Suguru exhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a fleeting moment.

"Still..

..You're alive."

And for now, that was enough.

CHAPTER COMPLETED..