Meanwhile, Falcon and his team continued their mission with unwavering determination. They moved through the dark corridors, their footsteps light yet firm, as if the ground itself trembled beneath them. The surrounding rooms were shrouded in mist and mystery, with dim lights flickering from ceiling lamps, deepening the shadows and adding to the enigma. But they were fully aware of their objective.
They entered the secret gambling room, where the air was thick with gunpowder and smoke. The sound of cards scattering across the tables and the silent bets being placed filled the room. The gamblers' eyes, full of malice and greed, glowed with a false sense of power, while the smell of betrayal and forbidden wagers hung in the air.
But that was just a hollow reflection of reality about to be shattered, as the light of truth pierced the darkness. Falcon and his team entered like a flood, their sharp eyes focused solely on the corrupt. Some tried to flee, but the orders were clear and precise. Weapons were in their hands, and their movements were synchronized, like one shadow. The fires that lit their eyes burned brighter than any lamp in the room, and they swiftly restrained everyone one by one.
From the high-ranking leaders to the simplest of players, they all became victims of their own game. The caution that had once controlled the hall turned into naked fear. Even before the last of them was captured, the atmosphere was filled with the sweet taste of victory... the delayed satisfaction of triumphing over those who had long betrayed truth and justice.
Outside the Joker's chamber, a man with 'Jaguar' written on his back was busy decrypting the security lock.
Falcon, over the radio: "We've apprehended the clients. Everything is done."
Lorian: "Well done. Nott is probably buying us more time right now. Have you unlocked the door?"
Falcon: "Yes, we finished minutes ago. We're just waiting for the signal to breach."
Lorian: "Now. Enter the room and capture the Joker no matter what happens. I've sent backup, just in case."
Falcon: "Understood. We're breaching now."
Falcon signals to his team, and they head straight for the seventh floor.
Inside The apartment – minutes earlier, In a dark, dull room filled with the smell of echo and blood
Nott sat bound to a wooden chair, his wrists locked in iron cuffs. The air was thick with the metallic stench of blood. The dimly lit room revealed shelves stacked with unidentified objects and a table cluttered with chemical flasks and rusted tools.
Footsteps echoed in the silence. The Joker appeared, pushing a metal cart. A wicked grin stretched across his face as laughter bubbled up from his throat.
Joker: "Heh... Heheheh... Hahaha! You're awake, little rat. Did you really barge in here alone? So cocky... Do you think you can take me down that easily? Hah?"
He steps closer, stopping directly in front of Nott, towering over him with a sinister presence.
Joker: "Well then, let's find out together. There's no fun in rushing to reveal secrets, Am I right? Hm... Ahahahaha!"
He yanks the cart forward and begins sifting through his selection of bloodstained tools, his laughter growing more unhinged.
The assortment of instruments gleamed under the dim light;
A pair of metal pliers with razor-sharp edges, perfect for tearing nails or peeling skin.
A leather whip lined with tiny blades, designed to slice flesh open with every strike.
A serrated handsaw, slow and deliberate in its work of cutting through bone.
Electrified clamps, built to send waves of searing pain through their victims.
A heavy hammer, ideal for crushing bones or shattering joints.
Precision scalpels, capable of carving deep, intricate wounds.
Syringes filled with corrosive substances, meant to inflict internal burns.
A surgical shear, crafted to sever flesh and slice through limbs with eerie precision.
Each item spoke volumes of the Joker's sadistic nature. He thrived on fear, on pain... on the anticipation of his victim's suffering.
Nott's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to maintain a semblance of control. He needed to buy more time.
Nott: "H-Hey... I think I walked in here by mistake, so if you could just-..."
The words hung in the air, weak, desperate, futile. Nott's voice trembled, struggling to form a plea, an escape, but he knew deep down it was too late. The room was closing in, suffocating him with its oppressive silence and the madness that radiated from the Joker. He felt his pulse quicken, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. The stillness was almost worse than any sound; it was like the calm before the storm, an agonizing wait for the inevitable.
Suddenly, without warning, the Joker's laughter cut through the tension. A split second before Nott could react, the Joker swung the heavy hammer down with brutal precision, the metal crashing against Nott's right leg. The force was overwhelming, a sickening, bone-crushing impact that reverberated through his entire body.
The room seemed to hold its breath as Nott's body jerked violently in response, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle, the pain exploding in his mind like a thousand daggers.
Nott: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"
The scream erupted from Nott's throat, raw and primal, as though the very essence of his being was being ripped apart. The pain flooded every corner of his mind, drowning him in agony, each second stretching into an eternity. The air felt heavy, like it was thick with the weight of his suffering, pressing down on him. His vision blurred, spots dancing in front of his eyes, but the pain... it was undeniable, suffocating.
A sickening crunch echoed through the room, louder than the scream itself. It was the sound of his leg, his body, breaking... like the snap of a twig, but worse. It was the sound of his humanity cracking.
The Joker stood there, his breath ragged with hysteria, eyes wide and unblinking, watching Nott writhe in pain. His laughter, mad and guttural, filled the room, its volume growing as he fed off the sound of Nott's suffering, like a twisted symphony to his ears.
The Joker's grin spread wider, impossibly wide, as if his face were incapable of containing the joy that swelled inside him. His voice was a sickening purr as he leaned closer to Nott, watching his every twitch, his every desperate gasp for air.
Joker: "That's it... scream for me. Let me hear you, feel it. This... this is the sound of your breaking."
Each word was like a dagger, each syllable digging deeper into Nott's psyche, further unraveling the last thread of his will. The Joker's gaze never wavered, like a predator savoring the suffering of its prey.
The room, thick with the stench of blood and sweat, seemed to warp, the air colder, the silence between the Joker's mad cackles stretching longer, almost suffocating Nott. Time had stopped... there was no escape, no mercy, only the unrelenting crescendo of pain and the Joker's delight in it
Joker: "Ahahahahaha! Now, should I keep going until your leg is completely useless? Or should I start working on the other one?"
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence after the Joker's words. The air felt thick, pressing down on Nott's chest, making it harder to breathe. His body tensed, a cold sweat forming on his forehead, each breath a struggle against the suffocating tension. The Joker's laughter still echoed in his ears, a maddening sound that reverberated in his skull.
Nott's leg throbbed in agony, the pain a sharp reminder of his helplessness. He could feel every inch of his body screaming, yet he remained silent, his eyes fixated on the Joker's twisted grin. The Joker's gaze was unwavering, cold, and hungry for his response.
His heart raced in his chest, each beat louder than the last, thumping like a countdown to something inevitable. Time seemed to stretch out, each passing second filled with unbearable weight. The Joker's words lingered in the air, a cruel taunt, as though waiting for Nott to break.
But he couldn't. Not yet.
As the air grew heavy in the room, a small butterfly appeared, fluttering lightly in the air, its wings shimmering in the dim light. It moved between the shadows and light, as if searching for an escape from this nightmare.
The Joker approached it slowly, his face devoid of any real expression. His hand extended gently, as if savoring the moment before he grasped the butterfly between his fingers.
He stopped. Time seemed to freeze in that instant. The Joker looked at the butterfly, holding it delicately, while Nott watched in silence, his mind drowning in questions he couldn't answer. The butterfly was in his hands, fluttering with fear, as if it sensed what was about to happen.
Joker: "Everything here... continues to move, even if you feel the opposite."
The Joker said in a low voice, indifferent to the fate of the butterfly in his hands.
Nott: "Agh... Aa... Ahh... I-I'll talk..."
The room hung in an oppressive silence after Nott's words, the weight of his surrender settling like a heavy fog. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle to maintain his grip on reality. The Joker stood still for a moment, savoring the victory in Nott's voice. The twisted anticipation in his eyes grew sharper, as if he could taste the fear emanating from Nott's trembling form.
Joker: "That's what I wanted to hear. Now, tell me... why did you come here?"
The Joker's words slithered through the air, sharp and venomous, reverberating in the room like an evil echo. The question hung there, a weight of malice in the atmosphere, as if the room itself were shrinking under the pressure of his twisted gaze. His eyes gleamed with a mad joy, as if he were feeding off every moment of Nott's suffering, like a cat toying with a mouse before the final strike.
Nott's body trembled in response, the pain coursing through his veins like fire. The electric current that had surged through his body moments ago still lingered, like a faint pulse in every cell. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, cold sweat mingling with the blood that stained his face. His features, once sharp, had become pale and worn, as though life was being drained from him with every passing second.
He paused for a moment, a heavy, prolonged silence, before Nott spoke again. His voice cracked, words falling like the last remnants of his strength. His mind was foggy, but he fought against the overwhelming dizziness threatening to take him. There was something he had to say, anything, to fend off the relentless psychological assault from the Joker. He wasn't sure if it was courage or madness, but he clung to it.
Nott: "A-Ah... I... I came... to book you a spot in a nursing home. You know... since you're just a senile old fool now."
The words were a desperate attempt at evasion, mockery laced with pain. But even as they left his mouth, Nott knew the Joker wouldn't be fooled. He could see the glint of sadistic pleasure in his eyes, like a predator watching its prey writhe.
A moment of silence followed, a deadly pause. The room was still, as if time itself had stopped. The Joker smiled a wide, inhuman grin, one that seemed to consume his entire face. He took a slow, deliberate step toward Nott, heavy and painful, as if his very presence was suffocating, overwhelming. Everything around them grew heavy, the air turning cold in a terrifying way.
Nott: "A-Ahh... I... I came... to book you a spot in a nursing home. You know... since you're just a senile old fool now."
He coughed, blood dripping from his lips, but his smirk remained.
Nott: "Oh, and did you really call yourself the Joker? What kind of dumbass name is that? Let me guess... you got excited after watching some movie and decided to become a half-assed psychopath in your fifties? Hah... Hahaha!
so pathetic..."
A sudden blow to his face cut off his laughter. His head snapped to the side as pain flared through his jaw.
Joker: ".... You little shit."
He stood still for a moment, then tilted his head back and burst into another fit of laughter.
Joker: "Hah... Haha... Hahahaha! Oh, I see. these cute little methods are no longer effective... Time to move on to the next stage!"
A grin of pure excitement stretched across his face, as if he relished the moment his victim realized the worst had yet to come.
He moved toward a device in the corner of the room, his fingers dancing over the switches and buttons. The soft clicks blended with the low hum of the generator as it powered up. Then, slowly, he turned back, his gaze locking onto Nott... his eyes gleaming with sheer delight.
On the other side, Nott struggled to lift his head, his half-lidded eyes clouded with exhaustion and pain. Every fiber of his body screamed in protest, but he forced himself to glance at his wrist.
Nott: "[Damn! It's been 16 minutes since I entered… I just need to stall for a little longer.]"
But… how much time did he really have left?
A faint, ominous hum filled the air as the generator fully activated. Dim red lights pulsed on the control panel, a foreboding heartbeat of the impending torment. Joker picked up the metal clamps with his fingers, twirling them lightly as if they were musical instruments before beginning to attach them to Nott's body... one by one, with agonizing slowness.
Each cold touch against his wounded skin felt like a tiny stab, a cruel reminder of what was coming. Joker, as always, was in no hurry. He wanted to savor every second, to carve this moment deep into Nott's memory forever.
Leaning in slightly, he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure:
Joker: "This... is going to hurt a little..."
Then… he flipped the switch.
Nott: "AaaAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
A violent surge of electricity ripped through his body, like a thousand burning needles stabbing every nerve at once. His muscles seized up, his back arched, his head slammed against the metal behind him... but the next shock came before he could even process the first. The pain? No, this wasn't just pain. This was devastation. This was every cell being shredded from the inside.
Joker's laughter intertwined with Nott's screams... a raw, euphoric sound, as if he were listening to a symphony of suffering. And like any skilled musician, he wanted to play it to perfection.
Joker: "Yes!! Scream, you arrogant little rat! More! Louder! I want these walls to echo with your agony! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Minutes passed... eternities stretched into moments.
Eight full minutes.
Nott, who had fought to stay conscious, could no longer resist. His body collapsed, his head slumped forward, his eyes clouded, barely registering anything. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. Sweat mixed with blood, pooling beneath the chair, turning the floor into a small crimson lake.
Joker watched the scene with pure satisfaction. His tongue slid over his teeth as he admired his handiwork.
Then, slowly, he lowered his hands to his waist and let out a short breath... like an artist stepping back from a nearly finished masterpiece.
Joker: "Well... time to start the surgery."
He lifted his gaze toward the gleaming surgical tools on the table, their metallic edges reflecting the dim red light... flashing like blades eager to bite into bone...
The Joker was preparing for the next stage of torture when, suddenly, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps from the direction of the door.
He rushed toward it, attempting to shut it quickly, but someone forcefully pushed it open, sending him tumbling to the ground.
Joker: "W-Who's there!?"
The figure stepped forward, his face gradually illuminated by the dim light. It was Landon.
Joker: "T-T-T… Tiger!? I'm glad to see you! I didn't expect such a nice visit. Ahh... What is someone like you doing here? D-Don't tell me you came here to rescue that brat!... [Damn it, if I had known that kid was this important, I would've escaped without ever laying a hand on that insolent rat.]"
The Joker slowly backed away, his hands trembling slightly.
Landon: "Don't be stupid. I don't care about that little bastard. I came here to capture you."
The Joker felt very confused, then he started to slowly crawl backwards with both hands.
Joker: "O-Oh…"
At that moment, Falcon and his team arrived at the room.
Falcon: "Hmm?! What the hell... why is the door open!?"
Jaguar: "W-What? But didn't you request backup? Tiger came and told me he was sent by the boss. He asked me to let him in."
Falcon, looked at him in astonishment: "What!!?"
Falcon and his team stormed inside, stopping just around the bend of the room. Their eyes fell on Tiger speaking to the Joker, while Nott sat bound to a chair, drenched in blood.
Falcon's fists clenched, his voice low but filled with anger.
Falcon: "Damn it, that bastard… Hyena!"
A cold silence followed, the tension in the air thick.
Hyena, without hesitation, responded in a clipped tone.
Hyena: "Yes, Commander."
Falcon's gaze hardened, his mind already calculating the next move.
Falcon: "Pull that kid over here, now."
Hyena gave a single nod, stepping forward with military precision.
Hyena: "Understood."
Hyena crouched and pulled a device from her bag, aiming it precisely at Nott. With a press of the trigger, a grappling hook shot out, latching onto the legs of the chair.
The device swiftly reeled the chair in. Landon caught sight of it and quickly shouted to the Joker.
Landon: "Now!"
The Joker dashed toward the black table, grabbing every chemical vial and hurling them to the floor. Glass shattered, liquids spilled, and an immense explosion erupted, blasting everything away and igniting moderate flames.
The Joker bolted through the door at the far end of the room, while Landon took cover behind a set of shelves.
In that instant, the grappling hook's rope snapped. Nott fell forward... straight into the explosion. The flames began to consume him, inch by inch, before finally subsiding, leaving his body scorched and disfigured.
Moments later, Landon slowly pushed himself up from the ground, his muscles aching from the strain. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of resolve and the weight of a thousand thoughts. His hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger, its cold steel a small comfort in the storm swirling within him. His steps were measured, deliberate, as he closed the distance between himself and Nott, the faintest hint of hesitation flickering across his face. The blade glinted under the dim light, its purpose uncertain but ominous.
But before he could take another step, the sound of footsteps broke through the tension. A sharp, echoing rhythm that didn't belong... quick, deliberate, purposeful. Landon froze, his heart skipping a beat as his head snapped toward the source of the sound. From the right side of the room, where shadows clung tightly to the walls, the figure of the Joker had vanished only moments ago.
And then came the voice.
A voice that sliced through the thick air like a blade, cold and unwavering.
"What are you doing here, Landon?"
The words hit him like a sudden wave, a ripple crashing through his already fragile thoughts. For a fleeting moment, his grip on the dagger loosened as his mind struggled to grasp the weight of the situation. His breath hitched, a flicker of something... fear, regret, or perhaps confusion... clouding his eyes. Without thinking, he quickly slid the dagger into the folds of his sleeve, trying to hide the evidence of his intent, his uncertainty, his guilt.
He turned, his movements sharp, instinctively defensive. His eyes locked onto the figure standing in the doorway... Ken. The man's presence was like a cold gust of wind, bringing with it a sense of finality.
Landon: "And you... What are you doing here?"
His words came out harsher than he intended, a defensive edge to them, as if the very presence of Ken threatened the fragile semblance of control Landon had tried to maintain. He was a man at war with himself, his mind a battlefield of conflicting loyalties, desires, and fears.
Ken, unfazed, slowly raised his right hand. His grip was steady, his stance calm, as though he had anticipated this moment long before it arrived. In his hand, he held something... a figure. Unconscious, limp, and heavy in his grasp. The Joker.
The room seemed to freeze in that instant. The world held its breath.
Landon's gaze flickered between Ken and the Joker, the stark realization settling in. His eyes narrowed, a mixture of disbelief and fury fighting for dominance on his face. The silence that followed felt suffocating, oppressive, as if the weight of every unspoken question hung in the air, waiting to be answered.
Ken's quiet resolve was the only thing that remained steady in that storm of emotions. The Joker was no longer a threat... at least, not for now. But Landon's path was far from clear, and the darkness within him was only growing.
Ken: "He tried to escape. So I caught him. But why were you just standing there, knowing the Joker had already gotten away?"
As Ken's words echoed in the air, Landon felt his breath tighten under the weight of the questions that kept piling up. He caught a glimpse of the Joker, now in Ken's grip. Then, he looked down at the ground for a moment, as if searching for an answer he couldn't find.
Finally, in a faint voice, the words slipped out:
Landon: "The kid... he was badly injured. I was checking on his condition."
Ken's expression remained unreadable.
Ken: "Since when do you care about others? Do you realize you just ruined a mission we've been planning for months? I hope you have an explanation when you meet the boss. She's here, waiting for us outside."
Landon froze at Ken's words, as if struck by lightning. His heart pounded, anxiety creeping into his mind.
Landon: "[Just as I expected… Is she…?]"
Meanwhile, Lorian approached the room, accompanied by her personal attendant.
Her steps were steady, but there was a strange feeling in the air that made her sense that something was wrong. Her nerves were taut, her heart pounding with intensity. Each step she took seemed muffled, as though she hesitated to get any closer.
She suddenly stopped at the door, lifting her head to find Falcon standing a few steps away from her, his face reflecting an unexplained concern.
Falcon: "My lady..."
She didn't look at him immediately. His gaze was cryptic, and his movements unnatural. She breathed slowly, trying to calm herself before responding.
Lorian: "Do you have an explanation for what's happening here?"
The silence lingered, filling the air like a heavy, oppressive weight. Every passing second felt suspended. Finally, Falcon spoke, his voice faint, as if the words were struggling to leave his mouth.
Falcon: "Landon... entered the room before us."
The unease in his voice was palpable, and Lorian's anxiety intensified with these words. It felt as if the surprise added another burden on her chest.
At that moment, Landon appeared behind Ken, who was still holding the Joker. He seemed unaffected by Lorian's presence. Lorian stepped forward with purpose, her steps now decisive, but inside, her heart raced. Her gaze was sharp, penetrating, as she watched every movement, every detail in the scene.
Lorian: "Landon... did you come here to see how I would handle this?"
She paused for a moment, then exhaled slowly, as if swallowing an inner fury.
Lorian: "Where's the boy...?"
The answer was delayed. Landon's eyes were clouded, as if trying to trap the words inside him. Finally, he whispered quietly, though there was something suffocating him from the inside.
Landon: "He's fine... but..."
He couldn't finish his sentence. The chaos consuming the scene had left him mute, as if every word would only add to the weight of the moment.
At that moment, Jaguar emerged, carrying Nott in his arms. The small body barely showed any signs of life. The scene was so horrifying that time seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Blood drops fell silently to the floor, like intermittent heartbeats breaking the silence.
Lorian stared at Nott in silence for a moment, then turned sharply towards Falcon, her gaze threatening, as if questioning herself for failing to gauge the situation.
Lorian: "Was the boy like this before the explosion?"
Falcon stood still for a moment, his hesitation apparent. Then he whispered faintly, his words trembling under the weight of the horrifying truth.
Falcon: "...No. He wasn't burned like this."
The calm that followed his words was deadly. The silence was filled with unasked questions, but there was no room for explanation. Lorian looked at Landon with a frozen gaze, as if searching for excuses or justifications, but nothing would change what had happened. Then, suddenly, her hand was raised, and a sharp slap struck Landon's face, as though she wanted to punish him for every failure, for not protecting the boy.
His head snapped back, but he said nothing. He remained silent, as though he deserved it. Lorian quickly turned away from him, her eyes burning with resentment and fury.
Lorian: "This boy... sacrificed his life. How can he be of no value in our eyes?"
Her words scattered in the air like broken glass shards. Then, she turned abruptly, as if she had made a decision about what to do next. Her voice was loud, surprising in its force.
Lorian: "Call Utris. Now!"
The servant, who had been watching the scene hesitantly, seemed like he wanted to object, but Lorian cut him off with a fiery gaze. His eyes were filled with worry, but he knew there was no room for hesitation now.
Servant: "But, My lady... the remaining calls..."
Her gaze was harsh, merciless. She interrupted him sharply.
Lorian: "I said now!"
The servant bowed quickly and ran out to call the doctor.
Inside, Lorian remained staring at Nott, her mouth tightly shut as her thoughts cascaded like a waterfall, tumbling between regret, anger, and fear. She whispered softly, as if delivering a verdict on herself.
Lorian: "Take him from here... put him in the private wing... and wait for Utris' arrival."
Her words were an order, but there was something strange in her tone... something had shifted inside her, a sense of brokenness and betrayal filling her soul.
Landon remained silent. His expression wavered between tension and uncertainty, yet he couldn't mask the regret creeping into his eyes.
Landon: "[Do you really not know who he is… Lorian?]"
Lorian abruptly turned away.
Lorian: "Call Utris. I told him I'd meet him today. Tell him it's urgent... he must prepare to treat someone in the private wing."
Attendant: "B-But, my lady! We only have two calls left. Do you really want to waste one-..."
Lorian, interrupting, her voice like fire: "That boy risked his life, you fool!"
The previous agents assigned to this mission all broke under torture!!
How dare you belittle the price of his suffering after he upheld the organization's honor, despite his age?!!"
Her gaze burned with defiance, her heart heavy with remorse.
Lorian: "Call Utris... Now."
Moved by the sheer force of her words, the attendant quickly complied. "…Y-Yes, my lady!!"
He rushed off, phone in hand.
Lorian remained still, staring at Nott, regret shadowing her eyes.
Lorian: softly, yet resolutely "Take him to the private ward. Wait for Utris' arrival."
Jaguar carried Nott away, while Lorian turned toward the gambling den, Falcon at her side.
Lorian, expressing her disgust: What a repulsive sight...
Falcon, with a stern look: "These are the investors and merchants I told you about, my lady.
What shall we do about them? The count is 82 people, plus Joker's assistants."
One of the bound men, trying to seize the opportunity: "A... Ah... Lorian! It's me, Marquiola, do you remember me?"
But before he can finish his sentence, he receives a powerful kick from Falcon, sending a small splatter of blood onto the floor.
Falcon, in a sharp voice: "How dare you, scum?...
If you dare utter the boss's name, you'd better add 'my lady' when you do. Do you understand?!"
Lorian, stepping forward with calm, measured steps, her voice cold.
Lorian: "Marquiola...? Your name is too ridiculous for me to remember…"
Marquiola, trembling nervously under her gaze: "H-h-h-how dare you?! Are you abandoning me now, after you made me a spy for Joker?!"
Lorian, hiding a mocking smirk: "Hmm… It seems the role of a spy suits you well. You're enjoying yourself so much that you forgot to contact me for months…"
Marquiola, trying to defend himself: "A-a-ah, that's… It's because Joker has been monitoring my calls and movements! I couldn't contact you at all!"
Lorian, raising an eyebrow, a faint, sardonic smile forming on her lips.
Lorian: "Heh… Is that so? Well then, was your call with the famous actress Arina Veron and inviting her to dinner here also part of the plan?"
Marquiola is struck with shock, his face turning pale as a corpse, his eyes widening in horror as if he had seen a ghost. The lights in the room flicker across his face, intensifying his fear.
Marquiola, stammering, his voice quivering: "H-how do you know that…? D-did you…
Y-you… traitor!! Have you been eavesdropping on my calls this whole time?! You bit-..."
Falcon steps toward Marquiola, his glare filled with fury, clearly intent on teaching him another lesson, but Lorian raises a hand in front of him.
Lorian: "Stop... He's not even worth staining yourself with his filthy blood."
She looks at Marquiola with an icy stare, placing her hands on her hips, while he squirms in place, terror coursing through his veins. It feels as if the walls of the room are closing in on him.
Falcon listens to her words, but the anger in his eyes does not fade. He steps back slightly, though his gaze remains locked onto Marquiola, the internal struggle still burning in his mind.
Lorian, standing in the center of the vast hall, surrounded by Joker's agents, each of them carrying an expression of tension mixed with fear. She lifts her chin slightly, inhaling before speaking in a calm voice.
Lorian: "As for the others… I know just the right person to handle them."
The air in the room shifts abruptly, the atmosphere thick with unease. Faces tighten, eyes darting around in panic. It feels as though time itself has frozen. Some instinctively lean forward as if searching for an invisible escape route from this impending nightmare.
Lorian notices the turmoil in the room but remains unwavering, her gaze drifting over the fearful and anxious faces. Then, with deliberate steps, she makes her way out, heading toward her office in the hotel.
She enters her lavish office, where the refined details of the luxurious decor are accentuated by dim lighting that reflects her authority. Sitting behind her sleek desk, surrounded by documents and files, she picks up the phone with a steady hand.
Her fingers move swiftly over the keypad, pressing each button with precision until she dials the number of District Attorney Natalie, determined to set her plan into motion.
~ The sound of ringing echoes in the quiet room ~
A few seconds pass before a tired voice answers on the other end. Natalie had been asleep at her desk, exhaustion evident in her tone.
Natalie: "Ugh… Mmm… Oh!! Yes… This is Prosecutor Harper, how can I help you?"
A moment of silence passed, then Lorian's voice came before a short, mocking laugh.
Lorian, with a sarcastic tone: "Hah… Still sleeping in your office with nothing better to do? You must be going through some tough times...
Natalie shifting in her seat as if suddenly waking up.
Natalie: "Hmm? Wait, is this Lorian from Steel Hotel?…
What does an arrogant woman like you want from me now? If you're just here to mock me, I'm not in the mood for your nonsense."
Lorian, smirking deviously: "Even if the topic is about a secret underground facility?"
Natalie, snapping out of her drowsiness: "…A secret facility? I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't care. Now, if you'll excu-..."
Lorian, cutting her off sharply: "A secret, illegal facility that hosts a gambling den, where illegal currency, weapons, and drugs are traded, and where human trafficking takes place."
Suddenly, time seems to stop as Natalie's eyes widen in sheer shock, her expression shifting into one of stunned disbelief. It's as if the revelation has struck her directly in the heart.
Natalie, in shock: "W-what?! Where is this?! And how do you know about it?! Are you running it as part of your dirty business?!"
Lorian, speaking with absolute confidence: "I sent you the address. Go there and see for yourself."
~ The line cuts off ~
Natalie, trembling, then shouting in frustration: W-w-what? Hello?! Hello!! You arrogant-...!!
Lorian sets the phone down lightly on the desk, while Landon stands beside her, his expression filled with a peculiar curiosity. He exhales, glancing at her expectantly.
Landon: "Are you sure about making her care about this…? She might become a problem for us in the future."
Lorian: "She may be a nuisance who doesn't know her limits, but she has a passion for her work, and she won't let those investors and traders get away with this."
She'll make sure every person involved pays the price.
Lorian rises from her chair with steady steps, moving toward the door, while Landon bows slightly before her, his posture filled with regret and humility.
Landon: "I'm grateful for being given another chance, my lady. I sincerely apologize for my actions, and I will accept any punishment from you."
Lorian turns to him, her eyes piercing with stern authority as she speaks in a sharp voice.
Lorian: "Let me be clear... if you weren't doing this for your late brother, I would have thrown you into a pit with dozens of tigers to tear you apart alive…"
Though you would have likely survived and killed them all.
Landon: "I'll make sure you never have to consider that, my lady."
Lorian turns away from him and continues on her path, burdened by the weight of her thoughts, as she heads toward a private medical wing on the same floor. The air around her is thick with tension, and everyone can sense the growing responsibility she carries, making her footsteps feel heavier with every step she takes past the dark wooden doors.
With each step, she recalls the consequences of failure, tightening her resolve, determined to handle the situation before it spirals out of control.
As she enters, a figure stands before her... a man her age, tall, with long white hair cascading to his waist, dark green eyes, dressed in a formal brown suit with a deep blue coat.
Lorian: "Hello, Utris. I'm glad to see you."
The room seemed to grow still as Lorian's voice broke the silence. There was a faint pause before Utris responded, a brief hesitation hanging in the air.
Utris: "Ah... Hello, Lorian."
A brief silence settled between them. Utris' gaze flickered for a moment before he spoke again.
Lorian: "Is he alright?"
The weight of the moment lingered as both figures regarded each other, an unspoken tension building, neither knowing exactly where the conversation would go from here.
Utris: "...Yes. He's still in a coma, but he's improved a lot."
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair before continuing.
Utris: "But... I thought I told you that you only had two attempts left." His voice carried a hint of reproach, though it was softened by curiosity.
And yet, you called me to heal this boy."
Utris' eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her expression.
Utris: "Is he important to you or something...?"
Lorian lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening for a brief moment.
Lorian: "...No, it's just... I'm grateful to him."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Utris' lips.
Utris: "Heh... I see."
He took a step back, glancing toward the hallway.
Utris: "Well then, I'll be leaving… Don't forget, you now only have one attempt left."
Lorian: "Of course. Thank you."
Utris raised a hand in a casual wave as he turned, his footsteps fading as he exited the room.
Lorian stood there for a moment, watching the door before exhaling softly. Then, she stepped forward and entered the dimly lit room where Nott lay.
The stillness was heavy.
Nott was stretched out on the bed, his body free of the severe burns and wounds that had once marred him. The injuries... so vicious before... were now completely gone.
She approached slowly.
Lorian: "You look better now..."
Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
She pulled a chair closer to the right side of the bed, lowering herself onto it with quiet deliberation. For a moment, she simply observed him, her eyes tracing the lines of his face.
A breath.
A hesitation.
Then, she spoke again.
Lorian: "I... truly regret what I did to you."
Her voice wavered slightly.
Lorian: "Please forgive me… Ethan."
She let the name linger in the air, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of her coat.
Lorian: "Even though I knew what would happen during the mission, I… I couldn't get close to you in any other way."
Her gaze softened, and for a moment, a shadow of a smile ghosted across her lips... one filled with quiet sorrow.
Lorian: "I hope you can understand my position...
my little lord."
The room remained silent.
Only the soft hum of the medical equipment filled the emptiness, punctuated by the steady rhythm of Nott's breathing.