Beatrice Rain.

  The moment that name was spoken, Victoria’s reaction lagged by a fraction.

  The muscular man in his forties—claiming to be a police officer—pressed a golf-ball-sized sphere into Victoria’s solar plexus.

  “Target, restraint ON.”

  In response to his voice, countless wires shot out from the sphere and bound Victoria’s arms, legs, face, and head—everything.

  (This is… like handcuffs for the whole body.)

  Even Victoria was startled by a restraint device she had never seen before.

  “Even mafia bodyguard Returners cried when we tightened this down on them,” the officer on her right said with a grin.

  “Are you… really police—ngh!”

  Victoria forced the words out through the crushing pain.

  The skinny man in his thirties on her left jabbed her throat with a baton.

  It crackled—electric current bursting in a shower of sparks.

  “We’re the ones asking questions. You have no right to remain silent. You have no right to ask questions. That’s all.”

  The man on the left explained it clinically, without emotion.

  “Ghk…”

  Fighting nausea, Victoria activated Pulseveil.

  She felt it.

  From the man on the right: malice, contempt, and the sadistic pleasure of enjoying her suffering.

  From the man on the left: resignation—and resolve to carry out the mission.

  Victoria sensed something else.

  Surprisingly, in this car, the strongest killing intent belonged to the woman in her thirties driving the patrol car.

  Victoria could see it like an image: the driver’s burning hatred, and the cold, ruthless certainty that felt no hesitation in killing the target.

  “Just answer the questions. You’re connected to Beatrice Rain. Right?”

  The man on the right asked in a low, heavy voice.

  “…I don’t know.”

  The man on the left slammed the electro-baton into Victoria’s face.

  Blood dripped onto her jacket in thick drops.

  “…I’ve never even heard of her…”

  Victoria’s voice turned small—weak.

  “What should we do, Team Lead?” the man on the left asked the woman in the driver’s seat.

  “There’s nothing to ‘do.’ If she keeps pretending she doesn’t know, we do a proper interrogation in the interrogation room.”

  “If she still doesn’t talk, we grab someone close to her at her workplace and repeat the same thing.”

  “Standard operation.”

  The woman answered without changing her expression.

  (My workplace… Director Crawford… Mom would be put through this too!)

  “I’m sorry… I’ll tell you everything…”

  Victoria’s voice came out hoarse.

  “Everything I know… I’ll tell you.”

  “But before that, please—let me offer a prayer to God.”

  Victoria begged through tears.

  “What should we do, Team Lead?” the man on the right confirmed.

  “If she’ll talk, let her pray.”

  Through Pulseveil, Victoria felt the woman driver’s cruelty—and the pleasure that came with it.

  “…Thank you. ‘We love because God first loved us.’”

  Victoria closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and recited a verse from the Bible as she prayed.

  (Please. Reach them—)

  Somewhere else—somewhere not here—something responded.

  (It’s the signal. If I say those words, they move.)

  “…Thank you for allowing me to pray.”

  “As promised, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  Victoria began speaking calmly.

  “If you say I’m connected to Beatrice Rain… then yes, I am.”

  “That was ten years ago. The first time I met Beatrice Rain.”

  “We’re not here to hear your life story,” the man on the left cut in, voice flat and empty of feeling. “You will answer three questions.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “What Exceed does Beatrice Rain have?”

  “What is Beatrice Rain’s weakness?”

  “Where is Beatrice Rain usually, and what does she do?”

  “You will answer all of them.”

  (I’ll mix lies in. I’ll fix a ‘monster’ in their heads—one that isn’t true.)

  Victoria’s resolve settled into place.

  “Understood. First—Beatrice’s Exceed is Shadow Beast. A power that uses shadows to freely create beasts.”

  “By embedding them in other people’s shadows, it can be used for tailing and assassination as well.”

  “I see. Then what’s her weakness?”

  (I feel… acceptance.)

  Victoria sensed it.

  “Beatrice’s weakness is that if she doesn’t kill people, her sleep becomes shallow.”

  “There’s a cycle. It’s tied to the phases of the moon, and on a full-moon night, she can’t suppress the urge to kill at all.”

  “Disgusting,” the woman in the driver’s seat spat. “That just confirms it again—Returners don’t deserve to live.”

  “So preventing Beatrice from committing murder… will lead to her weakening…”

  “Answer confirmed. Third question.” The man on the left continued. “Where is Beatrice Rain usually, and what does she do?”

  “I don’t know everything about what she does day to day. But recently, I ‘heard’ she’s become close with Nox—the leader of the Returner organization Avalonia.”

  “I told you,” the woman driver said, smiling with a victorious edge. “The more dangerous they are, the more they want to link arms. Better to crush them early.”

  “Boss was right.”

  (Joy and contempt.)

  Victoria kept reading their emotions.

  “What do we do with Victoria Sinclair?” the man on the right asked.

  “I think we can pull more information out of this Returner woman. Keep her restrained and take her into the interrogation room.”

  The woman answered matter-of-factly.

  Then she checked the rearview mirror, meeting Victoria’s eyes—wanting to see how miserable she looked.

  A chill ran down the woman’s back.

  (This isn’t the look of someone admitting defeat. What is she thinking?)

  (Of course. I told you the lies you wanted to hear.)

  (The Beatrice Rain you want to believe in.)

  Victoria’s ice-blue eyes carried a cold light.

  The moment the woman was seized by a fear she couldn’t name, a two-seater motorcycle had already pulled alongside the patrol car.

  The person on the back seat threw a glowing, egg-like capsule at the patrol car door.

  “You idiot!” the man on the right shouted.

  “What is—? The car won’t respond!”

  The console panel erupted into scrambled displays.

  Without anyone touching the brakes, an emergency stop engaged, and the patrol car lurched onto a side road, coming to a halt at a violent speed.

  The motorcycle stopped with it.

  Aether gathered at Victoria’s fingertips, forming into a blade.

  The instant she touched the wires, they fell away.

  The next instant, only the sounds inside the car died.

  There was no need to use Pulseveil anymore.

  After screams and shrieks erupted from the car, Victoria shattered the woman’s jaw with a single blow and knocked her out.

  Grabbing her by the hair, Victoria dragged her out and stepped down from the patrol car.

  “Thank you for coming. Elisabeth. Ethan.”

  “My sister’s distress signal—and a Bible quote. That’s in bad taste,” Ethan said from the motorcycle, wearing a mean-spirited grin. “You don’t even believe in God.”

  “What are we doing with her?” Elisabeth asked.

  “We can get a lot out of her…” Victoria wiped the blood from her nose, steadied her rough breathing, and smiled faintly. “Let’s take her. To our interrogation room.”

  The scene shifted—to the Luna Nordics building, 9F, operations conference room.

  Beatrice glanced once at the insect-like machine’s wreckage on the table, then at the fragments of the restraint device that had bound Victoria.

  Then she looked at every member in the operations conference room and spoke quietly.

  “This is the start of war. We will be fighting the Nordica Republic—the state itself.”

  No one could speak right away.

  Maya. Emma. Ethan. Clara. Victoria. Elisabeth. Alicia. Camilla.

  Beatrice studied their eyes one by one.

  “We are reacting, not leading. By tomorrow, we will draft a strategy for how to win this war. If you have opinions, speak.”

  Beatrice’s voice remained calm.

  “Why… is the state our opponent?” Maya asked, her voice trembling.

  “Because the state is the one targeting us,” Beatrice answered evenly.

  “The insect-like robot on the table, and the restraint device.” Cold light filled Elisabeth’s eyes behind her glasses. “Those aren’t tools used by ordinary police. They’re clearly using cutting-edge military technology.”

  “They arrested Victoria and called themselves police, using a patrol car. That alone means they’re tied to state power,” Ethan said, suppressing his bitterness. “The woman I forced to confess is part of an anti-Returner special extermination unit organized by the state—Guardians of Humanity.”

  “And on top of that, we’ve gotten word that those ‘bugs’ have infiltrated Gray Archives too.”

  “Then why don’t we strike first—like the Lumen Day annihilation operation? Launch a raid and take the initiative?” Emma asked. Even her breathing was shallow.

  “Even if we wiped out Guardians of Humanity, if what comes next is a national-level military, we have no chance.” Beatrice’s voice lowered. “We’ll be hunted as criminals and killed. That’s all.”

  Emma could only nod in silence.

  “I’ll tell you what we prioritize.”

  Beatrice’s gaze sharpened.

  “Alicia. File a disclosure request—whether there was a real dispatch request for that patrol car, and which precinct it came from.”

  “Understood.” Alicia fixed Beatrice with deep-green eyes. “We can expect they’ll respond that there’s no evidence. What is your intent?”

  “That’s exactly the point.” Beatrice replied. “An armed group disguised as police used a vehicle disguised as a patrol car and targeted a real estate office.”

  “If the legitimate police learn that, they’ll move to protect their ‘face.’ —They’ll do it under the guise of ‘security’ for the real estate office.”

  “Thank you…” A line of tears fell from Victoria’s eyes.

  “Victoria will be treated as unlawfully arrested—and as having fled. Take leave for severe PTSD, and probe the enemy organization for information,” Beatrice continued.

  “But then—if something happens to my mother—” Victoria, unusually, protested Beatrice.

  “The closer you are to Mrs. Crawford, the more likely that connection will be used against you,” Beatrice said. “Ethan lives with Mrs. Crawford. Ethan—your assignment is to guard Mrs. Crawford.”

  “Understood.” Ethan nodded, meeting Beatrice’s eyes, then glanced briefly at Victoria. “I’ll put a GPS on Mrs. Crawford—my mother—in case anything happens.”

  “…Understood.”

  Victoria agreed, biting her lip.

  “I can write a PTSD diagnosis easily,” Camilla said, hands clasped.

  “Elisabeth. Back up Luna Nordics data to an isolated cloud. Be ready to wipe the existing data at any time.”

  “Understood.”

  Elisabeth seemed to grasp the intention immediately.

  “Director—what should Emma, Clara, and I do?” Maya asked.

  “You won’t ‘do’ anything. Don’t speak of this to anyone, including on social media. Also, take leave from your online school for now. We don’t know where or how the enemy is gathering information. Careless words and emotional actions will invite death—and lead to total annihilation.”

  “Understood,” Maya said. Beatrice’s judgment felt reasonable.

  And then—Maya suddenly felt that unsettling gaze again.

  Hot. Staring. Brimming with possessive control.

  No one in this operations conference room was looking at Maya like that.

  (It hurts… something’s wrong. It’s close—close… It’s outside the operations conference room…!)

  Maya fought desperately to keep from vomiting.

  “That concludes the decisions of this operations conference,” Beatrice said, still calm—and stood the moment she finished.

  “Everyone. Step away from the entrance door and get behind me.”

  At Beatrice’s order, every member obeyed at once.

  The air tightened. Maya fought to keep her body from going limp.

  Emma noticed and supported Maya by the shoulder.

  One second later, the operations conference room door—one that should not have opened—slid open with a soft hiss.

  Elisabeth went pale. She could tell her reinforced electronic lock—Cybersprawl—had been neutralized.

  Standing there was a seductive, bewitching beauty in a low-cut dress, platinum-blonde hair flowing, blue eyes like a luring beast—

  Nox, leader of Avalonia.

  Beside her was a handsome man in a deep-navy formal uniform and military boots: Cain, with black hair and brown eyes.