The villa gates creaked open slowly, the white sedan's engine humming softly behind them, a low purr that contrasted the tension in the air.
Clara stepped forward with calm precision, her heels clicking softly on the stone path.
She stopped just inside the gate, folding her arms beneath the clean cut of her white medical coat, the fabric pristine despite the dusty surroundings.
The wind tugged slightly at her snow-white hair, tied in a loose but high ponytail, streaks of silver catching the muted sunlight like threads of moonlight.
The green-haired girl remained seated in the car, her wide eyes following every movement through the tinted window.
She didn't speak, didn't move, but watched—attentive, cautious, her emerald gaze sharp with a quiet intensity.
Freya's blue eyes were already narrowed, her tall, toned frame radiating skepticism as she leaned slightly forward.
