INT. ELEVATOR
The ride felt endless. Too small. Too quiet.
Evah held herself tightly, refusing to give Erion the reaction he probably expected.
His firm back stood in front of her—tall, unmoving—almost mocking.
She could practically imagine his usual jester smile, ready with something annoying.
But he stayed silent.
No movement.
No comment.
Just… quiet.
When the elevator doors opened with a soft ring—a gentle announcement of their arrival—Evah finally felt a little relief. She just wanted to scrub off the smell of smoke and liquor from the bar. She wanted the bath. The quiet. The warmth.
Anything to wash away the foul trace of that bald man's touch.
Erion stepped out first. She followed.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Exactly outside the elevator, he halted.
Evah, staring at her boots, almost bumped into him. She lifted her head to ask why he stopped—
—when a sharp streak of motion flashed across her peripheral vision.
Something passed at incredible speed.
The place where Erion had been standing was suddenly empty.
Her brain lagged, refusing to process it, until—
BANG.
A raw, loud crash shook the room.
A body hitting the floor—torso and skull colliding with brutal force.
The kind of sound she wished she had never learned to recognize.
Everything happened too fast to interrupt…
and too horribly vivid to ignore.
In that single, stretched-out second, she understood:
Erion had collapsed.
Her heart spiked. Panic flooded everything. The sound of someone getting hurt—
that sound—
was something she feared more than anything, a memory that dragged old trauma to the surface.
Her reflexes finally kicked in.
"Erion!"
She rushed to his side, knees hitting the floor, breath trembling as she checked his head, his pulse—anything.
Her surroundings pressed in on her, the huge room suddenly suffocating.
Another sound clicked—the door locking on its own.
Windows sealing shut.
Metal sliding and locking into place.
But Evah couldn't focus on any of it.
She pulled him closer, resting his head on her lap, her breath shaky.
Doctor… I should call the doctor—
A glow of red flickered in the corner of her eye.
Erion's watch.
39:57 — Overdue. Stamina Warning.
Her stomach dropped.
The screen blinked again.
Emergency Fortress Activated — 00:00:02
The countdown began.
And it hit her.
Erion fainted.
It's been days since he slept.
Days since he rested.
The routine he stubbornly refused to abandon.
FLASHBACK — AFTER THE MASSAGE
"There is no way we do that every night, Bunny."
"Why not?" she argued. "This stabilizes your vitals. It's temporary until I fix the formula."
"No. We are not doing that."
His tone shifted—light to sharp in an instant.
Evah knew that tone. Knew when not to push further.
Erion left for his usual routine
—of not sleeping.
End of flashback.
Evah pressed trembling fingers to his neck, checking his heartbeat again.
Something inside her twisted painfully.
Erion and Yuka… always helping me. Yet I can't help either of them.
What do I do?
Thirty-nine minutes overdue…
Did he hold this in the entire time we were at the bar?
Is this my fault?
She stared at his face—unmoving, resting on her lap.
No one prepares you for the sound of someone collapsing.
It's terrifying—
too loud, too raw—
the crack of the head on the floor and the thud of a body giving out.
She thought there would be blood.
Her fingers curled tightly into her palms, unable to handle the pain clawing its way up her chest.
Why do they always put their lives on the line?
Erion's face… Yuka's face…
Both flashed through her mind.
And she could only watch them fall.