The door groaned open with a hesitant creak, breaking the suffocating silence of the small room. Shou Tucker stepped inside, his movements jittery and uneven—like a man walking on a thin thread over an abyss.
His eyes, bloodshot and wild, scanned every corner. The bed. The small dresser. The faded curtains hanging limp against the windowpane.
Empty.
No trace of Nina. No warmth, no scent, no life.
A twitch of panic flickered behind his eyes.
"Where… where is she?" His voice cracked, brittle and hollow, barely louder than a whisper.
He took a trembling step forward, fingers curling into the edge of the mattress, white-knuckled and desperate.
From the shadows, the figure moved—calm, deliberate.
MC stepped into the pale light filtering through the window, his presence like a blade cutting through thick fog.
"Took her somewhere she'll never have to live in fear of you again."
Tucker's body froze.
His gaze snapped to the face before him—the stranger who carried the weight of justice and wrath in equal measure.
"You don't… you don't understand!" The man's voice cracked, raw and ragged. "She's my daughter! Everything I did, I did to protect us! To keep my position… to save her from hunger… from ruin!"
Desperation dripped from every word, but the façade cracked.
His voice faltered like a dying flame.
MC's eyes narrowed, the calm rage within him simmering to a dangerous boil.
"Choice." His voice was low, a grim whisper filled with contempt. "That word means nothing to you. You turned your daughter into a chimera, a weapon of flesh and soul fused by your cruelty. You silenced your wife's screams in the name of progress. And now you want to call that love?"
Tucker's breath hitched, his facade crumbling beneath the weight of truth.
"I had no choice!" he stammered, the room closing in around him. "You don't know what it's like to be desperate… to have everything fall apart!"
MC's jaw tightened. His voice dropped further, colder than the grave.
"I know exactly what it's like."
Suddenly, a resounding thud echoed through the room as the windows slammed shut with unnatural force. The door behind Tucker banged closed, locked tight.
An invisible barrier shimmered to life, sealing every exit, every crack through which sound or light might escape.
Tucker spun in panic, pounding fists against walls, eyes darting to every sealed surface.
"Wh-What is this?!" His voice, once loud and defiant, now choked and broken—silenced by the barrier swallowing his screams.
MC took a slow, deliberate step forward, the weight of divine justice anchoring his every movement.
"Justice does not flee."
The air thickened with tension.
MC raised his right hand, fingers curling slowly into a fist. Tendons tightened, skin creased.
Then, the sound shattered the silence—crack—the snap of a finger.
Tucker's breath hitched, eyes widening in terror.
One finger bent under MC's force, breaking with a sickening snap.
Another followed.
And another.
Each breaking digit was a hammer striking down years of pain and silence.
Each crack was a promise—the reckoning long overdue.
Tucker crumpled against the wall, shaking with sobs and pleading.
But MC's voice cut through the despair, cold and unyielding.
"Your sins have no shelter here."
The final finger broke.
MC's fist clenched tightly.
Shou Tucker was trapped—not just in this room, but in the judgment that had finally found him.
And the watchful eyes of the gods bore witness.