For the first time since Tim had opened his arms to the alliance, the air inside Tidam felt lighter. The tension between them had softened. They were laughing again, teasing each other, carrying knives by night and warmth by dawn. For a moment, the burden of Villian Ville didn't feel so suffocating.
Then Amy gasped.
They were combing back alleys in daylight, scavenging supplies before the next killing hour. The sun washed everything in pale light, exposing even the filth. And there, slumped beside a rusted dumpster, lay a girl.
Her clothes were little more than rags, soaked through with blood and grime. Her long black hair clung in messy strands across her face. Her skin was pale, lips cracked, her chest rising and falling in shallow tremors.
Tim's heart stopped.
Jenny.
The knife was in his hand before he realized. His rage surged — Tammy's last scream, the cruel smirk, the betrayal that haunted every night. One thrust and he could erase her forever.
He stepped forward, but Yuko caught his wrist.
"Stop." Her voice was sharp, steady.
Tim's glare cut to her. "That's her. She killed Tammy."
"Think." Yuko's dark eyes didn't flinch. "Does this look like the queen of Nomerci? The woman who danced around us in the streets? Look at her — she's broken. If she is Jenny, then she has answers. And if she's not… killing her now gains us nothing."
Lacey shook her head fiercely. "This is madness! If she is Jenny, then Nomerci's eyes are already on us. We'll be dragged into the dirt with her!"
Amy crouched, her voice soft, uncertain. "But… she doesn't look like a queen. She looks like someone thrown away."
The girl stirred faintly, her lips parting. A whisper escaped. "…help… me…"
Tim's hand trembled on his knife. The face. The voice. The memories of her lips on his, the fire of their nights, the betrayal of her leaving him. It all collided with the image of Tammy's death.
He should kill her.
But something in that broken whisper froze him.
Against every instinct, he sheathed his blade. "Fine," he growled. "But if she's lying, I'll end it myself."
They carried her back to the hideout, cleaned her wounds, kept her alive with scraps of water and medicine. Days bled by. She drifted between fever and silence, sometimes twitching, sometimes muttering broken words.
The air grew thick. Lacey remained against it, muttering that they were harboring a curse. Amy tended to her like a stray kitten, whispering comfort. Yuko stayed sharp, her eyes always on the girl, calculating.
Until finally, at dawn, the girl stirred. Her eyes opened — brown, wide, fragile. The same eyes Tim had burned into his memory.
Her lips cracked, but her voice came out hoarse, desperate.
"I'm… Jenny."
The words stabbed the room silent.
Jenny swallowed, forcing her strength. "The queen of Nomerci… the one you fought… the one who killed your woman… that wasn't me."
Tim staggered back, his pulse roaring. "What the hell are you saying?"
"She's my twin." Jenny's voice broke, but her gaze locked on his. "Her name is Genny. She took everything from me. My face, my place, my name. She used me to lure men, to build her throne. When I wasn't useful anymore, she cast me aside. Left me to die in the streets."
The room erupted.
Lacey's voice was furious, trembling. "A twin? Convenient story. How do we even know she isn't lying right now?"
Amy hugged herself, whispering, "But it makes sense. The way she was different every time… the cruelty, then the softness… maybe it was never the same person."
Yuko folded her arms, her tone calm but razor-edged. "If this is true, then everything changes. We've been fighting the wrong woman. Our enemy isn't Jenny — it's Genny. The queen herself."
Tim's mind spun. He saw flashes — the Jenny who kissed him at the gates, who left him with a note; the Jenny who fought him in the alleys, who killed Tammy with her bare hands. Two women. Two ghosts wearing one face.
And then it clicked.
The night he and Tammy had crossed blades with the so-called "Jenny." The way she looked at him with blank eyes. The way she couldn't remember their nights together, their survival, their bond. At the time, he thought it was cruelty — her mocking him by pretending he meant nothing.
But now he understood.
Of course she couldn't remember. It wasn't Jenny at all. It was Genny.
His knees nearly buckled. All this time, he had been carrying rage for the wrong one.
He slammed his knife into the floor beside Jenny's weak form, the blade quivering in the wood. His voice cracked, raw with fury and confusion.
"If you're lying, I'll kill you myself." His chest heaved, eyes blazing. "But if you're telling the truth… then I've been hunting the wrong ghost. And I'll burn your sister down."
Jenny closed her eyes, tears streaking her filthy cheeks. "Then we want the same thing."
But Tim didn't move. Didn't sheath his knife. He stared at her, the weight of months of betrayal pressing down on his chest. His voice was low, almost broken.
"Then tell me this, Jenny… why?" His throat tightened, rage bleeding into hurt. "Why did you leave me? Out of the blue, without a word… why?"
The question hung in the silence, heavier than the knife in his hand.