Zemin froze mid-sentence, his heart racing. For a brief moment, everything around him blurred, and a sharp, searing pain shot through his head, like knives scraping against his skull.
He staggered, pressing his hand against his temple as static crackled in his ears.
Pixia's playful grin vanished instantly. "Hey—!"
Shuren nearly dropped her cigarette as she leaned in closer.
"Zemin?"
With his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, Zemin felt a rush of fragmented images flood his mind. He saw flashes of blood on the ground, a hand reaching out, and voices that felt familiar yet distant. A scream echoed, followed by a shadow. Then, silence.
As quickly as it had come, the pain faded away, and his body relaxed as if nothing had happened. He straightened up slowly, shaking his head to clear it.
Pixia's golden eyes narrowed, having caught that brief flicker of pain, that hint of something off about him.
"You good?" Shuren asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
"Yeah," Zemin replied, his tone flat and unnaturally calm. "Just a headache."
Pixia leaned back in her chair, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. But her eyes those eyes were still fixed on him, sharp with curiosity.
"A headache, huh? Didn't look like just that to me."
Zemin chose to ignore her.
Shuren exhaled a cloud of smoke through her nose, her gaze piercing. "...If you're hiding something, it'll come out eventually. Kurayamiya has a knack for bringing secrets to light."
The atmosphere in the room thickened, heavy with unspoken tension.
Then Pixia broke the tension with a clap of her hands and a teasing tone, "Wow! All this drama on your first night? You rookies really know how to keep me entertained." She winked, but her gaze lingered on the faint hole in Zemin's chest.
Inside, Zemin's thoughts were a whirlwind.
That pain… what the hell was that?
And those images were they memories, or something else trying to invade my mind?
When he finally spoke, Zemin's voice was calm.
"Anyway what stabbed me wasn't a knife. It was… a syringe."
The room fell silent. No one said a word. Just a heavy, thick silence.
Zemin tilted his head, puzzled.
"...What's wrong? Why are you both staring at me like that?"
Shuren's cigarette burned down between her fingers, forgotten. Her eyes were fixed on Zemin as if she were seeing him for the first time.
Her voice dropped to a low, deliberate tone, "Are you sure? You're saying it was a syringe that stabbed you?"
Zemin nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm sure."
For the first time since he walked in, Pixia's playful smirk vanished. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her eyes narrowed.
"What color… was the liquid inside?"
Zemin blinked, trying to dig into his memory. His voice was steady, but unease crept into his words.
"I didn't see it clearly. But… it looked red and black."
Pixia froze. Shuren's jaw tightened.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with something Zemin couldn't quite grasp. He frowned, his silver eyes narrowing.
"...What? What's so bad about that?"
Pixia turned to Zemin with a smile that was a bit too bright, trying to hide her unease.
"Well, rookie, looks like you've got yourself one hell of a story etched into your chest."
Zemin didn't miss the fear lurking beneath her grin.
Why does it feel like they know something I don't?
Shuren let out a thin plume of smoke, her voice slicing through the stillness. "I'll be taking him to the boss now."
Pixia leaned back, tossing her magazine aside. Her smile was faint, but her eyes were sharp. "Yeah, that's for the best."
As Zemin and Shuren began to walk away, Shuren shot Pixia a subtle side-eye. Pixia noticed immediately, the unspoken tension hanging in the air. Her playful demeanor flickered for a moment, and she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod in response.
The two stepped into the dimly lit hallway, their footsteps softly echoing against the wooden floor.
It was quiet. Too quiet. Even Zemin could feel the weight of the heavy air pressing down on them. Shuren's presence felt colder than before, her gaze fixed straight ahead, the cigarette in her hand burning low.
Zemin glanced sideways, trying to shatter the suffocating silence. "So… is it always this warm inside? Not what I expected from a place called an 'agency.'"
Shuren didn't reply.
"The city outside… it's beautiful, right? It feels alive. Reminds me of—"
Still nothing.
Zemin frowned, trying again, this time softer. "You smoke a lot. Doesn't it ever—"
"Quiet."
Her tone was sharp and icy, cutting through the air. Zemin fell silent, his silver eyes narrowing slightly.
He considered snapping back but thought better of it. Instead, he trailed behind her, his thoughts buzzing louder than the silence surrounding them.
Eventually, they reached a heavy wooden door. Shuren knocked on it, firm and steady.
Silence.
She knocked again. Still nothing.
Her brow furrowed slightly, but she remained silent. With a sharp exhale, she turned and started walking again, gesturing for Zemin to follow.
"Forget it. The boss isn't here. You'll see him another time."
They continued down the corridor until Shuren stopped at another door. She kicked it open with her foot, revealing a small, plain room.
A futon was neatly laid out in the corner, with a single lamp casting a soft glow.
"You'll stay here tonight," Shuren said flatly. "Don't wander."
Zemin stepped inside, the musty scent of dust and old paper wrapping around him like a familiar blanket.
He glanced back, his silver eyes carefully tracking her movements. Shuren hung in the doorway for just a moment, their eyes locking hers icy and unreadable before she finally closed the door, leaving him enveloped in silence.
Zemin sank onto the futon, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Thoughts raced through his mind.
That syringe… the swirling red and black liquid… their reactions…
Sleep was going to be a tough battle tonight.