"Hey—wake up!"
Tyler's boot drove hard into Leo's stomach.
"What the hell, Tyler? Why did you kick me, you bastard?"
"Wake up already! Enough lying around—we're trapped here."
They both stood, shadows swallowing them from every direction.
"What… what is this place?" Leo whispered.
"We're inside a grave," Tyler said grimly. "I used my ability to carve out this space for us. Now get up—use your scythe."
"My scythe? I don't understand."
"This is black magic," Tyler said through gritted teeth. "I found its weak point. My sword can't reach it, even if I jump. But your scythe can. I need you to break the seal."
"You're joking, right?"
"Just do it! Don't stand there like an idiot. I can't hold this barrier much longer!"
Leo gripped his scythe, took a deep breath, and leapt toward the point Tyler had shown him. Once, twice, a third time—each strike fell short.
He gasped between swings. "It's impossible! I can barely scratch it!"
"Hurry, Leo!" Tyler's voice trembled with strain. "If you don't—we'll be buried alive!"
Meanwhile, above them, Eileen dug frantically. Her hands were raw, her breath ragged. No matter how deep she went, the earth seemed to swallow her efforts whole.
Then—she saw it. A faint shimmer in the soil. Recognition dawned in her eyes.
"A black magic seal," she whispered.
She shifted her position, scanning the ground. Then—scrrch!—a faint metallic scrape reached her ears. She froze, searching, until she found it. Gripping her shovel, she drove it down with all her strength.
Below, Leo and Tyler couldn't see her—but she could see them.
The moment Leo swung his scythe again, something caught it. A hand—her hand—gripped the blade, blood spilling as it sliced her fingers, but she held on.
Leo's eyes widened. His scythe was caught on something—and blood was running down the shaft. He looked up, and recognition struck him like lightning.
That hand.
"Eileen…" he breathed. Then, grabbing Tyler by the collar, he shouted, "She's got us! Eileen—pull us up, now!"
Eileen pulled them up with all her remaining strength, dragging them out of that cursed grave. They tumbled onto the cold ground—each one landing in a different spot.
Eileen lay wounded, her breath shallow and trembling. Tyler doubled over, coughing violently, half-choking from the way Leo had gripped him in panic. Only Leo remained still, frozen where he sat, his eyes locked on a figure in the distance.
A woman stood there—draped in a wedding gown of pure, blinding white. A long veil cascaded down her shoulders, and in her pale hands she held a bouquet of white roses, their petals spattered with drops of blood.
She stared at Leo in silence for a long moment before whispering, her voice soft as the wind through a graveyard:
> "You will return… and I will take what is mine."
"Leo, you idiot!" Tyler snapped, still gasping for breath. "Is that how you save people—by strangling them? I nearly died because of you!"
Leo jolted at the sound of his voice, turning toward Tyler—then back again to the shadowed corner. But the woman was gone, vanished as if she had never been there at all. Doubt began to creep through his mind. Had he imagined her?
Tyler snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Hey! I'm talking to you. Where'd your mind go? Something's off about this place, right, Eileen?"
There was no answer.
Both turned toward her.
"Eileen? Hey—are you all right? Say something!"
"Did she… faint? Maybe she lost too much blood saving us," Tyler murmured.
Leo knelt beside her and turned her gently onto her back—and then froze. Her pupils were gone, vanished into a white, glassy void. Her body was growing colder by the second.
"Miss Eileen… please—wake up!" His voice trembled. "Can you hear me? Please!"
Tyler's face had gone pale. "We need to get out of here—now. Something's wrong with this place."
Leo nodded silently. Tyler lifted Eileen carefully into his arms, and together they left the crypt.
At the threshold, Leo turned one last time.
And there she was.
The bride.
That eerie, otherworldly bride stood at the entrance, her lifeless gaze fixed on him.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and turned away without a word—without telling anyone what he had seen.
The moment they reached headquarters, Tyler rushed Eileen inside, straight to Veronica's care. He and Leo sat outside the door, the tension between them heavy and silent.
"Tyler," Leo asked quietly, "do you know what happened to Eileen?"
Tyler exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples. "Honestly… I don't even know how to explain it. Eileen is… a seer of sorts. She can see things the rest of us can't. But what happened back there…" He shook his head. "It all happened too fast."
At last, the door creaked open. Veronica stepped out, her face unreadable.
"You're still here?" she asked coolly.
"Yes," Tyler said quickly. "How is Eileen?"
"She'll be fine," Veronica replied in a tone that carried no warmth. Her eyes flicked over them both, sharp and appraising, before she reached out suddenly and seized Leo's face between her fingers, tilting it toward the light.
"H–Hey! What are you doing?" Leo stammered.
She released him without a word, her gaze already sliding to Tyler. He didn't resist her scrutiny as Leo had.
"You two," she said at last. "Follow me."
"What?" Leo began to protest, but Tyler nudged him sharply to keep him quiet.
They followed her through the winding corridors until they entered the commander's private library. Veronica sat, but left the two young men standing as she faced the man behind the desk.
"What kind of reckless behavior was that, Commander?" she demanded, her voice taut.
"Watch your words, Veronica," the commander replied coldly.
"I am watching them," she shot back. "But tell me—where did you send these children? Eileen is half-dead from exhaustion and injuries, and these two…" She gestured sharply at Leo and Tyler. "They're cloaked in the stench of black magic. For God's sake, did you send them on a death mission?"
His eyes narrowed. "First, you only ever seem to care about Eileen, not about these two. Second, where and when members of the Black Hunters are deployed is a matter between myself and the Duke alone. Do not overstep your bounds."
Her shoulders lowered slightly; she bowed her head. "My apologies, Commander. I… spoke out of turn."
"I sent them to the Leneholm crypt. A simple reconnaissance assignment. Why are you so concerned?"
He turned his gaze on Leo and Tyler. "Well? Did something happen there? Did I not order you to submit a report?"
Leo said nothing. Tyler stepped forward. "Forgive me, Commander. But I believe something is very wrong with that crypt. We found traces of forbidden magic, and… the guard's story was true. There really is a grave that appears after dark. We couldn't complete our report—we planned to finish it once we returned."
The commander exhaled heavily, glancing at Veronica before leaning back in his chair. "Very well. In that case, the mission is suspended. Another team will handle it from here. It no longer concerns you."
"But sir—" Tyler began. "This was our first mission and—"
The commander's fist slammed onto the desk. "I have spoken. Leave."
Leo grabbed Tyler by the arm and hauled him toward the door. "What's wrong with you?" he hissed. "Were you trying to start a fight with him? Didn't you see how he dealt with Veronica?"
"Spare me your lecture, Leo," Tyler snapped. "You're new here—you don't understand how things work."
"Oh? Then enlighten me.
Every time a real mission comes up, they push us aside. How are we supposed to prove ourselves? How are we supposed to grow stronger?"
"Stronger?" Leo gave a short, humorless laugh. "I've never thought about that. I just think about staying alive."
Leo stared at him. Tyler's expression was flat, almost bored.
"You think like an old man," Tyler said coldly. "You'd better start raising your standards."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Leo alone in the corridor.
It was already past one in the morning when they returned. Everyone drifted back to their rooms to sleep, even Eileen after she had finally regained consciousness. Hours passed in a heavy stillness. Tyler slept restlessly, his anger buried under his dreams.
But at four o'clock, Leo woke to the faint sound of weeping. Soft, distant, ceaseless. At first he ignored it, telling himself it was only the remnants of a dream. Yet the sound did not stop.
He rose, crossed the dim corridor, and followed the muffled sobbing like a thread through the silence of the compound. His steps slowed as he reached a door he recognized—Eileen's. The weeping was coming from inside.
"Eileen? Are you all right?"
No answer.
He knocked again. "Eileen?"
Silence.
At last, hesitantly, he gripped the handle. "Forgive me… I'm coming in."
—
On the other side, Eileen was no longer in her room.
She stood once more before the crypt. The night around her was cold and heavy, the air thick with the scent of damp stone. Below her lay the same woman she had glimpsed before—a bride in a flawless wedding dress, her face veiled in a cascade of white lace.
The woman's voice was quiet, almost kind.
"Not here," she said. "I am not the one who called you."
She lifted a pale hand and pointed toward a shadowed corner of the graveyard.
Eileen followed, her steps trembling, until she stood at the edge of a pit. She looked down—and her breath caught in her throat.
The pit was filled with girls.
Young girls. Faces pale, eyes wide, their hands reaching upward. They stared at her, their tears glistening in the dark.
"Please," one whispered. "Help us."
"Free us," another pleaded.
"W–what? Me?" Eileen stammered.
Before she could react, a sudden force shoved her from behind. She fell into the pit, and the girls caught her in their thin arms. They clung to her, sobbing, their fingers trembling as they reached for her face, her shoulders, her hair.
"Free me…"
"I want to see my mother…"
"I miss my brother…"
"Take me back to my family…"
Voices overlapped, a rising tide of cries and pleas. Hands clutched at her, pulled at her, cold and desperate.
"Stop…" Eileen pressed her palms over her ears, her own tears spilling down her face. "Please stop! Please… leave me alone… please…"
But the voices only grew louder, echoing through the darkness like the wails of the lost.
When Leo finally pushed the door open, the world seemed to stop breathing.
The room was drenched in pale moonlight—and there, at its center, Eileen hung suspended in the air, bound by glowing chains that shimmered like liquid silver. Her hair flowed downward, brushing the cold floor, her body motionless yet weightless, caught between sleep and something far darker.
The light from the chains pulsed faintly, alive with whispers—ancient, mournful, almost human.
Leo could only stare, frozen in the doorway, as the air thickened around him and the last echo of her voice—"Please… let me go…"—faded into silence.