The night's rain had turned to mist by morning, blanketing the precinct in a gray silence. The chaos of the warehouse raid still lingered in everyone's minds—especially in Arata's.
Inside the holding room, under flickering fluorescent light, Lucian lay unconscious on the metal bench. His wrists were cuffed, his hair matted with blood and rain.
Arata stood outside the glass window, staring through it with a mixture of pity and unease.
"Keep him under constant watch," he told Officer Raghav. "No one goes near him without me present."
Raghav nodded nervously. "Sir, you think he's dangerous even in that state?"
Arata's jaw tightened. "No… I think he's most dangerous in that state."
Minutes ticked by. The hum of the ventilation filled the silence. Then, Lucian's fingers twitched.
His golden eyes opened—but this time, there was no warmth in them. The pupils constricted like blades, and a slow, almost amused smile curved across his lips.
Kane was awake.
He sat up quietly, the handcuffs clinking against the bench. He tilted his head toward the observation glass, as if he knew Arata was watching.
"Detective," he said softly, voice smooth but venomous. "You shouldn't have brought me here."
Arata's blood ran cold. "That tone…" he whispered. "It's not him."
Inside the shared consciousness, Lucian was screaming behind invisible walls.
He could see what Kane saw, feel what Kane felt—but couldn't move a single muscle.
> "Let me out—don't hurt them!" he shouted.
> "Relax," Kane replied inside their shared void. "I'm not here to hurt. I'm here to remind them who they're dealing with."
The black fog in Kane's half of the mind pulsed like a heartbeat. Through the darkness, faint whispers echoed — hundreds of voices, the memories of those he had judged.
"Lucian Renfield," Arata began cautiously, standing at the glass. "You're under custody for over forty counts of murder—every one of them criminals the Ribbon Reaper executed. Tell me something—why them?"
Kane leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Because you didn't."
Arata froze.
"You had reports, files, witnesses. But you let them slip through your perfect little system. So I cleaned your mess."
He smiled faintly, tapping the cuffs against the bench. "You call me a murderer. I call myself the consequence."
In the corner of the observation room, Sera watched the scene unfold, her heart pounding. She had seen Lucian broken, playful, kind — but this version? This one was something else entirely.
When he looked up at the camera, his gaze met hers directly, as if he could see through walls.
"Miss Sera," he said softly, though no one had mentioned her name. "You shouldn't pity monsters. They remember."
She stepped back, her breath caught in her throat. "Arata," she whispered, "that's not Lucian anymore."
Suddenly, the lights flickered. The air conditioning cut out. The security feed glitched with static.
In less than three seconds, every digital lock in the precinct unlatched.
Kane looked up, smirking. "You think you can cage a hacker?"
Raghav shouted, "Sir! Systems are going haywire—doors, power, everything's shutting down!"
Arata's eyes widened. "He's inside the network… He's controlling it from memory alone—"
Kane stood, the cuffs snapping open as if the metal itself had turned to dust.
He looked at Arata through the broken glass. "You wanted the Reaper. Congratulations, Detective. You found him."
And with a smile that was both beautiful and terrifying, he stepped into the hallway—free once more.
Inside the void, Lucian slammed his fists against invisible walls.
> "Stop! You'll ruin everything!"
> "I already did," Kane whispered. "You just haven't accepted it yet."