Zane’s first thought was:

Wow. I’m not dead. That’s kinda disappointing.

His second thought was:

Geez why this place smell like old books?

He blinked, sitting up slowly on the massive velvet couch, taking in the chandelier-lit room that looked like it belonged to a villain with expensive taste. Which, honestly, tracked—considering who probably owned it.

Zane stretched his arms and, muttering to himself, “Alright, horror movie logic: don’t touch anything and don’t open doors.”

The walls were lined with gilded mirrors and oil paintings of people who looked like they definitely had secrets. Everything was too perfect. A place that tried so hard to be comforting it looped right back around to creepy.

He passed a few closed doors, each one more ominous than the last.

Eventually, curiosity—or maybe boredom—got the better of him.

One of the doors was slightly ajar, the light inside soft and warm.

"Please don't be a murder room..." he muttered, pushing it open.

The room was huge, easily twice the size of his apartment. Velvet drapes hung like royal banners, and a grand piano sat near the center, facing a massive window that stretched from floor to ceiling.

Outside, the city lights shimmered in the distance, but in here... it felt like another world.

“I see you’re awake,” a voice cooed from across the room.

Zane turned his head and let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Oh great. You again.”

Akira stood near the window, bathed in pale morning light. She wore a silk costume that looked expensive enough to pay off student loans. With her heels softly tapping against the marble floor, she turned toward him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You know,” Zane muttered, “for someone who kidnapped me, you’ve got a surprisingly cozy aesthetic.” I was expecting more… dungeons. Torture chambers. Some creepy chanting would’ve been fun too.”

Akira raised a brow. “Would that have made you feel more comfortable?”

“Depends. Does that mean I will see you less?”

She chuckled. “Still acting like a jester. Is it that hard to admit you’re scared?”

Akira walked closer, heels echoing. “I’m not here to hurt you, Zane.”

“Oh, of course not. You just dragged me to your villain mansion and dressed like a Bond villain. Totally normal, nothing to unpack here.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I brought you here to protect you—from people who will stop you from what you could become.”

“Wow, what a noble cause,” he said, deadpan. “So noble you forgot to ask.”

Akira sat on the edge of the piano, calm as ever. “You’re angry. That’s good. Hold onto that. It means you still feel.”

Zane crossed his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She tilted her head. “Most people your age don’t survive what you’ve been through without… breaking. But you? You’ve been broken for a long time, haven’t you? You just got good at hiding the cracks with all of this clowning.”

That hit a little too close.

Zane looked away, jaw tight. “You don’t know me.”

“I do,” she said, her voice softer now. “Because I’ve been you. Alone. Abandoned. Unwanted. Power swelling inside you and no one to tell you what to do with it.”

Zane stood at the doorway, arms crossed. "So... is this the part where you drop your villain origin story, or should I come back later?"

She paused, mildly amused. "Come in, Zane."

He rolled his eyes but walked in anyway, leaning against the wall near the window. The air in the room was warm and thick. Then she spoke.

“My parents… They looked at me not with love, not even with resentment, but with terror. As if I was something unnatural. Something they regretted bringing into the world.”

She lifted her hand, conjuring a small sphere of light that flickered gently above her palm. It was soft, almost delicate, as if it could be snuffed out at any moment.

“They barely fed me. I learned the taste of hunger before I could even speak. Learned that warmth was a privilege that I wasn’t allowed. Every night, I shivered in the cold, listening to my own stomach cry out louder than I ever dared to.”

“And then, one day, they decided to be rid of me.

“Not through death, of course. That would have been a kindness.”

A small chuckle escaped her lips—cold, devoid of humor.

“They sold me and my newborn sister.”

She let the words sink in, savoring the silence that followed.

“My new ‘owners’ were no better. Slave. That’s what I became. Beaten when disobeyed, beaten when obeyed too slowly. Worked to the bone for scraps of rotten food. And when they had no use of me, they found their own ways to entertain themselves.”

The sphere of light in her palm flickered violently, twisting unnaturally, as if straining against some invisible force.

“Every day, I was reminded that I wasn’t human. I was a property. That existed for others to use, to discard.”

She finally turned, looking directly at Zane.

“And then, one beautiful day… I made them pay for their sins.”

Her fingers closed into a fist. The light was snuffed out instantly.

“People fear what they don’t understand.” Her eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. “They fear what they cannot control.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, letting the weight of her words settle.

Zane exhaled slowly, his gaze sharp. “And what does that have to do with me?”

A small smile played at Akira’s lips. “Everything.”

His breath caught in his throat.

She stood and walked toward one of the mirrors. “Did she tell you where your power comes from? What is it’s connected to?”

Zane stayed silent.

Akira touched the mirror’s edge. Light and shadow danced around her fingertips.

“There’s a gate,” she whispered. “Sealed beneath this world. It can only be opened by someone like you. You’re not just some boy with powers, Zane. You’re a key to a power that can change everything.”

Zane scoffed. “So you do want something from me. Knew the ‘comforting villain’ act wouldn’t last.”

“I want you to understand what you are,” Akira said, turning back to him. “And I want you to survive what’s coming. Because if you don’t unlock it… someone else will. Someone worse.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed. “Worse than you?”

A pause.

Akira smiled. “You have no idea what’s out there, Zane. What’s been waiting for centuries.”

He stood slowly. “Then maybe I’ll just defeat him.”

That made her laugh—genuine this time. “You can try. But your essence is already changing. He is calling you, whether you want it or not.”

Akira turned toward the door. The glow of the flickering candles cast dancing shadows across her back. “Rest. Eat. Wander if you like. You’re not a prisoner.”

Zane narrowed his eyes. “And what if I happen to leave?”

She paused at the door.

“Then you’ll die before you ever understand what you are.”

“…Where’s Kimiko?” He asked, the question slipping out more serious than he expected.

Akira paused at the threshold.

“Attachments make you weak,” she said. “They cloud your judgment. They slow you down. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

Then she turned, her expression unreadable. “But don’t worry. She and your new friend will be here soon enough.”

Zane’s heart kicked up a beat.

“Just—don’t hurt them, alright?”

Akira tilted her head slightly. “That depends entirely on you.”

And with that, she vanished into the hall.

1 hour 42 minutes before:

Sirens wailed in the distance, their echo bleeding into the cold night air. People screamed. Shattered glass crunched beneath panicked footsteps. Someone yelled for help. Others just ran. Spicy Haven was no longer a restaurant—it was a crime scene bathed in broken lantern light, the scent of scorched broth and fear hanging thick in the air.

Kimiko barely heard any of it.

Her shoes stepped slowly through the wreckage, as if moving through molasses. Her breath caught as she spotted the broken window Akira had blasted Kira through just minutes ago. The shards lay like razors along the floor, dusted with a faint glimmer of light essence.

“Kira…?” Her voice cracked. “Kira!”

She didn’t know why she was calling out. Maybe part of her thought Kira would pop back up unbothered. But there was no response. Just the groan of metal and distant voices.

Then she saw her, barely moving—Kira. Blood trailing from her temple down her jaw. Her breathing was shallow.

Kimiko stumbled to her, falling to her knees. “Oh my god—Kira. Kira, hey—are you—can you move? Say something!”

Kira’s eyes flicked toward her. “…I’m fine.”

“You do not look fine!” Kimiko’s hands hovered above her like she didn’t know what to do. We need to get out of here before the cops show up!”

Kira winced as she slowly sat up, pain evident across her face, but her voice remained calm. “I told you to stay behind me.”

Kimiko stared at her.

Kira leaned against the debris, her breathing still heavy. “Go home.”

Kimiko clenched her fists. “They got Zane. We have to help him.”

Kira looked away.

That silence was answer enough.

Kimiko’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “He could die…”

Kira slowly turned her head, locking eyes with her.

“I don’t want to lose him,” Kimiko whispered.

Another beat passed. Then Kira exhaled sharply and extended a hand toward her. “Help me up.”

Kimiko scrambled to her feet and pulled, bracing Kira as she stood with a painful grunt. She limped toward the side alley, where her car waited. She popped the passenger door open and gestured.

“Get in.”

Kimiko hesitated for a second. “Are we… doing this?”

Kira slipped a broken pair of sunglasses from her jacket, despite the night.

“We’re crashing a family reunion.”

Kimiko grumbled, sliding into the seat. “Can’t wait to meet your evil sister… again.''

Kira started the engine.

The tires screeched as the car pulled away from the wreckage, cutting through the rising blue lights of police cruisers just now arriving. Within seconds, they were swallowed by the city’s shadow.

The road stretched ahead like a dark river, winding through the outskirts of the city. Silence hung between them for a while. Kimiko kept glancing at Kira like she was trying to piece all that happened together.

Finally, she broke the silence.

“So… your sister,” she said carefully. “What does she want with Zane?”

Kira’s hands tightened around the wheel. “Power.”

Kimiko frowned. “What kind of power?”

Her eyes narrowed beneath her sunglasses. “Zane is the source she needs.”

Kimiko stared at her. “But… can’t you talk her out of all of this? You know, like sister talk.”

Kira’s expression was unreadable. “Akira doesn’t think in terms of family. Only leverage. Zane is apart from something she’s wanted her whole life. And she’ll do anything to get it.”

Kimiko gritted her teeth. “Can we stop her?”

“You’re not a fighter,” Kira said calmly. “You’ve seen what she’s capable of. Are you sure you want to come along?”

“I know I’m not strong and i don't have powers like you or Zane. But I can help,” Kimiko said, more firmly now. “He is my friend. And I’m not going to leave him with some creepy, villainous woman who throws people around like rag dolls just because I’m scared.”

Kira gave her a sidelong glance. “You are scared.”

Kimiko looked down. “Yeah… I am.”

Another beat.

Then Kira nodded. “Good. Stay scared. It’ll keep you alive.”

They drove in silence again.

Until Kira finally added, “We’ll do it like this. I go in. I’ll draw their attention.

While I’ve got her distracted, you find Zane. Get him out. Fast.”

Kimiko nodded, her throat dry. “Okay. Got it.”

Kira pulled off the highway, the trees growing thicker around them as they moved toward the forest. Somewhere beyond the hills lay a mansion wrapped in shadow—and inside it, a storm waiting to be unleashed.

Kimiko gripped the edge of her seat, heart pounding.

Zane… Please hang in there.