Mavys pushed through the service doors into the kitchen, the sharp aroma of coffee and the clatter of pans washing over her. She handed the order slip to one of the baristas, her voice steady though her fingers trembled against the paper.

“Black coffee—two sugar cubes, not too cold, not too hot. A hot mocha. And one beer,” she recited.

The chef arched an eyebrow at the beer order but said nothing. Around her, staff bustled with brisk efficiency, the hum of work almost enough to distract her from the pounding at her temples. Almost.

Within minutes, the tray was ready. Mavys lifted it carefully, forcing a polite smile as her vision flickered at the edges, blurring like smudged glass. She inhaled deeply and stepped out into the hall, each click of her heels echoing against the polished floor.

“Not now… please, not now,” she whispered, her breath shaky.

The staff elevator seemed farther than it should. Her vision swam, the glowing numbers above the doors doubling, then melting into one another. Still, she pressed forward, posture straight, tray perfectly balanced in her hands. When the elevator chimed, she stepped inside with a mask of composure, even as fire raged behind her eyes.

By the time she reached the penthouse, beads of sweat had gathered along her hairline, dampening the collar of her uniform. She smoothed her expression into a flawless smile and knocked lightly before entering.

“Your orders,” she said softly, placing the drinks on the low table with practiced grace.

Luigi reached for his beer without a thought, grinning. Nico murmured thanks as he slid the mocha closer. But Fourth’s eyes lingered on her—the sheen of sweat, the faint tremor in her hands, the too-tight curve of her smile.

Something was wrong.

He leaned forward, lips parting—

—but the door opened again.

“Ah, there you are.” Mr. Han’s voice cut through the moment, calm yet firm. His gaze swept the room before settling on her. “Mavys, you’re dismissed. Go home and rest.”

Her smile faltered. “But, sir—”

“Child,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer so only she could hear. “The money you need—it’s already in your locket.”

Her eyes widened. Before she could speak, he gave a reassuring nod. “Go home and rest, child.”

Mavys swallowed hard, bowed slightly, and murmured, “Yes, sir.” She turned toward the door, tray steady though her heart wavered. Behind her, Fourth’s fists tightened against his knees, his gaze following her every step until she was gone.

In the staff room, her hands shook as she pulled open her locker. There it was—an envelope stuffed with bills, neatly placed just as Mr. Han had said. Her breath caught, knees threatening to give way. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she bit them back, clutching the envelope to her chest.

Her fingers brushed the small plastic bag Lex had slipped her earlier. Inside were tablets—medicine. Relief flickered, but her migraine pulsed harder, blurring her vision into dizzy streaks of light.

“Not now… please, not now,” she whispered, staggering into the hallway. Each step felt like wading through quicksand, sweat trickling down her temples. The world tilted, threatening to swallow her whole.

Just as her body gave out, a steady hand caught her arm.

“Mavys.”

Through the blur, she saw Mr. Han, his face drawn with quiet concern. Without hesitation, he slipped an arm around her shoulders, steadying her trembling frame.

“You should have said something sooner,” he murmured, voice gentle but firm. “Don’t force yourself anymore. Come—I’ll help you.”

Her pride cracked under the weight of exhaustion. Tears stung her eyes as she clutched the medicine and whispered, “Thank you… Mr. Han.”

He gave her a small nod, guiding her with patient care. “Rest, child. Just rest.”

Mavys forced a faint smile, her voice barely steady. “Thank you, Mr. Han… if you could just help me to the waiting area, I’ll be fine from there. I’ll take the bus home.”

Mr. Han studied her pale face, the sheen of sweat clinging to her temples, and the way she clutched her bag as if it were her lifeline. For a moment, it looked as though he wanted to argue, to insist on escorting her all the way home himself. But seeing the determination in her trembling eyes, he simply gave a short nod.

Supporting her gently, he guided her down the hall. Every step made the pounding in her head worse, her vision dimming at the edges. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself not to stumble, not to collapse right there in front of him.

When they reached the waiting area, she sank onto the bench with a shaky exhale. “I’ll be fine from here,” she whispered again, though her voice cracked as if even speaking was a battle.

Mr. Han crouched in front of her, his hand firm yet kind on her shoulder. “Rest, child,” he said softly, his tone filled with an unusual warmth. “Don’t push yourself any further. I’ll make sure someone keeps an eye on you until your bus comes.”

Her throat tightened, and though tears threatened to spill, she forced them back. Instead, she gave him a grateful nod. “Thank you… truly.”

The bus ride felt endless. Every bump in the road sent a pulse of pain crashing through Mavys’ skull. She pressed her forehead against the cool window, eyes shut tight, but the migraine clawed deeper, blurring the edges of her vision until faces and shapes melted into nothing but light and shadow. She bit her lip, enduring in silence. She had no choice.

By the time she stepped off the bus, her body was trembling, her palms clammy with sweat. The night air did little to soothe her—too heavy, too thick. She pulled her bag tighter over her shoulder and started down the narrow alley toward home.

It was always dark here, the kind of darkness that swallowed sound and light alike. But tonight, something was different. A loud, metallic crash echoed from the other end of the alley, followed by hurried voices—low, sharp, threatening.

Her stomach dropped.

She stopped mid-step, her breath caught in her throat. The pain in her head intensified, blinding, almost as if her migraine was warning her. Her knees wavered, but she steadied herself against the cold wall, heart hammering.

Not again…

She knew it. In her bones, in the way the air grew heavier with each second—another catastrophe was about to unfold.