They put Asta in a room too clean to be honest. White table, two chairs, camera in the corner pretending not to blink red.
Lysandra wasn't with him. She had been pulled in another direction. The guards' hands had lingered too long on her arm, and her glare promised knives if she ever got them back.
Now, just Asta.
The System whispered:
[Warning: Vessel at Threshold. External Vessel Link unstable.]
[Action advised: Remain silent or risk exposure.]
The door hissed open. Not the Director, someone else. Young, sharp suit, smile rehearsed. He set a folder down and flipped it open without looking at it.
"Asta," the man said. "Rank: Hollow. Occupation: disposable. But somehow you're here. Isn't that interesting?"
Asta said nothing.
The man leaned back. "We lost twelve licensed Breakers in that Rift. Good men. Good women. And you, the Hollow, walk out alive. That doesn't look good on paper."
Still silence.
The man's smile thinned. "People are whispering you had help. A contraband system. Illegal augmentation. You want to deny that?"
The shadow at Asta's feet stirred, curling up the leg of the chair like smoke. He forced it down with a breath.
The man tapped his pen. "If you don't talk, the Director will take custody. Do you know what that means?"
Asta met his eyes finally. "He studies errors."
The man blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I listened on the way here." Asta leaned forward. "You want me to talk? Put me in the same room as her."
"Her?"
"The survivor." His voice was steady now, low. "The one you split me from."
The man hesitated, then shut the folder. "Not my call."
He stood, adjusting his tie. Asta watched the door close behind him.
The System pulsed again:
[Optional Trigger: Devour]
[Target: Surveillance Shade — present in corner.]
His eyes cut to the camera. For the first time, he saw it: not just a lens, but a shadow coiled behind the glass. Something not entirely human watching through it.
[Devour now to erase record. Y/N?]
The door lock clicked again. Footsteps. Not the suit this time. Heavier. Familiar.
The Director.
"Let's test your silence," the man said, voice smooth as oil. He sat opposite, folder unopened. "Show me what you've stolen."
The shadow-hound bristled. The Black Knight leaned in close, blade angled like an answer waiting to be spoken.
Asta exhaled slowly. "You first."
The Director smiled. And the room dimmed, just a fraction, as his own shadow uncoiled across the floor.