The man said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then his eyes turned to Felicia, who sat gracefully but tense, her shoulders drawn tight like a string ready to snap.
"Felicia," she said calmly, her voice as soft as dew upon a blade. "I stand by Kaivan. And I want to understand what he believes."
Ethan and Radit followed, choosing their words with care, mirroring the composure of Kaivan and Felicia. Each sentence was measured, each breath deliberate, for in a place like this, even a word could become a bullet.
After a long, tense round of questioning, the leader finally raised his hand and pointed toward Felicia. "You. Come with me. The rest of you, stay here."
Felicia glanced at Kaivan. His small nod was a lifeline in the middle of that tightening silence. Without hesitation, she turned and followed, though the air in the narrow corridor felt heavier with every step.
Radit bit his lip. "Why are they splitting us up?"
"One of their higher-ups seems interested in her," Kaivan murmured, his tone steady but cold. "We stay calm. No sudden moves. Don't give them a reason to doubt us."
Felicia walked down the dim corridor, its faint light flickering against the damp walls. The air was thick, whispering secrets she couldn't quite grasp. When she reached a small room bathed in dull yellow light, she sat upright, her posture calm, like a shadow untouched by fear.
Back in the main hall, the atmosphere felt suspended in time. Kaivan, Ethan, and Radit stood side by side, silent. From the far end, a man in a black robe emerged. His movements were smooth, his eyes cutting through them like knives.
"Prove your devotion," he said, his voice low, like a storm holding its breath. He stopped before Kaivan, gaze sharp and unwavering. "Follow our orders. Do not question. Do not resist. Only then will you understand what true surrender means."
Kaivan bowed his head slightly. Inside, his mind was a map of strategy. He knew, one wrong move, and it would all collapse. This was not the time for heroics. This was a game of survival.
Without a word, the man raised his hand. "Separate them. Interrogate each one alone."
After being separated from Felicia, Kaivan, Ethan, and Radit were led into a cold room lit by flickering neon lights. Several young men and women stood there, faces tense, eyes wide with fear. Kaivan scanned the area, and there he saw Raphael, standing tall in the center, gaze sharp and alert.
The echo of footsteps followed them through the concrete hallways. The air was heavy, filled with the ghost of whispers. They entered a narrow, dimly lit chamber where three senior members of the organization awaited. One of them, a man with scars across his face, glared at them.
"I know you," the man rasped. "You're the ones who ran off through the bushes yesterday."
Ethan clenched his jaw, fists tightening. Before anyone could react, Radit lunged forward. His kick landed squarely on the man's face, sending him crashing to the floor, unconscious.
Another member drew a gun, but Kaivan was already moving. His body blurred like a shadow, his strike precise and silent. The man fell before he could even aim. For a moment, the room went completely still.
Radit looked at Kaivan in disbelief. "Since when were you that fast?"
Kaivan exhaled. "I don't know. It just… feels like everyone else slowed down."
Ethan's eyes darted to the door. "We just made a scene. If they catch us, we're done."
Without replying, Kaivan pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his jacket. He quickly sketched a layout from memory, the one implanted by the Tome Omnicent. Corridors, doors, exit routes. Every line drawn with purpose.
He handed it to Radit and Ethan.
"Wear their uniforms," Kaivan instructed quietly. "Head to the storage room and grab whatever gear you can find. I'll find the Tome… and Raphael. Maybe I can still reach him."
Radit and Ethan exchanged glances, then moved fast. They stripped the unconscious men and donned their uniforms. Radit patted Ethan's shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Time to crash their little party."
Without another word, they disappeared into the dark corridor, their shadows flickering along the damp walls. Kaivan turned in the opposite direction, each step quiet, deliberate. His heartbeat was steady, his mind razor-sharp. Every sound, every shadow, could be a threat.
After passing through several doors and empty rooms, he entered a hall filled with uneasy youths. Their eyes were hollow, yet Kaivan's focus was on finding one person.
"Raphael," he whispered.
Raphael turned. Shock flashed across his face, quickly replaced by guarded caution. "Kaivan? What are you doing here?"
Kaivan stepped closer, handing him a folded note. "Read this. They're not teachers, they're a terrorist group. They're brainwashing us."
Raphael's eyes widened as he read, his complexion paling. "Are you sure…?" he murmured.
Before Kaivan could answer, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. They hid the paper instantly. Kaivan leaned in, whispering fast, "We'll talk later. I need to move."
Raphael gave a quick nod. "Kaivan, your fiancée. She's on the second floor, at the end of the hall. I'll try to warn the others."
In another room of the building, Felicia stood at the center of a brightly lit space, though the air around her felt heavy with tension. Her delicate hands trembled slightly as she held a tray of drinks. She tried to keep her expression blank, even as unease coursed through her heart like a rushing river.
Before her sat Yusra, the head of the organization, lounging on a large chair with a repulsive gaze. His eyes wandered over Felicia's body in a way that made her feel like an object.
"How old are you… fifteen?" Yusra's deep voice sent a chill down her spine. "But your body… your face… they're extraordinary. You don't look like an ordinary high school girl."
Felicia only gave a small nod, forcing herself not to flinch. Her hands shook as she began to massage his shoulders, trying to distract herself from the nausea twisting inside. "Ah… I'm really not that pretty," she said softly, her tone flat, hiding the fear that clung behind her calm facade.
Inside, she kept praying for strength, to endure, just a little longer. But she knew time was running out. Somehow, she had to find a way to escape this place.