Kaivan froze. "You… can read it too?" His voice was filled with disbelief. Until now, only he could interpret the Tome's strange script.
Isabel gave a faint, teasing smile, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Of course. I'm not illiterate, you know."
Kaivan slowly closed the Tome and slipped it back into his bag. In silence, he wondered, was Isabel somehow connected to the Tome's power? But this wasn't the time to ask. Finding her phone came first.
The green building ahead looked frail and forgotten, its walls cracked, its paint peeling, its door hanging loosely from its hinges. A faint, flickering lamp outside looked like the dying breath of a flame. The air smelled of damp wood and dust.
Kaivan motioned for Isabel to stay behind him. He pushed the door open. The creak was long and sharp, echoing through a narrow, suffocating hallway. Dim lamps hung from a low ceiling, swaying gently. Distant whispers stirred from the dark, feeding the tension in the air.
Step by cautious step, Kaivan advanced, eyes sweeping every corner. Isabel followed closely, her footsteps light but tense. Each second stretched longer than it should. The corridor grew narrower, swallowing them whole. Kaivan held his breath, heart pounding. When he glanced at Isabel, her face looked calm, but her eyes were alert, sharp, ready.
"Hey," Isabel whispered softly. "You're sure this isn't dangerous?"
Kaivan looked over his shoulder. "Relax. It won't be that bad," he said, his tone calm yet protective.
Isabel gave a small smile and shrugged, knowing the risk but following anyway.
Under the dark sky, the wind drifted through the narrow streets, carrying a chill that slipped beneath their jackets. They stopped before an old boarding house, its door weathered and worn, surrounded by rustling leaves and stillness. Kaivan leaned closer, pressing his ear to the wood, while Isabel fought back her curiosity.
From inside came a man's voice, low and mocking. "God, that girl at the station was so stupid! Pretty, sure, but not a single thought in her head."
Isabel whispered brightly, almost amused, "Did you hear that? He said I'm pretty!" Her voice carried the innocent delight of a child being praised.
Kaivan exhaled sharply, frustration visible in his expression. When a voice inside snapped, "Who's there?!" he shot Isabel a flat look.
"Haaah…" He sighed, then stepped forward, his voice calm but commanding. "Open the door. We need to talk."
The sound of a lock clicked, clack, but instead of opening, it bolted tighter.
Kaivan didn't hesitate. His eyes flicked to the rusted hinge. From beneath his jacket, he drew a chained karambit, the blade catching the dim light. With precise, fluid motion, he moved, swift, deliberate, almost silent. The weapon looked less like steel and more like an extension of himself.
Isabel froze behind him, eyes wide with fear and awe. "You… you brought a knife?" she whispered, her voice trembling, caught somewhere between terror and fascination.
Kaivan didn't answer right away. A faint smile touched his lips, though his eyes stayed focused. One by one, the rusted hinges gave way with a sharp metallic groan. When the last screw loosened, he pushed the door open, and the world beyond revealed itself.
The small room was suffocating. Dim yellow light from a hanging bulb reflected off the stained walls. Inside, two figures froze: a sly-looking man and a trembling young woman crouched in the corner. The air was thick with the smell of mildew, pressing down on every breath.
Kaivan stepped in without hesitation, his posture straight, the karambit still in his hand. His gaze cut toward the man. "Where's this girl's phone?" he asked, voice cold and steady. He tilted his head slightly toward Isabel, then to the woman hugging herself in the corner.
The man tried to smile, hiding his unease. "Phone? I don't know anything about that…"
But Isabel stepped forward before he could finish, her voice firm and certain. "Her! That woman borrowed my phone."
Kaivan's eyes shifted toward her. But before he could act, the man moved in fast, his fake smile stretching wider as he threw an arm around Kaivan's shoulder in feigned friendliness.
"Look, man," he said with oily charm. "The phone's gone. The door's broken. Let's just call it even, yeah?"
Then Kaivan felt it, the cold pressure against his side. A knife. Small, sharp, and hidden. The man's whisper brushed his ear, soft yet laced with threat.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Kaivan reacted instantly. In one swift, almost invisible motion, he seized the man's wrist, twisted hard, and disarmed him. The blade slipped free, landing perfectly in Kaivan's own hand, now the one in control.
The man barely had time to gasp before Kaivan turned, broke free from the grip, and kicked him in the gut, measured and precise. The impact sent him crashing backward, toppling into the frightened woman. They collapsed together, pale and panicked.
Kaivan stood tall, spinning the knife between his fingers like a pen. The motion was calm, deliberate, yet terrifying. "Let's make this simple," he said, his voice cool but commanding. The blade stopped twirling, caught in his firm grip. "The phone. Hand it over. Before this knife finds somewhere else to go."
The man froze, clutching his stomach, fear flooding his face. The woman trembled behind him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she cried, her hands clasped in plea. "The phone's already sold! We only have the money left…"
Kaivan narrowed his eyes, scanning their faces for lies. He exhaled slowly, holding back the simmering rage beneath his calm exterior. The room fell silent. Behind him, Isabel stood still, her expression caught between relief and dismay.
"Sold? That fast?" Kaivan repeated, his tone low with disbelief. He stepped closer, each footfall creaking against the wooden floor, every sound pressing down like a hammer of judgment.
With trembling hands, the woman reached into a tattered bag. She pulled out several crumpled bills, her face slick with sweat. "This… this is what we got from selling it," she whispered, voice breaking. "Please, don't hurt us."
Kaivan took the money without expression. He counted it quickly, methodically, his fingers moving with mechanical precision. After a moment, he looked up. "Only one point two million?" His voice was even, but the quiet weight in it made the woman flinch.
"S-sorry… we spent three hundred on food… and drinks earlier," she stammered, lowering her head as if awaiting judgment.
Silence swallowed the room. Kaivan folded the bills slowly, each motion deliberate, final. Isabel remained frozen, her wide eyes reflecting the heavy stillness that filled the air.
"Where did you sell it?" Kaivan asked. His voice was calm, but his gaze was sharp as a blade. No shout, no anger, only a quiet threat that pierced deeper than any scream.
The woman shrank further into the corner, unable to meet his eyes. Finally, in a trembling whisper, she confessed, "Kopo Sayati… the phone shop that's open all night." Her voice was faint, as though she hoped the darkness would swallow her words.
Kaivan caught it clearly. His expression remained cold, unmoved, unreadable. The next second stretched into heavy silence before he moved. Swift as a shadow. He snatched back the knife that had been taken from him earlier. In one seamless motion, the blade flew toward the wall.
The clang of metal struck concrete, echoing sharply. The knife embedded itself mere inches from the man's head. The room froze. Time itself seemed to halt.