Same point.Same effect.The entire group flickered—Hard.This time—one of them dropped to a knee and didn’t get back up immediately.Karpeta slapped the dashboard. “YES—okay—spread the damage—distributed system—take them all down—this I like—this is good—”“…Yeah,” Ethan said.Then—quietly—“…But it’s not damage.”The man tilted his head.Interested again.“…No?”Ethan’s gaze sharpened.“…It’s desync.”A beat.Then—He moved again.Relentless now.Not brute force—Precision.Every strike landing on that exact invisible point—Each hit sending ripples through the entire group—The figures staggered—timing breaking—movements slipping out of sync with each other—The perfect coordination from before—gone.Now—they collided.Interrupted each other.Openings appeared.Ethan took every single one.A knee—A throw—An elbow—Each paired with that same precise impact—The air cracking again and again—Like reality itself stuttering under pressure.Karpeta was half-standing in the car

Empty.Still.Nothing left behind but that heavy, uncomfortable silence that seemed to sit on the street like dust after an explosion.Karpeta stepped out of the car slowly, like she expected the ground itself might argue with her decision. The air felt too still—wrongly still. Even the usual background hum of the city seemed muted, like the world was holding its breath.She looked around first.Then at her car.Then at Ethan.Then back at the car again, where the dents told their own very annoying story.“…Okay,” she said at last, dragging the word out like it physically hurt. “We’re going to talk about the car.”Ethan followed her gaze, almost absent-mindedly. He tilted his head slightly, studying the damage with the kind of calm that made it worse somehow.“…It still runs,” he said.There was a pause.A long one.Karpeta slowly turned her head toward him.“…THAT IS NOT THE POINT—”Ethan exhaled through his nose. Not quite a sigh. Not quite relief either. Something in-between, like

“…He does that a lot,” she whispered to herself. “Says things like they’re final.” Her gaze drifted toward the front of the mansion. Toward the outside. Toward everything she hadn’t seen yet. Her fingers tapped lightly against her arm. Once. Twice. Restless. Curious. “…Just a little,” she murmured. Another glance back into the room. Ethan didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t wake. That settled it—for her, at least. The front door opened slowly. Carefully. Without a sound. Karpeta stepped outside. The night air greeted her differently than before. Less threatening. More… inviting. Lights in the distance. Faint movement. Life. “…Okay,” she whispered, almost excited. “Blending in.” She took a step forward. Then another. Already looking around. Already observing. Already asking silent questions the world wasn’t prepared to answer.****Hours later,Ethan woke up suddenly.No noise.No movement.Just… something wrong.He stayed still for a second, staring at the

She looked at him, confused.“…Eat?”“In the kitchen. Earlier. Or just now.”“…I observed the cold storage.”“That’s not an answer.”“…I tried something,” she admitted.Ethan went still.“…What did you try?”She thought for a second.“…It was soft. White. Slightly sour.”His eyes narrowed.“…You drank the milk.”“…Yes.”Ethan exhaled slowly.Not relief.But understanding.“…You’re nauseous.”“…Define that.”“You feel like you’re going to throw up.”She froze.“…Throw up what?”“…The milk.”A pause.Then—“…That seems inefficient.”“Your body disagrees.”Her face twisted slightly.“…I really don’t like this.”Ethan glanced around quickly.They were still on the street.Not ideal.“…We need to move,” he said. “Now.”“…I don’t think moving is a good idea,” she replied, voice tighter now.He didn’t argue.Just stepped closer, guiding her gently but firmly.“…We’re not doing this in the middle of the road.”She didn’t resist.That alone told him how bad it felt.They moved toward a quieter

A figure stood there.For a split second, Ethan didn’t recognize her.The light was wrong. The timing was worse.Then she shifted—just slightly—and it clicked.“…Elsa?”The name came out sharper than he meant it to.Not soft. Not welcoming.Just… disbelief.Elsa stood on the threshold, one hand still half-raised from knocking, like she hadn’t decided whether to continue or leave.Up close, she looked… different.Not physically.But there was hesitation in her posture. A tightness around her eyes.And something else.Embarrassment.“…Hi,” she said, quieter than usual.Ethan stared at her for a beat too long.“…You left,” he said flatly.Not a question.She winced—just barely.“…I know.”Silence stretched, thick with everything neither of them had said the last time.The way she had walked out.The way he hadn’t stopped her.The reasons sitting unspoken between them—Karpeta.And Norka.Elsa’s fingers curled slightly at her side.“…I didn’t think you’d open the door,” she admitted.Etha