Ethan remained kneeling beside Harry’s lifeless assassin for several seconds before forcing himself to stand. The silence inside the underground safehouse felt heavier now. Six trained killers had broken into a place no one was supposed to know existed, yet they hadn’t come to occupy it. They had come to erase it. Every overturned cabinet, every torn document, every empty folder told the same story—they had been searching for something specific.His eyes slowly drifted back to the torn letter lying on the desk.He carefully picked it up again.The paper was old, its edges worn from years of being hidden away, but Harry’s handwriting remained unmistakable. Ethan read the first lines once more before his gaze settled on the uneven tear crossing the bottom of the page.Someone had removed the rest.Or…His eyes narrowed.“…No.”The tear wasn’t clean.Whoever had torn the page hadn’t realized something.Harry had written on both sides.Ethan turned the sheet toward the overhead light.F

The nurse paused. “I’m sorry?” “That wasn’t random.” She tilted her head slightly. “Mr. Grey, I understand you’re hopeful, but medically speaking—” “It wasn’t random.” His voice remained calm. The nurse hesitated. “I’ve worked with coma patients for twelve years.” “I know.” “And I’ve seen movements exactly like that many times.” Ethan slowly stood. “And I’ve spent my entire life reading intention through movement.” Their eyes met. “For a fraction of a second…” “…she tried to move.” The nurse didn’t argue further. She simply nodded politely before leaving the room, convinced that grief was making him see patterns that weren’t there. When the door closed, Ethan looked back toward Elsa. “I know that was you.” He gently rested his hand beside hers without touching it. “You heard me.” The room remained quiet. But for the first time since the accident… Hope entered it. ⸻ Elsewhere… Far from the hospital… Inside an unmarked office hidden beneath an ordinary apartm

The masked man answered without emotion. “Containment.” He glanced briefly toward the enormous sealed stone door. “Observation.” Then his gaze hardened. “And prevention.” Malikar folded his arms. “Prevention of what?” The leader’s answer came without hesitation. “C.A.E.L.” The underground chamber became deathly silent. Even the surviving Watson guards looked at one another in confusion. Malikar slowly spoke. “…You know that name.” “We do.” “And you attacked this cathedral because of it?” “Yes.” Adrian’s voice grew colder. “You expect me to believe an entire organization has hidden itself for centuries over one forgotten name?” The masked leader looked directly at him. “It was never forgotten. It was erased.” Another silence followed. Then he added quietly, “Our duty has remained unchanged for nearly a thousand years.” “We exist for one purpose.” “To ensure…” “…that C.A.E.L. never awakens.” Those words settled heavily over the chamber. Malikar’s normally unr

Etched into the back was a single sentence written in an ancient dialect. Ethan translated it quietly. “‘Truth cannot be reflected… only remembered.’” Linda frowned. “Comforting.” Ethan gave the faintest smile. “Not particularly.” He turned the mirror toward himself. His reflection should have appeared immediately. Instead… The glass remained dark. Empty. Almost like still water. Linda blinked. “…That’s impossible.” Ethan slowly reached out. The moment his fingertips touched the surface… The mirror rippled. Not shattered. Rippled. Like liquid. A freezing sensation shot through his arm. The room around him disappeared. For a brief instant… Everything became silent. Then the darkness inside the mirror slowly cleared. But it wasn’t reflecting him. Someone else stood on the opposite side. A man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Perhaps fifteen years older than Ethan. His face… Was Ethan’s. Or rather… What Ethan’s face might become after surviving countless battle

The destruction of the mirror left Ethan with more questions than answers.The empty black frame remained on his desk, untouched. Linda had examined it repeatedly, hoping to recover even the faintest trace of resonance, but every scan ended the same way.Nothing.Whatever power had sustained the connection was gone.Yet Ethan couldn’t forget Cael’s final warning.Someone knew.And someone was already moving.⸻Even so, there was one part of his routine that never changed.Every evening, no matter how exhausted he was from investigating Harry’s journals or directing Damien’s intelligence network, Ethan drove to the hospital.The nurses had become accustomed to seeing him.Some greeted him with quiet smiles.Others simply nodded as he walked toward Room 407.When he entered, the room looked exactly as it always did.The lights remained dim.The monitors continued their steady rhythm.Elsa lay peacefully beneath the white blanket, her breathing assisted by the ventilator, her face calmer