Chapter 3 – The Returning Traitor | Part B

Inside the speeding vehicle, Kaivan felt a strange storm rise in his chest — not fear, but a blend of determination and simmering anger. He knew this night would change everything. Not just for him, but for everyone at his side. This wasn’t only revenge; it was the beginning of something far greater.

His hand moved, gently brushing Thivi’s head, fingers slipping through her hair as if to calm the tempest inside him. Thivi looked up, meeting his gaze with quiet understanding, as though she could read the turmoil he hadn’t voiced. Softly, Kaivan whispered, “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

His voice trembled, heavy with an unspoken burden. He knew the fight ahead wouldn’t be ordinary — it was dangerous, and he hated dragging those he cared for into its shadow.

Thivi shook her head slowly, a faint smile gracing her lips. “It’s alright. I know you’re angry,” she said gently, her calm voice a small light in the darkness surrounding them. As always, she was Kaivan’s balance.

But the moment didn’t last. Kaivan reached into his jacket, pulling out the Tome Omnicent. Under the pale glow of the streetlights, he opened its worn pages one by one. Each sheet felt heavy, as if holding the answers of the world. His eyes scanned the fading ink, searching for direction. “We need to know where they are,” he murmured.

Something felt off. Thivi and Radit, leaning forward from the front seat, saw only blank parchment — no writing, no drawings, just aged paper.

“I don’t see anything, Kai,” Radit said, baffled. “It’s all blank…”

Kaivan narrowed his eyes, focusing on the tome. In the darkness enfolding them, an answer surfaced. “They’re on the third floor,” he said quietly, yet with certainty. “We’ll draw them down — and bring everything crashing on them.” A flash of strategy lit his gaze.

Radit looked bewildered. “I’m sorry, but all I see is empty pages.”

Kaivan didn’t reply. Instead, he noticed faint words at the corner: Point a camera at my pages.

“Try aiming your phone’s camera at this,” he told Radit. Though hesitant, Radit did as asked. As the screen hovered over the book, an image flickered to life: the third floor of an abandoned mall, shadows moving swiftly, alert.

“I see it, Kaivan. Exactly,” Radit whispered, awe lacing his voice.

The tome’s secret finally stretched beyond Kaivan alone. Its magic, through technology, revealed truths long hidden. Now, there was no room for doubt. With a new clarity, they began forming their plan.

“We’ll draw them down,” Kaivan said. “Then trap them on the stairs.”

The SUV slowed near the looming mall, a relic from another age. The derelict building rose like a phantom, its cracked frame catching the faint glow of streetlights. Shadows clung to its surface, and the wind sighed through its wounds.

Kaivan stepped out first, Radit following close behind. In Kaivan’s grip were five bottles filled with water and shampoo. Together, they moved through the silent corridor toward the main stairwell. One by one, they poured the slick mixture across each step.

The blend spread thin over the concrete, a treacherous sheen invisible to the eye — ready to topple anyone rushing down. Each drop felt like time itself, waiting to spring its trap.

That night, the world seemed swallowed by stillness, wrapping the old mall in the hush of forgotten ages. The building stood like the bones of history, worn by years, steeped in silence broken only by the breath of the wind slipping through its cracks. On the second floor, moonlight cut through dusty glass, casting Kaivan and Radit as silhouettes carved from shadow and resolve.

Kaivan stood tall, lean but unshaken. His eyes settled on Radit, as if weighing the strength of his resolve in silence.

“Radit,” his voice was calm, yet sharp enough to pierce the quiet. “You can still fight, can’t you?”

Radit turned slowly, his jaw tightening. “Hey, who do you think I am? Don’t talk as if I’m not a fighter.” His tone was curt — not out of anger alone, but because his pride had been stirred. He was the wall everyone relied on. Doubt was a wound he would never allow.

Kaivan didn’t answer. He drew in a slow breath, letting the darkness of the room press in around him. The space felt smaller with every heartbeat. Tension hung heavy—until a faint tremor stirred from above, like the footfall of some unseen giant descending an invisible staircase.

Outside, Thivi and Frans waited in the van. Thivi, striking in a neon jacket and tight animal-print leggings, clutched her seatbelt with pale fingers. “They’ll be okay, right?” she whispered, voice barely audible.

Frans didn’t reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the mall, as if trying to predict where danger might break through. The building loomed like a gaping mouth, ready to swallow anyone who dared come close.

Suddenly, a shout tore through the night.

“HEY, YOU COWARDS! COME DOWN! THE TWO OF US ARE ENOUGH TO TEAR YOU APART!”

Kaivan’s voice thundered through the mall’s decaying corridors, shaking the hollow walls.

Radit looked up, momentarily stunned, then let out a short laugh. “You’re insane. Completely fearless.”

Kaivan lit a cigarette, the flame casting a brief glow across his face. He held it out toward Radit. “Want one?” he asked, calm as ever.

Radit arched a brow, caught off guard by Kaivan’s composure, but he accepted without hesitation. “Why not,” he said, taking a deep drag. Smoke curled lazily upward, ghostly shapes under the pale moonlight.

Footsteps grew louder from the floor above—men rushing down, unaware of the slick trap waiting for them. The moment the first boot hit the steps, chaos erupted. One by one they slipped, tumbling with panicked cries. Bodies slammed against iron and concrete, a cacophony of crashes and screams echoing through the empty space.

Kaivan drew on his cigarette, smoke curling lazily as he watched the scene below with calm, steady eyes. Beside him, Radit wore a satisfied grin. “You’re a genius,” he said. “Simple, but brutal.”

Kaivan only nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “This is just the beginning.”

On the second floor, Kaivan stood tall. His frame looked small amid the ruin, yet his gaze burned with quiet resolve. He placed a hand on Radit’s shoulder — a clear signal: time to move.

Radit nodded. “Alright. Let’s make sure they never forget this.”

They began climbing the stairs, careful on the slick surface that had become their own weapon. Each step was taken in silence, broken only by their breath and the thrum of their hearts. Moonlight slipped through cracked windows, casting fractured silver across a world left behind.

At the third floor landing, they stopped. A dark hallway stretched ahead. Kaivan raised a hand, signaling to wait.

“Something’s off here,” he whispered.

Radit tried to lighten the tension, whispering back, “People say this old building’s haunted.” Yet even he couldn’t hide the tautness in his voice.

Kaivan glanced at him briefly, expression unreadable. The Tome Omnicent pulsed faintly against his side, alive, its rhythm guiding his thoughts. Carefully, he opened its pages; they stirred as if touched by a breeze from nowhere.

“Two people,” Kaivan murmured, voice low. “Behind that wall. They’re waiting for us.”

Radit squinted into the shadows, knowing he wouldn’t see what Kaivan did. “That book’s amazing. Can it read minds, too?”

“Not minds,” Kaivan replied quietly. “Only what we need to know.”

Their talk ended there. With a brief gesture, they moved. Swift, precise steps carried them forward like shadows slipping through air. Radit swept to the right, Kaivan to the left, closing in on the wall he’d indicated. The moments before the clash felt like the ticking of a clock about to strike.

Kaivan lifted his left hand in signal. In an instant, they lunged together. Radit slammed his shoulder into the wall while Kaivan darted in from the narrow side, striking with perfect aim.

A crack split the air as Radit’s weight shattered the plaster. The two figures behind were caught off guard, their reflexes a heartbeat too slow. One raised a weapon, but Radit was faster — he struck the man’s wrist, sending the gun clattering away.

Adrenaline lit Radit’s face as he lunged at the second. His right fist thudded into the man’s chest, hurling him backward. “Hiding won’t save you,” Radit taunted, following with a sharp hook to the jaw that dropped him cold.

Meanwhile, Kaivan moved with lethal grace. He twisted past a kick, bringing a steel rod down hard across his opponent’s temple. The man crumpled without a sound.

“Two down,” Kaivan said evenly, glancing at Radit.

Radit raised a brow, pleased. “Just warming up. But seriously, I love that book — it’s like we’ve got a cheat code for real life.”

As they pressed on, the air around them began to shift. A faint glow flickered in the distance, cutting through the gloom of the mall’s third floor. The narrow corridor seemed to guide their steps toward a single point of fate.

At the end of the hallway, a wide chamber opened before them. Four figures stood tall inside. Among them, Kaivan instantly recognized Julian. The man’s face carried a familiar arrogance, echoing their last encounter. Their eyes met, sparking a silent tension that burned hotter than words. Pain and old grudges flickered between them like sparks waiting to catch.

Felicia sat on an old wooden chair beside Julian, graceful yet strangely distant. Her crimson eyes gleamed with a cold light. She felt like someone else entirely—not the girl Kaivan once knew. An icy aura wrapped around her, drawing an invisible line between them. Kaivan’s gaze lingered, searching her face for any trace of the person he remembered.

“Felicia… what are you doing here?” Kaivan finally asked, his voice low, pressed with emotion.

Felicia didn’t answer right away. She tilted her head slightly, studying him in silence. A faint smile curved her lips, but it carried no warmth. “I only returned to where I truly belong,” she said softly. “How foolish I was to ever follow you. My choice has always been here.”

Radit stepped forward, anger and confusion battling across his face. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? You’re siding with them?”

Julian let out a low, rough laugh, dripping with pride. “Felicia never takes sides. She stands with the one who matters most to her. And you? You’re just a pack of naive kids, thinking friendship can save the world.”

But Kaivan stayed calm, his eyes fixed on Felicia. “Felicia, I just need to know… is this truly your decision?” he asked, his voice steady, reaching for the fragile thread beneath her frost.

Felicia rose from her chair, her steps slow yet resolute. Her presence pressed forward, like the wind that heralds a storm. She moved to stand beside Julian, meeting Kaivan’s gaze. “Sometimes the right choice,” she said, her voice tightening, “is the one we made first.” Then, with quiet firmness, she added, “I won’t betray my original path.”

Radit couldn’t hold back anymore. He lunged a step closer, eyes blazing. “Damn it! What do you mean by that?! I’ll drag you out of there if I have to!”

Kaivan quickly caught his arm. “No, Radit,” he said, short and firm. “She’s already chosen.” His expression was hard, but in his eyes flickered a thin crack—an ache buried under layers of restraint

Meanwhile, in the mall’s silent parking lot, Thivi sat nervously inside the van. Her fingers twisted the hem of her skirt, trying to hold back the tide of panic churning in her chest. Frans sat in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead — tense, but forcing calm into his breath.

“Thivi,” he said gently, “I know you’re worried. But we have to wait here.”

Thivi shook her head, eyes gleaming with resolve. “I can’t. Kaivan… he needs us.”

Frans sighed, then slowly pushed the door open. “Then we go together.”

A faint smile touched Thivi’s lips. Side by side, they stepped out of the van, walking toward the mall’s shadowed entrance. Each step along the narrow corridor felt like crossing into another world — silent, hollow, heavy with menace. Their footsteps echoed off the concrete walls, the sound slipping into their bones like a creeping chill.

“Kaivan,” Felicia called, her voice soft yet edged like glass. “Did you come here to take me back?”

Silence stretched thin. The air itself seemed to wait for Kaivan’s answer. His gaze sharpened, cutting through the distance between them.

“No,” Kaivan replied at last, his tone flat but carrying an ember beneath. “I came to meet the one who destroyed my workplace.” Each word landed like an icy spear against the charged air.

From the far corner, Julian laughed. The sound broke apart, echoing through the hollow corridor. “Hahaha… so what, Kaivan? I’m the one responsible. And I enjoyed every moment,” he said, flashing a broad, mocking grin.

Beside Kaivan, Radit tilted his head and whispered, “That’s Felicia’s boyfriend? Pretty girl, but she picked a horse wrangler.”

Kaivan glanced sideways, one brow lifting, but stayed silent.

Felicia, however, heard it. Her eyes sharpened, a cold glint flashing. “Hey!” she barked, her voice ringing through the room. “I heard that!”

Radit only shrugged, feigning innocence.

Tension hovered, heavy and brittle, as two of Julian’s men stepped forward, iron rods gleaming beneath the neon glow. Their faces were blank, their stance lethal.

Radit spun his own rod lightly, the metal humming against the stillness. “Kaivan,” he said steadily, “these two are mine. You deal with the Fugly one.”

Kaivan gave a short nod, then moved ahead, eyes locked on Julian, who lounged in his chair like a cheap monarch. Julian met his gaze with a thin smile; their eyes tangled in a silence only vengeance could pierce.

Each of Kaivan’s steps felt weighty, as though treading on shards of glass. The air tightened, cold and sharp. At the room’s end, Julian rose slowly, spinning a small folding knife between his fingers—a symbol of arrogance and menace.

“Rematch?” Julian sneered, standing tall, the blade catching the muted neon. “This time, I’ll make sure you don’t get up.”

Kaivan halted just a few paces away. His eyes narrowed, a thin, cutting smile on his lips. “Another rematch?” he said, his voice low, steady. “You mean when I kick your head again?”

Julian’s grin faltered. A memory of bitter defeat flickered in his eyes, fanning his fury. He lunged without warning, knee arcing toward Kaivan’s face.

Kaivan slipped aside, the kick slicing through empty air. Julian spun, slashing with the knife. The blade skimmed close, but Kaivan ducked, leaving only the emptiness torn.

“You think I’m still the same Julian?” Julian snarled, springing back, the blade dancing between his fingers.

Kaivan stayed still, chest rising in a calm rhythm, eyes reading every twitch of his foe.

Across the room, Radit faced the two with rods. Their attacks came sharp and merciless. Radit weaved through them, a dancer amidst chaos. One swung from the right.

“Right strike!” one shouted.

Radit raised his rod, deflecting, then jabbed at a knee. A cry split the air as the man collapsed. The second lunged, but Radit ducked; the strike cracked against the wall. Radit spun, landing a blow to the man’s gut, sending him crumpling.

Meanwhile, Julian charged again. Kaivan stayed calm. As the knife darted toward his chest, he sidestepped, twisting smoothly, and drove an elbow into Julian’s face. A dry thud rang out. Julian staggered back, blood dripping from his nose.

But he wasn’t finished. With a sharp motion, Julian swung the Knife toward Kaivan’s side. Kaivan blocked with his wrist, steering the knife away, unharmed.

"You're slow," Kaivan taunted, his smile thin and cutting.

Julian growled, but before he could strike again, Radit’s warning rang out. “Kaivan! Watch out!”

Kaivan wiped the bruise on his cheek, then sprang aside, evading the deadly thrust. His movements were swift, precise—the blade met only empty air. He landed with practiced ease, stance firm, eyes scanning every shadow.

Julian lunged forward, gaze flicking toward Felicia across the room. “Darling! After him! Don’t let him escape!”

Felicia, who had stood frozen, finally moved. Her steps were sharp, deliberate. Her long hair trailed behind her, her face unreadable, eyes set with unwavering resolve.

Kaivan dashed into the narrow corridor, breath quickening, fingers locked around the Tome Omnicent. Felicia’s footsteps echoed closer, a rhythm of threat pressing in.

“Kaivan!” she called, her voice calm yet blade-sharp. She leapt, reaching for him, moving like a silent hunter.

Kaivan spun. To fight Felicia at close range would be suicide. He raised the Tome. The moment her fingertips grazed its cover, an unseen force flared.

Felicia froze midair, held fast by an invisible surge. Her eyes widened as tremors ran through her body.

“Ugh… the same headache again?” she gasped. Her knees struck the floor, hands clutching her head as the world spun.

Kaivan seized the opening, slipping past, weaving through the shadows of the hall. When he finally stopped, he leaned against a wall, chest heaving but mind steady. He opened the Tome, its pages pulsing faintly, waiting.

“So… who is Felicia, really? Why is she like this?” Kaivan murmured, urgency woven into his tone.

The Tome quivered in his hands, then its pages began to turn, pausing before words etched themselves across the surface:

Felicia is a human shaped by intricate tides of emotion. She descends from an ancient line touched by a Tome—beings who survive by tethering meaning through connection. She seeks an anchor to endure, drawn to serve the one she chooses.

Kaivan stood silent, eyes downcast, shoulders sinking. The Felicia he thought he knew—strong, untouchable—had been carved by a fate fragile and deep. Yet one question lingered, sharp in his chest.

“Why does she get those headaches whenever she touches you?” he whispered, tension threading his words.

Ink bled across the parchment:

Felicia is bound to a core of pure power. When she touches what does not belong to her soul, energies collide. The pain is the body’s echo of that conflict.

Kaivan read slowly, letting the truth settle. “But why… why only because she isn’t the rightful bearer?” His gaze hardened, unwilling to leave any crack unlit.

Tom es of this kind only reject the unchosen. Those of pure spirit who are not selected find their energy repelled. Felicia suffers because of her bond to her bloodline.

Kaivan drew in a heavy breath. Each answer pressed heavier on his heart, but one question remained.

“Then… why did she choose Julian?”

The pages turned once more, words forming with deliberate weight:

Felicia is the eldest. She raised her siblings after betrayal shattered their home. Abandonment is the wound carved deepest. To forsake her first choice is, to her, betrayal itself. Loyalty—even to a mistake—is the last trust she clings to.

Kaivan closed his eyes. A slow ache pressed through his chest. He recalled the way Felicia looked at Julian—cold, unwavering. Not love, but a principle born from scars, not hope.

His hand clenched, not in rage, but in hollow grief. Now he understood: Felicia’s loyalty was not chosen by her heart, but written in wounds. And wounds cannot always be mended, even by affection.

Yet the Tome had not finished. Lines surfaced, relentless in exposing buried truths:

Julian, cunning, saw that wound and exploited it. He promised Felicia certainty—a bond she craved. But he warned: “Stay, or I will find another to replace you.”

A storm kindled inside Kaivan. His fist tightened, body taut, eyes blazing with restrained fury. All along, Felicia’s strength had been a facade, shielding a wound Julian kept tearing open.

“I won’t let this continue,” Kaivan vowed under his breath. His gaze burned into the Tome Omnicent. This wasn’t just a mission. It was about saving someone—even if it meant carrying the pain himself.

Suddenly, in a dim room lit only by a swaying ceiling lamp, the silence shattered with a voice sharp as a blade.

“KAIVAN! COME OUT NOW! DO YOU REALLY NOT CARE ABOUT THIS GIRL?!”

Julian’s shout cracked through the air, full of threat and pressure. Shadows cast by the trembling light danced across the cracked walls, turning the room into a chamber of punishment.

From the darkness, Kaivan stepped forward. His movements were stiff yet firm, every muscle drawn tight like a bowstring ready to snap. His gaze landed on a sight that struck his chest cruelly: Julian clutching Thivi’s hair, the girl bound with rough rope. Her face was bruised, tears tracing pale lines down her cheeks.

“Let her go!” Kaivan roared, his voice low and thunderous. Within its tremor lived anger, resolve, and the raw fear of losing someone precious.

Julian only laughed—harsh and cold—then yanked Thivi’s hair harder. She winced, her body lurching in pain. “If you want her in one piece, hand over that old book right now!”

Kaivan closed his eyes briefly, fighting to steady the storm inside. The Tome Omnicent lay in his grasp, more than an artifact: it had been his witness, his guide, the one thing that had led him out of emptiness. Now, he faced the cruelest choice—surrender its power or lose someone irreplaceable.

Julian dragged Thivi toward the center of the room. His grip tightened, his voice turning to ice. “You think you have a choice? You’re just a coward hiding behind your friends, Kaivan.”

Kaivan opened his eyes, their gleam sharp as steel. “You don’t understand what you’re doing, Julian. Let her go… before you regret it.”

Julian laughed again, cutting and merciless. With a brutal shove, he threw Thivi to the ground. She whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes. “Look at you. You can’t save anyone—not even yourself.”

Kaivan said nothing. His body bent like an arrow drawn in silence. Then, in one swift motion, he lunged. But Julian moved first, driving his knee into Kaivan’s stomach. The impact folded him, stealing his breath. The Tome slipped from his hands, striking the cold floor.

Julian’s eyes glittered as they fell on the book. “Finally,” he whispered, stepping slowly toward it. “All of this… wasn’t for nothing.”

At the edge of the room, Felicia froze, her face a canvas of turmoil. Julian turned to her, smiling like ice. “Bring it to me, darling.”

Felicia hesitated, her steps heavy. She crouched, fingertips brushing the coarse cover—and pain slammed through her. The world tilted, her skull aflame from within. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her temples. “AARGH!”

Her scream split the air, rattling the room. Julian’s eyes narrowed with disgust. “Useless! You can’t even manage a simple task!”

His kick landed hard against Felicia’s side, sending her sprawling across the stone floor. Her whimper was faint but searing. Julian loomed above her, eyes brimming with contempt. “Pathetic. This is what happens when you spend too long with weaklings like them.”

The sight tore something loose inside Kaivan—something dark, untamed. Breath ragged, body aching, he pushed himself up from the floor, his gaze locked solely on Julian.

Julian turned, a cruel grin twisting his lips. He spread his arms wide as though welcoming him. “Oh? You’re coming to me?” he mocked. “Instead of running, you walk straight into danger? How amusing.”

Kaivan didn’t answer. He advanced slowly, one step after another, like a shadow closing in. “I can’t end this from afar, Julian,” he murmured. “To defeat you, I have to come closer.”

Julian struck first, but Kaivan spun aside—his movement fluid, like water shifting around a stone. A low kick snapped into Julian’s knee, sending him off balance. Without pause, Kaivan drove his knee into Julian’s chest, knocking him down with a heavy thud.

Without delay, Kaivan dropped beside Felicia. Her body trembled, wracked by pain. He gathered her into his arms, fingers combing gently through her hair. “Hey… it’s over. Come with me, Felicia. There’s no reason for you to stay here.”

But a voice behind shattered the fragile calm. Julian rose, swaying, fury burning in his eyes. He snatched up the fallen Tome and flipped it open carelessly.

“Just an empty book,” he sneered, laughter slicing the air. “Why bother carrying this?”

Kaivan stood, slow and deliberate. His gaze was sharp, calm yet hiding a storm. From his bag, he drew a small bottle—the shampoo he’d brought from the workshop. He poured its contents carefully onto the floor around Julian.

"That isn’t an empty book," Kaivan said, voice flat yet laced with quiet threat. "You’re just too blind to see its meaning."

Julian hissed, anger flaring as he stepped forward — but the slick floor became Kaivan’s hidden ally. Julian’s foot slipped. He crashed hard, body striking the ground. In the chaos, Kaivan surged forward, driving his knee into Julian’s face.

A crack echoed, sharp and final. Julian sprawled, clutching his bleeding nose. "Damn you! Coward!"

From the corner of the room, Felicia watched. Relief at seeing Julian fall mingled with a raw wound inside her chest. She lowered her gaze, hiding the tears that spilled despite herself.

Julian’s cry of pain reverberated as he writhed on the floor, calling out hoarsely for backup that never came. "Quick! Take him down, the little runt!"

But heavy footsteps answered instead. From the doorway, Radit appeared — tall, eyes burning with fury. Without a word, he plunged into the remaining thugs. One by one, they fell beneath his strikes: heavy, precise blows, like a hammer breaking brittle walls. Within moments, silence claimed the room.

Julian lay beaten, wild eyes darting until they locked on Felicia. “Felicia! Don’t just stand there! Help me, you fool!” he shouted, desperation twisting into rage.

Felicia didn’t move. His voice was an empty echo now. Her mind clung instead to Kaivan’s quiet promise: I will always be here for you, forever. The words felt like seeds sprouting slowly through the desert of her heart. She looked at Kaivan as he approached — not just as a savior, but as the last one still standing.

Kaivan knelt before her, brushing a trembling hand against Felicia’s cold cheek. “Don’t be afraid of being left behind,” he murmured, his voice barely more than breath. “I’ll always be here for you. Forever.”

Felicia trembled, eyes asking a silent question: Will you really stay? Always?

Kaivan nodded. “Always.”

But another voice pierced the moment — Julian’s, low and sharp, like a needle in an open wound. “Felicia, sweetheart… help me. If you just stand there, it means you don’t love me. You know I can always find someone else.”

The words struck harder than a slap. Inside Felicia, old wounds split wide. Fear of being abandoned, of losing the ground beneath her, shook her core. She shivered, rising slowly, tears sliding down as though something beyond her will pulled the strings.

In a rush of stormed emotion, she shoved Kaivan, knocking him down. Then, in the heavy silence, Felicia dropped onto him, straddling his waist. Her eyes were a tempest — not of anger, but of fear, doubt, and an untended love struggling to bloom.

Kaivan didn’t resist. His face stayed calm, even as chaos raged before him. Before he could speak, Felicia’s fist landed hard against his cheek. “Why won’t you fight back?!” she screamed, her voice a tangled knot of sobs and fury. Her hands rained down, wild and desperate — but Kaivan didn’t lift a hand. He only looked at her, eyes steady, full of understanding.

“I won’t leave my boyfriend! I won’t go with you, Kaivan!” she shouted. But each cry felt like a nail driven into her own heart. Her hands shook. Anger fractured into something rawer — an exposed wound. Blood traced Kaivan’s lip, yet his gaze never wavered. He bore it all, as though taking Felicia’s pain into himself.

“Why did you help me back then?! We didn’t even know each other!” Felicia’s blows grew weaker, her fingers trembling. “Why come here just for revenge? Because he wrecked your workplace?!” Her voice splintered, fragile as a breaking glass.

“Why… why do you look at me like that?! Like you’ve known me all your life?! Why, Kaivan?!” Her scream burst with tears she could no longer hold back. She froze mid-swing, hands suspended as though unsure of what to do next.

Kaivan finally spoke, voice soft, almost breaking. “I’m sorry… for being too scared to be honest from the start. I didn’t just come here to hunt the one who destroyed our place. I came… to bring you back, Felicia.”

His battered hand lifted, brushing her tear-streaked face. The touch was light, barely there, yet it carried a warmth that seeped straight into her soul. Felicia stilled, stunned — his words struck harder than any blow.

“I’ll always be your shield,” Kaivan whispered. “Against everything you can’t fight alone. But… in return, please protect me from a world too vast for me to face by myself.”

Felicia’s sobs spilled freely — not born of rage, but of surrender. The hands that once sought to strike now folded around him. “Truly… you’ll be there for me, no matter what?” she asked, voice hoarse, filled with wounds still aching.

Kaivan only nodded, a warm smile softening the bruises and cuts on his face. And that was enough. Felicia collapsed into his arms, her sobs shaking his shoulders. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry I hit you... Kaivan...”

She wept against his chest, her body limp as though every burden had finally fallen away. Kaivan held her, silent and steady, like the home Felicia had been searching for but never found. Time seemed to stop. In that embrace, they were no longer two wounded people — they were two souls finding each other amid the ruins.

Felicia finally lifted her face, still trembling. “I... I don’t know what to say...” Kaivan brushed her tears away with his thumb. “You don’t have to say anything now. I’m here. I’ll stay here.”

In the dim corner of the room, Julian watched, his face flushed with anger. His shout tore through the air: “If you’re going to be like this, I’ll find someone else!” Desperation cracked his voice, as if the world he’d built was crumbling in an instant.

Kaivan stood firm. With a gentle yet resolute voice, he whispered in Felicia’s ear, “Tell him, Felicia. Tell him you don’t care anymore.”

Felicia slowly turned, her eyes still wet but now shining with courage. She met Julian’s gaze and said clearly, “Julian, I want to break up. Find someone else if that’s what you want.”

The words struck Julian like a hammer. He lunged forward, but Felicia pulled Kaivan close and kicked Julian hard in the stomach, sending him sprawling. He froze, stunned. The world Julian had built on control shattered in an instant.

Kaivan, still weak, tried to stand. Felicia quickly supported him. From the corner, Radit glared with fury. “Can I teach him a lesson, Kaivan?” he asked, face flushed with emotion.

Kaivan raised his hand slightly. “No, Radit. I have a better plan.”

His gaze shifted to Felicia. “Do you know where Julian parked his bike?” Felicia nodded, her feelings still a tangled storm.

Carefully, Kaivan picked up Julian’s knife. They moved toward the door. Kaivan’s steps were heavy, but his tone stayed firm as he stopped in front of Julian.

“If you dare come after me again, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk,” he said flatly. Julian lowered his head, trembling at a threat he couldn’t deny.

Kaivan was almost out of the room when he turned, his gaze piercing the cowering figure in the corner. “And don’t ever lay a hand on my Felicia again,” he added, sharp as a blade.

Felicia froze. Amid the exhaustion and wounds, her eyes widened, then dropped. My Felicia, huh? she thought. A faint smile slipped across her face, warm and unfamiliar, like the first light after a storm.

Radit followed behind, shaking his head. Does this idiot even realize what he just said? Or... did he really fall for her? A scoff wrapped around a sense of relief.

Once they were outside, Kaivan gave brief instructions. The exhaust was packed with mud, the oil tank filled with sand, the radiator drenched in gutter water. By morning, Julian and his gang would be pushing their bikes home, their faces lowered in shame that could not be washed away.

From afar, Thivi watched, her chest heavy. Felicia stood too close to Kaivan. Something sharp stirred inside her. Strange, yet undeniable.

She approached, her voice calm but hesitant. “Why are you always so close to Kaivan now?” Felicia turned. Her smile was soft, yet deep. “Because he asked me to stay by his side.”

Kaivan overheard. His face lifted, his voice cutting in. “By the way, where’s Frans?”

Silence fell. Upstairs, in the quiet mall, Frans lay alone. His breathing was ragged, neon lights flickering in his half-closed eyes. The corridor was cold as a grave, as empty as being forgotten.