Chapter 41 – Monster Within…

Unknown Location

The forest is quiet now.

Too quiet.

Smoke drifts between broken trees and scorched earth. Bodies lie scattered, unmoving, like discarded mannequins. My breath comes slow—unnaturally calm.

Soro stands a few meters away.

We glare at each other.

He looks at me the way a predator looks at wounded prey—not hungry, not rushed—just curious.

As if he’s deciding how to kill me.

And me?

Rage has already taken the wheel.

Not explosive rage.
Not screaming rage.

Something deeper.

Something colder.

A pressure I’ve spent years burying beneath discipline, jokes, restraint.

Regret coils in my chest.

Regret has teeth.

“So…” Soro tilts his head slightly, eyes sharp, voice almost amused.
“How does it feel?”

I don’t answer.

My jaw tightens.

“…Nothing?” he continues, lips curling. “That’s why, isn’t it?”

Something snaps.

I lunge.

No warning. No thought.

My foot slams into his ribs—once, twice—

He catches my left leg mid-kick.

Too slow.

I twist, jump, and spin—

My heel crashes into his jaw in a spinning drop kick.

Soro skids backward, boots tearing through dirt before he regains balance.

He laughs.

“Not bad,” he says. “Is this what happens after you decide not to be… sloppy?”

I open my mouth—

No words come out.

I can’t speak.

Because the reflection in his eyes—

—it isn’t me.

My vision sharpens.

Too sharp.

Every breath.
Every muscle twitch.
Every weakness in his stance.

And then I realize—

I’m smiling.

Enjoying this.

What the hell is wrong with me…?

I grab his wrist and pivot, using his weight against him. He flies over my shoulder—

—and lands perfectly.

On his feet.

“Good,” Soro claps once, slow.
“Continue, class.”

He explodes forward.

A flurry of strikes—elbow, knee, punch, feint, backfist—

I see all of it.

Too clearly.

I slip inside his guard, rip the gun from his holster, slam my fist into his gut—

But he counters, smashing his forehead into mine.

CRACK.

Stars burst across my vision.

We stumble apart, blood dripping from my nose.

Soro grins wider.

“So?” he taunts.
“Not the sloppy guy anymore?”

Silence.

My heart pounds.

Not with fear.

With hunger.

Images flash—

Marina.
Faiz.
Fire.
Blood.

Hands shaking.

I inhale.

And something answers.

A voice buried deep inside me—

Let me handle this.

My posture changes.

I stop breathing hard.

I step forward.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Soro’s smile fades—just a little.

“…There it is,” he murmurs.
“That look.”

My eyes burn.

Left—yellow.
Right—red.

“I tried,” I finally say, my voice low, almost calm,
“…not to become this.”

I crack my neck.

The forest seems to shrink around us.

“But you just had to keep talking.”

Soro chuckles.

“Oh?”
“Show me, then.”

I move.

Not fast.

Instant.

And somewhere far away—

A girl grips a broken necklace.
Another stares at a shattered mug.
And the monster they love—

—is no longer asleep.

An explosion of emotions detonates inside me.

Not all at once—
Layer by layer.

Anger.
Regret.
Fear.

And something darker beneath them all.

Soro blocks my strike, boots grinding against dirt as we clash again and again. Steel rings. Flesh slams into flesh. Sparks fly from shattered debris.

He’s smiling.

Not mocking.

Interested.

“You’re the same,” he says calmly as he parries my punch, twisting his body just enough to let it skim past.
“But…” His eyes gleam. “…you still have that reluctant look in you.”

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

Because he’s right—and I hate that he knows.

We exchange blows faster now. Too fast. Every strike I throw is met with equal force. Every opening I see closes instantly.

Toe to toe.

Even Soro—

The man I know is stronger than me—

Is no longer overwhelming me.

That realization sends a chill down my spine.

When did this happen…?

Somewhere at the School Podium

Sylvia’s chest tightens.

The world feels… wrong.

Alex…

Her fingers curl around her phone.

“Where are you…?” she whispers.

A shadow falls beside her.

Maya leans in casually. “Want to go look for him?”

Sylvia hesitates. “…I don’t know. I can feel it.”

Mariam looks up sharply. “Feel what?”

Sylvia swallows. “Something bad.”

Mariam’s playful smile fades.

“Then let’s find out,” she says.

No hesitation.

They move.

School Office Corridor

Hana is standing with Steward when she spots them.

“Big Sis Sylvia?”

Sylvia stiffens.

She forces a smile.

“Hana… hey.”

Hana tilts her head. “Where’s big brother?”

Sylvia’s heart skips.

Before she can answer—

“I bet he’s sleeping somewhere,” Mariam blurts out cheerfully.
(Thank you, Mariam.)

“Oh…” Hana nods, unconvinced.

Maya steps in smoothly, slinging an arm around Hana’s shoulders.

“Hey, Hana! Come on, let’s head to class!”
She winks at Sylvia.

Sylvia exhales quietly as Hana is led away.

They continue toward the office—

And then they hear shouting.

Inside the Office

Mr. Rahman grips his phone, voice low but furious.

“What do you mean?! He is your son!”
A pause.
“How could you let that assassin—that monster—near him?!”

Sylvia freezes.

Monster…?

The call ends abruptly as Mr. Marcus steps out.

“What are you kids doing here?”

Amin speaks up quickly. “We’re looking for Alex.”

Mr. Marcus chuckles lightly. “Ah, he’ll be fine.”

Fine?
Sylvia doesn’t believe that for a second.

Behind them, Mr. Rahman makes another call.

“Director Habeeb… do you know what happened?”
Pause.
“…No? Is that man with Alex?”
Longer pause.
“…You’re telling me he’s fine?”
A sigh.
“Alright… find out what happened.”

The call ends.

Mr. Rahman turns.

His eyes narrow.

“So,” he says slowly, voice suddenly sharp,
“naughty kids… what exactly are you doing here?”

Sylvia’s heart pounds.

Something is very, very wrong.

Unknown Location – Forest Clearing

Soro wipes blood from his lip, still smiling.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he says.
“This pressure. This freedom.”

I grit my teeth.

My fists tremble—not from exhaustion.

From restraint.

I don’t want this.

And yet—

My body moves smoother. Faster. Deadlier.

Every instinct screams to finish it.

If I keep going…

I might not come back.

Somewhere far away—

A girl’s necklace is cracked.
Another’s heart is racing for no reason.

And here—

The monster is knocking from inside my ribs.

Not pounding.

Tapping.

Patient.

We clash again.

My body moves, but my mind lags behind, like I’m watching myself from underwater. The world is sharp and dull at the same time—every sound stretched, every movement exaggerated.

I’m still not out of it.

Not even close.

Voices echo in my head.

“Snap out of it!!!”
Darrel’s voice—raw, desperate—cuts through the noise.

“Alex! Please—wake up!”
Frederica.
Shaking.
Afraid.

Sorry…

I hear them.

I really do.

But my fists keep moving.

Soro blocks, counters, grins.

“Not bad…” he murmurs, almost approving.
“Not bad at all…”

His eyes glow—eerie yellow, inhuman, amused.

And when I catch my reflection in the sheen of his blade—

…I’m the same.

That realization nearly breaks me.

Suddenly—

“ENOUGH!!!!”

The shout cracks through the battlefield like thunder.

We both stop.

I turn.

Maruk stands at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, presence heavy enough to bend the air itself. Beside him—

Director Habeeb.
Face unreadable.
Eyes sharp.

And Sergeant Faruk, hand resting near his weapon—not at ease.

Maruk’s voice is calm.

Too calm.

“Are you done with your training?”

Training?

This was training?

Soro straightens, rolling his shoulders like nothing happened.

“Class,” he says casually, waving a hand.
“Dismissed.”

I don’t stop.

I charge.

My fist crashes toward his face—again, again, again.

“I SAID STOP!!!” Maruk roars.

I don’t hear him.

I can’t.

Director Habeeb exhales slowly.
“…Just like Detective Tracy’s report,” he mutters.
“The endless rage.”

Soro moves.

One punch.

Not flashy.

Not fast.

It hits so deep I feel it in my bones.

My vision whites out.

I stagger, spit blood—

—and still punch back.

My knuckles slam into his face.

Soro reels.

Then—

He drops.

On one knee.

The world goes quiet.

For a moment—

It looks like I’m winning.

Soro looks up at me, blood on his lip, eyes gleaming with something close to satisfaction.

“So…” he says softly.
“What are you waiting for?”

I freeze.

“…Looking down?” he continues.
“Still thinking, sloppy?”

Shut up.

Darrel is screaming now.

Frederica is crying.

STOP.
PLEASE.
THIS ISN’T YOU.

My hands tremble.

If I hit him again—

I won’t stop.

I know it.

So I make a choice.

I pull my fist back—

And drive it into my own skull.

CRACK.

Pain detonates.

My ears ring violently.

The world spins, colors bleeding into each other.

My knees buckle.

My vision blurs.

But the voices—

They fade.

The monster recoils.

Breathing hard, blood dripping down my face, I whisper—

“…I’m still here.”

And for the first time—

The knocking stops.

Borneo–Sigma Institution

Mr. Rahman’s Office
Sylvia POV

“You found him?” Mr. Rahman says into the phone, voice low.
A pause.
“I see… thank you.”

He ends the call and turns back to us.

“He’s fine,” he says calmly. “Don’t worry about it.”

A wave of relief washes through the room.

I can feel it.

Mariam exhales dramatically. “See? What did I tell you, Syl—”

Priscilla barges in mid-sentence, hands on her hips.

“Crikey—what the bloody hell is this gathering?” she snaps.

“Nothing,” Mariam replies quickly. “We were just worried about Alex.”

Everyone laughs it off.

Everyone except me.

Because I’m not relieved.

Not even a little.

I know something is wrong.

One by one, everyone files out of the office—footsteps fading, chatter returning to normal—

Until only three of us remain.

Me.

Mr. Rahman.

Mr. Marcus.

Just as I’m about to speak, Mariam’s voice pops back through the doorway.

“Hey, Syl?!”

I force a smile. “Uh—Mr. Rahman needs to talk to me. Go on ahead, please.”

“No secrets from me!” Mariam steps back inside instantly.

Before I can react—

Mariam blocks his path with a grin. “Nope. Girls only.”

“Awww,” Amin groans dramatically as the door closes.

Click.

Locked.

The silence that follows is heavy.

I swallow.

“…What happened?” I ask.

Mr. Rahman studies me for a long moment before speaking.

“Tell me something,” he says quietly.
“Ever since you all became close to him… has anything strange happened to Alex?”

My spine stiffens.

“So… you noticed too,” Mr. Marcus murmurs.

I glance at him, then back at Mr. Rahman.

“What do you mean?” I ask carefully.

Mr. Rahman turns toward the window, sunlight catching the edge of his glasses.

“Different,” he says.
“A little more distant than before.”

It hits.

Hard.

Ever since the incident with Shinji.
Ever since Alex met Soro.

Something inside him shifted.

Like a door opening that shouldn’t have been touched.

“Why are you asking?” I say.

Mr. Rahman sighs.

“Well… since you overheard my conversation with Puan Mas…”

My breath catches.

“What happened?” I ask quietly.

He hesitates.

Then—

“I found out that Puan Mas already knew the man who calls himself Soro,” Mr. Rahman says.
“And Maruk as well.”

My hands clench.

“They’re part of Alex’s father’s family,” he continues.
“And Alex has been receiving… extracurricular training from them.”

My heart skips.

“Especially Soro.”

Mariam’s voice echoes in my head—

Syl, do you know this?

I nod slowly.

“I do.”

Mr. Rahman looks surprised.

Mariam—who somehow slipped back in before the door fully closed—takes a deep breath.

“I know too,” she admits. “Ever since he followed me to LA.”

“LA…” Mr. Rahman murmurs, thinking.

Mr. Marcus crosses his arms.

“This stays between us,” he says firmly. “No one else.”

He looks at me.

“That boy absorbs everything,” he continues.
“He’s talented. Abnormally so.”

My chest tightens.

“Especially when it comes to survival,” Mr. Marcus adds.
“It’s like he’s lived through things no child ever should.”

Mr. Rahman’s voice lowers.

“That’s because his mother—Puan Mas—is known for something,” he says.
“Something even I am afraid of.”

He pauses.

“And Alex…”
“I’ve known him since he was a baby.”

My vision blurs slightly.

This—

This is a part of Alex I never knew.

A part he never told me.

Or maybe—

A part he doesn’t even remember.

I press my hand against my chest.

Alex… what have they been turning you into…?

And why does it feel like—

I’m already too late?

Borneo–Sigma Institution → The Hill Hospital

Sylvia POV

“Anyway…” Mr. Rahman exhales, already moving.
“I’m heading to the meeting place. Marcus—and you girls—follow me.”

We nod immediately.

No questions.

Mariam pulls out her phone. “I’ll tell Amin to head back without me.”

“Got it,” I say.

She explains just enough to him—nothing concrete, nothing alarming. Mariam knows how to lie without lying.

We move fast.

Inside Mr. Rahman’s Car

The drive is quiet.

Too quiet.

We don’t head toward the general hospital near the school.

Instead, the road climbs.

Higher.
Colder.
Sharper curves.

And then I see it.

A massive structure perched on the hilltop—glass, steel, and white stone, glowing softly beneath the afternoon sun.

“The Borneo Foundation People’s Hospital,” Mr. Rahman says quietly.

My stomach twists.

“…My mother’s office,” I whisper.

Alex’s mother.

We stop.

My heartbeat is loud.

Inside the Hospital

The moment we step inside, I know—

This isn’t a normal hospital.

Everything is pristine. Too advanced. Screens glide instead of beep. Staff move with calm precision, like this place has seen far worse than broken bones and fevers.

Mr. Rahman heads straight to the concierge.

“Alexander Imran.”

The nurse types, pauses.

“Yes,” she says gently.
“But he’s currently in the operating room.”

My vision blurs.

Mariam grips my arm instantly.

“That dumbass…” she mutters, voice tight. “What the hell did he do this time?”

Marcus exhales slowly. “…So what happened?”

“It’s serious,” Mr. Rahman says.

That single sentence crushes me.

We walk deeper into the hospital—past glass walls, sealed corridors, restricted zones.

“This hospital…” I whisper. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mr. Rahman nods grimly.

“Alex has been here before.”

Mariam and I freeze.

Before we can ask—

We reach the observation window.

And there he is.

Alex.

Lying on the operating table.

Pale.
Still.
Surrounded by machines.

And then—

I see it.

Bullets.

Not one.

More than two.

Embedded deep.

My knees almost give out.

Mr. Marcus swears under his breath.
“…Did he go into battle?”

“He did.”

The voice comes from behind us.

We turn.

Maruk.

Older. Heavier presence. Sharp eyes that feel like they’re measuring my bones.

Danger radiates off him.

Mariam stiffens.

“What happened?” she demands.

“Soro didn’t tell you?” Maruk replies calmly.

“Where is he?” Mariam snaps.

A shadow moves.

Soro is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded as he watches Alex through the glass.

Mariam doesn’t hesitate.

She kicks.

Soro catches her foot effortlessly.

“Talk about rude,” he says lazily.

“What happened?!” Mariam roars.

He sighs.

“Still sloppy,” he mutters. “That asshole… still sloppy.”

“Soro,” I say sharply.

He turns to me.

Those eyes—

They’re smiling, but there’s no warmth.

“Remember what I told you,” he says softly.
“This is between me and that dumbass.”

His gaze flicks toward Alex.

“Nothing you need to know.”

“Really?” Mariam snarls, fist rising. “Try me.”

Soro chuckles.

“All you need to know,” he says, grin widening,
“Is that he’s not an ordinary kid anymore.”

My heart sinks.

“He could even hurt someone,” Soro adds casually.

Mariam’s eyes burn.

She’s ready to kill him.

Soro tilts his head.
“Could you still be his friend after this?”

Her fist stops inches from his face.

“I never liked him by his looks,” Mariam says coldly.
“That’s all you need to know.”

I don’t say anything.

I just stare at Alex through the glass—

And realize something terrifying.

The boy I fell in love with…

Is standing on the edge of something none of us can pull him back from.

Borneo Foundation People’s Hospital – Inner Lounge

Sylvia POV

Maruk exhales slowly.

“Well,” he says at last, eyes drifting toward the glass corridor,
“since no one seems eager to explain…”

He turns slightly.

“Soro. Keep an eye on Alex.”

Soro nods once. “Rog.”

Mariam releases her grip on his collar with a sharp shove.

“You’re lucky,” she mutters. “Just this time.”

She turns and walks toward Maruk without waiting.

I follow.

The room we enter doesn’t feel like part of a hospital.

It’s a natural lounge, open and quiet, filled with tall indoor trees, moss-covered stone walls, and filtered sunlight pouring in from above. Water trickles somewhere unseen. The air smells clean—too clean.

Maruk takes a seat at the center.

Mr. Rahman and Mr. Marcus sit beside him.

Three men.

Authority.
History.
Secrets.

Mariam and I remain standing.

We’re just teenagers.

But Mariam’s glare could cut steel.

Maruk studies her for a moment, then smiles faintly.

“So…” he says, voice mild.
“You’re the girl who wed Faruk’s son.”

“Cut the chatter,” Mariam snaps.
“Be direct.”

Silence.

Then Maruk chuckles.

“…Straightforward,” he says.
“Very well.”

He leans back.

“For me, Soro is someone I trust without question. He keeps things from me sometimes—but in time, he always explains.”

He looks directly at Mariam.

“Does that answer your concern?”

She doesn’t blink.

“Then what is Alex to you?”

“Mari—” I try to stop her, but she doesn’t look back.

Maruk’s gaze softens.

“He’s just a boy,” he says quietly.
“And someone who must figure things out on his own.”

Mariam scoffs.
“Military-style training? That’s what you call figuring things out?”

I swallow and step forward.

“Mr. Maruk,” I say carefully,
“I’m worried about him. Ever since he went to LA… he’s changed.”

All three men turn toward me.

“It’s like he’s searching for something,” I continue.
“Alex isn’t the type to obsess over anything—but recently… it’s like something is eating at him from the inside.”

“Seeking,” Mr. Rahman repeats.

“Yes,” I nod. “Seeking.”

Maruk closes his eyes briefly.

“Alex already knows the truth,” he says.
“Something about his past.”

My breath catches.

“Remember Kudat?”

Mr. Marcus raises an eyebrow.
“So you kids really are adventurous.”

Mr. Rahman sighs.
“You never cease to amaze me.”

Mariam goes quiet.

“I know about the clones,” I say softly.
“And Frederica. But why is he so focused on it?”

Maruk looks down.

“Hah…”
He exhales deeply.

“I warned Soro,” he admits.
“About what he planned to do with Alex. I never agreed to it.”

My heart tightens.

“But Soro said it was already too late,” Maruk continues.
“He said… never mind.”

“What could possibly be beyond your understanding?” Mr. Rahman asks.

Maruk’s eyes darken.

“Soro believes Alex must be taken down,” he says flatly.
“He claims Alex is dangerous.”

My blood runs cold.

“Extremely dangerous,” Maruk adds.
“As if… he wasn’t meant to be alive at all.”

Mariam stands up so abruptly the chair scrapes.

“Enough,” Maruk says calmly.
“That was Soro’s opinion. Not mine.”

He studies her.

“Young one.”

Mariam doesn’t sit.

“Soro told me I had two choices,” Maruk continues slowly.
“The easy one… was killing Alex.”

My breath stops.

“But when Mas met him…”
Maruk pauses.
“…Soro hesitated.”

Mas.

Alex’s mother.

The room tilts.

Mariam looks at me, stunned.
“Geez… what the hell is going on here?”

She clenches her fists.

“I care about Alex,” she says fiercely.
“I treat him like my brother.”

Maruk chuckles softly.

“Then you only see him on the surface,” he replies.
(You’ve never seen him at that moment.)

Mariam narrows her eyes.

“…Something about his eyes,” she says.
“Isn’t it?”

The three men exchange a look.

“So you know,” Maruk says.
“The Hunter Eyes.”

Mr. Rahman nods.

“Mas told me,” he explains.
“A genetic phenomenon. Traced back to antiquity.”

My heart pounds.

“Orion. Hassan-i Sabbah,” Mr. Rahman continues.
“According to her research, it grants abnormal perception, predatory focus—some argue even supernatural traits.”

Maruk smiles thinly.

“Soro is the original bearer,” he says.
“The last of his bloodline.”

“Not entirely,” Mr. Rahman counters.
“Your family line carries it as well.”

Maruk chuckles.
“…Perhaps.”

Then—

“My cousin,” Maruk adds.
“Jamil. Former INTERPOL officer in the late ’70s.”

Mr. Marcus stiffens.

“Head Inspector Jamil?”
“The Cold War legend?”

“Yes,” Maruk nods.
“He once brought a boy with him.”

A pause.

“That’s history now.”

Mariam slams her hand on the table.

“What does this have to do with Alex?!”

Maruk doesn’t soften his words.

“We suspect Mas did something to him,” he says.
“Something even I can’t explain.”

Mariam swallows.

“…Frederica. Alex,” she murmurs.
“He was supposed to be dead during that incident, wasn’t he?”

My chest tightens.

I remember.

Alex told us that himself.

And suddenly—

Everything feels terrifyingly connected.

Operation Room – Restricted Wing

Soro POV

Bright lights.

Sterile white.

The smell of antiseptic clings to everything, sharp enough to sting the nose.

Alex is still on the table.

Chest open. Machines humming in precise rhythm. Blood—cleaned as fast as it appears—never allowed to linger.

And at the center of it all—

Puan Mas.

She stands calm, gloved hands steady, eyes sharp behind surgical lenses. No hesitation. No tremor.

I lean against the reinforced glass, arms crossed.

For someone who isn’t officially a surgeon anymore…
She moves like one who never stopped.

No.

Better.

This isn’t just skill.

It’s instinct.

She knows exactly where every artery is. Exactly how much pressure before flesh yields. Exactly how close death can come before it’s forced to retreat.

A real doctor.

And something far more dangerous.

The door slides open behind me.

Director Habeeb enters first, expression unreadable.

Sergeant Faruk follows—hand already resting near his gun.

“So,” Habeeb says quietly.
“What’s the situation?”

“Nothing special,” I reply lazily.
“Just making sure the sloppy kid stays in one piece.”

Faruk’s fingers tighten slightly around his grip.

“I’m not doing anything,” I add, not even looking at him.

“Is that so?” Faruk sneers.
“I heard my future daughter-in-law gave you quite the workout.”

I smirk.

“Yeah. Real piece of work, that one.”
I glance sideways.
“Can’t you find another suitable future daughter-in-law? Preferably one who doesn’t try to break my legs?”

Faruk snorts.
“She’s perfect. The only one who can keep my son in line.”

Then his gaze sharpens.

“But you?” he continues.
“Seeing you on the floor? That was new.”

“Easy,” Habeeb interjects.

Faruk clicks his tongue but stays silent.

Habeeb turns back to me.
“What happened?”

I exhale slowly.

“Baba Yaga,” I say.

Both men stiffen.

“…The boogeyman,” I continue calmly.
“I saw it take him over.”

Faruk’s eyes narrow.
“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I saw everything,” I reply.
“After I took out the clones.”

I glance through the glass again.

Alex’s body jerks slightly as Puan Mas adjusts something—completely unfazed.

“When it finally broke loose,” I say,
“Whatever he’s been locking away inside himself… it exploded.”

Habeeb folds his arms.
“To what extent?”

I answer without hesitation.

“He’s already proficient enough to qualify as a first-class assassin.”

Faruk snaps his head toward me.

“Enough that I nearly put my gun to his head.”

The temperature in the room drops.

Faruk’s hand fully grips his weapon.

“Try aiming that gun at me first.”

“Enough,” Habeeb snaps sharply.
“This is not the time.”

Silence.

Machines beep steadily.

I don’t look away from the operating room.

“I know you protect that family from the shadows,” I say quietly.
“And I also know your reasons are things only Allah understands.”

Director Habeeb pause.

“But that boy?”
“…He’s standing at the edge of something you can’t shield him from anymore.” I said to him

Inside the operating room, Puan Mas gives a sharp command.

The monitors stabilize.

Alex’s heartbeat steadies.

I straighten slightly.

“…If he wakes up,” I murmur,
“the world better be ready.”

Because the monster didn’t disappear.

It learned how to breathe.

Outside the Operation Room

Soro POV

Sergeant Faruk watches me carefully.

“When that happens,” he asks, voice low,
“What will you do?”

I glance at him sideways.

“What is Alex to you?” I ask instead.

Faruk doesn’t answer immediately.

Then—

“That boy is the reason I stayed,” he says quietly.
“Because of him… my son is alive. He gave him direction. A future.”

There’s no hesitation in his voice.

I snicker.

Faruk’s eyes narrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Well,” I say lazily, looking away,
“At least I won’t have to worry if anything happens to Alex.”

I pause.

“He’s still sloppy,” I add.
“But…”

I lower my gaze.

“He’s improved. A lot.”

Habeeb nods.
“That hesitation in his eyes,” he says,
“The conflict within himself.”

“Yes,” Faruk agrees.
“That’s exactly what we wanted.”

I don’t comment.

Because hesitation is the last thing that keeps a monster human.

Inside the Operation Room

Mas POV

“Bullet removed,” I say calmly.
“Prepare to scan.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The surgical lights burn bright. Alex lies still, chest rising faintly beneath the machines.

A nurse exhales softly.
“My God… is he a soldier?”

“No,” I reply without looking up.
“Just… experienced.”

Another surgeon frowns.
“He’s only fifteen. I’m concerned about long-term damage.”

Alex…

Is what I did ten years ago affecting you now?

No.

My theory says no.

“Ma’am?” someone calls.

“Yes—sorry.” I refocus.
“How’s his head?”

“Slight concussion,” the radiologist answers.
“But the brain is… unusually intact.”

He hesitates.

“It’s almost as if there was no injury at all.”

A nurse chuckles nervously.
“Must be your imagination.”

“…Yes,” he murmurs.
“Must be.”

I straighten.

“Very well,” I say.
“Patient is stable.”

The room exhales with me.

“Thank you,” I tell them.

As we wheel Alex out, I spot Sylvia and Mariam waiting beyond the glass.

Not yet.

I instruct the nurses to keep them back.

He needs rest.

He needs silence.

Hospital Corridor

Mas POV

Soro appears beside me as we walk.

“So,” he says casually.
“He’s fine?”

“Yes,” I answer.
“And about the incident?”

He sighs.

“You knew the gamble,” he says.
“When you asked me—alone, without Maruk—to watch him in LA.”

“Yes,” I whisper.
“You were the only one I could trust.”

“Because of the clone,” he says.

“…Yes.”

He shrugs.

“I let it slide. My opinion only. Maruk agreed.”

I hesitate.

“…How was Alex?”

Soro glances at the stretcher.

“His movement,” he says.
“Exactly what you expected.”

I don’t answer.

“So that’s why you forced him into those ‘crazy stunts’ when he was little?” he presses.

Silence.

Pain lodges in my throat.

“…I see,” Soro says softly.
“I’ll leave it at that.”

I look at him.

“Are they watching me?”

He smirks faintly.

“Let’s just say… you’re on their list.”
“I can’t confirm it. But the Brotherhood you worked with? They’re interested.”

My breath tightens.

“How do you know?”

“I have my ways,” he replies.
“Leave it there.”

I nod.

“I trust your judgment.”

“Whatever,” he mutters, turning away.

Then he stops.

“In my opinion,” he says without looking back,
“I don’t really care.”

A pause.

“But if I see Alex as a little brother…”
“…you are a cruel woman.”

The words pierce straight through me.

“I—”

“That’s just my opinion,” he adds.
“I owe you my life. You protected my identity.”

He walks away.

Soro—

The boy born in the southern Philippines.
Hidden from sultans.
From Shariful Ahmad.
From my husband’s family.

The only man who can guide my son.

And the only one capable of killing him.

As Alex is escorted away, I stare out the window.

Please… let this choice not destroy him.

Hospital Lounge

Sylvia POV

My chest feels too tight.

Mariam paces beside me.

Then—

Uncle Faruk and Uncle Habeeb enter.

“So?” Maruk asks sharply.

“He’s stable,” Faruk replies.

Relief crashes over me.

I nearly collapse.

But then—

“Maruk,” Habeeb says quietly.
“We need to talk.”

The way he says it—

Something is coming.

And I already know—

This isn’t over.

Hospital Lounge → Recovery Ward

Sylvia POV

“Hey—where’s that asshole, Dad?”

Mariam’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

Faruk chuckles, completely unfazed.
“Now, now… easy. He’s not the type to do anything stupid.”

He pats Mariam’s shoulder proudly.

“That’s my girl. My future daughter-in-law.”

Uncle Habeeb groans and rubs his face.

“Mashallah… yes. Truly.”
He sighs.
“This girl is perfect for your family.”

“Heh,” Faruk grins.
“She’s someone you don’t mess with. Perfect for my son.”

Mariam crosses her arms smugly.
“That is my dad!”

I watch them bicker and laugh—three people bonded by blood, duty, and chaos.

And suddenly—

I feel… distant.

Watching them makes something inside me ache.

Where do I stand… with Alex?

I know I love him.

I know I want to be part of his family.

After my own family shattered…
After everything…

This place—he—felt like home.

I swallow.

“Uncle Habeeb,” I ask softly, unable to keep the anxiety out of my voice.
“Did Soro say anything?”

“Hm?” he replies.
“Well… let’s just say he’s taking things easy. For now.”

He pauses.

“Soro isn’t someone even I could take down.”

He glances at Faruk.

“Unless this man decides to get involved.”

Faruk scoffs.
“Don’t worry. That asshole isn’t doing things his way.”

“That’s my dad!” Mariam cheers again.

I smile faintly.

Then—

I slip away.

Recovery Ward

I move quietly down the corridor, heart pounding louder with every step.

The door is slightly open.

Inside—

She’s there.

Alex’s mother.

Sitting calmly beside the bed, hands folded, posture composed—like she’s waiting for something inevitable.

“…Syl.”

I freeze.

“I know you’re there,” she says gently.

I step inside.

Alex lies on the bed, pale, unmoving—bandaged, bruised.

He looks worse than the last time.

Worse than last year.

My chest tightens.

I reach out and gently hold his hand.

“He’s still under anesthesia,” she says softly.
“Tomorrow… he should wake up.”

“Mother…” My voice trembles.
“Is Alex—”

She smiles at me.

A warm smile.

“Remember what I told you before?” she says.
“I like you. I really do.”

My breath catches.

“Ever since he moved here… you and Natalie—both of you—have always made him smile.”

I nod, tears threatening.

“…Mother, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

She turns toward me.
“What is it, dear?”

“About me and Steward moving… to Italy.”

She nods slowly.

“It’s your father’s wish,” she says.
“He feels this place is no longer home.”

She sighs softly.

“He worries that staying here only makes you feel… empty.”

I look down.

“But I’m worried about Alex,” I whisper.
“I love him. I really do.”

My fingers tighten around his.

“He’s not just someone I love… he’s someone I want to stay with.”

She listens quietly.

Then—

“As a mother,” she says gently,
“Even if we are not related… I must make my stand.”

My heart sinks.

“But,” she continues,
“I will leave the decision to you.”

She looks at Alex.

“When the time comes… you will know.”

It feels like—

She already sees the future.

Mother… what are you?

Your family feels like hope.

And yet—

Something feels off.

Like I’m only a pathway in Alex’s life.

Not the destination.

I step back, choosing not to press further.

There’s something she isn’t telling me.

Something too heavy.

But one question slips out anyway.

“Mother…?”

“Yes?”

“When Alex told me he was revived by an organ donor…”
I hesitate.
“In what way…?”

Based on what I know—

He shouldn’t be alive.

She looks at him.

Then smiles.

“Well,” she says lightly,
“Perhaps you should read the story of Frankenstein.”

My breath stops.

“…Frankenstein?”

“I see,” I say quickly, forcing myself to calm down.
“I’ll… wait.”

This isn’t the time.

But as I leave the ward—

One thought echoes in my mind.

Alex… what were you brought back as?

And who decided—

You had to live?

Outside the Hospital – Night

Soro POV

I step outside.

Cold air hits my lungs.

Too quiet.

My phone vibrates.

…That’s strange.

The caller ID makes me stop.

I pick up.

“Hey, Fox.”

That voice.

I smirk faintly.
“Yeah?”

“About that Brotherhood,” the voice continues.
“They really want that kid. He fits their criteria perfectly.”

My jaw tightens.

“But I found something else.”

“…What is it, Cipher?”

There’s a pause.

“Damn it. I even changed my voice.”

“Save it,” I mutter.
“You’re my go-to when things get ugly. How the hell did my position—and the kid’s—get compromised?”

Cipher exhales sharply.

“You’ve gotta be careful. From what I know… the unknown assailants that kid took down…”

My footsteps slow.

“…Shit.”

“What?” I snap.

“Their heads,” Cipher says quietly.
“…were gone.”

My blood runs cold.

“All of them were apprehended by the police director,” I say, forcing calm.

“Yeah, about that,” Cipher replies.
“The police? Someone inside the system. Right under the Director’s nose.”

“…A mole.”

“Bingo.”

I click my tongue.

“Just like I predicted. This job isn’t worth the money.”

Cipher laughs bitterly.
“Seems like it. Damn, bro… you got the worst assignment this time.”

“Yeah,” I mutter.
“I know.”

Then—

“One more thing,” Cipher adds.
“A lead I dug up.”

“Go on.”

“…Joan of Arc.”

I stop walking.

“…What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“Do I look like a historian to you?” I growl.

“You know who she is, right?” Cipher replies.

“Yeah,” I say slowly.
“So why is she suddenly in my circle?”

Silence.

Then—

“Just keep it in mind,” Cipher says.
“I’ll keep you posted.”

The line cuts.

I lower the phone.

That’s when I feel it.

Eyes.

I’ve been followed.

Ever since I started guarding that kid…
The clones haven’t stopped circling.

I melt into the shadows.

No sound. No trace.

I slip into a forest pathway behind the hospital, crouching behind thick foliage.

Wait.

Footsteps.

Two of them.

A woman—silent, controlled.

And a man.

“Did you find him?” the man asks.

She shakes her head.

“Then we must be careful,” he says.
“If we lose him now… he’ll become the death of all of us.”

The Brotherhood.

The man steps into the moonlight.

Clerical robes.

…A man of the Church.

“We cannot afford that,” he continues calmly.

His phone rings.

“Yes, Your Eminence,” he says.
“She’s ensuring the boy survives.”

I narrow my eyes.

“I understand,” he continues.
“But what about the man named Soro?”

My grip tightens on the knife at my side.

“I see… perhaps we should push her.”

Push Mas?

“…Trigger her.”

I feel a flicker of rage.

“Very well,” the cleric says.
“We’ll update you again, Your Eminence.”

The call ends.

“Number One Thousand,” he says coldly.
“Return. But keep his scent.”

She nods.

They leave.

I don’t move until their footsteps disappear.

Then I make a call.

“Spectre.”

“Ah,” Spectre replies lazily.
“You ready?”

“Looks like we’re paying a visit to Vatican City.”

A pause.

Then laughter.

“Well then,” Spectre says.
“Are you ready to convert?”

“Fuck you.”

I hang up.

I look back at the hospital.

At the boy lying inside.

Alex Imran.

You’re not just a target anymore.

You’re a trigger.

And this—

This just became another really complicated mess I didn’t ask for.

The world is quiet in that early-millennium way.
No smartphones. No constant noise. Just streetlights, static air, and secrets that move slower—but cut deeper.

For now, I force my thoughts away from the kid. Away from the hospital. Away from the fire he almost lost himself to.

I focus on that man.

The clerical collar.
The careful words.
The way power sits on him like an old crown no one admits still exists.

My Nokia 9210 Communicator vibrates in my pocket.

I stop walking.

Only one person uses this channel.

Cipher.

The monochrome screen flickers to life, letters loading one by one.

Joan of Arc
Witches
Malleus Maleficarum
Lilith
Weaponization of belief
Follower recruitment
Dark Ages methodology

I stare at it.

“…Uh huh.”

So that’s the angle.

Old faith.
Old fear.
Old blood rewritten as doctrine.

The Brotherhood doesn’t need modern tech.
They never did.

They survived empires.
They survived revolutions.
They survived the Cold War.

And now—
They’re adapting again.

I close the communicator with a soft click and slide it back into my coat. The streetlights end ahead. Beyond them, the road disappears into trees and silence.

Joan burned.
Lilith was erased.
History calls it justice.

I call it control.

And now they’ve found another name to carve into their myths.

Alex.

I turn away from the hospital, footsteps fading as I take the narrow path into the darkness. No cameras. No witnesses. Just instinct and old habits.

If the Dark Ages are coming back—

They won’t announce themselves.

They’ll move quietly.

Like prayer.

Like knives.

And unfortunately for them…

I’ve been living in the shadows long before this century began.

— End of Chapter