At dusk, the last sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting long, warm stripes across the apartment floor. Fine dust floated in the air, as if time itself had slowed.
The small apartment Evelyn had rented for Qianye felt sealed off from the world—quiet, private… and faintly, oppressively heavy.
Evelyn had once again canceled Yao Jiayin's schedule to stay here. Jiayin said she'd gotten used to it, and planned to use the rare free time to sort out her own emotions.
She had to decide: whether she wanted to demand both of them outright, or take the gentler route and still end up with both—an agonizing dilemma.
Evelyn, meanwhile, watched Qianye lying quietly on the sofa. Silver hair lay soft against his cheek, and his signature cowlick drooped lifelessly.
The TV's shifting light played across his jade-green eyes. The broadcast was covering the Yuanjing Industries demolition case.
Nicole stood in front of the camera with the airship behind her, speaking passionately about something. The late-arriving figures of Anby, Billy, and Nekomata also appeared in frame.
But Qianye's gaze was hollow—as if he were watching that world through a sheet of glass he couldn't pierce.
"…."
In the silence, only the news anchor's voice echoed from the TV.
"What is it, Qianye?" Evelyn set down what she was holding and walked to the sofa, unconsciously lowering her voice. "Why aren't you saying anything?"
She reached out and pressed the back of her hand lightly to his forehead. His skin felt cool.
"No fever…"
Qianye didn't pull away. He simply turned his head slightly, eyes still unfocused on the screen, voice rough with exhaustion.
"…Eve. Not wanting to talk has nothing to do with fever."
"I'm not feverish. I just… don't know what to say."
He sighed, like a small animal soaked by rain and unable to find its way home, and buried his face into the soft couch cushion.
"Honestly… after leaving Sixth Street, I feel like a kite with its string cut."
"I don't know which way the wind will blow."
"I don't know where I'm supposed to drift."
"Everything here is good. I have food and clothes, I don't have to worry about officers showing up at the door…"
"But, Eve…"
His voice fell, deep with confusion.
"…I still feel lonely."
On the TV, Nicole was fiercely condemning Yuanjing Industries. The camera swept over Anby's determined face and Billy's clenched fists.
Qianye's eyes finally sharpened slightly—but what filled them was an even heavier helplessness.
"Look, Eve… Nicole stood up so bravely. And Anby, Billy, Nekomata… they're all out there, facing the whole city's eyes, carrying pressure I can't even imagine."
"They're fighting. For the truth."
"Maybe… also for people like me, forced to hide."
"But I can only stay here like a coward, watching from far away."
"I can't help them— not even a little."
His fingers curled unconsciously, gripping the sofa fabric.
"Qianye…" Evelyn's chest tightened. She wanted to comfort him, but every sentence felt thin and useless.
Qianye lifted his head. His jade eyes looked at her, filled with emotions like a moonlit forest lake covered in mist—clear, yet overflowing with pain.
"And it's not just them, Eve. I can't do anything at all."
"I can't focus on researching new formulas."
"I can't go see my old friends."
"And the patients… the patients who've been waiting for my medicine…"
His voice grew urgent, thick with self-blame.
"Tops' Jo Pharmacy is all over New Eridu, sure. They can supply almost any common drug."
"But for some special patients, a small illness that's nothing to ordinary people can become life-or-death."
"And the standard medicines that work for most people might do almost nothing for them—or trigger violent toxic side effects."
"They need what I formulate specifically."
"Only those medicines can ease their suffering and extend their lives…"
"But now…"
His voice caught. Moisture shimmered in his eyes, but he forced himself not to let tears fall.
That heart—after everything it had endured, after believing itself hardened—still ached violently from powerlessness and worry.
"…And because of that rope-net wanted notice from Zhu Yuan's superior—Bringer—I'm trapped in this comfortable cage like a prisoner."
"I can't do anything…"
Evelyn watched him crumble, and it felt like an invisible hand was crushing her heart.
Instinctively, she leaned in—wanting to pull him into her arms like she had in recent days, to give him some small comfort in a body that wasn't truly warm.
But as she bent down, Qianye whispered—almost soundlessly.
A breath of words, lighter than the evening wind outside the window. Faint as morning mist over a river.
Yet Evelyn heard it.
Every syllable hit like ice needles—straight through her ears and into her heart.
"I've never… hated someone this much."
"Hated them to the point that…"
"I want to… kill him… no matter what it takes…"
The air froze.
Evelyn's motion locked mid-bend. Her violet pupils contracted sharply.
The worry and tenderness on her face shattered into shock and disbelief.
No hesitation—pure instinct—
she lunged forward and slammed a hand down on Qianye's thin shoulder, pressing him hard into the sofa backrest.
Fast enough that he couldn't react. His jade eyes widened in stunned alarm.
"Qianye!" Evelyn's voice shook with a tremor she didn't notice until it was already there. She stared into his eyes as if trying to see through the fog to the deepest place in his soul.
"What you just said—was that real?"
"You really… really have that thought?!"
Her tone was rapid, harsh—almost accusing.
Qianye seemed startled by how intense she was. He froze a second, then frowned, confusion and stubbornness mixing in his expression.
"…What else would I feel?"
"Eve, it's impossible not to hate Bringer."
"He did this to me."
"He kept me from helping the people who need me."
"If it were you, you would—"
"If it were me," Evelyn cut in, almost snarling, "I would never have the thought of doing it myself."
Her hand tightened on his shoulder until her knuckles whitened.
"If even you have that idea… then…"
Her words broke off.
A sharp, sour ache surged up her throat, stealing her breath.
In those violet eyes—usually cold and razor-clear—pain and panic churned violently.
We moths are drawn to your light.
We throw ourselves at you even if it burns us, even if we turn to ash.
Because only that way can creatures born in darkness believe there is still something pure worth chasing.
But if you—if you, the moon, the starlight—
are stained by dust…
if you begin to grow the same darkness we carry…
then what are we supposed to do?
What am I supposed to do?
How can someone like me—a butcher pulled from the abyss by your hand, a soul soaked in blood—bear the idea of watching those hands meant to heal and save…
become the ones to touch the filth we've been trying to block for you?
Then what meaning does our protection have?
What meaning does our sacrifice have?
Her mind screamed those words.
But aloud, she only let out a stifled, broken breath.
She pressed him down harder, as if she could physically pin him away from the edge of that thought, as if she could keep the last fragile light in her heart from collapsing.
"Qianye," she whispered, voice so low it was almost a lie she was telling herself. "Tell me…"
"This thought of taking a life—did it come from you?"
"Or… in that lightless cell…"
"Did someone…"
"Did someone put this darkness into your head?"
Her eyes locked on his. Deep in the violet, fear tangled with a thin, desperate hope.
Her body tensed unconsciously—like a mother panther ready to choose between two brutal outcomes.
If he admitted it was his own thought…
then she would have to teach him a "lesson," even if it made him hate her—she'd have to kill the seed before it grew.
If he said it came from someone else…
then maybe it could be undone, and she could comfort him—give him warmth, reward, reassurance.
Holding that selfish, near-obsessive resolve, Evelyn closed her eyes, lashes trembling, and waited for judgment.
She expected excuses. Tears. Anger.
Instead, seconds passed with only the TV's news narration—absurdly out of place.
No answer came.
What came was trembling.
Under her palm, Qianye's thin shoulder began to shake—harder and harder—
not sobbing, not crying—
but spasms, out of control, as if something deep in his soul had begun to seize.
Evelyn's eyes snapped open.
Qianye looked terrifying.
His body quivered like a leaf in a storm. His face was so pale it nearly turned translucent. Cold sweat beaded on his brow.
But worst—
his eyes.
Those jade-green eyes that were usually clear as water, reflecting forests and lakes—
were now empty.
Dead.
As if all light had been sucked out.
And yet in the depth of that dead stillness, Evelyn saw something even more frightening—
not simple confusion, not ordinary pain—
but a violent inner conflict, an inhuman torment.
As if countless unseen gods and asuras were churning the "sea of milk" inside his mind—trying to tear apart and remake his reason, his memories, his soul.
Evelyn's question had acted like a spell.
Without meaning to, she'd opened a Pandora's box that should never have been touched.
In that instant, Qianye reflexively tried to trace back the memory of that night of imprisonment—
and fell straight into a whirlpool of chaos and contradiction.
That vile woman—snake-venom incarnate—
Sarah—
should have been fixed in his memory as a witch, a monster, a cold manipulator.
But when he was forced to remember, those hateful labels began to… blur. Peel away. Fade.
And in their place, warmth rose—fragments that shouldn't exist:
his true teacher.
Carlos Arna.
The one who had specially commissioned Xu Ge'er for him.
The one who always wore a gentle smile.
Who patiently taught him pharmacology.
Who called his name—and Zhe's, and Rin's, and the other children's—softly, tenderly.
The one who was seized by a terrifying white giant hand on the dreadful "Day of Collapse"—
a sacrifice.
The one who promised she would always protect Qianye, until the end of her life.
That voice had once been the clearest, warmest refuge in his memory.
Now it felt distant.
Distorted.
And worse—
as those precious words resurfaced, another voice forced its way in—
Sarah's.
That serpent-soft tone, persuasive and warped with corrupting power.
It threaded into his memories like parasitic vines, and Qianye realized with horror—
it had been there for a long time.
Already entwined.
Already embedded.
She was guiding.
Replacing.
Performing a slow, vicious substitution.
So that now, when he clawed desperately for the pure memory of his teacher—
he discovered the snake's fangs were already sunk into the core.
And the most disgusting, most terrifying part—
Sarah's voice calling to him became clearer and clearer—
and her blurred face, in those memories, began to shift—
bit by bit—
toward the face of the teacher he loved most.
Overlapping.
Merging.
"No…!" Qianye finally dragged a shattered sound out of his throat, hoarse beyond recognition. "It's my teacher… it's my teacher's face…"
"…turning into hers…"
"No!!"
The desperate cry detonated through the quiet apartment like thunder.
And it crushed Evelyn's last thread of hope.
Staring at the torment that looked ready to rip Qianye's soul apart, Evelyn felt her stomach sink.
This was far more complex—and far more dangerous—than simple hatred.
Something insidious, something that clung like a bone-deep curse, was quietly contaminating and twisting the "moonlight" she was sacrificing everything to protect.
Evelyn knew little of what truly happened to Qianye in that cell.
Only that he'd been taken suddenly under an arrest order—and later reached out to her for help, coming to her side.
And at the time, she had been drunk on the "unexpected gift" of his dependence and closeness—intoxicated like she'd swallowed strong liquor—
and tragically, she had ignored the need to dig into the root of the disaster.
Guilt surged like a tide.
But seeing Qianye trembling on the brink of collapse, she dug her nails into her palm. The pain snapped her awake.
This was not the time to drown in self-reproach.
She had to act.
She pulled a small unlabeled bottle from an inner pocket, movements sharp with practiced skill, and twisted it open.
White tablets rattled softly inside.
"Sorry, Qianye," she said, voice low and absolute. "But I need you to calm down first."
She poured out a sleeping pill without hesitation. With one hand, she steadied his trembling jaw. With the other, she applied a precise pressure to part his lips.
It's for his own good.
He's shaking too much—he can't swallow properly on his own.
The justification flashed through her mind, self-soothing and urgent.
She leaned in and administered the pill quickly and accurately, ensuring he swallowed.
The whole process took only an instant—clinical, efficient, almost cruel in its professionalism.
As Qianye's trembling gradually eased, his breathing smoothing into a long, even rhythm, he finally fell into drug-induced deep sleep.
Only then did Evelyn release a long breath, her tight shoulders loosening slightly.
She lifted the boy carefully, cradling him as if he were weightless, and laid him gently in the bedroom. She tucked him in, pulled the blanket up with near-reverent care.
When her fingers brushed the sweat-damp silver strands on his forehead, a desire to linger—to touch more—rose immediately.
She pressed her lips together and forced it down.
There were more important things now.
She closed the bedroom door softly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace inside. Then she went to the window, reached into another hidden pocket, and pulled out an encrypted communicator.
She dialed a number she almost never used.
After a short ring tone, a man's voice answered—elegant and rich, with a lazy, mocking amusement, as if he'd been waiting.
"Oh? 'Green of Scheler'… so you finally decided to lift your head from that intoxicating little paradise and remember you have work to do?"
Evelyn's brows snapped together. Disgust flashed in her violet eyes. She had no patience for games.
"Cut the nonsense, Mockingbird."
"I need the full details of what happened the night Qianye was arrested and imprisoned—everything. And I need to know which forces are involved."
"Immediately."
There was a soft chuckle on the other end.
"Heh. Finally asking the right question."
"Good. Pick a day you can make it, and meet me at Midnight Café in Guangying Plaza."
"And while we're at it—I want you to do me a small favor."
"What favor?"
"Take a Bangboo out of there. It… really wants to see Qianye."
"And letting it change environments will stabilize Robin's mood. It'll also save me a lot of repair costs."
Evelyn paused briefly. Qianye might truly need something familiar and harmless nearby.
She answered cleanly.
"Fine."
"Then it's settled."
The call ended abruptly.
At the exact same time, inside a hidden dark room within Director Justin Bringer's office at the Guangying Plaza Public Security Bureau sub-branch—
Sarah was kneeling on soft carpet, hands folded over her chest, conducting a silent prayer.
In the dim light, her face looked serene—devout.
Then her slender shoulders trembled slightly. A faint sigh escaped her lips—laced with the frustration of a plan almost completed… and yet carrying a strangely sick pleasure.
"What a pity…" she murmured like a lover whispering. Her fingertip traced her own lip lightly.
"I was so close."
"As expected… a branch too thin can't easily pry loose a tree rooted deep."
"You escaped again, my dear…"
A few dull, hurried knocks sounded from outside the concealed door, cutting off her thoughts.
Sarah's saintly expression vanished instantly, replaced by naked annoyance.
She rose, smoothed her skirt with elegant precision, and opened the hidden mechanism door.
Bringer stood outside.
Sarah's voice turned icy, dripping with ridicule.
"How rude. Are you such a crude brute that you don't even understand the most basic courtesy of knocking?"
Bringer snorted, impatient, clearly uninterested in exchanging insults.
"Hmph. I don't owe manners to something that lives like a parasite in the shadows."
"Enough. I'm not here for your lectures."
"Your two briefcases were delivered to Perlman as instructed. He's probably opened them by now. I didn't think you'd prepare—"
"Wait."
Sarah's smile-mask froze.
She cut him off sharply, her voice climbing into disbelief—thin, dangerous, and bright.
"What did you just say?"
"Two briefcases?"
Bringer blinked, thrown by her reaction. "Yeah. Your two cases were delivered—"
"You idiot!"
Sarah's composure shattered.
Her eyes erupted with fury. She stepped forward, nearly jabbing a finger toward his face, voice trembling with rage.
"I prepared one briefcase."
"Where did the second one come from?!"
Bringer's face went ugly as he finally grasped how serious this was.
Sarah closed her eyes, drew in a slow breath, then opened them again.
What looked back was no longer irritation.
It was cold, venomous calculation.
She stared at Bringer—who now looked wrong-footed—and spoke slowly, each word packed with ice.
"So that's how it is…"
"Now everything's in chaos."
"The situation is accelerating…"
"Straight toward the outcome we least want to see."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 147)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter185)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter105)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter215)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 185
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 170
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass Volume2/1
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 206
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 190
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 154
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player Volume4/23
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 106
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 125
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 105
I Can Copy Unique Skills 90
Summoning an Evil God, but the 70
Supernatural Multiverse 90
My Harem Is Indescribable 80
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 86
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 68
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 81
Still playing traditional Honk 65
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 65
What Should I Do After Switchi - Volume2/3
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 57
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 45
Transmigrated as Sukuna 59
Checking In in Demon Slayer 59
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 73
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 45
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 36
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 40
What Do You Mean by Using a Lab Mod to Be the Hero? 60
Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 30
Why did they assign me to Uma 35
MYGO Beauties 43
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 30
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 31
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