"Find them!"
"We have to find them!"
Somewhere else—within the spiritual domain of the Kurta clan.
A blank, secluded chamber.
Three figures stood at different points in the room: an old man, Sheila, and Kaizen.
The elder's gaze was filled with rage and resentment as he fixed his eyes on Sheila.
"Why?" he demanded.
Sheila regarded him coolly. "Why what?"
"Why did you betray the Kurta clan's sanctuary?"
"It wasn't me—"
Before she could finish, the elder cut her off.
"If not you, then who? For decades, no one else has ever come here. And yet, the very moment those butchers attacked, you were here."
His voice trembled with fury. "There's not a shred of remorse on your face."
Sheila was silent for a moment before answering.
"It was me."
Despite her confession, her expression remained unchanged.
"Why?" the old man pressed. "What did the Kurta clan ever do to you?"
"Nothing."
"Then why?"
"Because I wanted revenge."
The elder hesitated, confusion flickering across his face.
"You bear no grudge against us, yet you sought vengeance upon our people?"
"No."
Sheila shook her head. "Not against the Kurta clan. I wanted revenge on the ones who massacred your people."
"I knew you were strong. So I used you to destroy them."
Understanding dawned in the old man's eyes, but his anger only burned hotter.
"What do you take us for?" he spat.
"Nothing," Sheila said bluntly. "I don't care about your clan. Your lives mean nothing to me. But you had power, and I needed it. So I used you."
She looked down at her hands. "I was too weak. Too weak to take revenge on my own. So I had to rely on others."
A bitter smile crossed her lips. "Right or wrong… it doesn't matter to me. I would make the same choice a hundred times over."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
The elder's thoughts swirled with disbelief. Of all the possibilities he had considered, this was never one of them. He could not accept it.
After a long pause, he lifted his head, his crimson eyes gleaming with intensity.
"I can't accept that."
His voice was steady, but filled with an unshakable resolve.
"You used the Kurta clan. You led us to ruin, left us on the brink of extinction. At the very least, you owe me an explanation."
He stepped forward. "Tell me everything. Every detail."
Sheila exhaled softly. "Fine."
She paused before beginning. "I am from Meteor City. When I was a child, it was nothing like the place it is now. It was filthy, yes, but it was alive. People struggled, but they were happy in their own way."
Her voice darkened. "Then, the elders of Meteor City started dealing with outsiders. And suddenly, children began disappearing."
Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. "One day, they were there. The next, gone."
"I had a dear friend—her name was Sarasa. She was kind, cheerful, and full of life. Everyone adored her."
Sheila's voice softened at the memory. "We had a little group—me, Sarasa, Chrollo, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Feitan, Phinks, Uvogin, Nobunaga, Machi, Franklin… We would scavenge discarded videotapes from the garbage and dub them ourselves so the others could enjoy them."
She smiled faintly. "It was one of our greatest joys."
Then her expression darkened. "Until the day Sarasa disappeared."
Sheila's hands trembled. "We searched everywhere. Every alley, every street… and then we found her."
Her breath hitched as she forced herself to continue. "She was in a forest, stuffed inside a black plastic bag hanging from a tree. A note was taped to the trunk."
She clenched her jaw. "Uvogin took the bag down. We already knew… we already had a terrible feeling."
She swallowed hard. "Inside, we found Sarasa."
"Or what was left of her."
Her voice wavered. "She had been… dismembered. Her fingers, toes, her heart—her eyes were missing. Those monsters took them as trophies."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.
"We pieced her back together as best as we could. But her eyes… they were gone."
Sheila's expression hardened. "That day, I swore revenge."
She inhaled sharply. "I didn't know who they were. I searched for years, but I never found them. So I made a choice. If I couldn't find them, I would take vengeance on all like them. Every sick bastard who collects human parts, who enjoys killing—any of them could be the ones who took Sarasa."
Her voice was steel. "I would destroy them all."
She lifted her gaze, meeting the elder's crimson eyes. "That is my reason."
The old man stared at her, his rage momentarily overshadowed by something else—understanding, perhaps. Or pity.
But the fire in his eyes did not fade.
Silence settled between them, heavy and unbroken.
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