"So, you're finally awake."
The voice was calm, yet casual—with a hint of relief laced in its edge.
Rio's eyes opened slowly. His vision was blurry, his body still limp. The room was dim, lit only by the flickering of an oil lamp in the corner, casting shadows that moved slowly across the wooden walls.
"Where am I...? Why is it so dark?" his voice was hoarse. His throat felt dry, his mind still trying to piece together his last memories.
The blond-haired man sat in an old chair, a worn book open on his lap. His hand still held a pen, but he was no longer writing. He turned, looking at Rio with perceptive blue eyes that weren't intimidating.
"Relax. You're safe. And it's not the time to be getting up to flex," he said with a wry smile, his tone light. "Your body still needs time to recover. After that, you can talk to Kakek Henry. For now, just rest. Seriously."
Rio huffed quietly, a mix of frustration and wariness. "Don't tell me to be quiet. I feel strong enough. So tell me now—where am I? And who exactly are you?"
Dany leaned back in his chair, letting out a short breath as if reluctant to argue, then closed his book with a quiet finality.
"Alright," he said, his tone turning slightly more serious. "If you're really strong enough to stand without falling, follow me."
Rio swung his legs off the wooden bed, swaying slightly, but forced his body to remain upright. They walked slowly out of the narrow room, descending a set of old wooden stairs that creaked softly.
Downstairs, the warmth of a fireplace greeted them. An old man sat in a large chair, his back to them, his body cloaked in the orange glow of the burning fire. His gaze was fixed on the embers, deep, as if he were piecing together the past.
In another corner of the room, a young woman with jet-black hair was wiping down a longsword. Her movements were precise and methodical, as if every gesture had been practiced for years. Her focus was absolute, and she said little.
"This is the one I was talking about, the one I brought back," the blond man said, stepping more quickly down the stairs, the sound of his footsteps a stark contrast to the silence of the lower room.
The young woman turned her head sharply. Her eyes were as sharp as a blade's edge, and her lips tensed as if holding back something hotter than anger—disbelief. Her jet-black hair fell neatly over her shoulders, but her eyes betrayed a tension that couldn't be disguised.
"Seriously, Dany? You'd just bring a stranger into this house?" her voice was cold, not from fear—but because her logic flatly rejected it.
Dany raised an eyebrow, then gave a casual shrug. A half-smile appeared—his typical style for when he knew he was in the wrong, but felt he was right anyway. "Relax, Lisa. He's not an Eater."
Lisa clicked her tongue. Her hands remained busy, wiping the blade of her sword, but her eyes made it clear: she was judging Rio from head to toe, right down to his bones. "You trust people too easily. It'll get us killed one day," she muttered, almost inaudibly.
The old man in the large chair still had his back to them. The firelight cast a reddish glow on the wrinkled side of his face. Without turning, he spoke—his voice deep, heavy, and breaking the tension like a soft clap of thunder.
"What is your name, son?"
Rio lowered his head slightly. His voice was quiet but clear. "Rio Rosswel. Thank you... for saving me."
For a moment, no one spoke. Only the crackling of the fire and the whisper of the night wind creeping through the window slits. Rio's eyes glanced outside, to the small window in the wall. Out there, there was only darkness, trees swaying faintly, and a silence that felt too perfect to be comfortable.
"Isn't a remote place like this dangerous? What if a group of Eaters suddenly attacked?" Rio's voice held a mix of fear and curiosity that was hard to hide.
The old man turned his body slowly, his gaze now locked on Rio's eyes. "You don't know what's really happening in the city of Antares. There is no safe place but here. The farther you are from society, the more protected you are."
Rio looked at the three of them, trying to stabilize his breathing and his mind, which was now swarming with questions.
"If you want to be safe, why live in a secluded place like this?" he said, his voice slow but firm. "In the city, we can rely on others. Lights, police posts, patrols. If Eaters show up, we just call for help."
The young woman let out a small scoff, her eyes still focused on the sword she was polishing.
"And what if the people you call for help are the Eaters?" she retorted coldly.
Rio fell silent for a moment. He stared at the wooden floor, which creaked every time he shifted his feet.
"So you're saying the police could be Eaters?"
"It's not just a possibility," Kakek Henry finally spoke. "In the city of Antares, they have been infiltrating for a long time. Not all of them, of course. But enough to disrupt the system and cover their tracks."
The blond man stood up slowly, no longer leaning back casually. His eyes hardened, the playful look gone.
"You remember the tragedy with that video?" he asked suddenly, his tone flat. "When the richest man in Antares was butchered in a live broadcast?"
Rio nodded slowly. The memory was too clear to forget—the viral video that had been broadcast across all networks, stunning the world into silence.
"Everyone panicked. The government held a press conference, the media called it 'the greatest act of digital terror in history.' But the most terrifying part wasn't the blood, it wasn't the screams..." Dany stared into the fire, the red glow dancing on his face.
"...but rather, the message that came after."
A heavy silence crept in. The fire crackled softly, as if it knew what was about to be spoken.
"We will not exterminate you,"
"We will simply herd you..."
"...like livestock."
The words slipped from Rio's lips, almost like a forbidden incantation. He felt a tightness in his chest.
The room suddenly felt suffocating, though no one had moved.
Rio tried to think clearly, to remain rational, to be logical—as always. But logic seemed powerless against an absurdity that was becoming increasingly plausible.
"If they're that powerful... why not just attack directly? Why hide and disguise themselves?"
Dany stared at him for a long moment, then slowly crossed his arms over his chest. The voice that came from his mouth held no anger, no mockery—only a cold truth that needed no emphasis.
"Because that, Rio, is the art of power."
He took a slow step, letting his words sink into a consciousness that had just begun to fracture.
"An open attack creates an enemy. But if you give them comfort... false protection, an artificial sense of peace..."
He drew closer, looking Rio straight in the eyes.
"...then they will surrender themselves."
His gaze sharpened on Rio, and he added in a low tone, "Why do you think the government opened the city gates over the past few years and accepted so many refugees?"
Rio was silent. He remembered the ads on the streets, the welcome banners, even the subsidies for new residents, including himself.
"Because they wanted to look good...?"
"Because they need fresh blood," the man answered quickly. "Not always literally. It's more than that. Energy, souls, fear, human emotion. That's what some of them consume."
Rio blinked slowly.
Piece by piece, it all came together in his mind. Subsidies. Birth programs. Relocation. Ads with themes of a "bright future" for young families.
His mind spun, sharp and fast.
"More residents... means more births..."
His head turned slowly toward the window. The night outside felt much colder now.
"And more births... means more food available."
He stared at the fire, his face rigid.
"It's not just about population... They're preparing a long-term supply of livestock."
Rio swallowed, and it tasted bitter—as if the words themselves were clawing at his throat from the inside.