Alex drifted back into memories he never meant to revisit.
My childhood wasn't great.
Not even close.
Rain hammered the streets—cold, relentless. Not cleansing. Punishing.
I stood there in it, soaked through, staring at her.
"Mother… where's Father?"
She didn't meet my eyes.
"He's gone," she said, voice emptied out.
"Gone where? He's not coming ba—"
Her hand cut across my cheek before the words finished.
Hot, even in the rain.
"It's all because of you!" she screamed.
"I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!"
The words hit harder than the slap.
I stumbled back, blinking fast, trying not to cry.
"W-what did I do?"
There had to be a reason.
Grades. The empty cupboards. Something I could fix.
I kept telling myself I could be better. That it would matter.
One day I found her on the floor.
Pills scattered across the table. Powders. Crushed leaves—her "medicine."
She never got better.
And now she didn't breathe.
The quiet in that room felt heavier than the rain ever had.
A grave. Cold stone. Her name carved deep.
Died of overdose.
That's when something in me shut down.
No family. No friends. Nothing to prove anymore.
Ending it felt easier than living in the slow burn she left behind.
Then he showed up.
A man in a black suit pulled me back from the edge. Said he knew a place for kids like me—an orphanage.
It wasn't an orphanage.
It was something far, far worse.
And sometimes I think… if I'd just gone through with it that day, it might've been better.
"I—" Nila's voice cut in, small and tight with anger trying not to spill.
Alex blinked out of the memory. He managed a thin smile—tired, not bitter.
"It's alright."
A guard cleared his throat. "Ahem. That's enough. Out. I'll walk you to your rooms."
"Got it," Raegal said, eyes narrowing.
"Where's… the kid?" Alex asked.
"He's with Archangel."
"ARCHANGEL?!" Raegal snapped, loud enough for people to stare.
He froze. "Oh… uh… my bad."
Alex let out a soft chuckle. "I was surprised too."
Nila didn't laugh. Her hatred for Ryuzaki sat under her skin like acid—quiet, simmering, waiting.
Later that night, the only light in Nila's room came from her laptop.
Papers spilled across the desk—lab files, case logs, medical reports.
One folder sat on top like it was daring her to open it.
Noir: Report 36
Her heartbeat quickened as she read.
Following administration of IVE26-0, subject—designated Anomaly—exhibited:
dissociation
hallucinations
schizophrenia-like symptoms
personality instability
abnormal neural activity
Ten trials recorded:
elevated dopamine
increased oxytocin
heightened endorphin release
Aggression reinforced by neurochemical reward.
Post-elimination euphoria noted.
The subject shows positive reinforcement after target removal.
Classified as: Effective lethal asset.
Report submitted directly to the President.
Nila's breath caught.
"I should… check on him."
She opened the door.
And froze.
Kael stood alone in the center of the room.
Not splattered—drenched.
Blood soaked his shirt, trailing from his hands in slow, dark ribbons.
The metallic smell hit her throat before the fear did.
"Kael…" she whispered.
He turned his head. His voice was thin, frayed at the edges.
"I can explain."
"You can't," someone said from behind him.
A figure leaned in the shadow just out of the light.
Nila stepped in carefully, her voice sharp with fear.
"Four men, Kael. Four men."
"You killed them in cold blood… then you started cutting them."
Kael's face drained. "Cutting… them up?"
"No—"
His eyes flicked to the dark corner.
Noir stepped forward enough to be seen by Kael alone—his expression quiet, almost bored.
"Oops."
Kael swallowed. "Why… why did you—"
"To save you," Noir said softly.
"They were going to kill you. And your friends."
Kael shook his head, unsteady. "Why? I—I can't—"
His voice cracked.
His hand slipped into his pocket.
A silver flash—the butterfly knife flicked once between trembling fingers.
He hesitated.
But the decision was already there, buried deep.
The way out.
The only way that felt real.
He pressed the point against his own throat.
"I… give up," he murmured.
Noir's voice cut the air like a hand on his shoulder.
"Kael."
Then—quiet steps. A firm grip.
Noir's hand closed around his wrist, pulling the blade away.
"Not like this."
Kael's breathing stuttered.
"I can't… I can't do this anymore."
"You can," Noir said. Calm.
"You have to."
Kael shut his eyes. "Why?"
"To kill Ryuzaki," Noir answered.
"As long as he lives, this doesn't stop. You don't stop."
His tone stayed gentle, terrifyingly so.
"Please, Kael. You've survived worse. You can survive this."
Kael's voice broke. "You're out of your mind."
Noir stepped closer.
"You won't listen? Fine, I find this method much better." he sighed.
Then his fist connected.
Not wild.
Not rage-filled.
Controlled. Precise.
Another blow.
Then a third.
Each hit landed with the quiet, efficient violence of someone who'd done this before.
Kael's knees buckled.
Then Noir was gone.
Kael collapsed forward, breath ragged, blood sliding from his lip.
He tried to stand—
failed.
Nila rushed toward him. "Kael… why… why are you hitting yourself?"
He stared at her, confused, like he wasn't sure what language she was speaking.
"Hit… myself…?"
His eyes lowered.
Bruised knuckles. Split skin.
Hands trembling with the memory of someone else's violence.
His face shifted—slowly, painfully—as the realization hit him.
"He… he was right there…" Kael whispered, voice cracking into nothing.
"Are you alright… Kael?" Nila asked softly.
He didn't answer.
He just stared at the blood dripping onto the floor.
Then he looked up at her.
"I… I need water…"
And his body gave out.