The questioning room was cold, its grey walls closing in on Mila as she sat hunched over, her hands trembling in her lap. Her eyes, red and puffy from crying, darted nervously to the door every few seconds.
She looked traumatised, her once-vibrant auburn hair now a tangled mess framing her pale face. The officers had been relentless, their questions sharp and unyielding, probing into the incident that had turned her life upside down.
She wasn't new to the law of Norbata and knew the possible punishment for her crime would be either a big jail time or possibly being exiled to the dungeons, as a meat shield to protect the hunters that are in danger, but her only saving grace was her condition.
The door creaked open, and Mila's heart leapt, expecting another barrage of questions. Instead, her mother, Claire, stormed in, her face a mask of irritation rather than concern. Claire's designer coat was slightly askew, her lips pursed as if she'd been inconvenienced.
"Finally," Claire snapped, barely glancing at her daughter. "They told me you're in some kind of trouble, Mila. How dare you do something like this! You ungrateful bitch! I fed you, I spent my money on you and this is how you pay me back...you waste of air. I should have fed some stray dogs instead of you. They wouldn't tarnish my name like this."
Mila's voice was barely a whisper. "Mom, I… I didn't mean to—"
"Oh, save it," Claire cut her off, waving a manicured hand. "I was in the middle of a meeting when they called me. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be dragged out like this?"
An officer standing by the door cleared his throat. "Ma'am, we've finished the initial questioning. Due to the nature of Mila's… condition, we can't proceed further today. You'll need to return tomorrow for the next steps."
Claire's eyes narrowed. "Tomorrow? I have a schedule, you know. This is ridiculous." She turned to Mila, her expression devoid of warmth. "Fix this, Mila. I don't have time for your nonsense. Officer! Treat her like you would treat any other...she needs to learn the consequences of what it means to try and rape an innocent boy." Without another word, she spun on her heel and marched out, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.
Mila stared at the empty doorway, her chest tightening. She felt like she was drowning, the weight of her mother's indifference crushing her. She barely noticed the shadowy figure lingering just outside the room—a woman in a long coat, her face obscured by the dim lighting of the hallway. The woman didn't approach, just watched, her presence unsettling yet unnoticed by the officers.
The door opened again after sometime, and Mila flinched. But this time, it wasn't an officer. A tall woman with sharp features and an air of authority strode in, her dark suit impeccable with a light brown detective coat, her brown hair pulled into a tight bun. Her presence filled the room, commanding attention.
Mila's eyes widened—she recognised her. Amanda Marquez is the Chief of the National Defence Agency. What was she doing here?
Amanda was well-known to the public, often appearing on television to answer questions about the dungeons.
Her lips curled into a slight, enigmatic smile as she sat across from Mila, placing a sleek briefcase on the table. "Mila, isn't it? I've heard quite a bit about you today."
Mila's voice was small. "Why… why are you here?"
"I heard about a innocent girl...who is affected by awakening disorder and I wanted to see how she is doing...is what I want to say but that's not what I'm here for," Amanda leaned back, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Your power, Mila. [Constraint]. A rare ability to hold people, objects—anything—as you desire. No wonder your mind couldn't handle it. That kind of power, especially for someone from a… let's say, unremarkable background, is overwhelming."
Mila stared at her lap, her fingers twisting together. She didn't respond, but Amanda pressed on, her tone almost excited.
"Imagine the possibilities, Mila. With [Constraint], you could be a game-changer in the dungeons. Picture this: a rampaging beast charging at your team. You raise your hand, and it's frozen mid-step, unable to move. Or a collapsing structure in a dungeon—you could hold the debris in place, saving lives. Even in combat, you could restrain enemies, giving your allies the upper hand. The applications are endless."
Mila's gaze remained fixed on the table, her expression blank. Amanda's enthusiasm didn't seem to reach her. After a long silence, Mila lifted her head slightly, her voice barely audible. "Is Ren okay?"
Amanda paused, her sharp eyes studying Mila. "Ren? Oh, that boy. The one you…" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "The one you tried to assault. Yes, he's fine. A few wounds, nothing serious. He'll recover."
Mila's face crumpled at the mention of wounds, her eyes filling with tears. Amanda tilted her head, her voice softening but still probing. "Did you like him, Mila? That boy, Ren?"
Mila didn't answer, her lips pressed tightly together. Amanda leaned forward, her tone gentle but firm. "I don't entirely blame you for what happened. Awakening Disorder can make things… intense. It amplifies emotions, twists them. You wouldn't have done what you did if you didn't feel something for him, healthy or not."
"It's not unhealthy!" Mila's voice cracked, her sudden outburst startling even herself. Her cheeks flushed as she continued, her words tumbling out. "Ren… he's like an angel. He helped me once, you know? I was carrying books to the principal's office, and I dropped them. Everyone just ignored me, but Ren… he stopped and helped me pick them up. He smiled at me, and it was so… kind. Ever since then, I've watched him. He's so innocent, so lovely. He's perfect."
Amanda's expression softened, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "He must be a nice boy for you to talk like that." Her tone shifted, growing serious. "But Mila, what you did was wrong. You know that. Still, you can be forgiven. You can get better. Use your powers for the betterment of society. Master [Constraint], and maybe one day, when you're in control, you can face Ren yourself and ask for his forgiveness."
Mila's eyes flickered with something—hope, perhaps. She nodded slowly, her voice quiet but resolute. "I… I'll do it. I'll follow what you want."
She reached for the glass of water on the table, her hand trembling slightly as she brought it to her lips. Amanda bent down to her briefcase, pulling out a stack of documents. "Good. Now, let's go over your recovery process and the consequences you'll face—"
A choking sound cut her off. Amanda's head snapped up, her eyes widening. Mila was clutching her throat, blood trickling from her nose. Her face was contorting, her features twisting unnaturally, as if something was tearing her apart from the inside. Terror filled her eyes as she gasped, her body convulsing.
"Mila!" Amanda shot to her feet, slamming her hand on the table. "Someone, get in here! Now!"
The door burst open, and officers rushed in, their faces pale as they saw Mila's condition. Amanda stepped back, her heart pounding as she watched the girl's body slump forward, lifeless. One of the officers checked her pulse, then looked up, his voice grim. "She's… she's dead."
Amanda stood frozen, her mind racing. "What… what just happened?" she whispered, her eyes locked on Mila's distorted face, the glass of water still clutched in her limp hand. Outside, unnoticed by the chaos, the mysterious woman in the long coat slipped away into the shadows, her expression unreadable while whispering words that didn't even make any sense. "He is mine!"