The office at Nexus Tower felt as familiar as ever, yet nothing was truly the same anymore. Since that night of passion and menace in Queen Li's private suite, Devara carried an invisible yet heavy weight—a cold metal necklace hanging around her neck, a gift from Queen Li that felt like a delicate chain visible only to those who knew its meaning. The metal chilled her skin, a constant reminder that every step she took was watched, every breath counted. The gleaming glass corridors under neon lights felt like a prison's hallways, and every passing coworker's face sparked paranoid questions in her mind: Are you one of her collections too? Or just a background actor she's left in this world to fill her stage? Their smiles seemed forced, their conversations rehearsed, and Queen Li's shadow seemed to seep through every word, every gesture, every breath.
That day, Devara was scheduled to review the R&D laboratory in the tower's lower levels—a place she rarely visited, filled with the soft hum of cooling machines, the sharp scent of ozone, and monitors displaying endless streams of raw data. Green and blue neon lights swept the room, creating a sterile atmosphere more akin to a hospital than a hub of innovation. In the quiet corridor, filled with the drone of machinery, Dr. Artha emerged from behind a lab door, holding a cup of synthetic coffee in a plastic cup that seemed too ordinary for a senior scientist. The man, in his forties, had thinning hair and thick glasses that made his eyes appear larger than they were. His smile was quick and friendly, but something in his eyes—a hidden unease—made Devara tense.
They shook hands, Artha's trembling slightly, like someone burdened by a secret too heavy to keep. "Sorry, my hands are always cold," he said with an awkward smile, then led Devara to his desk to discuss the latest data reports. Amid talk of machine efficiency, Artha suddenly spilled his coffee across the desk, the synthetic brown liquid spreading and dripping to the floor. "Damn," he muttered, hastily grabbing tissues from a drawer. Devara instinctively helped, wiping the desk with quick movements. In the small chaos, almost imperceptibly, Artha slipped a thin piece of paper into her suit pocket. No words, no signals—just the coffee dripping to the floor and the synthetic aroma wafting in the air.
Devara waited until she was alone in a men's restroom on the same floor to open the note. The handwriting was brief, scrawled in haste, as if driven by fear: "Don't trust her. She monitors everything. Parking Garage, B3. 1 p.m. Restroom." Her heart pounded, as if the paper were a detonator ready to explode. She tore it into tiny pieces, flushed them down the toilet, and washed her face at the sink, the cold water stinging her skin. Her reflection in the mirror looked foreign: sunken eyes, pale skin, jaw clenched like someone whose life was on the line. Is this a trap? The question clung to her mind like an unstoppable chant, but her curiosity outweighed her fear. She had to know.
At 12:58 p.m., Devara stepped into the parking garage on level B3, a place rarely visited by regular employees. The damp smell of burned oil stung her nose, and her footsteps echoed through rows of neatly parked electric cars. The men's restroom in the corner was barely used, its door rusted, the neon light above flickering unstably. As Devara entered, the door locked quickly behind her, and Dr. Artha stood there, his face pale, eyes wild like a trapped animal.
"Don't speak loudly," Artha whispered, his voice barely audible over the low hum of the air conditioning. "The cameras can pick up sound too." He glanced at the corner, ensuring no red lens blinked in the dark.
Devara swallowed hard, her heart still racing. "You… know something," she said, her voice low but urgent.
Artha nodded, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold air. He pulled a small tablet from his lab coat pocket, its screen already lit with complex graphs and data. "I've been tracking Night Shadow activity for years," he said quickly, as if running out of time. "At first, I thought it was just an anomaly—energy disturbances, maybe a side effect of company tech. But the deeper I dug, the more certain I became—she's the cause."
"Queen Li?" Devara asked, her voice hoarse.
"Yes." Artha tapped the tablet, revealing graphs with sharp spikes, red lines pulsing in sync with Queen Li's authority. "Every time she holds a major meeting, every time a decision stirs public unrest—district closures, mass layoffs, tax hikes—Night Shadow activity surges. Look at this." He pointed to peaks on the graph, each dated to match major Nexus Corp announcements. "She's harvesting something from the suffering. Residual energy, maybe. A resource we don't understand. I think… it's what keeps her eternal."
Devara stood silent, nausea creeping through her like slow poison. "Eternal…?" she said, recalling the CCTV footage in the restricted archives—Queen Li walking with inhuman strength, the reincarnation map, and the necklace now heavier around her neck. "So everything she said about reincarnation, about me… it's true?"
Artha looked at her with genuine fear, his eyes wide. "Her face hasn't changed, Devara. For decades. I found company records from years ago—photos, documents, meeting reports—all the same. No wrinkles, no aging. And she wants you. Not just your body, something more. Maybe something in you is part of her cycle—the key to her immortality."
Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed outside the restroom, like a security patrol. They both froze, holding their breath. The door rattled softly, as if someone tried to open it, but only the creak of boots followed, then faded. Devara exhaled slowly, her heart pounding like a hammer. Artha grabbed her arm, his fingers gripping tightly. "Be careful," he whispered. "Don't trust a single word she says. And don't show you know. She's always looking for ways to keep you… hers."
Devara nodded, unable to speak. Her mind spun, trying to process the new information. Dr. Artha, a scientist meant to be loyal to the company, had become an unexpected ally—someone who saw the truth behind Queen Li's shadows. But could she trust him fully? Or was this another trap in the game designed by the eternal queen?
Back at her desk on the 22nd floor, Devara sat with an unsteady heartbeat. But something was different now: a spark of purpose flickered in the darkness. She knew Queen Li wasn't invincible. There were cracks, theories, someone who believed in her—someone risking everything to warn her. It was enough to keep her from collapsing under the weight of Queen Li's obsession.
That hope didn't last long. That night, as Devara opened her laptop in her small apartment, trying to dig deeper into the Reincarnation Project using stolen database access, a soft knock came at the door. Her hands froze over the keyboard. She knew who stood there even before the door opened, as if her soul could sense the presence like a cold wind creeping in.
The door opened, and Queen Li entered, her wheelchair gliding silently over the cheap vinyl floor. Her black gown contrasted with the apartment's worn walls, making her look like a goddess misplaced in a mortal world. Her gaze pierced, her lips curved in a smile too sweet for the cold night. Her fingers brushed the necklace around Devara's neck, the metal chilling further under her touch, as if checking if the chain still bound its prey.
"You spoke with Dr. Artha today," she said, her voice soft but laced with venom, like honey mixed with arsenic. "He's very clever, isn't he? Such a pity, he has a family. A sweet little child, a loving wife. They'd be devastated if something happened to him."
Devara stiffened, her muscles taut like steel cables. Her eyes tried to stay blank, but her hands clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms until they stung. The threat was clear, delivered with a gentleness that made it far more terrifying. Queen Li knew. Of course she knew. She always did.
Queen Li stared at her for a long moment, with the certainty of a cat toying with a mouse before pouncing. "Remember, darling," she said, her voice now lower, almost a lullaby. "I always protect what's mine." She moved her wheelchair closer, her fingers brushing the necklace again, then sliding to Devara's shoulder, a gesture both a caress and a warning. Then, without another word, she turned and left, the door closing with a soft hiss.
Devara stood alone in the room, her breath ragged. The necklace felt heavier now, like a shackle she couldn't remove. That night, she knew: even with an ally like Dr. Artha, she was still trapped in a spider's web woven over centuries. And Queen Li, with all her power transcending time, would never let her prey escape.