As Ananya's phone rang, Henry quickly reached out and picked it up. On the screen, the name "Sara" was flashing. Before Ananya could say anything, Henry answered the call.
Sara: "Hello, Mom? Rini and I were talking. Some work came up here, so we won't be able to come today. We'll come in two days. Please be careful!"
Ananya stared at Henry in disbelief. She thought he might get caught. But what happened next made her hairs stand on end. In a perfectly precise imitation of Ananya's own feminine voice, Henry responded.
Henry (in Ananya's voice): "Okay, Mom, alright. Finish your work and come safely. I'm fine, don't worry."
Sara: "Okay, Mom. I love you."
Henry (in Ananya's voice): "I love you too."
After hanging up, Henry placed the phone back on the table. Ananya was stunned, frozen in place. The voice, the tone, everything was exactly like hers!
Ananya (speechless, in shock): "You… you imitated my voice? Where did you get this power?"
Henry smiled, a faint, melancholy smile. His youthful face looked even brighter in the morning light.
Henry: "I never said, Ananya, that the mystic pact only gave me youth. It granted me a mystical power. Anyone whose soul I touch, I can control completely. After that kiss last night, your voice, your heartbeat—I've embedded them all within me."
Ananya felt a shiver of fear. She got up from the bed and quickly straightened her open navy shirt. She realized Henry was no longer merely human—he had become a terrifying magical force.
Ananya: "So you mean… you can deceive even my children? Why did you do this? Why stop them from coming?"
Henry (slowly stepping toward her): "Because I want these two days to be just us. No police, no children, no revenge. I want to see if the Laboni I lost twenty years ago still lives somewhere inside Ananya… or if all that remains is a forensic officer's skeleton."
Ananya picked up her glasses from the table. Her hands trembled as she reached to put them on. Henry's new form and this hypnotic power were overturning all her plans.
Just as she was about to wear her glasses, she noticed an unbelievable change in Henry's eyes. The irises that had been glowing faint red for so long now transformed into a deep golden hue. From that golden glow, an eerie, hypnotic light radiated.
Ananya froze, holding her glasses in hand. She had seen much in forensic science, but never had she witnessed human irises turn living gold like this.
Ananya (gasping): "Your eyes… why are they turning golden?"
Henry (calm, deep voice): "The red was the mark of my anger and rage. But now… after absorbing your affection and your voice, my power has reached its peak. With these golden eyes, I can even see the flow of blood in your body, Ananya."
Henry took a step closer. Ananya felt the golden light from his eyes paralyzing her nerves. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't look away.
Henry: "Do you know? The mystic said that the day I experienced a true touch of emotion, my eyes would turn gold. I never expected that emotion would be this strange pull toward you. For these two days, I won't let you go anywhere. You will remain imprisoned by the spell of my golden eyes."
Ananya felt the glasses slip from her hands onto the floor. The collar of her navy shirt was damp with sweat. She realized that Henry's golden gaze was actually a form of dark hypnosis. She tried to steel her mind, but just looking into those golden eyes made her lose herself.
Ananya (trembling voice): "You… you're hypnotizing me. This isn't right, Henry…"
Henry: "This is not hypnosis, Ananya. This is destiny. You started this. Now let me finish it."
He brought his hand near her cheek. Ananya saw that even his fingertips emitted a faint golden glow. The entire room was now bathed in a supernatural, enchanting light.
Seeing the golden glow in Henry's eyes, Ananya's mind jolted like a spark of electricity. Her memory transported her back twenty years. She froze like a statue, unable to put on her glasses.
Ananya (murmuring in astonishment): "These golden eyes… I've seen them before."
She remembered: when she first fell for Henry, when she was Laboni by his side, whenever Henry became deeply emotional or looked at Laboni with true love, his black eyes would glow faintly golden. It wasn't the mystic's magic—it was an inherited, innate trait that revealed itself only in the presence of genuine emotion.
Ananya realized that no matter what Henry demanded now, these golden eyes proved that the old Henry, the one who truly loved Laboni, still lived somewhere inside him. The mystic's dark magic had suppressed that old self, but last night's kiss and Ananya's affection had awakened it again.
Ananya (looking Henry directly in the eyes): "You think these eyes are your new power? No, Henry, you're mistaken. These golden eyes are not part of your demonic form—they are the mark of that old love you tried to kill."
Henry flinched. His confident golden irises trembled. Perhaps he had forgotten that this trait had always been part of him.
Ananya: "After killing Laboni, this golden glow vanished from your eyes. Only the red of blood remained. Today, twenty years later, it has returned… which means you are becoming that old Henry again. The demon inside you is losing."
Henry (uneasily): "No! That's impossible! I'm far more powerful now. These golden eyes are a symbol of my reign!"
Ananya: "Then why are you crying? Look, tears are falling from your golden eyes. Do demons cry, Henry?"
Ananya stepped closer. She no longer feared him. She now understood that Henry's greatest weakness was his golden eyes. She placed her hand on his chest. Her fingers touched the heated skin beneath the cuff of his navy shirt.
Ananya: "You haven't imprisoned me these two days, Henry—you've trapped yourself in your old memories. Can you really… harm me again? Will these golden eyes even allow it?"strange intoxication. He stood incredibly close to Ananya, so near that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Henry leaned down toward her ear. His hot breath sent shivers down her neck.
Henry (in a low, intoxicating voice): "I don't know what that kiss meant tonight… whether it was some trick of yours or a pull of the heart, I don't know. But here's one thing—tonight, when you come to me, it won't be in that navy shirt. Tonight, you will wear a black night dress. I love black, and you look like a mystical beauty in black. Go, get ready."
After saying this, Henry paused for a moment, then lightly brushed his lips against the lobe of her ear before stepping back. His golden eyes now radiated a strange, commanding hunger. He no longer saw Ananya as a mere forensic officer—he wanted to see her as that old Laboni, the one he longed to possess.
Ananya froze in place. As Henry left the room, he turned back one last time and, in that familiar gesture, licked his lips.
Once alone, Ananya felt her protective shell shatter. She picked up her glasses from the floor. Her hands trembled. Henry's demand was not just an order—it was a psychological claim over her.
She opened the wardrobe. Beneath layers of old clothing, she found the black silk night dress. It was twenty years old. Laboni had worn it when Henry loved her dearly. Henry still carried those memories, and he wanted to see Ananya dressed the same way.
Ananya (to herself): "He wants me to surrender before him. He wants me to become that old Laboni again and walk into his arms. But he doesn't know—black is not only a color of beauty; black is also a symbol of darkness and destruction. If he wants to see me tonight, I will show him something he could never even imagine."
She realized that these two days would be a battle of nerves. On one side, there was the supernatural allure of Henry's golden eyes; on the other, there was Ananya's deep, calculated scheme of revenge.
Ananya stood in front of the mirror and let a small, mysterious smile play on her lips. Henry thinks he has already won, but he has no idea what her smile hides.
Ananya was a modern woman. She understood the complexities of forensic science, the calculations of the human mind. Yet there was one secret she did not know—twenty years ago, Laboni had faced the exact same situation. Laboni believed then that she had trapped Henry in the web of her love, unaware that she had stepped into a deadly trap herself. Is history about to repeat itself?
Ananya (looking at her reflection): "Henry wants me in black. He thinks I'm that fearful Laboni from twenty years ago. But he forgets—Ananya knows how to take revenge, not surrender. This black dress will be my shield tonight, and his grave."
She held the black silk night dress in her hands. As her fingers touched the fabric, a strange shiver ran through her body. She tried to control herself with modern reasoning, but deep down, the old memories of Laboni seemed to seep into her blood.
Meanwhile, Henry sat in his room. His golden eyes glowed in the darkness. He waited restlessly. He didn't know that Ananya was modern, that she was far sharper than Laboni twenty years ago. Yet Henry, too, was ready, armed with all his mystical power.
Night was falling. Ananya extinguished the lights. She knew that tonight, she wouldn't just have to act—she would have to be the fire that would burn Henry to ashes. She placed her glasses on the table. Tonight, there would be no lenses, no glass to shield her—only the deadly duel of two souls.
Ananya: "He loves black? Then tonight will be the darkest night of his life."
Ananya took a small vial from the dressing table drawer. Inside was a bluish liquid. She knew that when this modern chemical came into contact with Henry's supernatural body, the consequences would be extraordinary.