The moment the talisman crumbled in his hands, Carsten understood everything.
Not through logic.
Not through reason.
But through something far more direct—something carved into his very bones by the brush of death itself.
That accident… that impossible survival… the steel bars that should have pierced his skull yet somehow missed by inches—
None of it was luck.
It was protection.
Lucien's talisman had taken the fatal blow in his place.
A shiver ran through Carsten's entire body, not from fear this time, but from a sudden, overwhelming clarity. The world that once seemed grounded in rules and certainty had completely shattered, replaced by something far more terrifying… and yet, paradoxically, far more hopeful.
Because if that talisman could block death once—
Then maybe… just maybe—
It could block it again.
Without hesitation, Carsten tightly folded the remaining talisman and carefully placed it back into his inner pocket, pressing it flat as if afraid it might slip away.
His thoughts were no longer chaotic.
No longer panicked.
They had narrowed into a single, burning objective.
Get this to Scarlett.
Everything else could wait.
Regret flickered briefly in his mind.
If he had driven slower… if he had been more careful… then perhaps that first talisman wouldn't have been wasted.
But regret had no value now.
Time was something he could no longer afford.
Taking a deep breath, Carsten forced himself to stand upright despite the lingering dizziness. The bearded truck driver nearby was still muttering angrily, but his tone had softened slightly, more confused than furious now.
Carsten reached into his wallet, pulled out several crisp hundred-dollar bills, and handed them over.
"I'm sorry for everything," he said sincerely, his voice steady despite the dried blood on his face. "But I have something urgent… something that cannot wait. May I borrow your vehicle?"
The truck driver blinked, clearly not expecting such politeness from someone who had just caused a major accident.
But before he could even fully respond, Carsten had already taken the keys, climbed into the truck, and started the engine.
Within seconds—
He was gone.
—
The night deepened over Los Angeles, but the lights of UCLA Medical Center remained bright, sterile, and unyielding.
Inside one of its upper rooms, silence dominated.
The room was almost unnaturally clean. White walls, white sheets, white light—everything designed to eliminate risk, to remove unpredictability.
And yet—
None of it brought comfort.
Curled up in the corner of the room was a young woman, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Short blonde hair framed a face that would normally radiate confidence and charm, but now carried only exhaustion and quiet dread.
Scarlett Johansson stared blankly at the scattered newspaper clippings on the floor.
Each one told the same story.
Accident.
Death.
Unavoidable tragedy.
To others, they were isolated incidents.
To her—
They were a countdown.
Since being brought here, the visions had lessened. The mirrors no longer whispered reflections of death, and the dreams came less frequently.
But that didn't comfort her.
Because she understood something others didn't.
The absence of signs didn't mean safety.
It meant inevitability was getting closer.
Her father tried to reassure her. Told her there were still others before her. Told her there was still time.
But she had seen his eyes.
The fear he couldn't hide.
The urgency in his movements.
He knew the truth just as well as she did.
Her turn was coming.
She had tried to warn the others.
Every single one of them.
And every single time—
They looked at her like she was insane.
Maybe that was part of it.
Maybe this ability wasn't meant to save anyone.
Maybe it was meant to break her.
To show her the future…
And then force her to walk into it anyway.
A soft sound broke her thoughts.
Footsteps.
Fast.
Urgent.
The door burst open.
"Scarlett!"
She immediately looked up.
"Father?"
But the moment she saw him—
Her expression froze.
His shirt was stained with blood.
His face swollen.
Hair disheveled.
He looked like someone who had just crawled out of disaster.
"What happened to you?!" she asked, her voice trembling as she stood up.
But Carsten didn't answer immediately.
Instead, with shaking but excited hands, he pulled something from his pocket and held it out toward her.
"Take this."
Scarlett frowned.
"No. Not until you explain—"
"Scarlett!" His voice rose, urgent, almost pleading. "Just take it first!"
She hesitated.
Her instincts told her something was wrong.
Something had happened.
And somehow… it was connected to her.
"Father… you're scaring me."
Seeing her reaction, Carsten forced himself to calm down. He took a deep breath, then spoke more steadily.
"I went to find someone."
"Someone who can help us."
He began explaining everything—Kate's introduction, the visit to Lucien, the talisman.
Scarlett listened silently.
But as the explanation continued, her expression gradually shifted.
Doubt.
Then disbelief.
Then something close to disappointment.
"So… you're telling me…" she said slowly, "that you went to find a 'master'… and he gave you a piece of paper to solve all this?"
Carsten clenched his fists.
"I didn't believe it either."
He stepped forward.
"But then the accident happened."
He described everything.
The truck.
The collision.
The steel bars.
The impossible survival.
And finally—
The talisman that turned to dust.
Scarlett's expression changed.
Not completely.
But enough.
"Can you imagine it?" Carsten continued, his voice trembling slightly now—not from fear, but from intensity. "A car destroyed like that… and I walk away with nothing but a scratch?"
He turned slightly, showing the shallow wound at the back of his neck.
"That should have killed me."
"But it didn't."
"Because of this."
He held the remaining talisman out again.
"Scarlett… this is real."
"This is the first real chance we've had."
His voice softened.
"Please."
"Wear it."
Scarlett looked at the yellow paper in his hand.
Something about it felt… different.
Not powerful.
Not mystical.
Just—
Quiet.
After a long moment, she reached out and took it.
The instant it touched her palm, a faint warmth spread through her fingers.
Subtle.
Almost unnoticeable.
But enough to create a strange sense of separation—
As if something that had been pressing against her constantly… had just stepped back slightly.
She frowned.
[It's probably just psychological.]
That was the only explanation she allowed herself.
Still…
She didn't let go.
Carsten watched her carefully, relief flooding his expression.
"Don't worry," he said, exhaling slowly. "With this, you'll be safe."
Scarlett didn't respond immediately.
Instead, she glanced at him.
Then at the talisman.
Then back at him.
"You said… this 'Master Lucien' told you to contact him if it works?"
"Yes!"
Carsten immediately reached for his phone.
But before he could dial—
Scarlett stopped him.
"It's late."
Her voice was calm now.
"Call tomorrow."
Carsten frowned.
"But what if—"
"He hasn't even agreed to help yet, right?" she interrupted.
Her gaze was steady.
"We don't even know what kind of person he is."
Carsten hesitated.
Scarlett continued, softer this time.
"But…"
A faint curiosity appeared in her eyes.
"I do want to meet him."
She looked down at the talisman again.
Then back at her father.
"The man who turned you into this…" she said with a small, almost amused smile, "…must be interesting."
Carsten opened his mouth to argue—
Then stopped.
Because for the first time since this nightmare began—
His daughter didn't look completely consumed by fear.
And that alone—
Was worth everything.
"Alright," he said finally.
"Tomorrow."
Scarlett nodded.
But as she turned her gaze back toward the window—
Her fingers tightened slightly around the talisman.
Because deep down—
Whether she admitted it or not—
For the first time…
She didn't feel completely helpless anymore.