Scarlett Johansson had never considered herself someone easily fooled.
In the entertainment industry, she had met too many kinds of people—liars wrapped in charm, opportunists disguised as friends, and professionals who could fabricate sincerity so convincingly that even they might start believing it.
Experience had taught her one thing very clearly:
The more critical the situation, the more dangerous blind trust became.
Yes, she was facing something beyond science.
Yes, people were dying exactly as she had foreseen.
But that didn't mean she would throw away her judgment and believe everything her father brought to her.
Especially not a stranger.
Especially not someone who claimed to fight something as abstract… as death itself.
That was why she insisted on speaking personally.
Not through faith.
Not through fear.
But through observation.
—
The phone call connected quickly.
Carsten put it on speaker, his expression tense but hopeful.
"Hello, is this Master Lucien?"
A calm voice answered from the other end.
"Yes."
Scarlett's eyes flickered slightly.
The voice was… younger than expected.
Not aged.
Not mystical.
No heavy authority.
Just steady.
Grounded.
And that alone disrupted her expectations.
On the other side of the line, Lucien had just finished another round of talisman crafting. The faint scent of ink and incense still lingered in the room as he sat cross-legged, restoring his energy.
Carsten's call came sooner than he anticipated.
Which meant one thing—
Death had already made a move.
Fast.
Far faster than usual patterns suggested.
"It worked… but…" Carsten hesitated slightly. "It wasn't my daughter who used it. It was me."
Lucien's tone sharpened slightly.
"What happened?"
"A car accident. I was driving too fast. A truck carrying steel bars… it hit me directly. I should have died."
A brief pause.
Then—
"The talisman broke?"
"Yes."
Silence followed for a moment.
Scarlett listened carefully, saying nothing, but analyzing every word.
Lucien, meanwhile, had already pieced together the implications.
A fatal-level accident.
Neutralized.
That confirmed it.
The talisman wasn't just symbolic protection—it could directly interfere with the "execution process" of Death.
That meant one thing:
There was room to fight.
His gaze shifted toward the stack of talismans neatly arranged on his table.
Preparation… hadn't been wasted.
"Then your daughter has only one left," Lucien said calmly. "And I assume she understands something by now."
Scarlett narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Once the sequence begins," Lucien continued, "accidents don't happen in isolation. They chain together. One triggers another."
"One talisman won't be enough."
Carsten immediately tensed, about to speak—but Scarlett stopped him with a subtle look.
She stepped forward and took the phone.
"Hello, Master Lucien."
Her voice was calm, composed—carrying that natural confidence built from years under public scrutiny.
"Hello."
"I apologize for my father disturbing you so late."
"No problem."
She paused briefly, organizing her thoughts.
"About your talisman… what exactly does it do?"
Lucien didn't hesitate.
"It wards off misfortune, blocks harmful forces, and protects the wearer from fatal incidents."
Scarlett frowned slightly.
"Harmful forces…"
To her, death wasn't a "force."
It was inevitability.
A rule.
A sequence.
Not something with intention.
Lucien seemed to sense her hesitation even through the phone.
"Miss Scarlett," he said evenly, "I understand your mindset. You rely on logic. On observable patterns. That's not wrong."
"But there are things in this world that don't fit into that framework."
Scarlett didn't respond.
Lucien continued, his tone steady but firm.
"You've already seen what happens to people who try to explain everything through common sense."
Images surfaced in her mind instantly.
Passengers.
Friends.
Strangers.
Their disbelief.
Their mockery.
And then—
Their deaths.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously.
"Right now," Lucien said quietly, "you don't have the luxury of rejecting what you don't understand."
"Death is already closing in on you."
"You can either question everything…"
"Or survive first, and question later."
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Then Scarlett spoke again, this time differently.
"Let me ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"If you get involved… you might become part of this sequence. You might be targeted next."
Her voice was calm, but her words were sharp.
A test.
A real one.
Lucien didn't hesitate.
"I take commissions," he said simply. "If Death wants to add me to the list, it can try."
No bravado.
No arrogance.
Just confidence.
And that… was far more convincing.
Scarlett exhaled slowly.
"…Alright."
Decision made.
"I want to meet in person."
"Time and place?"
"Tomorrow. Three in the afternoon."
She paused briefly.
"Los Angeles Police Department."
Lucien didn't question it.
"Fine."
The call ended shortly after.
—
The next day, precisely at 3 PM, a sleek black Porsche came to a smooth stop outside the Los Angeles Police Department.
The door opened.
Scarlett Johansson stepped out—completely disguised.
Mask.
Hat.
Sunglasses.
No trace of her identity visible.
This time, she hadn't brought her father.
Nor had she taken unnecessary risks.
What she told Lucien wasn't entirely a lie—proximity could indeed increase danger.
If there was even a small chance of dragging others into this…
She wouldn't take it.
As she approached the building, something immediately felt… off.
The officers outside weren't focused.
Some leaned casually.
Others whispered.
A few even looked distracted, like they were waiting for something entertaining.
That wasn't normal.
Not during working hours.
Scarlett frowned slightly but didn't stop.
She walked in.
And immediately—
She heard shouting.
"Impossible!"
The voice was sharp, strained, almost cracking from anger.
It echoed across the interior.
Then came another voice—
Older.
Accented.
Rapid.
She recognized the language after a moment.
Korean.
Her curiosity sharpened.
Following the noise, she moved deeper inside until she reached a wide office area.
There—
A crowd had formed.
Police officers stood in a loose circle, watching like spectators at a show.
In the center—
Two figures faced each other.
One was an elderly Asian man, his face flushed red with anger, breathing heavily as if he might explode at any second.
In his hands—
A jade Buddha statue.
He held it tightly, almost protectively.
"You don't understand anything!" the old man shouted. "Look at the quality! The craftsmanship! This is priceless!"
His voice trembled with fury.
Opposite him—
A young man sat calmly.
Completely unmoved.
He held a teacup casually, as if this entire scene was nothing more than background noise.
Scarlett's eyes narrowed.
There was something different about him.
Not his appearance.
Not his posture.
But his presence.
Calm.
Too calm.
As if nothing here mattered.
As if… he already knew the outcome.
The old man pointed at him, almost shaking.
"Say that again! I dare you!"
The young man placed his cup down slowly.
Looked up.
And spoke with absolute certainty.
"Why wouldn't I?"
A faint smile appeared.
"This thing—"
He tapped the statue lightly.
"Is new."
A pause.
Then—
"Completely worthless."
And in that moment—
Scarlett knew.
She had found him.