The blood wouldn't stop.
Rin was pressing against Iris's wound, her palms slick with red, her breathing frantic. I tore down an old curtain from the cinema wall, shredding it into strips with trembling hands. We packed the wound as tightly as we could.
But without a doctor…
"She's still breathing," Rin said, barely above a whisper. "But I've already used my skill. I have nothing left."
"What now?" I asked. My voice cracked. "We killed the Mafia. So what happens now?"
Rin shook her head. "Usually… usually the announcement comes in the morning. After the night ends."
"Then we wait," I muttered. "That's all we can do…"
I looked at Iris again—her body trembling under the layers of cloth, face pale, chest barely rising. She wasn't supposed to make it. But somehow, she still was.
"I need to wash my hands," I said softly, rising. "Can you stay with her?"
Rin nodded.
I walked slowly down the hallway, the weight of the past nights pressing heavy on my shoulders. The walls of Noirhaven were cold, silent, like they were holding their breath with us. The floor creaked beneath my steps. The blood on my hands had dried, crusted into my skin like guilt.
The moment I turned the corner, I saw her.
Kara.
She stood in the dim hallway like a ghost—messy hair, blood on her sleeves, her eyes empty. And in her hand, as always, was the knife.
I stopped.
My body responded automatically, falling into a defensive stance despite my exhaustion. I didn't have the strength to fight, not again—but instinct didn't care.
I opened my mouth, ready to speak, to warn, to threaten.
But then she did something I didn't expect.
She took a step forward—slow, hesitant.
Then another.
And then she held out the knife.
Handle first.
Her hand was trembling.
"Kill me, Caius."
My breath caught.
She placed the knife into my hand, her voice quiet, steady in its desperation. "Do it. Now. Before I lose myself again."
"What…?" I couldn't comprehend what she just said.
Her eyes glistened, but no tears fell. "I told you. I'm a parasite. A Fiend. I don't get to be anyone—I only get to borrow people. Wear their trust like a mask until it breaks."
"Kara—"
"I tried to fight it, at first," she said, her voice shaking. "But this card… it doesn't just let you live—it makes you… Your fear. And when you do… you forget who you were. You start believing the lies you tell. And I liked being her—the version of me who wasn't just broken and clinging and terrified."
She stepped closer.
"I lied about a lot of things, but not everything. That moment we shared—under the same room, when I said I wanted to live for something more… I meant that."
"Kara," I whispered. My grip on the knife loosened.
She reached up, placed her palm over mine, curling my fingers around the hilt.
"Please," she said. "I don't want to become her again. I don't want to keep lying. I don't want to kill anyone else. Just… let me end here. As me."
I stared into her eyes, and I saw something I hadn't seen in a long time.
Clarity.
The desperate clarity of someone who was finally done running.
I tried to raise the knife—but my hand wouldn't move.
"I can't," I said. "No matter what you've done… I can't kill you."
"Then you're a fool," she said, laughing bitterly through the tears she wouldn't let fall. "Because I'm a monster, Caius. I already crossed the line. If I stay, I'll cross it again."
"You still have a choice," I said.
Her face twisted. "No. I lost that the moment I picked up the card."
She suddenly grabbed my hand, forcing it toward her chest. The tip of the knife pressed against her skin, right above her heart.
"I'm giving you control," she said. "For once in this game—you get to choose what lives and what dies."
My hands shook. My jaw clenched.
But I didn't move.
Not an inch.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Then…
I slowly pulled the knife away.
Kara's shoulders collapsed. She dropped to her knees.
And for the first time, she cried.
No theatrics. No performance.
Just Kara.
Raw.
Broken.
Human.
I knelt beside her, the knife still in my hand.
I didn't say anything. Neither did she.
We just sat there, in that dark hallway of a dying building, surrounded by silence.
Waiting.
Not for the announcement.
But for the weight of what we'd done to finally settle.