The chains rattled again—louder this time.
Celica yanked with all her strength. "Damn it! These won't break!"
Her wrists bled where the cold iron scraped her skin, but she didn't stop. She refused to sit still while trapped like livestock.
Aisa gritted her teeth. "There has to be a weak point… something…"
Yumi sat down slowly, exhausted. "They've chained us all… like animals."
One girl shouted from the other side of the room, "Try pulling from the hinges!"
Another girl tried. A loud clang echoed—but nothing moved.
Akira, calm but bruised, examined the wall carefully. "These are military-grade bolts. Reinforced steel. This wasn't set up in one night."
Celica cursed. "So we're trapped?! After everything? We're just waiting to be taken—sold—killed?!"
"No!" Aisa shouted, standing shakily. "We are not giving up. Not now."
Yumi looked at her. "But what do we do, Aisa…? These chains aren't normal."
Aisa walked over to Celica. She placed a hand on her arm. "We wait. We stay strong. Ryker… He's out there. And he's coming."
Celica looked down, conflicted. "He better be. Or I'll never forgive him."
Suddenly, from a corner, a small, trembling voice spoke.
"…I saw something," a younger girl said. "A switch… when that masked man came in."
Everyone turned toward her.
"Where?" Akira asked quickly.
She pointed to a crack in the wall, half-hidden by shadows.
"But we can't reach it," the girl said. "It's outside the range of our chains…"
Just then, footsteps echoed from beyond the wall.
Everyone froze.
A heavy metal door creaked open—and a stranger in a black mask stepped in, carrying a clipboard. He scanned the room.
"No one leaves," he said coldly. "Until the Master decides."
Then the door slammed shut, and the darkness deepened.
A heavy silence fell over the room again.
Aisa sat down, back against the cold wall. Her heart ached—but her eyes burned with fire.
"We'll find a way. We just need time," she said.
Even in darkness, even in chains—the will to escape still flickered.
The first rays of sunlight stretched across the sky.
Ryker sat alone on the wooden bench outside Saori's abandoned home, his hands buried in his messy hair, eyes bloodshot.
His heart was heavy—shame burned deeper than any wound.
"What do I do…?"
His voice cracked as he whispered to himself.
Then, suddenly, he screamed into the air:
"AHHHHHHHH!"
Birds scattered. The wind stood still.
"…I'm such an idiot…" he muttered, then laughed bitterly. "A real hero, huh?"
He slumped forward, elbows on knees, shaking his head. Then his eyes widened. A thought flashed.
"…Wait."
He stood up.
"This island… there's a forest. A huge forest. One I never checked."
His voice was quiet now—serious, sharp.
"How did I miss that?"
Without waiting another second, Ryker turned and started walking—no, running—toward the forest's edge.
His black coat flared behind him like a stormcloud chasing fate.
"Hold on, Aisa… Yumi… everyone."
His voice was steady now.
"I'm coming."
And with that, Ryker disappeared into the thick trees, where secrets waited to be found and fate demanded answers.
Ryker stepped deeper into the forest. Birds fluttered above, and strange insects buzzed in patterns he'd never seen before. The deeper he went, the quieter it became—too quiet.
Then, through the dense trees and twisting vines, he saw it.
A house.
Ryker narrowed his eyes. "A house…?"
It stood crooked and forgotten, half-swallowed by roots and leaves, but not destroyed. Moss clung to the wooden walls. The windows were smeared with dirt.
"Who the hell lives here…?"
He approached quietly, crouching low, moving like a shadow. He pushed the creaky wooden door open, and it groaned in protest. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the smell of damp earth.
He scanned the room.
Spiderwebs stretched across corners. Old furniture was coated in grime. But on the table—among the decay—sat medicine.
New. Clean. Untouched.
Ryker stepped closer, picking up the bottle. "This… this is fresh. Recently used."
His eyes lit up with tension. "Tch… now it's getting fun."
He searched the room, tossing books, shifting furniture, knocking on walls. There was something here—he felt it.
Then his hand brushed over the floorboards. A slight gap.
"Found you…" he whispered.
He pried it open—but inside was nothing.
A dead end.
"What the hell? Nothing?!"
Ryker slammed the floor shut and stood up, frustrated. His heart was racing. He looked around again, suspicious.
"…No. There's more to this. Someone was here. Maybe still is."
He turned toward the door.
His instincts were screaming. This was no ordinary house—and this mystery was far from over.
Ryker stepped outside, still fuming.
"This house… tch…"
He paused for a moment, scanning the ground. The rain from the night before had softened the dirt, leaving deep impressions around the perimeter.
That's when he saw it.
Tire marks.
Ryker crouched, running his fingers across the grooves.
"A… car?"
The tread was fresh—very fresh. It hadn't rained again since the night before. That meant someone had left recently. Very recently.
He looked ahead, eyes tracing the tire path. It led away from the house, twisting through the undergrowth—heading in the direction of the town.
His heart raced.
"They were here."
Without a second thought, Ryker bolted forward, following the marks. His boots pounded the dirt as branches whipped past his face. Sweat rolled down his temple, but he didn't slow down.
He couldn't.
"I was too late. But if I follow this—maybe I can still fix it."
The path grew rougher, but he didn't stop. He didn't even blink.
Because Ryker knew—
This was his only clue.
And he'd follow it until the very end.
Ryker sprinted through the thick forest brush, his breath ragged, sweat soaking his shirt. The tire marks curved through the trees like a serpent, and he followed their path with laser focus.
Then, as he reached the clearing, he stopped in his tracks.
His eyes widened.
"It's… the mansion?" he muttered.
But not the front.
The backside.
Tall stone walls rose above him like a fortress. But hidden behind thick vines and a rusted gate stood something he hadn't seen before.
A garage.
Old, but intact. Large enough to hold two or three cars.
Ryker pushed forward, slowly stepping to the metal doors. He ran his fingers across the handle.
"A car garage… behind the mansion…" he whispered. "So this is how they move without anyone seeing."
He looked around. No cameras. No guards.
Just silence.
He took a deep breath.
"If this is the only way in and out…" he said, narrowing his eyes. "Then the truth is close."
He clenched his fist.
"Very close."
The air was thick with oil and rust, but what caught his attention—
Three cars.
Sleek. Black. Untouched by dust.
They stood there like shadows—silent, waiting, as if they had just returned from a mission.
Ryker's eyes scanned the vehicles.
"Three cars… that means three trips?" he whispered.
He walked to the first one, running his fingers over the hood. Warm.
"Just used…"
He crouched, checking the tires—mud from the forest still clung to the grooves.
Then he moved to the second. Same.
The third—same.
Ryker stood tall, his face darkening.
"This is how they moved the girls…" he said, fists clenching.
He looked around the garage again—cameras, a small door at the corner, a control panel beside it.
"There's something more," Ryker muttered.
He turned toward the door.
"If this is where it ends…"
He took a step forward.
"Then maybe it's also where it begins."