I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart nearly burst through my ribs, pounding wildly against my palm.

  Sleeping on the broken wooden floor wasn’t comfortable, but my attention was quickly stolen by the searing pain shooting through several parts of my body. Lifting my skirt, I saw my knee wrapped in red fabric printed with yellow flowers. Stupidly, I let out a breath of relief, almost forgetting that just a few hours ago, I’d thought Rafe was not to be trusted.

  After a brief rest, my mind was clearer. I roughly pieced together what had just happened.

  “Thank you. You used a pseudo-bio to block the audience’s attack for me—I owe you my life. I forgive you for lying to me earlier, as long as you’re not still planning to kill me.”

  Both of Rafe’s sleeves had been torn off. His face had somehow returned to normal, with a smear of white stage makeup still clinging to his neck. His smile was full of biting sarcasm: “You forgive me?”

  “Uh... let’s talk about that later.” I wished I could hide my left index finger inside my body. “Let’s find a place to get a drink and get out of here, okay?”

  Something’s off. Otto was still locked in the crate, and who knew how long he’d been there. As the dog’s owner, why wasn’t Rafe in a hurry to go back?

  That question struck like lightning across the sky. I almost jumped up on one leg.

  “What do the people outside want to do to me?”

  It was a question that clearly caught Rafe off guard. After a brief, genuine flash of surprise, he smiled and nodded, extending a hand toward me. “Honestly now, want a stable job?”

  I shrank back, hugging myself. “No thanks. You go ahead. I don’t need you following me.”

  Nowhere had its match in every place I’d known in my 24.5 years of life—but now, I was completely lost. Not a single inn or theater lined up with any building near my apartment. Hoffman... that poor sucker. I’d absorbed his memories and soul. I could use his Skill and Path to get out.

  Rafe seemed to read my mind. Every word he uttered made my head throb. “You’re really planning... to not go back? Your house, your old life... you’re just leaving it all behind?”

  He paused, scanning my averted gaze as if judging something. “You think there are worse people behind me, don’t you? Maybe you’re right. But do you think you can hide from us forever? That you can keep this up?”

  “What other choice do you have?”

  His voice softened, a blend of comfort and mockery. “You don’t trust me—so who do you trust? Your parents? They barely remember your name. Friends? Partners? You’ve always been alone.”

  “You could try... treating me like someone... not entirely unreliable. Just this once.”

  Rafe’s voice dropped, as if struggling to keep his emotions in check.

  God, what a pathetic life I’ve led.

  “I heard a little—just a little of what you said on the red carpet. You don’t trust your parents. You have no friends, no partner... so why not try trusting me?” I hadn’t noticed Rafe crouching in front of me until he reached out his hand. “Running away won’t solve anything.”

  For a moment, I wanted to grab Rafe’s hand—anyone’s hand—just throw away all the questions and give in. But the chemical storm inside my brain wouldn’t let me shoulder the fear and pressure that came with it.

  “Lies don’t build trust. You’ve been lying to me from the start.” I pushed myself up using a stool, stepping away from him.

  “I’m a headhunter. I had to hide the truth while investigating you. But now you’re qualified to know—the stuff every hunter learns eventually. I’ve got no reason to lie anymore.” Rafe dragged a filthy single-seat armchair from the corner and sat across from me. “The Blue Vulture Hotel is a well-known instance. Want me to explain what just happened?”

  I nodded.

  Hoffman’s life felt like a lucid dream to me. The distant past had turned into a vague familiarity. Only the Nowhere-related memories… well, they didn’t feel reliable, but they made a good test for Rafe’s answers.

  The Blue Vulture Hotel was bigger than I expected—more like a village. It had restaurants, casinos, cinemas, a supermarket—and, just last month, a newly opened murder mystery theater. Rafe and I were walking through the staff corridor backstage, heading toward the main building. The creaky wooden floor was stained with dark, suspicious blotches—I didn’t want to know what they were or where they came from.

  “If you hadn’t helped, I wouldn’t have made it off that stage alive. What kind of murder mystery is this? It’s a goddamn slaughter show!” Anger flared through me, making me forget how slim my chances of survival had been. “Who pays money to get themselves killed?”

  Rafe snorted like a pig, chuckling in that annoying way that made me want to rip his face off. “You’re the one who said ‘everything’ at the end.”

  Huh?

  “You said it yourself—‘everything.’ Naturally, everything got the chance to kill you. That counts as verbal consent.” Rafe’s sympathetic look made me furious. I would’ve preferred if he mocked me so I could fight back—at least I wouldn’t lose in a verbal spat. “It’s just a rumor I heard. Didn’t think it was true.”

  No. Something was definitely wrong. Without warning, I pressed my right index and middle fingers to Rafe’s carotid artery. I could use Hoffman’s Skill to dissolve his blood vessels and have him die from massive internal bleeding within half a minute.

  But I didn’t plan to do that.

  “Maybe focus on yourself first.” I felt the chill of Rafe’s skin and his faint pulse, forcing my face into a mask of sympathy while hiding my glee deep inside. “You used that flesh-suit from your act to shield me from a fatal blow, didn’t you? I guess when the animals you control die or get injured, it hits you pretty hard too.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Rafe removed my hand from his throat and, with a near bone-breaking grip, seized my wrist and quickened his pace. “It’s not every day you visit the Blue Vulture. Check if you’re carrying anything strange—like that key you found before.”

  I must’ve looked ridiculous to anyone watching: an early 20th-century washed-cotton shirtdress soaked in dark red blood, with a deep blue apron tied over it; hair tangled into matted clumps by dried fluid.

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  Was it really okay to stroll around the hotel like this? I leaned against the wall, fidgeting with my skirt hem, wondering—until I heard a deliberate cough above me. Following Rafe’s gaze, I noticed a glint of gold at the edge of my vision. Reaching up, I felt a necklace that hadn’t been there before. A tiny key-shaped charm swung from my collarbone, catching the dim light with an unnatural gleam.

  “The more valuable a Collection looks, the stronger it is. Once we’re out, you’ll see its usage time. Let’s see…” Rafe leaned closer to the key, his tired face momentarily brightened by its golden glow. “From my experience—congrats. This thing’s worth a lot.”

  “Not something you can buy with just money.” Rafe reluctantly straightened up. “Your name and room number are engraved on it—likely only usable by you.”

  So it couldn’t be sold. My hand froze at the necklace clasp. A wave of relief washed over me, like the risk of decapitation had just shrunk considerably—I was a little farther from death now.

  No. That was just Rafe’s claim. It could easily be a ploy to lower my guard. Hoffman wasn’t exactly a successful hunter—he’d handled very few Collections and couldn’t judge their value.

  For all I knew, Rafe’s pseudo-bio self-injury could’ve been a setup too—a calculated act of self-sacrifice to earn my trust.

  A crushing fatigue dulled my brain. It took a while before my suspicion fully returned. Thankfully, this drowsiness came from overusing my Skill—utterly real. Any facial reaction was buried beneath an endless stream of yawns.

  “When do you plan to leave? I want to sleep.” I forced down my irritation. The corridor stretched endlessly ahead. “Did the hotel seriously need to build such a long hallway? Don’t tell me they host marathons here too.”

  Rafe gave me a strange look, then tightened his grip on my arm and sped up, falling silent—like he’d just discovered his own adoption papers.

  The moment the door opened, all signs of shabbiness and age came to an abrupt halt.

  I stared dumbly at the shimmering ripples cast by the crystal chandelier, my mouth hanging open—only realizing it after what felt like an eternity. It must have been the most shocked expression I had ever made in my life.

  “I was just like you the first time I came here.”

  Rafe’s amused voice rang out beside my ear as he pulled me aside, steering me out of the path of a woman rushing past—her kneecap nearly brushed my cheek. The shadow of her skirt dimmed the surrounding light for a moment, and I caught a strong whiff of hospital-grade disinfectant.

  “She’s a Resident—you probably guessed that. Don’t worry, everyone in the Blue Vulture Hotel gets to enjoy a boring kind of peace.”

  “Can you guarantee that?”

  I edged closer to Rafe, distancing myself from a dangling disco-ball ornament attached to a brimmed hat. The owner of the hat seemed to notice my movement and stood up from his single-seater couch, eyeing me with curious amusement from head to toe.

  What I thought was an odd outfit somehow felt disturbingly in tune with the atmosphere here.

  Under the slowly shifting lights, it was hard to tell how old the man was—or maybe it was just because I was trying very hard to look away from the flashing nipple ring on his chest.

  “That’s the hotel’s slogan. Been using it for over a hundred years. One of the most reliable things in this damned place.”

  “You look greener than a rookie. What clade are you from? I’m Rhodes, Merrowvale clade.”

  “Liv. Some connection to the Sun clade.” I smiled faintly at the man who called himself Rhodes.

  Now, all that remained of Hoffman's memories were fragments related to Nowhere, Skills, and the Path. Everything else—everything ordinary—had vanished like garbage swept away in silence. Killing a core member of the Sun clade—how could that not count as “some connection”?

  The Sun clade wasn’t large, and recently, most of their assets had been frozen by the tax bureau—a juicy piece of gossip known to every Hunter. They’d paid a steep price to get their hands on a ticket for the Blue Vulture’s new event: a murder mystery game. Their last hope had been for Hoffman to bring back something that could turn the tide—but that hope had already been shattered by a stack of paper in my hands.

  Rhodes gave a knowing nod, then cast a playful glance between Rafe and me before settling back into his single-seater. He lifted an empty glass and took a sip—when he set it down again, a layer of thick, oil-like liquid had appeared at the bottom.

  “Don’t go chatting with people at random. Go order a drink. Never walk around empty-handed—if you do, they’ll think you’re a stowaway and drag you off,” Rafe murmured, nodding toward the dimmest corner of the hall. “The menu. The bounties. They’re over there.”

  Bounties—

  My thigh muscles tensed reflexively. The cold and burn of a blade returned to my skin, making me close my eyes briefly. I wanted to know everything, and at the same time, I wanted to shut my eyes and leave it all behind.

  But the one thing Rafe—this idiot who spouted nonsense half the time—had said that was actually true, was this:

  Running doesn’t solve anything.

  Hoffman hadn’t left much information behind. From “the performance ends” to “leave with the Collection,” there was only a vague directive: be a good customer—so vague it made you wonder if the whole guide had been planted by Nowhere as a trap.

  “What is this place?”

  I lowered my voice and asked Rafe in a whisper as I unconsciously quickened my pace, heading deeper into the hall toward the shadows. I’d never imagined darkness could feel like safety.

  “You know about the Sun clade? How?”

  “Between getting caught by you and revealing my weakness to that weird-looking stranger, I’d rather you know,” I said, then added, as if struck by inspiration, “Hoffman told me.”

  It was that little orb from his corpse, passed through my digestive system, that had delivered the information to me—the method was different, but the message was the same.

  Rafe gave a cold snort and pressed down on my shoulder with a hint of vengeance.

  “Quit stalling. You can’t leave until you order a drink.”