—"Seven days…" My voice nearly drowned in doubt. The number spun in my head—Adonis, Ashsa. "You're kidding, right?" I asked, disbelief thick in the air.
"What would I gain from lying about this?" His tone was flat, almost indifferent.
I drew a long, shaky breath, trying to gather the scattered shards of my thoughts. "Why are you after Professor Lingard? You're doing this for Fianna, aren't you?"
"That means this person… at the very least, has committed an unforgivable crime," I muttered, piecing together the puzzle as I spoke.
Silence slithered between us like a thick, sound-swallowing mist. He spoke slowly, as if opening the brittle pages of an ancient, pain-filled old book.
"Fifteen years ago," he began, his voice steady, almost like a storyteller spinning a yarn,
"on the northern edge, there was a prosperous coastal town—a jewel on the ocean's rim. Its people were fishermen, hands calloused from taming the waves, their catch flowing all the way to the heart of the capital."
He paused, his gaze drifting far beyond the present, piercing through the veil of time. "Then, out of nowhere, a strange religious cult appeared, spreading bizarre beliefs, and within a month or two, the entire town had become their followers."
Something crawled up the back of my neck—an unease I couldn't shake off.
"And when the ritual was held under the silent, hanging moon, the entire population… simply vanished into thin air." He stopped, letting silence seep in.
"No." That single word dropped softly, heavy with meaning. "They didn't just disappear."
"The people were still there—at least, what remained were their skins." He bowed his head, his voice dropping to a whisper barely louder than a breath.
I was rooted to the spot. "Their skin?"
"Yes. Their skin stayed behind, but only the skin—as if the raw flesh inside had writhed, desperate to break free." He swallowed hard. "Their footprints led to the sea, while the empty husks of their skin were strewn along the beach."
I gulped, my throat suddenly dry. The image danced wildly in my mind, too real to be just a tale.
"Eight years ago, in the Nila region, a similar event repeated itself. Their small coastal town, quieter, more deserted. Suffered the same fate. They vanished, leaving behind empty skins tossed by the waves."
He bowed his head, as if holding back something about to break. "And lastly, three years ago. On Molokini Island."
"That's a tourist island—a little paradise that never sleeps, where the laughter of tourists from all over the world blends with the crashing waves. Day and night, the island should always be bustling, never truly silent," he said, his eyes gazing far away.
"But when I arrived there, all I found were remnants of life. The radio was still on, letters piled up in front of the door, water in the glass undisturbed, and the loudspeakers in the square still blaring the welcome song cheerfully."
He sighed, his voice tense. "Yet, the shells of skin there—far more than the two previous tragedies—were scattered, filling every corner of the island."
"And, like a curse pattern," he emphasized the word pattern with his mouth. "Their last footprints led to the sea."
"To me, this is not just a tragedy. It's a massacre."
A chill crawled down my spine, imagining an invisible creature writhing out of a human body, reminding me of myself.
"But, at the last incident site, we found this." Hozi raised a small crest, the emblem of Tytoal-ba University engraved in gold. An owl perched on a book, and beneath it was inscribed the name: Lingard Onison.
"So, Lingard Onison..."
"Right. One of them. It took months to trace his steps to this place. I've confirmed, he's up there/"
I was still digesting those pieces of facts when a new horror struck me. "So... you mean, they will die within those seven days!?"
Hozi nodded, his face hardened. "Right. There's a chance Alteker's headquarters will be the next target."
"But... why?"
"If this is indeed a religious cult movement, it means there are members hiding within Alteker."
"I don't know their exact motive, but one thing is clear—they want to subjugate the Wetlands."
"To wipe out Alteker is to claim the Wetlands—every last inch of it," I muttered under my breath.
"Exactly," Hozi replied, his eyes narrowing. "But even if Alteker falls, Tyan Flamino won't sit still. He... is a terrifying man." He smirked.
I stared at him intently. "I'll help you."
Hozi shrugged casually, as if the weight of the world never truly rested on his shoulders. "From the start, you never had a choice. But thank you. I rely on you."
With light steps, he left, leaving the air heavier now—as if all those secrets were just passing winds to him.
I collapsed again into these bench as Hozi disappeared into the crowd. My whole body felt weightless, while my mind spun wildly, trying to weave the threads of the puzzle just thrown before me. Lingard Onison, Tytoal-ba University, sea-worshipping cult—all those names and terms felt like shards of a foreign world I never truly wanted to know.
I buried my head in my hands, letting my gaze drift to the seemingly ordinary Wetlands market, as if it never knew that disaster was dancing at their doorstep.
***
My eyes locked onto the flower pot perched sweetly beside my own front door. Strangely, the door was tightly locked—something almost impossible, considering Lon was almost always home, especially on an evening like this.
"Why do people never have the sense to leave keys in obvious places?" I grumbled, lifting the flower pot and peeling back the faded orca-patterned doormat. Still unsatisfied, I gave a little jump, reaching for the vent above the door—hoping for some miracle where the key would materialize from behind the dust. Nothing. Emptiness. As if the universe was laughing at me.
I slumped down in front of the door, staring blankly. Erin was asleep, and I didn't have the faintest clue where the damned key could be. The irony—things this important always vanish at the most critical moments.
Suddenly, a voice I hadn't heard in ages broke through my despair. "Ohh, Fionn, what are you doing camped out in front of your door?"
A strange scent drifted in, cutting through my mental fog. I turned, and there stood two teenagers, vaguely familiar in the fragments of my memory.
Both wore uniforms that couldn't be mistaken—military-like, mostly moss-green, hugging their bodies with near precision. Silver accents traced their arms and legs, with thick fabric at the sleeves. A wide belt circled their waists, and a pistol hung at their left side.
The lower half of the uniform hung loose but not sloppy, the pants tightly wrapping their legs, paired with sturdy boots that swallowed almost their entire calves. Every step they took was accompanied by the faint jingle of chains at their right—a little symphony that announced their identity: they were Altekers, guardians and shadows of the Wetlands.
"Forgot your key again, huh?" Adonis asked, his smile friendly, his smooth skin reflecting the glow of the artificial sun overhead. His face was sharp, his nose slender, and his long black hair fell messily over his temples and forehead.
But what caught my attention most were his eyes—eyes that seemed kind, yet hid mysteries as vast as the ocean. His voice was soothing, but his gaze seemed to look far away, pondering things I couldn't guess. Watching him, I couldn't tell if he was truly that calm, or just too exhausted to care.
"Ah, no, I'm just checking on this plant. Paris told me to replace it, said it's starting to wilt," I lied, lifting the pot and trying to sound casual.
"But isn't it still fresh and healthy?" Ashsa replied, his voice deep, his face chiseled from stone—strong jaw, prominent masculine lines, a solid chin, and muscular cheeks. His eyes narrowed, sharp and probing. His long brown hair fell over his forehead and partially obscured his eyes, while the back was cut short to the nape of his neck. There was a wild, untamed aura in every strand.
I looked at the plant for a moment, then slowly put it back in its place. Adonis and Ashsa strolled closer. Without much fuss, Adonis pulled a key from his pocket and—click—the door swung open just like that.
"Lost your key again, huh?" Adonis teased, his smile relaxed, as if this was already a routine.
I nodded slowly, a little relieved. At least it wasn't the first time this body had stood dazed in front of its own door.
"It's rare for Lon not to be home," Ashsa murmured, starting to take off his uniform. His arm muscles bulged, his abs clearly visible—he was the very definition of walking masculinity.
"By the way, I'm going to shower first," he added, then disappeared into the house.
Only then did I notice the fishy scent clinging to them—the harsh smell of the Wetlands, perhaps. The scent of hard work that couldn't be hidden.
"Wait, you're allowed to leave the northern sector? I thought you were still on lockdown there," I said, confusion creeping into my voice.
"Eh, you want us to stay there, or what?" Adonis shot back, half-joking.
I just sighed. Sometimes, their logic really was beyond reason.
"The breach in the northern district is still being patched. Slave labor, going in and out, taking turns holding those creatures back so they don't seep in here," Adonis explained, now also stripping off his uniform, leaving a thin black shirt clinging to his body.
I sat backwards on a chair, trying to pry out as much information as possible for my next mission.
"Those creatures?" I whispered, half under my breath.
"Yeah, those creatures—scaly, slimy, bodies like fish, with jutting jaws and teeth," Adonis answered, his face calm but his eyes betraying exhaustion he couldn't hide.
Every word stuck in my mind. Was this the kind of creature Hozi meant? Could it be that what they were fighting were humans who'd transformed into mindless monsters? Imagining someone willingly joining a cult just to become something like that—what was the real price to pay?
"Wait, you said the northern breach still isn't patched up?" I asked, my chair scraping closer, my voice rising a notch.
"Ah, we're heading back there the day after tomorrow. The boss gave us a break—plus, Ashsa reeks of fish so bad right now," Adonis joked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Suddenly, an idea flashed in my head. I looked at them seriously. "Just hypothetically, but… would you let me help patch up the breach?"