The five-story building Mioray had called home for twenty-one years was just around the corner. It had always been there, throughout all of his life. He remembered playing football in the backyard with the neighborhood kids. Now, all those childhood friends were gone. Some had moved abroad for school; others had left Reques City with their families. Their bonds had dissolved naturally over time. Only one constant remained. His home and his parents.

  But now, even that was on the brink of change. Everything shifted with Mioray’s twenty-first birthday.

  He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor slowly, running his hand along the railing with a pang of nostalgia. The building felt both familiar and strange, like he was visiting it for the first and last time all at once. Every detail seemed sharper now: a spider clinging to a ceiling corner on the first floor, a crack in the stairs between the first and second floors, black scuff marks from a bicycle wheel staining the peach-colored walls on the third. These things had been there for years, unnoticed. Now, as he consciously took them in, the weight of it all added to his sadness.

  What if he never returned here?

  “Holy Mirabelle, the air is heavy here,” Terry whistled from behind, breaking the somber mood. “Sorry, I’m just not used to places like this. Grew up in cushy apartments.”

  Mioray turned, frowning. “Are you following me?”

  “I thought you didn’t mind me tagging along?” Terry asked, brushing his blonde hair back.

  “I didn’t think you’d come inside.”

  “Why not?” Terry smirked. “Ah, you’re worried your parents might recognize me?”

  “Something like that,” Mioray muttered awkwardly.

  They reached the fourth floor, and Terry saluted with two fingers before wandering to the hallway window. “I’ll wait here, then. Take your time.”

  Mioray sighed with relief. He didn’t need Terry complicating the conversation he was about to have with his parents.

  The brown apartment door was just a few steps away. He reached into his pocket, feeling for his keys. They were the only personal possession he had left, having survived the attack at the university. Kevin had returned them later at the storage facility. Yet it felt wrong to unlock the door himself, as though doing so might startle his parents or trivialize everything that had happened.

  His hand hovered over the doorbell. For a moment, he hesitated, then pressed it.

  The chime that followed – a gentle, lilting tune – seemed unusually long. Mioray wasn’t used to hearing it; the only time the bell rang was when couriers delivered food or packages. Most visitors would call ahead, and his family would meet them at the entrance.

  The soft click of the door lock interrupted the melody.

  Mioray’s stomach twisted. The last time he’d vanished, he’d been gone for three days. This time, it had been two weeks. He could only imagine the toll it had taken on his parents. They had raised him with love and care, more than he deserved after what he’d put them through.

  And it was all because of his childish selfishness. If only he had handled the revelation of being adopted with the maturity expected of an adult. If only he had stayed. None of this would have happened. He would have gone to the party with his friends, and he wouldn’t have crossed paths with the Dismantler. And maybe – just maybe – the attack on the university could have been avoided altogether.

  The door opened, and his mom appeared. She looked older, her face lined with new wrinkles that hadn’t been there two weeks ago. Could a person change so much in such a short time?

  “Mioray?!” she gasped, immediately pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank Holy Mirabelle, you’re safe! Paul, come here! Our son’s back!”

  Mioray’s face was buried in her shoulder, but he could hear hurried footsteps approaching.

  “I knew it!” his dad’s deep voice cracked with emotion. “Our prayers were answered. We never stopped believing you’d come back. But where were you? We searched everywhere, called everyone we knew–”

  His dad’s voice faltered, and his eyes widened in horror. “Wait… your arm…”

  Mioray stiffened. He had hoped to delay this moment, but it was inevitable. His mom pulled back, her hands trembling as she reached out for his missing arm, her face pale with shock. When her fingers met only empty air, she recoiled as though burned.

  She fainted.

  Mioray and his dad caught her before she hit the ground, easing her onto the living room sofa. His dad looked equally on the verge of collapse, staring at the stump where Mioray’s arm used to be.

  “I’ll get some water,” Mioray said quickly, retreating to the kitchen. He returned with a glass, placing it on the coffee table before running back for a second. His dad remained frozen, his wide eyes fixed on the empty space where Mioray’s arm should have been.

  The silence was unbearable.

  Finally, his mom stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. Mioray handed her a glass of water. She took it with unsteady hands, whispering a shaky, “Thank you.” His dad accepted the other glass, drinking slowly without saying a word.

  The air in the room was heavy with unspoken questions and fragile emotions. Mioray knew he had to speak. The silence couldn’t stretch on forever.

  “I was injured during the attack on the university,” he lied. The first in what would be a string of lies, all for his parents’ sake. Well, maybe not the first. He had lied during his first disappearance, too. Back then, he had believed that a single falsehood would suffice. He had been so naive. One lie wasn’t enough. He had been wrong. Wrong about everything.

  “I had my arm amputated because it was beyond saving,” he continued. “And until recently, I was in a coma. Once I came to, I headed home as soon as I could. I would have called you, but I lost my phone.”

  “We still have it,” his dad said, leaping from the sofa and disappearing into the bedroom. Moments later, he returned with Mioray’s phone, its screen scratched but intact. It was a miracle his phone had survived Impact Corpse’s raid. “The police were kind enough to return it to us.”

  “And they helped us search for you in every city hospital,” his mom added. “But you weren’t in any of them!”

  Mioray braced himself, expecting her to press about the Lilies Hospital. Surely, the staff there would have remembered him. If his parents had shown them his photo, someone would have mentioned it. But his mom didn’t push. She simply waited, eyes filled with silent expectation.

  “I was transferred outside the city,” he lied again. “All the local hospitals were overwhelmed with victims of the attack. But it’s nothing to worry about. I’m back now. I’m here.”

  “How can you say you’re fine?” his mom cried, clasping her hands tightly. “Your arm, Mioray! What will you do now? You must be in so much pain...”

  They didn’t know half of it. It wasn’t just his arm; it was his life. Both were gone. But he couldn’t tell them that. He couldn’t let them see the full extent of his despair. They didn’t deserve to shoulder that burden. Instead, he steeled himself, determined to be strong for their sake.

  If there was some greater will at work, it must have spared Mioray for them, not for himself. Perhaps it took pity on his parents and chose not to strip away their reason to live. If Mioray had died like any normal person, his parents would have been devastated, left to drown in a grief they could never escape. That thought cut deeper than the loss of his arm ever could.

  “I’m fine, Mom, really,” Mioray forced a smile. “The doctors took good care of me, and it doesn’t even hurt anymore. I’ll get used to it. Maybe I’ll even get one of those cool robotic prosthetics and look like a superhero.”

  “You did want to be a superhero once,” his dad said with a small, nostalgic smile.

  “Stop it, Dad. That was forever ago,” Mioray muttered, embarrassed.

  Stolen story; please report.

  His dad’s smile faded, replaced by concern. “But seriously, son, are you sure you’re okay? Surviving a terrorist attack, losing your arm, it’s a lot to process. You don’t have to hold it all in. We’re your family. You can tell us anything that’s bothering you.”

  He didn’t deserve parents like this.

  “Yeah, Dad. Yeah, I know.”

  The words stuck in his throat, bitter and heavy. If only he could tell them the truth! But he couldn’t. They wouldn’t believe him, and even if they did, it would only hurt them more. No, they were his family, his only family, and he had to protect them. Even if it meant leaving again to keep them safe from Impact Corpse.

  Mioray’s expression must have clouded over from the weight of his thoughts, because his mom gently took his hand in hers and guided him to sit beside her on the sofa.

  “We love you, Mioray, no matter what,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around him. “Never forget that. If you say you’re okay, we’ll trust you. But don’t carry your burdens alone. You can always count on us.”

  His dad joined the embrace, pulling them both close. Mioray felt a surge of emotion rising within him, threatening to spill over. But he forced it down. Could he even cry anymore? Since his revival, emotions felt distant, muted, as if they didn’t fully belong to him.

  It was terrifying. Were his emotions real, or were they just echoes of what he used to feel? He wanted to believe he was still the same person at his core, but doubts gnawed at him. Regardless, he hugged his parents tightly, holding on as if he could freeze this moment in time.

  The doorbell rang, shattering the fragile peace.

  Mioray sighed, reluctantly pulling himself away. It was probably Terry, growing impatient and wanting him to hurry. The racer could wait a little longer. No one had asked him to tag along, after all.

  But the ringing didn’t stop. It grew more persistent, the cheerful melody of the doorbell grating on Mioray’s nerves. His parents turned toward the door, curious.

  “I’ll check who it is,” Mioray said, rising. He crossed the room and opened the door.

  Two people stood on the threshold, and they were the last people Mioray wanted to see.

  Detective Natalie Lance and Detective Chad Haytham.

  Mioray froze, his mind racing. What were they doing here? How had they found him?

  “Detective Lance, Detective Haytham, what a pleasant surprise!” Mioray’s mom exclaimed, stepping up behind him. “Look, our son is back alive! It’s a miracle!””

  Of course. His mom already knew them.

  “We’re glad to see that, Mrs. Meindmy,” Detective Lance said with a polite nod. Her tone might have been warm, but her gaze told a different story. “May we come in?”

  “Of course! Please, come in,” his mom said, ushering them inside.

  Mioray hesitated, standing frozen in the doorway. His mom gently pushed him aside, misunderstanding his reluctance.

  “You don’t know, but these detectives have been working on your case,” she explained. “They helped us search for you.”

  “I’m sure they did,” Mioray said tightly.

  As everyone settled into the living room, Mioray’s mind raced, desperately searching for his next move. The detectives’ unexpected arrival had thrown everything off course. What was he supposed to do now? Running away, like last time, wasn’t an option. It would only confuse his parents.

  The detectives’ presence complicated everything he’d planned. How much did they know? And worse, how much had they already shared with his parents? Their motives weren’t clear, but it was obvious they were playing a game of their own. From what he could gather, his parents didn’t know that detectives had already met Mioray once.

  Then, Mioray thought of another person he met that same day as the detectives. The mysterious woman Reyna Kayree. She was interested in taking him in, as if she’d known the truth about his condition even before he had. Was it possible she and the detectives were working together? He couldn’t rule it out.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Meindmy, would you mind if we spoke with your son privately?” Natalie asked after a bit of small talk with Mioray’s parents. “We’d just like to ask him a few questions about the attack on the university.”

  “I’m not sure,” Mioray’s dad replied, his worried gaze shifting to his son. “He just got home. I don’t think he wants to relive those memories so soon, at least not now.”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Mioray said with a nod. The sooner these detectives stayed away from his parents, the better. “I can talk to them.”

  “Lovely. You heard the man,” Detective Haytham said as he leisurely leaned back on the sofa, arms spread casually along the backrest. “While we’re at it, could I ask you for some tea? Black, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Of course, detective,” Mioray’s mom said politely. “And for you, Detective Lance?”

  “Nothing for me, thank you,” Natalie replied, her sharp eyes never leaving Mioray. It was as though she was looking through him, right into the soul that was outside his body now.

  Mioray’s parents headed to the kitchen, leaving him alone with the detectives. The detectives sat on the sofa, facing Mioray, while he perched in a fall-green upholstered chair with wooden legs directly opposite them.

  “How did you find me?” Mioray asked, his tone direct. There was no point in pretense. Smooth-talking wasn’t going to help here.

  “Straight to the point, huh?” Detective Haytham smirked, clearly enjoying himself, as if he’d won some game of hide-and-seek.

  But his partner had no interest in theatrics.

  “We got lucky with the university attack,” Natalie explained, her tone serious. “Not that it was a good thing. What happened there was a tragedy, but it gave us a lead. After the attack, the police collected files on all the dead and missing students. That’s how we identified you.”

  “Turns out, you lied to us, John Doe,” Detective Haytham added, pointing a finger at Mioray. “Or should I call you Mioray Meindmy?”

  His sarcasm was infuriating, but Mioray forced himself to ignore it. He focused instead on Natalie. At least she seemed willing to give straight answers, though, of course, she would expect him to answer her questions in return. The problem was that Mioray had to tread carefully with what he revealed. He couldn’t risk compromising Erinel or the others, but at the same time, there was no escaping the detectives now. He would have to give them something, just enough to keep them from digging deeper.

  “We also spoke to your friend, Juju Yoursjur,” Natalie continued. “He told us some interesting things. According to him, the bomber was targeting you. Is that true?”

  Mioray’s stomach dropped. He fought to keep his face neutral, but inside, everything sank. Juju. Of course. Juju had seen everything, including Mioray detaching his arm to save him. Had Juju told the detectives about that?

  “No,” Mioray said, going for a bluff. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he target me specifically, killing everyone around?”

  “Who knows?” Detective Haytham shrugged. “Maybe you were his accomplice.”

  “I was not!” Mioray snapped, his temper flaring. “Can you stop with these ridiculous accusations?! First, you said I was in cahoots with the Dismantler, and now this?”

  “Calm down, Mioray,” Natalie interjected, shooting her partner a sharp look. Detective Haytham raised his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk on his face suggested he wasn’t done.

  “Mioray,” Natalie said gently, “we’re not here to accuse you. We’re here to help. But we need your cooperation. What can you tell us about the bomber?”

  Her tone was calm, almost soothing, but Mioray didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust her. Other witnesses at the university must have seen Impact Corpse in action. They saw his limbs explode and regenerate. Maybe they didn’t believe their eyes, but they couldn’t have ignored it entirely. So why did Natalie Lance ask him about what she already heard?

  “I didn’t see him use explosives,” Mioray said cautiously. “It was like his arms and legs were the bombs, like they were sewn into him or something. And then, minutes later, he was fine again. No injuries. I can’t explain it.”

  Natalie nodded, as if testimonies from other witnesses confirmed this.

  “You lied to us at the hospital,” she continued, her gaze unwavering, “and then you ran away. Did someone help you escape?”

  The sudden shift in topic caught Mioray off guard. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering.

  “No. You all lost consciousness, and I panicked.”

  “Funny,” Detective Haytham drawled, leaning forward. “Because you should have lost consciousness too. But you didn’t. Care to explain how that’s possible?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why were you in the hospital in the first place?” Detective Haytham pressed.

  “I don’t remember,” Mioray said. “My memories from before then are fuzzy. I woke up in the hospital, and soon after, you two showed up.”

  “Same story as last time,” Haytham stood, stretching. “This is going nowhere, Natalie. The kid’s just stringing us along.”

  Natalie didn’t budge. Her piercing gaze remained fixed on Mioray.

  “Where were you for the past two weeks?” she asked suddenly.

  “In a hospital outside the city,” Mioray said, sticking to the lie.

  “And if we check that, will it hold up?”

  Her question hit like a hammer. Of course it wouldn’t. The lie might have worked on his parents, but it was useless against the detectives. If this kept up, Natalie would corner him completely.

  No, Mioray was lying to himself.

  They’d cornered him the moment they arrived. What an unlucky coincidence that they’d run into him here, at his home. Or was it even a coincidence? What if they’d set up surveillance on his place? They would have known the exact moment he came back, before he even had a chance to get inside.

  “I don’t see how this is relevant,” Mioray said weakly, trying to deflect. “You said you wanted to help me. Help me with what, exactly?”

  Natalie sighed, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. For a moment, Mioray wondered if he’d misjudged her. What if she really was trying to help?

  “Look, Mioray,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “We all know you’re hiding something. And whatever it is, it’s going to come back to haunt you. You’ve been at the center of two notorious criminals’ activities. Whether you see it or not, you’re still in danger. Do you want to know why?”

  “Please, enlighten me.”

  “Have you noticed,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “that the Dismantler stopped his killings about a month ago? Around the same time we found you in the hospital.”

  Mioray clenched his jaw. That serial killer again. The one responsible for his death.

  “What does he have to do with anything?”

  “I suspect,” Natalie said, her tone grave, “that he was the one who attacked your university.”

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