Rosalia — POV
This man—Cassel—was utterly unbelievable.
Unbelievable not because of his strength, nor his position, nor even the way people unconsciously bent to his will the mont he stepped into a room—but because he had an infuriating talent for seeing straight through .
I couldn’t help but blush.
Heat surged up my neck, flooded my cheeks, and settled there stubbornly, as though my body itself had betrayed .
I knew perfectly well why I was reacting in this way.
I knew exactly what thoughts had led here—what ridiculous, improper assumptions had slipped into my mind when I lost my footing and ended up pressed so close to him.
Because I had been thinking about those things.
Because I had imagined— Because I had assud that what was beneath was—
"What?" Cassel’s voice cut cleanly through my spiraling thoughts, low and amused, vibrating against my ears far more clearly than it should have. "Are you disappointed that what you imagined wasn’t true?"
My breath hitched.
The words were spoken lightly, almost lazily, but there was precision in them.
He hadn’t guessed. He knew. And worse—he was enjoying it.
Of course, he was teasing .
Of course, he wouldn’t let this go.
I opened my mouth, ready to deny it, ready to retort with sothing sharp and cutting—but nothing ca out.
Every possible defense crumbled under the weight of the truth.
How could I argue when my own thoughts had betrayed so thoroughly?
So I chose the only option left.
I stayed silent.
Cassel let out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and infuriatingly close.
It wasn’t loud, wasn’t mocking in an obvious way—but that only made it worse.
It was the sound of a man who had already won and knew it.
This villain—this so-called boss—was unbelievably rude.
And childish.
And absolutely unbearable.
Just because I had played a small prank on him before—just because I had managed, once, to catch him off guard—he decided to take revenge in the most humiliating way possible.
How immature.
"Are my muscles comfortable to the touch?" Cassel asked lazily, as though he were making casual conversation. "Or did Miss Rosalia prefer to touch sothing else?"
My entire body stiffened.
"Cassel," I snapped, forcing my voice to steady despite the chaos raging inside . "Don’t take it too far."
"Oh?" His brows lifted slightly, eyes dark with amusent. "And what if I do?"
He didn’t move closer.
He didn’t touch again.
And yet—
The heat between us, which had barely begun to subside, flared up all over again, fierce and suffocating.
It was as if the air itself had thickened, heavy with unsaid words and dangerously close proximity.
My face burned, my pulse raced, and I suddenly beca far too aware of every inch of space between us—and how little of it there was.
To escape my own embarrassnt, I shoved Cassel away with more force than strictly necessary, stumbling back a step as I blurted out, breathless and flustered,
"Go—go. Henry needs you."
Cassel didn’t stumble. Of course, he didn’t.
He rely straightened, watching with an unmistakably pleased expression.
Mockery and delight danced openly across his face as he tilted his head slightly and said,
"Oh? Him? He left a long ti ago."
I froze.
The words took a mont to register.
"What?" I asked instinctively.
I had noticed the silence, now that I thought about it. The base, which had been bustling just a while ago, was tranquil.
No footsteps. No voices. No sound of preparation.
I forced myself to ignore the growing sense of unease and clung instead to the practical matters at hand.
Henry had wanted to deal with Matthew’s issue—that much I rembered clearly.
I hesitated, weighing my words, before finally saying, "Then... let’s go out. We still need to settle Matthew’s situation. We can’t delay any longer."
For the first ti since this ridiculous exchange began, the amusent faded from Cassel’s expression.
The shift was subtle but unmistakable.
The playful curve of his lips flattened.
His eyes darkened, sharpening with sothing far more serious.
Not anger—not yet—but calculation. The kind that reminded everyone exactly why he was feared.
At least he wasn’t angry enough to kill soone.
That realization made breathe a silent sigh of relief.
Cassel exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as though resigning himself to sothing inevitable.
"...Fine," he said at last. "Let’s go."
---
"Boss, you finally ca."
Frederick’s voice greeted us the mont we stepped outside.
He straightened imdiately, posture crisp and respectful, though the tension in his shoulders suggested how long they had been waiting.
"We’ve prepared everything. Should we wait for the other teams," he asked, "or move imdiately?"
Behind him, Robin was carefully settling his daughter into one of the vehicles, fastening her seatbelt with a tenderness that stood in stark contrast to the ruined world around us.
The other children were already inside, their small faces pale but obedient, far too used to chaos for their age.
As for Henry—
He was leaning against the entrance door, one foot braced against the wall, posture relaxed to the point of carelessness.
A cigarette burned between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air as he watched us approach.
His gaze was sharp.
Too sharp.
I frowned before I could stop myself. "Since when did you start smoking, Henry?"
He looked far too skilled at it—the way he inhaled, the way he exhaled the smoke smoothly, without coughing or hesitation. It wasn’t the clumsy behavior of soone who had just picked up the habit.
That wasn’t ntioned in the novel.
...Or had I simply forgotten?
At the sound of my voice, Henry’s sharp expression lted instantly into his usual cheerful, mischievous smile.
"Oh?" he said lightly. "Is the young lady worried about my health now?"
"Who would worry about your health?" I shot back without missing a beat. "Besides, you’re a superhuman now. You wouldn’t die even if you smoked a million cigarettes."
Henry laughed, clearly pleased by my blunt reply. He opened his mouth to say sothing—probably another infuriating tease—but Cassel interrupted him coldly.
"What about that man from last night?" Cassel asked. "Where is he?"
The shift in Henry was imdiate.
His smile faded, eyes narrowing until they beca sharp and piercing, like blades hidden beneath silk.
"He’s still in that room," Henry replied.
There was a pause.
Then Henry’s gaze flicked between Cassel and , lingering just a second too long, before he added with deliberate slowness,
"I was actually going to ask what we should do with him. Who would’ve thought the boss was... busy?"
Busy.
The word hit like a blow.
My mind went blank for half a second before everything rushed back at once.
Oh my God.
How could I forget?
Henry’s ability wasn’t just air manipulation—it was control, awareness, dominance over everything that moved through the atmosphere.
Once his power was active, he could hear the faintest disturbances: a breath, a heartbeat, a whispered word.
Which ant—
He might have heard everything.
Every word. Every pause. Every dangerously close breath.
My face burned so hot I was certain steam might start rising from my skin. I wanted the ground to swallow whole. If there were a way to erase myself from existence at that very mont, I would have taken it without hesitation.
Cassel, to his credit—or perhaps his cruelty—said nothing.
But the faint curve of his lips suggested he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Luckily, Henry didn’t press the matter further.
He flicked the cigarette away, grinding it beneath his heel, and changed the subject smoothly, as though nothing unusual had happened.
"So," he said casually, "that man—what are we going to do with him?"
As he spoke, his gaze locked onto .
Not Cassel.
.
My heart sank.
Of course, they would look to . Everyone had seen my behavior last night. Everyone had noticed how I reacted when Matthew was ntioned. There was no hiding it now.
And if Matthew was going to travel with us—
I would have to pretend that I knew him.
I didn’t know whether Matthew would play along with my lie. I didn’t know if he even could.
But at this mont, this was the only option I had.
Before Cassel could speak, I stepped forward quickly.
"That man—I know him," I said, forcing confidence into my voice. "He helped before. He studies at the sa university as . He’s a good person."
Cassel’s gaze sharpened instantly, piercing and heavy. I avoided it deliberately.
"I want him to join us," I continued, pressing on before doubt could catch up to .
I told Henry how Matthew had once helped , how he had saved from so bad people.
It was a lie.
A carefully constructed one.
But there was no proof that it was false.
And if Matthew refused to cooperate, we could always claim he had forgotten. mory loss wasn’t exactly rare in a world like this.
This was the best solution I could co up with.
My hands trembled slightly as I reached out and grabbed Cassel’s hand, dragging him toward the room where Matthew was being held.
I half expected resistance.
Anger. Suspicion. Rejection.
But Cassel followed without a word.
He didn’t pull away.
He didn’t stop .
That alone made my chest loosen with a fragile sense of relief.
For now, everything was still under control.
Now all that was left—
Was to face Matthew.
And convince him to walk alongside us.
At least until I found the courage—and the right mont—to tell him the truth buried beneath blood, betrayal, and a past that was never ant to surface.
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