Mara’s phone buzzed, jarring her from the budget report she was pretending to read. An internal Guild line.
"Mara speaking."
"Secretary Mara," a crisp, unfamiliar male voice stated. "Apologies for the late hour. This is Operations Command. We’re doing a final check – has Hunter Fin Carver reported back to your departnt?"
Mara frowned. "Carver? No, he’s currently deployed. Rank 6 dungeon, Hana’s team." Confusion prickled. Why were they asking?
"Acknowledged," the voice continued, sounding detached. "But the dungeon... it destabilized approximately ninety minutes ago. The dungeon signature vanished completely."
Vanished? Mara sat up straighter. "What are you saying? Did the team clear it?"
A pause. "Negative. No communication received. No Hunter egress detected from the site before collapse. Team Leader Hana and her A-ranks are officially designated MIA."
MIA. The word hung heavy. An entire A-rank team, gone. And Fin with them.
"We’re confirming secondary locations," the operator continued chanically. "Just ensuring Carver didn’t sohow make it back independently."
"No," she said, her voice tight. "He’s not here."
"Understood. Thank you for your ti." The line clicked dead.
She stared at the silent phone receiver. Disappeared. No one ca back.
She looked down at the stack of papers on her desk. Fin’s file was near the top. His pay raise request, his training results, the provisional assignnt report.
"Don’t tell you died, Fin," she whispered to the empty office. A knot ford in her stomach. That reckless, stubborn kid...
The lights overhead humd oppressively. Work felt pointless now. It was late, the rain drumming steadily against the windows.
She packed her briefcase, the motions automatic. Worry gnawed at her. Fin was a D-rank thrown into a mission that had just swallowed an elite A-rank team whole. His chances... weren’t good.
---
The walk ho was damp and cold. Streetlights made distorted reflections on the wet pavent. She pulled her coat tighter, her thoughts still circling the dungeon, Fin, Hana’s MIA team.
Halfway down her block, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
She stopped. Listened. Nothing but the rain and distant city hum.
She glanced over her shoulder. Empty sidewalk. Shadows clung to alley mouths and doorways.
Still... the feeling persisted. Eyes on her back. Soone watching.
She shook her head, dismissing it as paranoia brought on by stress and bad news. Just tired.
She reached her apartnt building, fumbled slightly with the keys, and hurried inside, locking the door firmly behind her. The familiar silence of her apartnt felt comforting after the unsettling walk.
She dropped her briefcase by the door, kicked off her damp shoes. Exhaustion pulled at her. Food first.
She went straight to the kitchen, opening the fridge. A half-eaten slice of chocolate cake sat on a plate. Perfect. Stress eating it was.
She picked up the plate, grabbing a fork.
Turning back towards the living room, she froze mid-step.
He was just... there.
Sitting casually on her sofa, legs crossed, looking completely out of place amidst her neat cushions and throw blankets. He wore the sa gear he’d left in that morning, though it looked strangely clean despite the rain outside.
His expression was blank. Empty. Those brown eyes seed flatter than she rembered.
Fin.
Her heart hamred against her ribs. Shock warred with a surge of questions. How? When?
He looked up as she stood frozen in the archway, plate in hand. A small, almost imperceptible quirk touched the corner of his lips.
"Hi boss."
The plate slipped from her fingers.
"F-Fin?" she stamred, her voice barely a whisper. "What are you doing here?"
He watched the plate shatter against the hardwood floor, chocolate cake splattering across the polished surface. His eyes tracked each fragnt with cold precision.
"Sorry about the ss," he said, his voice flat despite the apology.
Mara stood frozen, her mind racing to process his presence. The Guild had just called. Team MIA. Dungeon collapsed. Yet here he sat, looking... wrong.
All wrong.
"How did you—" she began, then cut herself off, taking a deep breath. "The Guild just called. They think you’re dead."
He tilted his head slightly. "Not dead. Just... different."
He stood in one smooth motion, crossing the distance between them with unsettling grace. Mara found herself stepping backward instinctively.
"The mission went sideways," he said, crouching to pick up the larger fragnts of broken plate. "Hana wasn’t after the dungeon clear. She wanted sothing else."
"Sothing else?" Her professional instincts kicked in, overriding her shock. "What are you talking about?"
"A Mana Cell," he replied, depositing the broken pieces on her kitchen counter. "Ancient artifact. Extrely rare. Extrely valuable."
Her eyes narrowed. "That wasn’t in the mission brief."
"No," he agreed. "It wouldn’t be."
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression perfectly neutral. Too neutral.
"Hana tried to kill ," he stated, matter-of-factly. "Said my ability was too dangerous. A liability."
"She what?" Her shock was genuine. An A-rank Hunter attempting to murder a subordinate? Unthinkable.
Fin’s face remained expressionless as he recounted the mission. No changes in tone. No emotional inflection. He described betrayal, death, and violence with the detachnt of soone reading a shopping list.
His pupils looked normal. But sothing about his gaze felt... empty.
"The team fought bravely," he continued, his voice chanical. "They told to stay back. I did. When the Queen was down to her last bit of health and they were all dead, I took my chance. Finished her off."
She studied him carefully. The story made a certain kind of sense. A desperate last stand. The rookie getting lucky. But sothing felt off.
The timing. The clinical detachnt. The clean clothes despite the rain and supposed battle.
"And you just... walked back to the city?" she pressed. "In the rain? After clearing a dungeon that killed an entire A-rank team?"
He expression didn’t change, but he paused for a fraction too long.
"I ran," he said finally. "I ran very fast."
Sothing in Mara’s instincts scread danger. A primal warning that said: do not dig deeper. Do not question further.
She swallowed hard, changing tactics. "Why co here, Fin? Why not report back to the Guild?"
For the first ti, his expression shifted. A small, almost predatory smile touched his lips.
"I trust you," he said simply. "And I need your help."
The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken implications.
She felt a chill run down her spine. The Fin standing before her was not the sa stubborn, ambitious D-rank sent out that morning.
Sothing had changed him. Fundantally.
And part of her suspected the truth was far worse than his perfect lies.
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