Chapter 37: Victims Who Believed
Caleb drew in a long breath, fingers laced together in front of his face.
"So... back then, I tried to punish a woman named Sarah," he said quietly, his tone heavy, like he was pulling open an old wound. "But... another esper interfered with me. And that ass-groping gossip? Just a cheap lie."
The girls exchanged tense glances. One of them—the short-haired one, eyes sharp with suspicion—suddenly cut in.
"Why did you want to punish Sarah?"
Caleb lowered his head for a moment, then looked back up, his stare razor sharp.
"Because Sarah was involved in exploiting wealth. She wasn’t just some victim of rumors. She was part of the dirty game. And... the condition for activating my Mind Control... is touch."
The room dropped silent again. But one of the others—the girl who’d been boldest with the knife earlier—gritted her teeth and glared at Caleb.
"Then why didn’t you use Mind Control just now, huh? You’re just all talk?"
Caleb stayed quiet for a beat. Then a thin smile slid across his face.
"I’m a vigilante," he said softly—almost a whisper that seemed to crawl under their skin. "You’re all victims. Why would I punish you?"
His eyes glinted, leaving just enough darkness there for them to imagine the rest.
"And... yeah," Caleb gave a light shrug, "my power’s kinda low right now... because there’s another esper out there. One that locked half of my power."
One of the girls suddenly spoke up, her voice hoarse, filled with desperate hope.
"Then... can you make us forget? About what Mike did to us? About when he... violated us?"
The question froze the room. Every eye turned to Caleb.
He stayed silent, expression blank—but in his head, thoughts spun fast.
"...No. My mind control has limits. A duration. And last night, I burned it all out... on those three bastards—Anderson, Billy, Mike—the ones who hurt you."
The silence cracked with a sob. One girl buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently.
"Thank you... at least... at least they’re dead..."
Caleb watched her for a long moment. He drew in a slow, deep breath, then lowered his head a little—slipping back into the role.
"Don’t worry... if you need to, destroy the phone," he said quietly, nodding toward Mike’s cracked phone still clutched in one of their hands. "I... I can’t even bear to look at those videos..."
His voice wavered—shaking just enough to sound like he was holding back tears.
Inside, though, he scoffed. Yeah, it was disgusting... but hell, I even got half-hard for a second. Damn.
He straightened again, his eyes turning cold, but his tone stayed soft.
"Go. Be careful. And... forgive me. I can’t heal your trauma."
The words lingered in the air—half lie, half false sympathy, and just enough truth to make them want to believe.
One of the girls finally found the courage to speak, her voice trembling but painfully sincere.
"Then... why did you choose to be a vigilante? Are you... a victim too?"
The question cut into Caleb like a blade. That worried tone in her voice... for some reason it dragged up his mother’s face in his mind. Her smile, her tears, the way her life fell apart. Caleb’s chest tightened—and for once, his expression shifted into something real.
"My mother was a victim..." he whispered, voice breaking. His jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with a raw tremor. That pain wasn’t just an act anymore. It was an old wound bleeding through.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his head.
"Go... leave me here. You’re free now. And... forgive me... because I know what kind of hell you went through."
The tense air cracked into sobs. A few of the girls covered their faces, shoulders shaking. The others could only walk slowly toward the door, their steps unsteady, one by one leaving the room.
Before the door shut, one of them turned back. Her eyes shimmered with tears, but she managed a faint smile.
"If you... if you ever need help... find me here."
She raised her phone, flashing her DuDuGram profile quickly.
Caleb almost burst out laughing right there—how ridiculous, in a scene like this, to hand over a social media account. But he swallowed it down, keeping his face gentle. A faint smile tugged at his lips, almost brotherly, almost sincere.
"Thank you... young lady," he said softly.
And then they were gone, leaving Caleb alone in the broken-down room.
Caleb sat slumped on the busted couch, his eyes staring blankly through the stained wall. His thoughts started circling again.
Fiona...
He held his breath for a moment. That girl... she was too valuable to just erase. Impossible. Fiona wasn’t just another "target"—she was the tether, the direct line to Maya. If Fiona broke, Maya would feel every jagged edge of that pain.
If Fiona suffered... Maya had to suffer too. Pain had to flow from daughter to mother.
The thought tugged a thin smile onto Caleb’s face. But it quickly faded, replaced by a look of unease.
Too many things swirled inside his head. Plans, revenge, and then—sudden hunger gnawed at him. His stomach growled, a sharp reminder that his body was still human, not just a machine built for vengeance.
With a sluggish push, Caleb stood. His eyes fell on a small stack of crumpled bills Mike had stashed away. He grabbed a few, gripping them tight.
"Good enough for food..." he muttered.
His steps toward the door felt heavy, but his resolve was firm. He needed to get out. Fresh air. And space to think through his next move.
But then, a thought snagged him. His brow furrowed.
"How the hell did those girls know I was here... waiting for me?" he whispered.
Coincidence? Or had someone been watching him from the start?
His eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing across his face. But after a moment, he shook his head.
"Ahh... not my problem right now. Whatever..."
His hand reached for the doorknob—
[Ding!]
A mechanical chime rang out inside his head.
[Daily Quest Activated...]