Unholy Player

Adyr came to the front door and reached into his pocket for the keys. Just as he was about to unlock it, the door opened from the inside.

"I heard the car and figured it was you," Selina said.

Dressed in a plain black one-piece dress, her midnight-purple hair loosely tied back, she looked simple, ordinary, even. But that simplicity only served to highlight her natural grace and quiet beauty. Still, her face was touched by a quiet sorrow.

"Your mother’s inside. She’s asleep," she added, stepping aside to let him in.

By the time she called Adyr, she was already at his home. She had come to check on Marielle in person. Given that her mother was the founder of the Angel Wing Foundation and that Selina herself was regularly involved in its operations, it wasn’t unusual for her to personally follow up on the well-being of employees. But this time was different. This wasn’t just protocol. It was about Adyr. The moment she received the report, she came without hesitation.

"Thank you for coming," Adyr said, slipping off his shoes as he stepped inside.

The living room was dimly lit, filled with the faint scent of antiseptic and something sweet—maybe the tea someone had made earlier. On the couch, Marielle lay under a thin blanket, her body still, her face pale. Her eyes were closed, and the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest showed she was in deep sleep.

Niva sat at their mother’s bedside in a small chair, her back slightly hunched, fingers clenched tightly in her lap. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, lashes still damp. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice Adyr until he was standing right beside her.

"Brother..." she whispered, lifting her head to look at him. Her voice cracked as she stood, moving toward him with slow, unsteady steps.

"She’s back," she whispered, then wrapped her arms around him, her words barely audible between quiet, broken sobs.

"She is," Adyr replied, holding her close. Her small body trembled in his arms—so light, so fragile.