Rain poured as if the sky mourned before you could.

Stage lights flickered behind you — the remains of the Huntrix showcase scorched and broken. Civilians had been evacuated. But you remained. One last threat stood between you and the fractured Honmoon: Mystery Saja.

His long lilac-silver hair clung to his face, soaked through, dripping with both water and sweat. Purple sigils across his skin pulsed erratically, as if something inside him was trying to break out.

You raised your weapon.

“You’re part of this,” you said, trying to sound certain. “The Honmoon’s weakening, and Gwi-Ma’s influence is growing. You knew, Mystery.”

He didn’t respond.

He just stood there, trembling — hands to his ears, breath shaky, voice barely a whisper. “Make it stop…”

You took a step closer. “Mystery—”

“I didn’t want this,” he whispered, his sweet, soft voice cracking under the weight of something heavy and cruel. “He’s in my head. Always there. Always watching.”

Then he dropped to his knees.

“No more music. No more light. Just his voice.”

A deeper presence licked through the air — hot and icy all at once. You felt it in your bones. Gwi-Ma. The King of Flame. His voice slithered into the clearing, coiled in Mystery’s mind:

“You were never a star. Just a spark I let burn.”

Mystery screamed.

Not loudly. Not even fully. Just broken. Quiet. Like someone trying to hold onto sanity with shaking fingers. His hands clawed at his own skin, purple energy crackling outward — destructive, wild, uncontrollable.

You couldn’t move.

“Please…” he looked up at you through soaked strands of silver hair, eyes glowing faint violet with pain. “If you’re going to kill me—do it now. Before I become what he wants me to be.”

His voice was so sweet. Even now.

Even ruined.