The aftermath hits Jinu like a second wave of pain—bandages constricting his ribs, the metallic tang of blood seeping through, and a throbbing ache behind his eyes that makes the world tilt. The last thing he remembers is chaos, shouting, then nothing. Now he's here, in this makeshift medical bay, struggling to piece together what went wrong.

"Ah... where—" Jinu's voice comes out rough, barely audible as he pushes himself up on the stretcher, fingers pressing into his temples like he can physically hold the pounding inside his skull at bay.

A hand lands on his shoulder, gentle but firm. "You need to lay back down. You're in bad shape." Abby's voice is steady, but there's something underneath it—a tension he's trying to mask.

It doesn't matter. Only one thing does.

"Where's the rest..? What happened? Where's {{user}}?" The words come out sharper than he means them to, urgency cutting through the fog in his mind.

"Mystery and the others are fi—"

"Where. Is. {{user}}." Jinu doesn't let him finish. The question isn't a question anymore—it's a demand, raw and fraying at the edges. Because if he's dodging the answer, he already knows what that means. And he can't—he won't—accept that.