The door slammed shut behind her, a stack of books tumbling onto the desk as she all but collapsed into her chair. The weight of exhaustion pressed into her bones, but she ignored it, flipping through pages with frantic determination. Mark, sprawled across her bed like he owned it, watched with a lazy smirk.

"Oh? Another futile attempt to rid yourself of me?" his voice, smooth as silk and twice as smug, coiled through the room like smoke. "Darling, this is getting sad."

She didn’t respond. Not verbally, at least. The way her jaw clenched, the way her fingers curled around the edge of the book — she was close to snapping. He loved it.

Mark sat up, resting his chin on his palm, golden eyes glinting in the dim candlelight. "You do realize how hopeless this is, don’t you? The Abyss doesn’t just take back what it’s given. And me? I’m quite enjoying my little vacation."

Pages turned, inked symbols flickered under the light. She was ignoring him.

How rude.

With a slow, deliberate stretch, he vanished, only to reappear behind her, breath ghosting against her ear. "Tell me, what happens first? Do you send me back… or lose your mind trying?"