The blue crystals Hana had pulled from that box were gone, whisked away by Gloria the second we stepped through the guild’s heavy reinforced doors. She didn’t say much, just took the sample with a grim look that told me she was already thinking three steps ahead of the Association. She’d entrusted them to a specialist team for a deep-dive analysis, the kind of people who worked in white labs and didn't have names.

We were left in the quiet.

I slumped onto the couch, the leather cool against my back. Seraphina was at her desk, her white hair looking like spun silver under the LED lights. Hana was sprawled in the armchair, her trench coat discarded and her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Roonie stood by the window, his hands shoved into his pockets.

It was that weird, heavy lull after an adrenaline spike. The kind where your body finally remembers it’s been pushed through a blender and wants to file a formal complaint.

"So," Roonie said, his voice cutting through the hum of the air conditioner. "What do we do about this serious predicament? We’ve got illegal gates, blue crystals, and a shadow-hopping A-Rank in our living room."

Hana didn’t even blink. "Barbeque."

Roonie turned, his glasses sliding down his nose. "What?"

"Barbeque," Hana repeated, her voice firm. "This shouldn't even be a question. I spent three years eating whatever a shadow-monster could catch. I want to eat something that had a mother and was grilled over a charcoal fire."

Roonie let out a long, suffering sigh. "No. I think we should definitely get Indian. I am not even being unserious here. There’s a place three blocks away that has a tandoor. It’s basically barbeque but with better spices and actual soul."

"I want some breads..." Seraphina said, her voice soft but impossible to ignore.

"Naan! Roti! Parotta!" Roonie started listing them off like a prayer.

I looked at the three of them. I was starving, but watching a high-rank administrative officer argue with the Ice Queen and the Weaponizer about dinner was the kind of entertainment you couldn't buy.

"I feel like Chinese," I said, just to be difficult.

Seraphina’s eyes glinted. She looked at me, a tiny, rare sparkle in her gaze. "Now that you mention it, I am also feeling like Chinese."

Hana shrugged, her gaze shifting to me. "To be fair, noodles are very much like barbeque'd beef if you squint hard enough. I'm in."

Roonie stood there, looking at the three of us with a face of pure, unadulterated betrayal. He looked at me specifically, as if he’d just realized I was a demon sent from the deepest pit of the abyss to manipulate his dinner plans. He looked at the two girls, then back at me, his mouth opening and closing.

The two of them sure acted out when they wanted to. It was like a united front of S-Ranked stubbornness.

"Fine," Roonie muttered, pulling out his phone. "Chinese. I hope you all choke on a dumpling."

While Roonie was busy placing an order that could probably feed a small army, I pulled my laptop onto my lap. The screen flickered to life, the blue glow reflecting in my eyes. I had the smart-glasses recording from the ship pulled up in one window and the guild’s recruitment database in the other.

I started running the IDs we’d found. The faces of the men on the ship, the serial numbers on the salvaged guns, the names on the licenses. It was a tedious process, a strategist’s version of grunt work, but my brain was already looking for the pattern.

[ID Search: Confirmed]
[Status: Deceased]
[ID Search: Confirmed]
[Status: Deceased]

One after another, the names came back red. They were all dead. Hunters who had gone missing in raids years ago or had been declared KIA during the National events. They were ghosts.

I kept scrolling. Then, I stopped.

"Wait," I said, leaning forward.

Everyone leaned in. Seraphina moved her chair closer, the faint chill of her presence washing over me. Hana sat up, her eyes narrowing at the screen.

The search result was green.

"This guy is in the hospital it seems?" I said, pointing at the profile. "Francis Tremblay. C-Rank. He was found collapsed in an alley near the shipyard two days ago. He’s currently in the ICU at the Association’s medical wing."

"We should check him out," Roonie said, his eyes scanning the data. "He’s the only live lead we have to whoever is running that trawler."

Hana went very still. She stared at the photo on the screen, her lips pursing into a thin, hard line. She looked at the face—a man in his late twenties with a scar over his left eyebrow and a weary, kind look in his eyes.

"Wait..." Hana whispered. "I know him."

We all turned to her. The air in the room suddenly felt a lot tighter.

"This guy..." Hana said, her voice trembling just the slightest bit. "He is my brother's partner. They were in the same party for years."

The office door buzzed.

"Food is here," a voice announced from the hallway.

I looked at the screen, then at Hana.

This shit was getting personal.