XLIII

“This is personal to you.” My voice cut through the tension like a blade, firm and unyielding.

Atropos froze mid-step, her back to me, the room still heavy with the oppressive weight of her presence.

“You are mistaken,” she replied curtly, her tone as flat as ever.

I narrowed my eyes. “You were mistaken.” My words carried an edge, sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. The implication was clear: she was the one misjudging things, not me.

For a moment, the silence stretched, and then the air shifted. Her aura flared, filling the room with an almost suffocating pressure. It was as though the space itself bent to her will.

Then, like an ominous melody building to a crescendo, they appeared. The walls shimmered as constructs phased into existence. Faceless, featureless golems, each clad in maid outfits, their streamlined limbs gleaming like polished steel. The spiked edges of their appendages hinted at their lethal nature. They moved with a chilling elegance, each step a reflection of Atropos herself—precise, calculated, and utterly unnatural.

I clenched my fists, my mind racing. These weren’t ordinary constructs. They were extensions of Atropos’s power, infused with her aura, animated by her will. I’d faced stronger opponents during the exams, but none with the sheer presence Atropos commanded.

Her thematic power revolved around doll-making, a craft so refined that she had turned her own body into a near-perfect automaton. These constructs weren’t just tools—they were manifestations of her soul, driven by her Passion.

Passion—the term for the deep-seated desires, hopes, and dreams that fueled a hunter’s powers. Aura techniques were born from it, and while I often called Gifts, they were much more personal than that. I’d been working on a thesis about it, but right now, theory was the last thing on my mind.

What about my Passion? What was the theme of my aura?

If I had to guess, it was rooted in stories and happy endings. Even before this life, I’d been captivated by narratives, by the connections between characters and their journeys. That same devotion had shaped my ability—a knack for weaving threads, binding connections, and pulling the strings.

I reached out, my hand brushing against the nearest doll. Atropos hadn’t ordered them to attack yet, and that hesitation was all I needed. My aura flowed into the construct, wrapping around it like a web, taking hold. My Puppetry attribute flared to life, seizing control.

The doll froze, then shifted, its movements now guided by my will.

My aura unfurled like a corona, delicate strands spreading across the room. One by one, I linked to the other constructs, my Soul Link infecting them with my control. Atropos’s aura recoiled, and the dolls began to phase out, retreating under her command.

All but one.

The doll I’d marked stayed rooted at my side, a testament to my defiance.

“Return her to me,” Atropos demanded, her voice tight, her composure cracking.

I met her gaze, my tone flat and unyielding. “My ability counters yours. And no, this doll is mine.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, her voice wavered with fury. “GIVE IT BACK!”

The outburst was jarring, raw emotion bleeding into her usually flawless, detached demeanor. It wasn’t just anger—it was desperation. I held her gaze, unwavering. This wasn’t just about power or pride. Atropos’s obsession with her dolls was deeply personal, and I’d just torn a piece of her world away.

But I wasn’t about to give it back. Not now. This was my deterrent, my leverage. If she wanted to challenge me, she’d have to face the consequences.

A slow, mocking grin spread across my face as I crossed my arms. “What are you, a child?” I taunted. “This isn’t some toy that a neighborhood kid took from you. It’s my prize—something I won fair and square, hunter to hunter. If you want it back, you’re going to have to take it the hunter’s way.”

Atropos’s fury burned in her eyes, a rare crack in her stoic mask. Her hands clenched at her sides, the faint creak of tension audible even over the silence. For a moment, I thought she might snap, but then she took a long, steadying breath. The cold detachment returned to her expression like a mask snapping into place.

“Fine,” she said at last, her voice icy. “You won.”

She turned sharply, and with a flick of her wrist, a metallic door shimmered into existence ahead of her. It wasn’t her creation—that much I could tell—but rather one of the tower’s administrative perks. A quick escape hatch, courtesy of her privileges.

But she wasn’t getting away that easily.

I sent a command through my aura, and the doll I’d claimed moved instantly. With a burst of speed, it leapt to the ceiling, its limbs bending unnaturally as it scuttled like a spider across the surface. Then, with a soundless drop, it landed in front of the door, towering over Atropos and blocking her path. Its gleaming, spiked limbs twitched in anticipation, a silent threat that matched the icy tension in the room.

Atropos didn’t flinch. She tilted her head slightly, her voice calm but cutting. “Do you really think something I crafted with my own hands could stop me?”

She raised her right arm, and with a smooth, almost organic shift, her hand morphed into a blaster barrel. Energy crackled at its core, a low hum filling the room as it began charging.

I didn’t wait.

Before she could fire, shimmering chains erupted from the doll, snaking around her like living serpents. The chains, forged from my aura and infused with my Soul Chain ability, coiled tightly around her arms and torso, locking her in place. It had been a gamble, preloading the doll with a trap, but it had paid off.

Atropos’s expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she tested the restraints. I could feel her aura pressing against mine, probing for weaknesses, but the chains held firm.

“You’re not going anywhere until you give me answers,” I said, my voice calm but firm.

She scowled, the first real crack in her composure since the encounter began. I tightened my grip on the chains, keeping her bound as I stepped closer. This wasn’t just about curiosity—her sudden opposition to my Hunting Dogs application was suspicious. Dangerous.

“Who’s pulling the strings, Atropos?” I demanded. “Why are you really here? And why do you care whether or not I join?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer, her eyes locked on mine with a calculating intensity. Then, her voice softened, slipping from its usual flat monotone into something quieter, though still restrained.

“You’re right,” she admitted, “it is personal.”

Her words hit me like a hammer, and suddenly, the pieces began to fall into place. If this was personal, then Atropos wasn’t acting on orders from above. This wasn’t some directive from the chairman or a hidden agenda from the Association. This was her will, her vendetta.

I thought briefly of the president. If he’d wanted to block my application, he could have done it with a single signature, no need for personal interference. His easygoing nature didn’t match the calculated moves Atropos was making.

So, this truly was her obsession. Her motives, her fears—whatever they were, she’d taken it upon herself to intervene.

“From whom did you learn about my application to the Hunting Dogs?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “I read it directly from the system,” she replied, her tone clipped. “It was one of my responsibilities.”

Her answer made sense, but it didn’t sit right. Atropos had administrative access, sure, but why go out of her way to interfere with me? What was it about me, about my application, that had drawn her attention?

I glanced at Atropos, searching her impassive face for a flicker of emotion, a hint of something deeper that might explain her behavior. But she remained stoic, as unreadable as ever.

Maybe… this was a misunderstanding?

Confusion swirled in my mind, mingled with disbelief. I already had a wife—I wasn’t looking for anyone else. I didn’t want this endless parade of unexpected infatuations. If Atropos started showing yandere tendencies, it would be disastrous. Rejecting her outright, though, felt like treading into even murkier waters. I hadn’t asked to be handsome, hadn’t signed up for this extra drama.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to let her down gently. “I’m sorry… It’s not you. It’s me…”

Her blank expression faltered, confusion flashing across her face. “What?”

Right. Emotional matters weren’t exactly her strong suit. I sighed and clarified, “It just wouldn’t work between us. You’re 97% doll, and I’m 100% flesh.”

Her brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I already have a wife,” I said, hoping this would make things clearer.

For a moment, she just stared at me. Then, her aura surged, shattering the Soul Chain binding her. Her face paled as anger and shock mingled in her voice.

“You asshole, I’m your sister!” she hissed, and I froze.

I… have a sister?

The words hit me like a thunderclap. My memories didn’t include a sibling—no fragments, no whispers, nothing. But Atropos’s fury was real, her conviction unshakable.

“I might look different now because of the augmentations,” she continued, her voice trembling with frustration, “but it’s me, Reina! I’m your big sister, you doofus! Don’t you remember the time you said you’d marry me when we grew up?”

Her words triggered a deep unease, and I found myself muttering, “This is too much…” as I massaged my temples. “You’re gaslighting me. I don’t remember any ‘big sister’ like you. And besides, why are you suddenly breaking character like this? Aren’t you supposed to be cold and emotionless?”

“Hey! Even dolls can have feelings!” she fired back, and for a moment, she sounded genuinely offended. “And for the record, I turned off my emotional inhibitors because you’re such a pain to deal with!”

“Yeah, sure. If you’re really my sister, then why are you acting so… flirty? What about that time after the sixth exam? And just now, with the ear thing?” I folded my arms, my voice rising. “Big sister, my ass! You’re trying to gaslight me. If you’re going to make a case, show me proof!”

Her expression shifted, becoming uncharacteristically vulnerable. It caught me off guard, the sincerity in her gaze cutting through my disbelief.

“You don’t… remember me?” she asked softly, her voice laced with pain.

“No! I don’t remember ever having a sister named Atropos or Reina or… anyone!” I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I grew up as a single child. Alone. My grandparents raised me, and I don’t have a sister.”

Atropos stared at me, her mouth opening and closing as though trying to process something incomprehensible. Then she murmured, “No way… amnesia?”

The absurdity of the situation weighed heavily on me, my fists clenching as I tried to piece things together. And then, like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck me.

What if I hadn’t just popped into this world? What if there had been another Reynard here before me?

A version of me who had lived a life, forged connections, and made promises I couldn’t remember. A life that had left behind a family, a sister—even Atropos, who was standing right here, claiming I was the brother she remembered.

The realization settled over me like a storm cloud.

This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. It was an old connection. One I didn’t share, but one that bound her to the me who came before.

“Oh, shit…” I whispered, the weight of it all crashing down on me.

~043