Chapter 35 Modified Syringe Theory

Chapter 35 Modified Syringe Theory
“She’s a snake—she can take human form, or shift between a small snake and a serpent large enough to ride on.”

Almost immediately after his explanation, Nishin popped into view again—only now Tsukia realized she had already transformed. A tiny black cobra coiled where she had stood moments ago.

“Ta-da!” she hissed playfully.

Tsukia’s eyes widened in shock, and before she could even process it, Nishin shifted back into her human form again with unsettling ease, grinning as if she had just performed a harmless trick.

“She acts as a spy for me,” Nightshade continued, as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “keeping tabs on the government and other associations.”

His expression softened slightly, a rare crack in his usual restraint.

“I saved her life when she was young,” he added quietly, “so she treats me like an older brother now.”

“Oh… I see,” Tsukia nodded, still processing everything when Nishin suddenly leaned in, cupping her cheeks without warning.

Tsukia froze.

Nishin gently squished her cheeks with an amused look, studying her like she was analyzing something far more entertaining than she should have been.

“I think you and Ashen are perfect together,” she teased.

Nightshade’s pale face shifted almost immediately, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he turned his head away in annoyance. He snapped Nishin’s hands off Tsukia’s face with controlled force.

“Get to the point.”

“Yes, sir…” Nishin replied with exaggerated obedience, her tone dripping with mockery as she sighed dramatically.

The moment Lori and Jasmia learned about Nishin Ve’s identity, the atmosphere in the apartment changed. What had been casual and loose tightened into something more structured, almost like an improvised briefing room had formed out of instinct.

They gathered in the center of the room, sitting close together in a rough circle, as if proximity alone could make the information easier to digest.

Tsukia stayed slightly apart from the group, sitting in a softer, withdrawn posture with a plush pillow hugged tightly to her chest. Her eyes kept shifting between each speaker, quietly observing rather than fully participating.

Meanwhile, Nishin—far too comfortable for someone revealing state-level secrets—absentmindedly played with Tsukia’s hair, as though she had already decided they were close enough for that kind of familiarity.

Lori busied himself pouring juice into a glass, the steady sound of liquid filling the silence for a brief moment.

Jasmia didn’t sit at all. She leaned against the wall, casually eating a snack while watching Nishin with narrowed focus, like she was waiting for the real briefing to begin instead of the introductions.

Around them were half-empty glasses, scattered snacks, and the quiet tension of people pretending this was just another conversation, even though it clearly wasn’t.

They looked less like rebels preparing for something serious and more like friends gathered late at night—if not for the weight of what Nishin was about to say.

“Okay, so what does my room have to do with this?” Jasmia finally asked, breaking the silence.

She sighed, glancing around the room with mild irritation as she added.

“Of all the places in this apartment, why did you all choose mine for a ‘specific and important’ meeting?” She punctuated the complaint by crunching another chip, as if accepting her fate.

A few seconds later, Nightshade joined them.

There was a faint scent of soap on him, and his white hair still clung slightly damp to his neck, suggesting he had rushed here straight after showering. Without saying much, he settled beside Lori, reached for the pot, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

He took a slow sip before finally setting it down.

“Nishi, go ahead,” he said firmly.

Nishin straightened immediately, her playful demeanor slipping away again as she returned to that sharp, focused seriousness.

“When I spied on Dies Irae, I found proof that your theory was right. The modified potential syringes are real,” she began. “They’re being distributed to high-ranking nobles who are desperate for power, and even into certain police quarters.”

Her expression darkened slightly as she continued.

“They harvest blood from people with potential. Those individuals are kept alive like livestock—drained every three days. And once they’re no longer useful… they’re disposed like a trash.”

Silence followed.

It wasn’t just quiet—it was heavy, suffocating, the kind of silence that came when something spoken didn’t fit inside the world people thought they understood.

The idea that the very system meant to protect them was built on something so merciless didn’t settle easily in any of their minds.

“Why would they do something like that…?” Jasmia muttered, her voice lower now, her hand frozen mid-snack. “Who even is our ruler anyway?”

“The ruler of this kingdom is a mystery,” Nishin replied, leaning back slightly as if she had said something almost routine. “Unlike other nations, no one actually knows who sits at the top.”

She paused, then added, “As far as I know, six high-ranking officials act as the governing body in place of a visible ruler.”

“And the real mastermind behind all of this remains unknown,” she finished.

“Thanks for the info, Nishi,” Nightshade said, gently patting her head.

For a brief moment, Nishin softened again, leaning into the gesture like it was something familiar and safe.

But Nightshade’s expression quickly changed, growing heavier.

“Given the situation,” he said, “those police who came after us will likely return.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“What they said to Tsukia sounded like a direct threat.”

After the meeting eventually dissolved, everyone returned to their rooms. The hallway settled into quiet, the kind that came after too much information had been spoken in too short a time.

Tsukia, however, couldn’t sleep.

She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts refusing to slow. Every answer they had uncovered only seemed to create more questions, layering uncertainty on top of uncertainty until it became difficult to tell where one mystery ended and another began.

Her mind kept searching for something solid to hold onto, some reason behind everything she was being pulled into.

And then, uninvited, the image returned.

The winged woman from her visions.

It had been so long since she last appeared that Tsukia almost convinced herself she had been forgetting her on purpose. But now the memory came back with unsettling clarity, as if it had been waiting patiently in the background all along.

For the first time, doubt crept in—not loud, but steady.

What if she was never real at all?

What if those visions were only fragments of exhaustion, a mind trying to build meaning out of noise and memory?

If the winged woman was just a dream… then everything Tsukia had felt connected to her might have never meant anything in the first place.