The Uninvited Guest

Anna hadn't warned him about her presence—or maybe she had, but he couldn't recall. Leonardo stood there, bewildered, realizing too late that he was still naked.

His heart raced as he scrambled toward the countertop, fumbling to cover himself with the long-sleeved white cloth while awkwardly juggling his vest and trousers in a pitiful attempt to reclaim dignity.

He flinched when the cloth wrapped around him seamlessly, almost too easily, as though the fabric itself wanted to spare him shame.

He turned to face her.

Her eyes were cold. Sharpened daggers poised to strike. He saw no curiosity in them, no spark of recognition—only danger.

Her.

She spoke, her voice a low, deliberate drawl oozing poised malice.

"Make a move. These walls will be painted with your last breath. End your story with one scorched blast. silence, or a spectacular demise?"

The words didn't just hang in the air—they settled like a toxic mist, thickening the tension until it was nearly suffocating. Her threat wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.

Leonardo froze.

The venom in her voice reverberated through his skull, each syllable ticking like a time bomb. His mind spun back—had Anna warned him? Or was that a hallucination born of stress and sleep deprivation?

Did it even matter?

If he didn't think fast, this woman—this strange, unexpected woman—might kill him. Without hesitation. Without remorse.

This wasn't just heat radiating off her—it was something else entirely. Up on the higher floors, when he first saw her, she'd been distant, veiled in shadows. Now the shadows had peeled away to reveal something terrifying.

[Adaptive Evolution]

Was it trying to activate earlier?

Irrelevant now.

The words pulsed faintly in the corner of his vision. He couldn't afford to look directly, couldn't afford to blink wrong.

This was a life-or-death situation. His skill said so—and he trusted it. It had to be speed this time. Something reflexive. Evading death—just barely.

He prayed even a minor boost would be enough.

How minor? He'd have to find out—if he got the chance.

She moved.

So did he.

Instinct surged, overriding thought. He sidestepped, and a searing blast flashed past him, a streak of crimson light so bright it burned his vision.

It struck the glass behind him. A tiny, perfect hole formed at the point of impact, spiderweb cracks radiating outward. Heat rolled off it in waves. Shards scattered like razors, shimmering, deadly.

[Heat Siphon (Minimal)]

Disbelief hit harder than the glass could have. He stumbled, grabbing the sink to steady himself, the fabric around his waist clinging damp with sweat.

No time to process the enhancement—such as it was—because her voice sliced the air again.

"I told you not to move," she growled.

Her second hand rose, palm glowing faintly. The air shimmered between them, charged like storm clouds preparing to burst.

Leonardo's thoughts raced.

Could he get another enhancement?

No—he doubted it.

His skill had granted three enhancements while fighting Altan. Maybe that was different—pure, savage combat. The kind you don't think through. You just fight.

This? This felt like a ritual execution.

A different rhythm. A different rule set.

Still, if that blast hit him full force, no resistance would save him.

He would die. 

She exhaled, and he swore he could see her breath in the charged heat.

Leonardo braced himself. He couldn't rely on his skill now.

The air pressed in, heavy and humming with dread.

A roll of toilet paper landed beside him—so absurdly mundane, it almost broke the moment.

He grabbed it without hesitation and hurled it at her, aiming more to distract than to harm.

The pristine white roll cut through the charged air. She didn't flinch. She simply lifted a hand and, with surgical precision, incinerated it mid-air. It disintegrated in a burst of ash and smoke, the remains drifting down like snowflakes from hell.

She advanced.

Each step was measured, precise, predatory.

Faster than before, but the heat trailing behind her was tighter, more disciplined.

The first blast had been raw—a face-melting detonation.

This one had restraint. Intent.

She could have vaporized him.

She had chosen not to.

That smile—just a sliver—told him everything. She was playing with him.

Like a cat. And he was the mouse that had briefly amused her.

"Your name is Leonardo, right?" she asked sweetly, too sweetly. "Kaelan gave it up after I tried to blast his head off. He said my husband was in this part of the mansion."

She chuckled, more to herself than him. "I guess he lied. I don't know why I believed him, really."

She flicked a lock of red hair back over her shoulder. Casual. Effortless. As if she weren't discussing attempted murder.

She crouched, her eyes locking onto his like a hawk.

Brown met amber.

Leonardo's skin prickled. There was no warmth in her gaze. No flicker of empathy. Just stillness—unsettling, inhuman stillness.

It wasn't rage.

It was nothing.

A dead calm that made him wish she was angry. Anger, at least, could be reasoned with.

"Either there's nothing going on back there," he muttered under his breath, trying to rally his courage with sarcasm, "or you're just evil."

"What?" she asked, genuinely curious, narrowing her eyes at his face.

He tilted his head, kept his voice casual. "Did you know a bathroom is designed for just one person?"

She grabbed a fistful of his hair and stood, hoisting him up with one hand. Her grip was steel.

Pain lanced through his scalp. He gritted his teeth.

"What's the maximum amount?" she asked, voice light, lips curled in cruel amusement.

"Like I said. One," Leonardo managed through clenched teeth. He reached for her wrist, trying to alleviate the pressure.

He thought maybe—with the right angle—he could break free.

But she didn't give him the chance.

She flung him across the bathroom like a rag doll.

He slammed into the wall. A dull crack rang out as bone met tile. He slid to the ground, groaning, breath shallow.

He lay curled, sucking in air through clenched teeth.

"You're lying. I bathe with my husband," she said as she stepped toward him again. "He says four is the max. Why lie?"

Her voice had shifted—less mockery, more confused anger. A twitch of something… personal.

She crouched beside him again, closer this time. He could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Oppressive. Smothering.

"Where is Henriii?" she hissed, dragging out the "i" with a slow, serpentine affection.

"He should—" Leonardo began.

"Don't lie." Her tone snapped flat. The shift was terrifying.

"Kaelan lied. Lying isn't good."

She shoved his head back into the wall. Stars burst behind his eyes. His vision swam.

"Yeah, I'm not lying," he gasped, blood thick in his throat. "He'll be mad, you know."

"Why would he be?" she asked, head tilted. Genuine interest flickered now.

"Four people," Leonardo rasped. "As in… only one male."

He gambled everything on the lie, hoping the logic would scramble her long enough to survive.

She froze.

A moment passed.

Then her grip loosened. She let go.

He slumped to the floor, breathing hard.

The heat didn't lessen.

But at least, for now, she wasn't killing him.