Jamie wished he could shrug off her words, but they pierced deeper than he cared to admit. Jamie glanced down at himself, noticing the dark crimson stains splattered across his clothes. With a weary sigh, he wiped his bloodied hands on his sleeves, attempting to clean away the evidence of the confrontation.

Alexandra didn't spare him another glance. She turned sharply on her heel, the soft rustle of her silk gown punctuating her departure as she ascended the staircase.

On the other hand, Idris descended the staircase swiftly, his usually composed demeanor tinged with disbelief. His sharp eyes took in the scene, settling on the lifeless form of the barbarian he had shot moments earlier. Kneeling beside the fallen man, Idris extended a cautious hand. He nudged the barbarian's arm with the toe of his boot as if testing whether the brute might still stir.

"What in the world..." Idris muttered. He crouched down further, pressing two fingers against the barbarian's neck. No pulse. His gaze shifted to the small, barely perceptible wounds where bullets had struck. The skin was unmarred save for minor indentations; the bullets had failed to penetrate deeply. "My bullets didn't even pierce his skin. What kind of monster is this?"

Jamie watched the bodyguard's examination, his own expression guarded. He could see the flicker of uncertainty in Idris's eyes. "No idea," Jamie replied tersely. "And don't try that with me. I'm not as resilient as they were."

As Idris continued to inspect the body, Jamie felt a sudden vertigo wash over him. The ornate chandelier above seemed to sway, and the room blurred at the edges of his vision. His strength waned unexpectedly, knees buckling as he grasped at the back of a nearby armchair to steady himself. Despite his efforts, he sank to the floor.

"Jamie!" Idris exclaimed, his head snapping at the sound of the young master's descent. He sprang to his feet and rushed to Jamie's side, concern etched across his face. "Are you hurt?" he asked urgently, carefully supporting Jamie's arm to help him stand.

"N-no," Jamie stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. A fog seemed to cloud his mind, thoughts slipping like sand through his fingers. It wasn't pain or the numbness of injury; it was as if an unseen force was tugging at the core of his being. 'It's different. Feels like something new,' he thought, trying to grasp the sensation.

"Let's get you to the sitting room," Idris suggested firmly. With a steadying arm around Jamie's shoulders, he guided him through the remnants of the foyer and into the living room.

Jamie collapsed onto the sofa, leaning his head back as he fought to clear the haze enveloping his mind. "I... I think I'm being pulled," he managed to say, each word a struggle.

"Pulled?" Idris echoed, brow furrowing in confusion. Before he could press further, soft footsteps approached.

Jessica stood at the doorway, her face pale and eyes wide with fear and concern. "What's going on?" she asked, flickering between Jamie and Idris.

Jamie turned his head weakly to face her. "I don't have much time," he said, a hint of resignation in his tone. "It feels like I'm being summoned back."

"Summoned? Back where?" Jessica pressed, stepping into the room.

"To the other world," Jamie replied. "The place I told you about. It's pulling me in again."

"It's as if there are chains around my wrists," Jamie murmured, gazing intently at his forearms. Faint tendrils of blue light pulsed beneath his skin, the visible flow of mana coursing through his veins. He flexed his fingers, feeling the energy ebb and surge like a restless tide. "Chains binding me to the other world, pulling me back."

Jessica stood a few paces away; concern etched across her delicate features.

"How much time do you have?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"A few minutes. Ten, maybe twenty," Jamie replied, his eyes distant as he calculated. "It's been four hours since I returned. That would be about sixteen hours over there. Perhaps someone has repaired the spell that brought us."

She moved to the sofa where Jamie sat. Settling beside him, Jessica reached out and clasped his hand tightly, her fingers cool against his skin. Jamie returned the squeeze, drawing comfort from the simple gesture.

"Idris," Jamie called, his gaze shifting to the doorway where his bodyguard lingered.

"Yes, sir?" Idris responded promptly, stepping forward. The dim light accentuated the sharp lines of his face, eyes alert beneath a furrowed brow.

"Before I'm pulled back, bring the list you went to retrieve," Jamie instructed. "I need to see it."

"At once," Idris replied, turning on his heel.

"Wait," Jamie interjected, causing Idris to pause mid-stride. "If you can, search for someone named Maria. I don't know her surname, but she's young, around my age, with dark hair." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I realize it's not much to go on, and perhaps she isn't even from this world, but it's worth trying."

Idris nodded solemnly. "Understood, sir." With that, he disappeared down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the hush of the manor.

Left alone, the siblings sat in silence. The only sounds were the soft crackling of the fire and the distant ticking of an ornate clock standing in the corner. Jessica glanced at Jamie from the corner of her eye, searching for words but finding none sufficient to bridge the chasm of uncertainty between them.

To ease the mounting tension, Jessica reached for the remote control. She directed it toward the flat-screen television mounted above the fireplace. With a press of a button, the screen flickered to life.

She flipped through a few channels absentmindedly, snippets of cheerful sitcoms and dramatic soap operas blurring past. Settling on a news broadcast, she gradually increased the volume, the murmur of the anchorman's voice filling the room.

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On the screen, the word "LIVE" pulsed urgently in the corner. The broadcast cut to a scene in a bustling newsroom where journalists hurriedly shuffled papers and adjusted earpieces. The main reporter stood front and center; his tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, a shadow of stubble lining his jaw. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed countless hours without rest.

"We are live once again from Washington, D.C., where, in the past few hours, the return of those we're calling 'Otherworlders' has plunged the situation into chaos," he intoned. Behind him, footage played of fiery eruptions consuming buildings, the night sky alight with an unnatural glow. "The streets are descending into turmoil."

Soldiers in full combat gear marched alongside tanks down the capital's main avenues, their formations precise yet tinged with apprehension. They moved to confront the masses, but these were no ordinary civilians. At the slightest provocation, individuals within the crowds unleashed torrents of magic, conjuring flames, manipulating the earth, summoning gusts of wind that hurled soldiers and vehicles alike into the air. Others brandished weapons that shimmered with ethereal energy, cutting through steel like cloth.

"As more troops are deployed to cities nationwide in an attempt to regain control, we've learned that some of the soldiers are themselves Otherworlders," the reporter continued, a note of desperation creeping into his tone. "These individuals are assigned to the most critical situations in hopes that they can counteract the escalating threats."

The broadcast cut to live footage of a specialized battalion moving ahead of the armored columns. These soldiers bore distinctive insignias and carried weapons, unlike any standard issue, staves crackling with arcane electricity and blades engraved with glowing runes. They advanced towards a group of rioters, the tension palpable as energies built on both sides.

An explosion consumed the screen as powers clashed, fire meeting ice, lightning splitting the sky. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp under the strain of such forces.

Jamie watched the unfolding events with rapt attention while Jessica sat perched on the edge of the sofa, her fingers gripping the armrests tightly.

Just then, the door burst open, and Idris strode in with uncharacteristic haste. He carried a stack of printed pages and a tablet in his hands.

"Jamie," Idris said, slightly breathless. "I've printed the profiles of the key individuals you might want to review." He extended the papers toward Jamie. "However, I'm not certain about the girl you mentioned earlier. There are many fitting that description." He handed over the tablet, the screen displaying a database search filled with countless names and faces.

Jamie accepted the materials, a crease forming between his brows. "Thank you," he murmured. Turning to his sister, he added, "Jess, I need your help. Spread these papers out on the floor. I just need to glance at them once to memorize."

Understanding the gravity of the request, Jessica sprang into action. She gathered the papers and laid them out across the Persian rug that dominated the center of the room. Each sheet bore the photograph and details of a different person.

As she worked, Jamie settled onto the sofa, the tablet balanced on his knee. His fingers swiped rapidly across the screen, scrolling through the endless list of entries. Faces blurred past; some familiar, most strangers.

"Ah!" A sudden pang shot through Jamie, a visceral sensation as if an invisible hook had sunk into his core, pulling him backward. He doubled over slightly, his breathing growing shallow and strained.

Jessica looked up sharply. "Jamie, what's wrong?"

He gritted his teeth, fighting the disorientation. "It's happening again. I don't have much time."

Panic flashed in her eyes, but she forced herself to remain composed. "Hold on," she urged. She hurriedly spread out the remaining pages, ensuring every profile was visible.

Jamie refocused, scanning the tablet before him. His mind raced. 'There are thousands. It's impossible to find—' His thought halted abruptly as his gaze landed on a particular profile.

The woman pictured had dark hair cascading over her shoulders and a seductive expression. Something strikingly familiar was about her eyes.

"Maria Moretti," he read aloud. Deep in thought, he skimmed through her profile. She wasn't of noble descent or hail from any prominent background that might have drawn attention. But her details aligned closely with someone he had encountered.

As he reached the bottom of the page, a line of text caught his eye: 'Sibling also missing: Vivi Moretti.'

"It can't be," he whispered while accessing the associated file, pulling up Vivi's profile.

The image that materialized confirmed his suspicions. Vivi Moretti, the same Vivi who had once been his 'ex-promised fiancée.'

"Jamie!" Jessica's voice pierced the room's quiet, urgent, and filled with alarm.

"What is it?" Jamie responded, lifting his eyes from the glowing screen of the tablet clutched in his hands.

"Your hand!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear.

Jamie glanced down at his left hand. To his astonishment, it was becoming translucent, the solid flesh fading into a shimmering outline as if dissolving into thin air. He watched as his fingers blurred, the tips disappearing entirely, leaving behind a faint haze where his hand had been moments before.

"Damn. I must have only a few seconds left," he muttered. Hastily, he let the tablet slip from his grasp onto the plush cushion of the sofa and attempted to stand. Yet, an overwhelming weakness surged through his limbs, and his knees wobbled, threatening to buckle beneath him.

"I... I'm going to need help," Jamie admitted, his voice tinged with frustration and urgency.

Without hesitation, Jessica rushed to his side. She looped her arm around his waist, her slight frame pressing against him as she bore his weight. Her other hand gripped his arm firmly. Together, they moved toward the scattered papers sprawled across the marble floor, each step a struggle as Jamie's strength ebbed away.

Jamie focused intently as they reached the array of documents. His eyes darted rapidly over the images and text, not reading but committing each visage to memory with remarkable speed. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and he knew that any detail might prove vital.

As he scanned the last of the pages, an unsettling sensation intensified. He felt lighter, as though gravity's hold on him was weakening. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Glancing downward, he saw that his legs had vanished below the knees.

"Idris," Jamie called out, his voice steady despite the mounting urgency.

The ever-vigilant bodyguard stood a few steps away, his posture erect, eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows. "Sir?" he responded immediately.

"Take care of her," Jamie said, locking eyes with Idris. A silent understanding passed between them—a solemn request and a binding promise.

"Yes, sir," Idris affirmed with a firm nod, his tone resolute.

Jessica tightened her grip, her face pressed against Jamie's chest. He could feel her trembling, the warmth of her tears seeping through his shirt. Words failed her; she clung to him as if to hold him in this world by sheer will.

"See you soon, Jess," he whispered. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close one last time.

He could feel the dissolution accelerating. His torso began to wane, the fabric of his clothes melding into the shimmering air. The room around him blurred at the edges, and the colors bled into one another like wet paint.

His gaze settled on the top of Jessica's head. He wanted to reassure her, to promise his return once more, but the words caught in his throat as his vocal cords faded.

With a final, tender glance, Jamie closed his eyes. The enveloping light intensified, and the physical world around him dissipated entirely.

He blinked, bracing himself for the familiar disorientation of crossing realms. Any moment now, he knew he would find himself back in Kjarnheim.

But as the void enveloped him, a disquieting thought surfaced. Amidst the swirling nothingness, he noticed something amiss.

'Why is Jessica's head becoming transparent?'

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