Ice‐cold water poured over me from head to toe.“Hah! Hah, hu!” I gasped, snapping my eyes open. No sooner had I opened them than another deluge struck. I flinched, attempting to lift myself—and slammed my chin onto the floor. I couldn’t move. I thrashed my limbs wildly, but to no avail. Groaning, I managed to roll onto my back. My head felt as though it would split apart. I wanted to rub my eyes, but my hands were bound. With a deeply furrowed brow, I forced my head up just enough to look around.It was pitch-black; I could see nothing. A chill ran along my skin from nape to lower back, a foreboding sense of dread. Why was I tied up? Where was this? How had I ended up here? I remembered nothing. I forced my eyelids open and blinked frantically, but the darkness remained impenetrable. Then—splash!—another icy torrent soaked me to the bone.“Wh-who’s there…?” I croaked. No answer came. I bent my knees, attempting to raise myself. It barely made a difference. My ankles and knee joints were bound with rope; my arms were pulled tight behind me, wrists and elbows fiercely lashed. With a final push, I tugged my knees forward, braced my feet, and lifted only my torso off the floor.I shook my head vigorously. Water dripped into my eyes. What on earth… what’s happening… where am I? Why am I tied up…? Whoever was dousing me with water had to be nearby, but there was no sound of movement. Just my own ragged breathing and the scrape of my body against the floor—both sounds I made myself. Anxiety knotted my stomach. First, I needed to reclaim my memory. What had occurred last… before I closed my eyes…? A fleeting image hovered at the edge of my mind but slipped away in frustration.As I braced my torso upright and lifted my head, I heard a faint rustling—like someone searching pockets or crumpling paper. Then, suddenly—strike… strike…A match ignited. A small, steady flame rose in the darkness. I held my breath and stared at it. All it revealed was the hand holding the match. After a moment, that hand moved to the side. I turned my head accordingly. The match touched a cloth-wrapped wooden stake—it was a torch. The flame caught, and darkness receded in a sweeping wave.The torchlight revealed faces that had lurked unseen. More than one man. Seven or eight of them, all workers I recognized from the camp. Their eyes gleamed in the flicker of light, and their sight triggered my memory: James’s vicious prank. Reuniting with Simon. The mysterious stranger. And then Jérôme.My gaze flicked to the hand gripping the torch—it bore many scars. I followed the scars up the arm to the shoulder, where an alligator’s gaping maw was tattooed. Oligamy. Why was Oligamy here? Questions swirled in disjointed panic. Where was Jérôme? Why were these workers assembled? Where was I? Yet amid my confusion one thing was clear: their eyes held hostility.They sat or stood motionless in the dark, arms folded or perched, glaring down at me with oppressive enmity. Silence pressed on my neck like a weight, but I lifted my chin higher. I would say nothing until I understood the situation.At least my body hurt only from the binds; I seemed uninjured. But Jérôme… my heart skipped. Jérôme was alive. How…? He had surely died—five years ago, at this very season. Perhaps I’d hallucinated. Jérôme could not appear in Leverham… He’s… damn it, I couldn’t make sense of it. A flash of panic from the library at the boarding school passed through my mind. Were they trying to drive me mad again? A plot by Simon and the stranger? But Jérôme…Lost in thought, kneeling, Oligamy stepped forward. I startled and looked up. He crouched before me, torch held high, then suddenly grinned.“What’re you thinking? Planning yet another escape?” he mocked.“….”“Doesn’t matter how hard you scheme, you bastard. You won’t escape twice.”“….”I couldn’t understand his words. Until evening, Oligamy had been friendly. How much time had passed since I fell unconscious at the Irish pub? I swallowed and struggled for composure, watching his face. Half taunt, half disgust—pure hostility. I remained silent. I would speak only when I grasped the full truth.It was maddening. First Simon reappeared, then that stranger threatened to pull out my tongue, then Jérôme returned from the dead—and now even colleagues who’d seemed harmless turned on me.A shiver ran through me. Five years ago… an endless ago. It felt as though those days at the boarding school, clueless and at their mercy, were replaying.Oligamy reached out with his free hand and seized my cheek. Though he did not grip my throat, panic robbed me of breath.“Like I said, don’t bother scheming,” he hissed, shaking my head with that grip. Then, standing, he gestured with the torch. Its light fell beside the workers’ previous gathering place. A man in a suit stood there. Jérôme.It was Jérôme.He waved his hand nonchalantly. “No need for formalities. It’s I who should be honored—I’ve found you, Raymond.” He smiled, revealing white teeth in the lamplight, his face flushed red. The hairs on my nape stood upright. His skin was as flawless as when he was twenty, as if the fire had been but a dream. He stood before me in a perfectly tailored suit and polished shoes, a gentleman’s poise. I saw him, unblinking, crack the riding crop in his hand as he had at school—a phantom in the dark.I could hardly believe he was alive. Had I not been bound, I would have rushed him, wanted to touch his cheek, confirm if it was cold as a corpse or warm with life.“Now that everyone’s here, shall we begin?” Oligamy said lightly. My body trembled. Uncertainty bred terror. The workers in torchlight nodded. Could all these men truly be in Jérôme’s camp? Why? How? I could not fathom it. It was impossible.They wouldn’t have betrayed me en masse… Why gather so many just for me? Unless they’d all turned on me in an instant. No—it made no sense. I was alone, bound, in an unknown place, thrown aside like a condemned criminal.One man stepped forward into the torchlight—it was James. He wore a composed expression, though I saw his hand tremble slightly.“Ready to call the police?” he asked. His voice was steady, but I knew he was acting calm, as if on camera.“We’ve caught her and recovered all the money. If we hand her over to the police now…”Silence followed. Then the workers burst into laughter. Surprised, James looked at them. Even Oligamy bent back in amusement. The rough men’s guffaws rattled the walls, then—as if on cue—stopped. In the sudden hush, James stared helplessly at them. I could only recall his words [N O V E L I G H T] about “recovering all the money.”Oligamy, still half-smiling, looked at James. “Calling the cops, are we? You city folks really are generous.”“But…” James stammered. “We got all the money back, so if we just report her…”“We have our own way of handling things,” Oligamy cut in. “No need for police. We have rules and… solutions.”James’s face fell. “Are you saying I stole the money?”Oligamy’s eyes turned to me. “Ah, after all this, you’re backing out?” he mocked, then strode backward. As the torchlight spread, I finally saw where I was: inside one of the log cabins at camp. It felt ominous.Near the cabin wall, Oligamy hefted a bag—my worn duffel. He strode over and hurled it at my face. It struck me heavily, and I collapsed. The bag spilled open, and wads of cash tumbled onto the floor. I stared, incredulous, at the piles of bills.A grim outline formed in my mind. I glared toward Jérôme’s side, but the torch didn’t reach. Instead, Oligamy’s boot appeared, caked in dirt, and he stamped down on my head.“One more thing—the truck you stole? That was mine. You even slashed the tire before you took off.”“Too bad, Oligamy,” I rasped, lifting only my eyes. His weight pressed down, but I ignored it.“The tire was my mistake, but you caught the wrong thief. That bag is mine, but the money inside wasn’t stolen by me.”“Then who took it?” Oligamy asked, feigning interest.“Let’s sort this out, Marine,” he drawled, pressing harder.“You took my truck and vanished. Shortly after, I found out all the money was gone. But luckily, this gentleman”—he gestured toward Jerome—“sensed something and nabbed you along with the truck. And in the truck—your bag stuffed with cash. Yet you claim innocence and another thief is out there?”“Yeah.”No sooner had I answered than the workers laughed again. Oligamy pressed on, “So who did steal it?”“I don’t know.”At that, Oligamy’s boot slammed into my chest. The wind was driven from me. I doubled over, panting, then coughed violently. I had expected disbelief—they would not trust me. I only tested them to gauge their reaction.Their response was worse than I imagined. My cough subsided and I lay with my face to the floor, exhaling tears. I sensed their stares and turned my head. James trembled, lips pressed tight, terror in his eyes.Oligamy said, “Marine, you haven’t fully come to your senses yet. We’re all furious with you. If you don’t want an excessive price, don’t get cocky.”“What price?” I croaked.Oligamy raised his hand in a signal. Several workers stepped forward from the darkness. One held a heavy monkey wrench, the size of a forearm. Goddammit.“Disable those thieving hands, and it’ll be good for everyone, right?” Oligamy taunted, shining the torch on my bound body.One worker flipped me onto my stomach. I struggled, but it was useless against the strength of several laborers hardened by years of work. The ropes binding my arms were cut away. Of course, I got no chance to resist. My arms were seized and forced straight in front of me, pressed down by shoulders and forearms.“Fuck, I didn’t do it, you sons of—!” I spat, saliva flying.“Don’t want your tongue pulled out, Marine?” Oligamy sneered. They pried my clenched fists open, forcing my fingers flat onto the floor. I bit down on my molars, trembling all over, to keep my tongue intact.The worker with the monkey wrench dropped to one knee before my hand. They gathered all my fingers—except the thumb—together. As they pried my fingers flat, another snarled, “Get them straight before we gut your hand, asshole.”“Gah, ugh, fuck, you bastards…”“Watch your mouth,” the first growled.The icy iron rested on my fingers. Cold sweat drenched me. The worker tested its weight, lightly pressing, then lifting. Each cautious tap made my body quake. I clenched my teeth. Then he grinned, yellow teeth glinting.“Going to hurt a bit, friend.”He raised the monkey wrench and brought it crashing down onto my fingers.

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