"What is this supposed to mean, Lune?" Jack asked flatly, his expression unreadable as he pulled himself away from her embrace.

"Hm? What do you mean, darling?~" she replied, her voice laced with mock innocence.

"You know what I'm talking about." His tone sharpened, cold and precise.

Lune chuckled softly, the sound rich and disarming, the kind of laugh that could melt even the iciest of hearts. Yet Jack remained unmoved, his expression as rigid as ever.

"Well, I did nothing wrong, Jack," she said with a playful shrug. "You were exhausted, so I gave you a helping hand. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Helping hand?" Jack's gaze narrowed, his suspicion clear.

"Mhm." She folded her arms beneath her chest, tilting her head as though scolding a stubborn child. "You needed sleep, so I gave you a place to rest. I couldn't let you doze off against some stone wall. You seemed to enjoy it, too… so no need to thank me."

"..."

Her teasing confidence grated against his silence, yet something in her words unsettled him. Enjoyed it? The thought alone made him pause. Jack was not the type to dwell on sleep — it was nothing but a necessity, an act of maintenance, like drinking water or breathing air. He endured sleepless nights without complaint and tolerated exhaustion as if it were just another obstacle.

But last night had been different. He remembered the warmth of her arms, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the unusual calm that seeped into him as he drifted off. His body felt rested, almost unnaturally so, as though he had experienced a kind of rest that transcended mere sleep.

It left him… disarmed.

'I actually slept… well?'

The idea unsettled him. He rarely indulged in such luxuries — never allowed himself to — and yet here he was, admitting silently that he had felt something new. Something dangerously comfortable.

Lune watched him carefully. When she noticed his eyes widen slightly in thought, her playful demeanor softened. A serious expression settled over her features as she leaned in ever so slightly.

"...How are you feeling, Jack?" she asked, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. There was no teasing in her voice now, only concern.

"I'm fine." His reply was short, dismissive, but steady. "Did anything happen while I was asleep?"

"No, nothing unusual." She shook her head. "The bunker's been as noisy as ever, but… that man hasn't returned yet."

"Sommeil…" Jack muttered, his frown deepening.

Her words gnawed at him. 'Wasn't he supposed to be finished with the city by now? Did he underestimate the task, or is something else happening out there?'

The absence was concerning. Jack had counted on encountering Sommeil again, on prying information out of him — information that could prove critical in the coming days.

'I need to know what his clan truly intends to do. How he achieved it, and what fate awaits the city and its people because of it. I need to find him. Soon.'

Jack stood, stretching his stiff muscles, and glanced toward Lune. "Come. Let's find some breakfast… or dinner, whichever it is."

At this point, day and night had lost all meaning. Time in the bunker stretched endlessly into one monotonous blur, the lack of natural light turning even his sharp instincts against him.

Together, they left their hiding place, Jack briefly detouring to check on his mother. She was still fast asleep, her face lined with exhaustion. He lingered at the doorway for a moment, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Relief flickered across his face. 'She needs the rest. Let her have it while she can.'

The cafeteria was bustling when they arrived, crowded with survivors clutching trays of meager portions. The smell of bland rice porridge mixed with overboiled vegetables filled the air, heavy and unappetizing. Food was rationed strictly; luxury no longer existed. Complaints simmered here and there, but hunger outweighed pride, and in the end, everyone ate.

Jack accepted his tray without hesitation and sat down.

"That looks… very delicious, Jack," Lune said dryly, though her voice carried a note of sympathy. "Bon appétit."

"No need." He shook his head, examining the sludge. "It looks worse than dog food. But it's fuel enough. Energy is all I need."

Without another word, he began eating, his face betraying no emotion. For Jack, food was survival, nothing more.

He sensed someone approaching before he even looked up. The steps were hesitant, yet deliberate. A moment later, Evelyn slid into the seat beside him.

"How are you, Jack?" she asked softly.

"...Fine." He didn't bother looking at her, his attention still on the meal.

"I see…" Her voice carried the weight of sleeplessness.

Evelyn had not closed her eyes all night. Her thoughts had spiraled endlessly around Jack — his grief, his stoicism, the burden he carried. She worried for him, and for his mother, who had already lost so much. Her chest ached with unspoken emotions, leaving her restless and hollow.

She toyed with her spoon, pushing food around her tray without ever lifting it to her lips. The silence between them stretched, suffocating. Finally, Jack sighed, placing his spoon down, and turned his sharp gaze toward her.

"I am truly fine, Evelyn," he said with calm certainty. "I was prepared to face this reality long before it arrived."

"But—"

"We still have things to do," Jack cut in firmly. "There's no time for grief. The days ahead could change everything, and we can't afford to falter. I need you to be ready, too."

A glint flashed in his eyes as he spoke — not just seriousness, but ambition. An unshakable will to survive. It burned so strongly that Evelyn was momentarily stunned.

She realized she was drawn to that flame, to the resolve that radiated from him like warmth in a frozen world. It wasn't just survival; it was defiance against the chaos that consumed everything around them.

"I… understand." She nodded faintly.

"Good." Jack resumed eating, his voice returning to its quiet calm. "We'll need to find Sommeil soon. He's a priority. I don't know if he's still in the city, but I doubt he'll leave without showing up here again. Men like him don't walk away from things that interest them."

If I've read him correctly, he's intrigued by me and Evelyn both. He might even try to recruit us into his clan… or something worse.

Despite the danger, Jack knew Sommeil was invaluable. A living reservoir of knowledge, a potential key to shaping his own plans.

CLING!

The sharp clatter of porcelain shattering on stone cut through the air. Jack's head snapped up instantly.

Across the cafeteria, a dish had fallen, scattering shards across the floor. But it wasn't the broken plate that froze the room into silence — it was the man who had dropped it.

He stood motionless, his eyes stretched wide in horror, as though something unseen had reached inside and stolen his soul. His limbs trembled once, then locked stiffly.

And in the next heartbeat…

He collapsed.

The sound of his body hitting the ground echoed like thunder in the quiet hall.

Jack's eyes narrowed. The man lay sprawled unnaturally, lifeless yet intact — like a doll discarded by careless hands.

A mannequin.

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