[KELVIN]
The door swung open beneath my hand, smoothly, without resistance.
What I didn't expect was the sudden collision.
The impact was immediate—a soft form crashing into me, delicate yet forceful enough to knock her off balance.
Karrin.
She stumbled backward, and instinct took over before thought—my hand shot out, catching her waist just as gravity tried to pull her down.
My fingers pressed into the structured fabric of her tailored suit—firm, but not harsh. She was light, yet there was a certain weight to her presence, something almost demanding in its energy.
I felt her inhale sharply—the moment lingered.
Then she looked up, and recognition dawned in her wide brown eyes.
"Thank you…" Her voice was softer than usual, slightly breathless.
I raised an eyebrow, watching the realization settle in.
"Mr. Kelvin?"
No flustered retreat. No unnecessary apologies. Just the sharp, direct acknowledgment that was undeniably her.
I let my lips tilt slightly—a shadow of amusement, not quite a smirk.
She didn't move immediately. Neither did I.
James cleared his throat.
She straightened up, smoothing the lapel of her blazer with practiced ease. No hesitation, no lingering misstep—just swift, controlled movements.
My gaze took in the details as she adjusted the sleeves, setting everything into place. The tailored waistcoat fit neatly, cinched without effort. The cigarette trousers ended just above her ankles, revealing heels—practical but elegant.
Her hair, sleek and straight, was tucked behind one ear. A final adjustment—precise.
The morning light caught on the muted lavender of her suit, making the fabric appear even sharper. The Cartier watch, the pearl studs—subtle choices. Nothing excessive.
She glanced up briefly and cleared her throat.
"Mr. Kelvin… good afternoon." She extended her hand for a handshake.
She held on a bit too long.
I looked at my gloved hand.
I narrowed my eyes, brows drawing together. Edward nudged me from behind as if reading my thoughts—a silent warning.
I removed my gloves.
Let's try once again. At worst, I'll erase her memory…
I extended my hand.
I took hers and shook it.
She was fine—just as I'd predicted.
She tried to withdraw, but I didn't let go.
I was still figuring out how she wasn't unconscious yet.
She tried again, and I pulled slightly—enough for her to bump into my chest once more.
James nudged me again, pulling me back to reality.
I let go of her hand.
Suddenly, I felt strange… a bit dizzy, maybe?
I quickly steadied myself.
Probably just my imagination.
I didn't expect much from that lunch.
Just another contract. Another mortal family trying to impress. The usual.
Her father greeted me. Her brother followed, pretending to be calm. Her mother lingered somewhere in the background, rushing.
But she—the girl—was already seated, scrolling through her phone like we weren't even there.
Then she looked up.
Pale. Tired. Not fragile—contained. Like someone who didn't have time to be anything else. White button-up. Clean jeans. A little makeup—barely enough to hide the circles under her eyes.
She stood when I caught her attention, slipped her phone away, and smiled like none of it mattered.
"Karrin," she said, offering her hand.
My assistant moved forward instinctively. He always did. In my current state, touching a mortal could drop them cold—unconscious. Or worse.
But I stopped him.
I don't know why. A hunch, maybe.
She didn't feel like the others.
I took her hand.
Nothing happened.
No fainting. No flicker.
Just her—steady, watching. Like she knew something I didn't.
She smiled. Small. Sharp.
We sat. I laid the contracts on the table. Her brother didn't read them. She did—thorough, quiet, efficient.
"We can sign now," she said.
So we did.
"Happy cooperation," she added, still wearing that mask of a smile.
We moved to the dining room. She barely spoke, but she noticed everything. Her silence had weight. When I looked at her, she met my gaze without flinching.
After we left, my assistant asked if I wanted her background checked. Said she felt "odd."
I said no.
But I was already thinking about her.
That night, a message came:
I've entered. Will start work tomorrow.
—Agent Red
I stared at the screen.
Agent Red.
Another fierce woman.
James nudged me from behind breaking my thoughts
"Sorry about that I got lost in my thoughts." I spoke
"It's okay." Her voice broke my thoughts.
"Why are you here, Ms. Karrin?" I asked, sitting down in the nearest chair.
"The meeting just ended. I was planning to leave," she said casually, emotionless.
"I see… And everything went well?" I asked.
She nodded. "Thankfully, yes."
I nodded.
"Well then, I'll leave…" she said.
"Okay then. See you soon?" I raised an eyebrow.
"See you soon." Her voice was faint as she walked out.
James sighed and dropped into the nearest chair, stretching.
"I don't know what's wrong with you," he said, shaking his head.
I raised an eyebrow.
"You know what I'm talking about… How can you shake hands with her—gloves off? Do you plan on killing Evan's only daughter?" he said in one breath.
"Calm down. It's not that dangerous… she's alive," I said calmly.
"She could have died, the way you were holding on to her… She's not your test subject. She's a normal human," he said sharply.
"Definitely not normal. Anyway, I knew she'd be okay."
"Knew? How? Last I checked, future prediction wasn't one of your powers," he said, looking at me directly.
"Just a hunch," I said, leaning back.
"Wow… you're impossible," he muttered, also leaning back.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. We took our positions as the meeting progressed.
The meeting ran its course.
Sponsorships. Distribution. Social media timing.
My face remained still. James carried most of it—he always did when I drifted.
No one noticed how quiet I'd gone.
Except him.
He glanced at me once during the discussion—that old, knowing look of someone who had seen me in armor, covered in blood, and in mourning.
By the time the room cleared, only James and I remained.
He stood by the screen, arms folded. "It's just like her" he said finally. "Isn't it."
I didn't answer.
I didn't have to.
"She doesn't even know," James said quietly.
"I know… she just acts too well."
I picked up the remote and replayed the scene.
The light flickered back to life on the screen—Karrin, as the Queen, stepping forward, her words ringing out like prophecy reborn:
"You think you got the power? …nah…I am the power. I was just pretending to share it."
James muttered under his breath, "She said the same thing."
"Katarina said it before the betrayal," I replied. "She knew it was coming."
Silence fell again.
The clip ended.
I didn't move. The room was dusk-lit now, shadows stretching across the floor like memory itself had lengthened.
James looked at me sideways. "If she's her… in some form, somehow… do you plan to do things differently this time?"
I clenched my jaw.
"I don't know who she is yet," I said. "But if Katarina's spirit is in her… even a spark…"
I paused.
"…then I won't make the same mistake twice.
But maybe it's just coincidence."
Yeah… just a coincidence.
James nodded.
But there was something in his expression—old sorrow, maybe. Or the fear that history doesn't repeat. It just finishes what it started.
He turned to leave. "Don't stay too long."
I didn't reply.
He knew I would anyway.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
I hit play again.
Just one more time, I told myself.
But I knew I'd watch it a hundred times if I had to—until I found the answer in her eyes.
Because Katarina once promised she'd return.
And if she had…
I needed to be ready.
If only I hadn't betrayed her back then…
Would she still be alive?