Revenge is Best Served After Reborn (James)

Late at night, Colby cruised down the road, streetlights rhythmically illuminating his face, while an old newspaper, yellowed with age, rested casually on the passenger seat. This relic from the past detailed a kidnapping case, yet Colby's expression remained unyielding, not Finally reaching the seaside, Colby parked the car. He took the old newspaper in hand, walked to the shoreline, and with a flick of his lighter, set it ablaze. The flames danced, casting shadows over half of Colby's face. Only when the newspaper was reduced to ashes did he scatter them onto the sandy beach.

a hint of a smile breaking through.

Meanwhile, at Burke Estate, Sophie lay in bed, drifting into sleep without realizing it. Her dreams were a collage of déjà vu-steamboats, flames, and cramped quarters. The salty sea threatened to engulf her, the humid air stifling her breath. She struggled to escape the water, but like someone on the brink of drowning, her efforts only pulled her deeper.

"Brother! Save me!" A little girl's piercing cries wrenched Sophie from her nightmare. In her dream, she had seen a young man with a blurred face racing toward her, only to be shoved into a reeking car. She couldn't place the face, yet it felt hauntingly familiar.

A wave of panic unlike anything she'd ever felt surged through her, leaving her trembling as she climbed out of bed. She needed answers-desperately. Her mind buzzed with voices.

"Sophie, where did that scar on your back come from?"

"That doesn't look like it came from a fall..."

"Does Ms. Sophie remember anything from before she was seven or eight?"

These voices grew louder, more chaotic, until they merged into Timothy's words: "It's in the attic above the third floor, but... it's locked."

Logic warned her that Timothy's

clue was a trap set by someone lurking in the shadows. She

shouldn't go, it might be exacthet

v

what they wanted. But another voice urged her on. She had to know. That memory was vital.

Grabbing the safety hammer from her room, Sophie pushed open her bedroom door and made her way, stumbling, toward the attic on the third floor. Her nightmare clung to her thoughts, refusing to let go he needed answers. As she reached the attie door, a pounding headache gripped her, her breathing turned ragged, and her heart pounded wildly.

Yet, she pushed forward. One step, two steps, three steps...

Bang Bang-

Sophie swung the hammer, striking the locked door with all her might.

Downstairs, Gordon, who had been peacefully asleep, awoke with a start. Sitting up abruptly, he was

seized by an inexplicable sense oret

dread. Clutching his chest, his pale face drained of color, he coughed violently, nearly falling out of bed.

No... this can't happen!

Gordon scrambled toward the door, desperation in his every move. Meanwhile, the heavy blows continued at the attic door. Each swing of Sophie's hammer was fueled by all her strength. Bang-

With a final, resounding crash, the attic door gave way. Dust swirled around Sophie as it slowly settled.