Chapter 12: The Cold Encounter
As Seraphine and Quintin ventured deeper into the heart of Jill, they became increasingly aware of the strange undercurrents flowing through the city. Something was off, though the peacefulness around them continued to mask it. The fountain, the people, the atmosphere—all of it felt like a façade, concealing a darkness beneath its surface. But their need for answers pushed them onward.
It was in the midst of this uneasy peace that they first encountered him.
He was standing just outside a grand library that loomed at the edge of the plaza, his presence seemingly at odds with the tranquility of the surroundings. His posture was rigid, exuding an aura of cold indifference that contrasted sharply with the warm, inviting air of the city. He stood tall, his black coat flowing slightly with the breeze, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as though shielding himself from the world.
Seraphine noticed him immediately—his piercing black eyes were locked onto her, and she felt an odd prickling sensation in her mind, as though he were measuring her with every glance.
"Another one," the man muttered under his breath, his voice low and gravelly. He didn't move as he spoke, nor did his expression shift. It was as if he was speaking to himself rather than to Seraphine or Quintin.
Seraphine's gaze hardened. "What do you mean by that?"
The man tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "Nothing." His tone was dismissive, and he turned his attention back to the library before them, his coldness impenetrable.
Quintin, ever the inquisitive one, stepped forward with a faint grin. "What, no warm welcome for newcomers?"
The man didn't even acknowledge him, his eyes still fixated on Seraphine. "You're from the Nexus," he stated, his voice blunt and emotionless. "I can tell."
Seraphine's brow furrowed. "And what of it?"
"Don't think you can fool me," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "You're not like the others. I can see the darkness in your eyes." His voice grew colder, more cutting. "A fool like you wouldn't survive long in a place like this."
Seraphine's expression hardened further. She had grown accustomed to people underestimating her, but this man—this stranger—spoke to her as if he already knew her. Knew everything about her. And his cold tone, his disdain—it grated against her every instinct.
"I'm not here for your opinions," she said, her voice icy. "We're here to find answers."
The man finally looked away, his gaze drifting lazily over the city. His indifference was suffocating, and the silence between them stretched for a moment too long. "Answers?" he repeated, as if the word itself was foreign to him. "There are no answers here, not for you. There's nothing but an endless cycle of death and despair. But if you think you can change that, go ahead. See how far it gets you."
Seraphine clenched her fists, but before she could respond, Quintin placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice light and calming. "Let it go, Seraphine. This guy clearly has a stick up his—"
The man's sharp glare silenced him instantly. There was no anger in his eyes, just a quiet, cutting resolve that sent a chill down Quintin's spine. He wasn't the type to back down from confrontation, but something about this stranger's presence made him uneasy. It was as if he was dealing with someone far beyond his own reckoning.
"Do you have a name?" Seraphine asked, her tone still cool but now more pointed.
The man's lips curled into a small, humorless smile. "I don't give my name to people I don't care about."
"Then why talk to us?" Quintin pressed, though he felt a growing tension in the air that made him regret his words.
The man's gaze flickered to him briefly, before returning to Seraphine. "Because you're a problem I didn't ask for," he said bluntly. "You and your curiosity are going to get yourselves killed."
Seraphine met his gaze, unfazed by the warning. "And why should I care about your opinion?"
The man stepped forward, his towering figure casting a long shadow over the two of them. His eyes burned with a strange intensity. "Because I don't have time to waste on fools who think they can play hero in a place like this." He leaned closer, his breath cold against Seraphine's skin. "The Nexus will break you. Everyone here gets broken eventually. Even you."
His words stung, but Seraphine didn't flinch. She had heard it all before—warnings from those who believed they knew better, those who thought they had all the answers. But she wasn't here to listen to people like him. She had come too far, endured too much to be dissuaded by a single encounter with someone who clearly didn't care.
"I've been broken," Seraphine replied quietly. "And I've rebuilt myself."
For a moment, the man's expression softened, just slightly. But it was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had come.
"Suit yourself," he muttered, turning away from her. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
As he began to walk away, Seraphine couldn't help but feel a strange sense of familiarity about him. The coldness, the indifference—it reminded her of herself, back when she first entered the Nexus, back when she had been alone and lost. She had been just like him.
And yet, despite the bitterness between them, there was something about him that intrigued her.
"Wait," she called after him, her voice steady. "Who are you?"
The man didn't stop. "Does it matter?" he called over his shoulder, his voice drifting away as he disappeared into the crowd.
Seraphine stood there for a moment, her mind racing. She didn't know who he was, or why he seemed so intent on driving her away, but something told her that he wasn't just another passerby.
He was a part of the city. A piece of this strange, unsettling puzzle.
And she would find out what role he played—whether he liked it or not.
End of Chapter 12.