Maja had been strung up until the break of dawn, alone in the room with only a corpse for company. No one came to see her, not until the morning light seeped through the cracks and the door was finally thrust open. A figure walked in, cold and detached, slicing through the ropes that bound her with a switchblade. “Here’s a note from the kid,” the person sneered. “Ha, the fool’s been torched.” Without another word, they left. Maja stood frozen, the buzzing in her head deafening. It took her several seconds to chase after the figure. “You’ve got the seal, haven’t you?” she called out. “Blame the kid for babbling too much,” was the dismissive reply. The man climbed into a nearby car as Maja’s gaze fell upon a pile of still-warm ashes where a skeleton lay half-buried. Her body, already pushed to its limits, threatened to collapse at the sight. But she knew she couldn’t afford to pass out now. They had let her go, and she needed to get out of there. With a swift kick, she scattered the embers, retrieving the charred bones that belonged to Quentin. Her hands turned black with soot, and the heat from the smoldering ashes was intense, her fingers probably blistering from the contact. For ten minutes, she searched until she was convinced she had all of Quentin’s remains. Then, tearing a strip of cloth from her garment, she wrapped the bones within it. Her feelings for Quentin weren’t deep, but since waking up on Forbidden Island, he’d been a constant presence, his quirks excused by the harsh reality of their environment. Maybe it was the pregnancy making her more sentimental, but she’d hoped to take him away from that place, solve his tattoo dilemma, and elevate him. Instead, she’d brought him to Middle Island and led him to his death, unable to even recover his full remains. Numbly clutching the bundle of bones, she stumbled away. Her body was on the verge of collapse after hours of torture, and now she was running on sheer instinct. She had to leave this place. As soon as Maja was out of sight, Quentin emerged from around the corner, staring at the ashes she had disturbed. He wondered if her fingers were blistered from digging through them. A wave of irritation surged within him, and he kicked the pile of ashes, scattering them even more. His frustration burned like a wildfire, threatening to consume him. He remembered the sweet she had given him, a rare gesture that had touched him. He’d never really tasted sweets; the only one he’d had as a child tasted of blood and bitterness. Maybe Maja’s sweet had been different, but he’d given it away to that fool. Quentin was lost in his thoughts. He kicked these things hard. It was not until it became more messy here that he gasped and stopped. The group of people standing behind him did not dare to say anything. They just lowered their heads in fear. Quentin finished venting and also touched the

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felt annoyed. He still had a lot of things to do now. He should go back to the organization immediately to avoid conflicts with K’s people. But he felt rooted to the spot, a storm raging in his mind, until someone reminded him. “Mr. Gellar, Mr. Christ’s been taken by K’s people.” Most of the ten elders saw K as the organization’s leader, except for Christ and the Grand Elder who were determined to find the lost Holy Daughter, often causing trouble for K. “Now that the Third’s been captured, K’s finally decided to get rid of the old thorn,” Quentin thought, frowning. He had no love for K’s sanctimonious ways. “It’s time to go back.” He spent most of his time on Forbidden Island, barely involving himself in the organization’s affairs and had no overt conflicts with K. He hadn’t stopped K from taking over BK’s power, but he didn’t acknowledge K’s authority either. With the Jellyfish Seal in hand, it was time to return to the organization. Yet he knew K must have guessed he had the seal.

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