Emma arrived home late, her body weary from the long day of investigation. After a frustrating lack of progress, she’d submitted her report on Lockey to the higher-ups, a report that left her with mixed emotions. She sighed as she prepared her nightly tea in the kitchen, the steam rising slowly, soothing her. Relief washed over her—her investigation would end in a week, and then she could leave Lockey's unsettling presence behind.

But as she moved through her quiet house, something felt off. The air carried a tension, a presence she hadn't felt before. She froze mid-step, her eyes darting around. A subtle noise—almost too faint to catch—alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Reaching for the nearest knife from her set, she cautiously moved toward her living room.

A figure sat casually on her couch, cloaked in shadows with their hood pulled low. The red and black ambiance surrounding the scene reflected the danger lingering in the air. The figure's finger pressed lightly against his lips—a hauntingly calm gesture for silence.

Emma’s heart raced, her mind whirling. “Who... how did you find me?” she demanded, recognizing Lockey’s presence as he stood up, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Lockey took a slow step toward her, his gaze unwavering. “I followed you,” he replied simply.

“For what?” she asked, trying to steady her voice. Her grip tightened on the knife.

Lockey approached closer, his eyes narrowing as he loomed over her, pushing her back until she was cornered against the wall. He leaned in, his breath hot against her face. “To get rid of you,” he said with a dangerous smirk.

Emma’s hands shook as she held the knife out in defense. The charisma she once had faded, replaced by a look of terror. Lockey chuckled darkly, stepping back for a moment to observe her. “Where is your fire now, Emma? You’re scared of me, aren’t you?”

Emma remained silent, her thoughts spinning. Her once tenacious resolve felt small in the face of Lockey's cold, predatory aura.

“You should have stayed out of this investigation,” Lockey said, his smirk widening into a twisted grin. His eyes flicked over her trembling form, feeding off her fear.

And then, the name of her investigation—the Beta Vault—fell from his lips.

Her eyes widened, the shock paralyzing her as a vision of the vault flashed before her. “So... it was with you all along...” she whispered, dread pooling in her stomach.

Emma's grip on the knife faltered as her mind raced. "What are you going to do now? Kill me?" she asked, voice strained with the rising panic.

Lockey tilted his head, a playful yet menacing grin crossing his lips. “Yes... but not yet. There’s someone who wanted to see you first.”

The sound of footsteps echoed behind her, and Emma turned her head slowly, her breath catching as she recognized the familiar figure standing in the doorway.

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"Lee?" Her voice cracked with disbelief. "You're... you're siding with him?"

Lee, dressed in dark clothes, stood silent, his face shrouded in a stormy expression. His profile was cold, distant, as though weighed down by the storm brewing inside him . He couldn’t meet her eyes, his internal struggle reflected in the somber air around him.

Emma’s heart sank. “You... after all this time?” she whispered, feeling utterly betrayed. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the truth of the situation.

Lockey grinned and nodded toward Lee. “He’s decided you deserve a choice.”

Lee spoke, his voice soft but firm, laced with guilt. “You can either be killed... or kidnapped.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat. The room seemed to close in around her, the tension thick with uncertainty. What would she choose?

Lockey grinned and nodded toward Lee. “He’s decided you deserve a choice.”

Lee spoke, his voice soft but firm, laced with guilt. “You can either be killed... or kidnapped.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat. The room seemed to close in around her, the tension thick with uncertainty. She finally gave her answer, though the specifics of her choice were left unsaid.

Lee took a deep breath and stepped toward Emma, avoiding her fearful gaze. He held a small syringe, filled with a clear liquid, his hand trembling slightly. Emma’s lips parted, a question forming, but before she could speak, Lee swiftly injected the liquid into her arm.

Emma gasped, her eyes widening as the drug took effect. Her body went limp, her consciousness fading fast as her legs gave way beneath her. As she slipped into unconsciousness, her body slumped against Lee's arm. He caught her, gently lowering her to the floor.

The weight of the decision crushed Lee, and he looked down, avoiding Lockey’s gaze. The room felt suffocating, the guilt gnawing at him from the inside.

“I feel like a bad person,” Lee muttered quietly, his voice barely audible. His face contorted with emotion, tears brimming in his eyes.

Lockey placed a hand on Lee’s shoulder, offering a rare moment of empathy. “It’s not like you did anything wrong,” he said, though his words felt hollow, devoid of comfort.

The room remained silent as the tension simmered.

The next morning, Yuri sat at his desk, drumming his fingers anxiously. Emma was late—she never missed her morning report. His unease grew with each passing minute. After an hour of silence, he decided to take action.

He arrived at Emma’s house by mid-morning, a sense of dread building in his chest. As he neared the front yard, he noticed the house’s door slightly ajar. A group of concerned neighbors had gathered, whispering among themselves. Some claimed they had heard odd noises the night before, but no one had acted on it.

Yuri’s heart raced as he stepped through the doorway, his eyes immediately drawn to the disarray within. The living room was untouched, but there was an eerie stillness in the air. He made his way to the kitchen and noticed Emma’s mug of tea, still warm but untouched, sitting on the counter. The knife she had pulled out for defense lay discarded on the floor.

Panic surged through him. “Emma!” he called out, his voice trembling. He scoured the house, searching every room, but there was no sign of her. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.

Outside, more people began to gather. Yuri quickly contacted the WCM, sending out an alert. Investigators soon flooded the house, combing through every inch for clues. The air buzzed with tension as they sealed off the area with caution tape, ensuring no one could interfere with the scene.

A few agents examined the discarded knife, while others dusted for prints or questioned the neighbors. But nothing concrete came up. It was as though Emma had simply disappeared, leaving no trace behind.

As Yuri stood amidst the chaos, the realization hit him hard. Emma was gone, and this wasn’t just an ordinary disappearance. Something felt deliberately orchestrated, as if someone had planned every detail. His thoughts drifted to Lockey, the strange aura around him, and the unsettling reports Emma had shared. The more he considered it, the more certain he became—Lockey was involved.