Luku couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, tension sharp in his voice. “Master, please—stop! You’re not giving a good impression right now.”

  Muuey was silent for a moment. Then he closed his eyes.

  The pressure lifted. The red glow faded. The room exhaled, returning to normal as if nothing unnatural had ever filled it.

  “No,” Muuey said calmly, opening his eyes again. “I simply made my point clear.”

  Luku hesitated, confusion written plainly across his face. He turned toward the Stones, opening his mouth to explain—to smooth things over—but the sight stopped him cold.

  Fear had drained all color from their faces. Real fear. The kind that hollowed the eyes and stole breath. Even Gasilin, standing silently behind them, looked unsettled—his usual composure cracked, jaw tight, posture rigid.

  A terrible realization dawned.

  “It can’t be…” Mr. Stone’s voice broke as he recoiled slightly, eyes locked on Muuey. “You’re the Grim Reaper!” he shouted, the words torn from him in disbelief and terror.

  Muuey didn’t flinch. He didn’t deny it.

  Remaining perfectly calm, he met Mr. Stone’s gaze and replied with quiet certainty,

  “Exactly.”

  A sharp smile spread across Mr. Stone’s face, cutting cleanly through the fear that had seized him moments before. “I can’t believe this,” he said, awe bleeding into his voice. “We’re actually meeting the secret hero of Portland City.”

  Muuey sighed, clearly unimpressed.

  Luku looked between them, utterly lost. “Grim Reaper…?” he asked, brow furrowed. “Master, what does that mean?”

  Muuey answered without ceremony. “It’s just a nickname,” he said flatly. “Apparently people gave it to me for helping them.”

  There was no pride in his tone—only mild dissatisfaction, as if the title itself were more nuisance than honor.

  “Dear?” Mrs. Stone looked to her husband, her expression questioning. “What does he mean?”

  Mr. Stone cleared his throat. “Oh—right. Ahem. I don’t actually know him personally,” he admitted. “But some of our employees—ones who were kidnapped by gangs—were saved by a mysterious man.”

  He paused, choosing his words carefully. “They described him wearing half a mask, with glowing red eyes… and a kind of darkness around him. An aura.”

  His gaze returned to Muuey, recognition settling in fully now.

  “And those rescues,” he finished quietly, “all happened around Portland.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “But to think the Grim Reaper was actually a teen is shocking!” Mr. Stone said, excitement slipping through his composure. His earlier fear was already being replaced by fascination.

  Muuey shrugged, completely unfazed. “Yeah, well… it is what it is,” he replied flatly. His eyes sharpened. “Now—back to business.”

  The mood in the room shifted instantly.

  The curiosity faded, replaced by tension.

  Luku straightened beside him, finally sensing the weight of what was about to be discussed.

  Mr. and Mrs. Stone exchanged a brief glance—parents first, power brokers second.

  Mr. Stone folded his hands on the table. “You said our children are in danger,” he said, voice low but steady. “Explain. Everything.”

  “This morning,” Muuey continued, his tone steady, “I was given a heads-up about two siblings supposedly sent to blow up a station.”

  Luku’s eyes widened, his voice cracking before he could stop himself.

  “W-what!?”

  Muuey didn’t even look at him. “It was misinformation. A setup. Someone wanted me to believe your children were terrorists—wanted me to eliminate them before I could verify anything.”

  The Stones went pale.

  “Luckily,” Muuey went on, “Luku was already on that train. If he hadn’t been there… things wouldn’t have ended as cleanly as they did.”

  Luku clenched his jaw.

  Clean?

  His mind flashed back to the aftermath—the twisted metal, scorched concrete, an entire street block stained with destruction so severe people would hesitate to walk there again.

  Smooth? A whole district left looking like a war zone… how is that smooth?

  He swallowed, keeping those thoughts to himself as the silence pressed heavily around the table.

  “So… the news,” Mrs. Stone said, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it, “it was about this? About what you’re telling us right now?”

  For the first time since the meeting began, her composure cracked.

  “Yes,” Muuey answered immediately. No pause. No softening of the truth.

  That was all it took.

  “How are the kids!?” Mr. Stone burst out, rising halfway from his seat before he realized it. His hands were clenched so tightly they shook. “Are they alright!? Please—let us see them!”

  The room felt smaller, the air heavier.

  “Yes,” Muuey replied, calm but not dismissive. “I’m waiting on a report from a friend. Once I know their condition, I’ll inform you.”

  Mrs. Stone’s breath caught.

  “So something did happen to them,” she said sharply, fear flooding past restraint. She stepped forward without realizing it. “Please. Let us see them right now.”

  Her voice wavered at the end, no longer the voice of a powerful woman—just a mother asking for her children.

  Muuey didn’t hesitate.

  “Lara has a hole as big as a fist in her stomach,” he said evenly. “Alcy has severe fractured bones—and a broken left arm.”

  The words landed like a physical blow.

  Mrs. Stone’s face drained of color. Her knees buckled, her body swaying as if the ground itself had vanished beneath her. For a terrifying second, she was falling.

  “Jane!” Mr. Stone shouted, lunging for her.

  He was too far.

  Gasilin moved first, catching her just in time, steady hands keeping her from collapsing to the floor. Carefully, he guided her back into her seat beside her husband.

  Mr. Stone’s hands hovered over her, shaking, his breath uneven.

  “Th-thank you,” Mrs. Stone whispered weakly, forcing the words out as she looked up at Gasilin.

  “Just doing my duty,” Gasilin said quietly.

  He stepped back to his original position, posture straight, eyes sharp, resuming his silent watch over the room as if nothing had happened.

  Luku couldn’t contain himself.

  “Master, you shouldn’t hav—” he burst out, anger and disbelief breaking through his usual restraint.

  “—That,” Muuey cut in calmly, his voice slicing through the tension before Luku could finish.

  He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

  “That,” Muuey continued, his gaze fixed firmly on the Stones, “is exactly why I need answers.”

  The room felt smaller somehow, the air heavier.

  “Why are your children being targeted like this?” he asked, tone steady but sharp beneath the surface. “Did you upset the other heads of the city?”

  Silence followed—thick, suffocating.

  All eyes turned to Mr. and Mrs. Stone, the weight of the question pressing down on them like an unseen hand.

  Muuey was almost tricked into killing Alcy and Lara! Who do you think orchestrated the 'Misinformation'?