Time – 5:00 PM

  The rain hadn’t stopped.

  Water kept falling from the sky, yet the world felt silent — as if even the storm had lowered its voice.

  “Hm… hmm. As expected from you, my people,” HIM said calmly, though the sadness in his smirk betrayed him. “I was your master until you found your Guru. I don’t want you either… but I want Halloween back. That’s all I wish.”

  The Quils stood drenched, guns firm in their hands.

  Their clothes were soaked — but their egos remained dry.

  From somewhere beyond the rain, the flute continued to play.

  Soft. Pure. Untouched.

  It sounded like it belonged to someone who had never sinned.

  —

  The sound of glass shattering woke Neil.

  He was alone in the room with Tony and Steve. No voices. Just breathing.

  Neil threw on his long coat, slipped into his shoes, and stepped outside the castle.

  HIM stood in the rain — motionless, soaked, staring ahead like a statue carved from grief.

  Neil’s eyes widened when he saw Halloween’s body lying still… and HIM nowhere near his throne.

  He rushed forward and froze.

  The Quils’ army stood in formation.

  HIM stood directly in front of them.

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  “What is all this mess?!” Neil shouted, first controlled, then louder. “And why has your minister lost his breath? What happened here, HIM?!”

  “Neil…” HIM’s voice trembled with anger. “I hate you till now, brother. But not more than this Guru. This land has changed. I noticed it before you even came here. Something is wrong.”

  Then suddenly —

  “Neil, behind you!”

  HIM raised his gun, locking onto something only he could sense.

  But there was no one there.

  At least… no body.

  HIM’s hands began to shake.

  “I can’t see him… I can only see a shadow. He’s behind you — not as a body… but as a shadow!”

  A calm voice echoed.

  “Hmmm… Oh. So you can’t see me. That’s unfortunate. No problem. I’ll transform back. Tore Tore.”

  The black shadow began to fragment — dissolving piece by piece until a man stepped forward from the darkness.

  White blazer.

  Golden shirt.

  Pink trousers.

  Chocolate-brown eyes and hair.

  He looked around slowly — as if scanning the scene and storing it somewhere inside his mind.

  The Quils suddenly erupted in excitement.

  “Lord Vesca is here! We don’t have to tolerate our useless master anymore!”

  Vesca yawned.

  “I’m not here to help you,” he said lazily. “I’m just here to inform these two to make less noise. Guru is still playing his flute. And today is Halloween. Tore Tore.”

  Silence returned.

  Then his phone rang.

  “Tore Tore… I’m about to come, Zeka. Feed Guru some grapes.”

  He ended the call and casually placed a hand on HIM’s shoulder.

  “So you’re the ruler of Huraha — Deplan Jk Bokr, aka HIM. A literal god.” He smiled faintly. “I’m scared.”

  The rain softened.

  The Quils slowly lowered their guns and began walking toward Pravachan Hill.

  Neil stepped forward, eyes cold.

  “Who are you? Why should we stay quiet? This is my brother’s land — not your Guru’s.”

  Vesca sighed.

  “I? I don’t know who I am. No one does. We only know our names.” He smirked. “Mine is Vesca Darby. The playboy of Guru. Tore Tore.”

  “In short,” Neil replied, voice sharp, “you’re his right-hand man. Give us information about Guru and we’ll set you free.”

  Vesca tilted his head.

  “How am I captured?”

  Neil’s expression hardened.

  “The moment you stepped here.”

  In a blink, Neil moved — striking Vesca and sending him crashing against the castle floor.

  Vesca groaned.

  “That hurts… Tore tor—”

  Neil didn’t wait. He leapt down and struck again.

  “Let me go!” Vesca shouted.

  His body dissolved back into shadow — darker than the rain clouds, colder than the air itself.

  And then he was gone.

  —

  The clock read 5:00 PM.

  One hour and thirty minutes until Pravachan.

  The rain continued.

  But now, the silence felt intentional.