UNMASKED

CHAPTER 10

THIRD PERSON’S POV

“Why are you still here?” Vladimir asked, his voice laced with impatience.

Mr. Azakura looked up calmly. “Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. The entire basement was locked—seems like she made sure of it herself.” He paused, then added, “It appears she’s making… progress.”

“Progress, huh?” Vladimir murmured, nodding slowly.

Mr. Azakura took a measured sip of his tea, then looked up, his gaze sharp. “You know her plan: to die along with all her sins. But that can’t happen if her opponent is weak. She needs someone strong enough to kill her. Otherwise, she’ll destroy everything in her path.”

Vladimir’s brow furrowed. “Is that why she’s letting Ice grow stronger?”

Mr. Azakura gave a slight nod. “You know Ice—good-hearted, honest. But in war, having a good heart is a weakness. You have to be ruthless if you want to survive. Kill, or be killed.” He set his teacup down, fingers lingering over the rim. “I’ve watched Ice long enough to know… he doesn’t have it in him to kill Hyra. He’s too soft. He wants to believe she can change.”

The silence settled around them, punctuated only by Mr. Azakura’s soft sips of tea. Vladimir’s expression grew distant, his eyes clouded with guilt and curiosity.

“Tell me…” Vladimir stammered, embarrassed by the question but unable to hold it back. “What kind of child was Hyra?”

Mr. Azakura’s face softened, a hint of nostalgia creeping in. “Hyra?” He hesitated before a rare smile crossed his lips. “She was… like any other child. Spoiled, mischievous, defiant. She never wanted to study, claimed she couldn’t use it for killing. But when Conan—her Conan—told her they needed to study to count the enemies they’d take down, she suddenly took an interest.”

Vladimir’s breath caught as he listened, piecing together the daughter he’d left behind.

“She refused to take her medicine unless Conan gave it to her,” Mr. Azakura continued, a faraway look in his eyes. “At eight, she was already annoying him by insisting he be her boyfriend. Every day she’d pester him, asking if they were ‘dating.’ Conan would pretend to be annoyed, but I could see it… he secretly enjoyed every moment of it.”

Vladimir’s face softened, a strange ache in his chest as Mr. Azakura went on.

“They were inseparable. Conan was the first person she sought after returning from her first stay in the dungeon, bloodied but triumphant. She held a piece of paper—a marriage certificate with their names on it. Conan tried to resist, not because he didn’t want it, but because he wanted them to grow stronger first. But she threatened him, and he couldn’t refuse her. They became each other’s worlds, training side by side. She even bought some of my properties with my own money, and Conan didn’t stop her.” Mr. Azakura’s laugh was soft, filled with the weight of the years.

Vladimir swallowed, then cleared his throat. “But… why do you keep bringing up Takashi?”

Mr. Azakura raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “Oh, did I forget to mention? Conan is Hyra’s life. You can’t tell her story without him. If you don’t want me to continue, I’ll stop.”

Vladimir shook his head. “No… keep going.”

Mr. Azakura’s smirk widened. “When Hyra decided to enter the dungeon again, she sent Conan away. Sent him to the Philippines, far from the path of destruction she’d chosen for herself. But they couldn’t truly separate. Hyra hacked into security feeds just to watch him from afar, sneaking photos whenever she took a jet to see him in secret. She thought he didn’t know, but Conan was well aware.”