The copy tore free from the canvas almost silently.

  It was perfect — the same face, the same eyes, the same cold expression, but empty inside.

  “Visually identical,” Dorian murmured.

  The double lunged forward. A hand sliced through the air, trying to reach his neck.

  Dorian didn’t move back — he merely tilted his head slightly, and the strike passed harmlessly by.

  His fingers lightly touched the copy’s chest.

  Click.

  No light, no explosion. Just a short, dry sound — like a taut string snapping.

  “Trash…” he muttered.

  A thin crack ran across the duplicate’s body. Then another. Then dozens. The skin crumbled into gray dust, organs turning into liquid paint, blending into a single mass.

  Dorian didn’t even glance down. His attention was fixed on Esther.

  She fully restored herself and suddenly rose from the floor. Torn outlines of her body rejoined; wounds vanished. Her hair lifted with her as she rose into the air.

  The ceiling didn’t stop her.

  She passed through the stone as if it were mist, vanishing into the darkness.

  Dorian exhaled irritably.

  “Running away again…”

  His body lost its form for a moment, dissolving into dark smoke.

  Suddenly, he was there again, materializing in the air right next to her.

  “Why delay the inevitable?” he asked confidently. “Do you really think you have even the slightest chance?”

  The detective looked up… and, for the first time in ages, fell silent.

  Above them, there was no sky.

  A canvas hung there.

  Huge, boundless. Its edges vanished over the horizon, as if the entire world had been draped in fabric. The surface slowly moved — light strokes appearing as if an invisible hand were guiding the brush.

  Paint dripped down, leaving shimmering trails in the air.

  Esther hovered before him.

  “I’ll kill you! I don’t care if it destroys the world!”

  A circle began to form on the canvas.

  First a shadow, then a silver arc, and finally the full disc.

  The Moon?.. Too close.

  Craters could be distinguished on its surface.

  “You… seriously?” he asked quietly.

  “Let’s dance a deadly dance!”

  Esther lunged forward, arms outstretched. Dorian responded instantly with his cane, slicing the air.

  He missed.

  Just before the strike, she dove into the canvas she had created.

  Around Dorian, five more canvases appeared.

  Where will she come out from?

  The ghost appeared behind him. Dorian reacted instantly, tossing his hat.

  She vanished once more, appearing at his side.

  The spirit dodged every strike.

  She’s stalling for time.

  Over and over, Esther approached and disappeared, striking and dissolving into the fabric. Her speed increased, and soon her blows began to graze him.

  Faster… faster! she thought.

  Dorian felt trapped and shot upward.

  Ester immediately followed him, moving with her signature combat style.

  The bulk of her power is focused on that massive work of art… what can I do?

  ***

  Lynette watched the sky with the others. The multicolored lines colliding in the air sent shivers down her spine. The canvas that blocked the heavens brought darkness.

  “Are we to just stand by and watch?” she asked, gripping her bag tightly.

  “What choice do we have?” answered gardener Arden, dressed in work clothes.

  Had Dorian sent me here just to watch?..

  “I have everything necessary…” she whispered.

  Cliff stood beside her.

  “Do you know what’s worst in the world?”

  “Is this relevant to the matter?”

  “Just give me the answer.”

  “Death?” Lynette replied.

  “No.”

  The baron placed a hand on her back.

  “Then what?”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Remorse.”

  He pushed her forward.

  “Do what you must… it’s your duty.”

  What should I do?..

  She looked again at the bodies colliding in midair, leaving trails behind them... They reflected in her eyes.

  Of course… I’m the assistant. I have to help!

  “Y-yes!” she exclaimed nervously.

  Decision made, she braced herself to move. Her legs trembled and barely obeyed.

  Move. Now is neither the time nor the place to be afraid!

  Lynette hit her legs with her fists.

  It worked!

  At first slowly, then faster, she ran toward the mansion.

  Just hang on!

  ***

  Esther continued to appear and vanish, avoiding harm.

  I destroy one canvas — another appears… It’s getting harder to react.

  He barely caught sight of her, yet managed to strike, pushing Esther back.

  The ghost sustained little damage.

  I could destroy her, but it’s not part of the plan…

  “Just look at this!” she shouted.

  The air began to pull downward, as if something enormous already existed above them.

  The bright blue moon on the canvas was complete, and slowly it bled into reality.

  “So… a planet,” he said calmly. “Even if your power doesn’t affect your own object, it will be destroyed as well. Do you understand?”

  “Yes!” she answered immediately. “Everything must perish!”

  “And Cliff?”

  Esther paused.

  “He too…”

  A tense silence stretched between them.

  Perfect.

  “Ahahaha…” Dorian suddenly laughed, loudly, almost hysterically.

  Tears streamed down his face.

  Has he gone mad? she thought.

  “Ahahah…” the laughter continued.

  She accelerated, moving from one canvas to another, aiming for his back.

  “Gaze of…” he whispered.

  Just before striking, her mind focused on one thing:

  Death… my death…

  “Horror,” Dorian added coldly.

  Her entire body froze in an attacking stance.

  What’s happening?! she thought.

  Dorian turned calmly toward her.

  His eyes went completely black. Then, in chaotic patterns, long vertical red pupils appeared, seemingly staring straight into her soul.

  “This is my ability. Relax. The moment I decide to harm you, the effect will disappear.”

  He smiled.

  “Why do you think I didn’t kill you immediately?”

  What does he mean?.. she thought.

  “II had a goal.”

  Stop… my item! she realized.

  Fear twisted Esther’s face.

  “Whoa. Felt that?”

  “Let go!” she hissed.

  “Of course,” he said cheerfully. “I also enjoy watching futile struggles.”

  His eyes returned to normal. She was able to move and immediately stepped back.

  Will he just let me go?.. Trying to kill him?.. Not an option… What if he goes after me? — the spirit wondered.

  “Go,” Dorian said coldly. “Hurry.”

  She immediately dove into the canvas.

  “Phew…” the detective exhaled.

  His gaze fell on the moon, which had now begun to burn.

  She’ll manage… yeah?

  ***

  Five minutes earlier.

  Lynette panted as she climbed the third floor.

  What happened here?

  The corridor was covered in blood and strange paints. Walls shattered, cold night wind blowing through broken windows.

  Is this the place where the beam struck?

  A narrow hole ran through the floor downward.

  Further in, she entered the previously sealed right wing. The acrid smell had mostly dissipated, leaving heavy notes of blood. The floor was littered with objects — torn paintings, golden cups.

  “How do I find her item?” she murmured.

  The air in the room was still. Not musty — rather dead, like a place abandoned for decades. Dust lay in a smooth layer, like snow, with no footprints except her own.

  In the far corner, something darkened near the wall. The shadow seemed too substantial for an empty room.

  “What’s that… a pile of old clothes?”

  Hard to make out…

  She stepped forward and ran into something. Squinting, she saw a shoe—old, leather, cracked.

  Looking up, Linette was rooted to the spot.

  T-this… this is a corpse!

  The remains lay on their side, back against the wall, as if the person had tried to sit or stand until the very end. Head tilted back, touching the plaster. A darker outline remained on the wall — dust having avoided where skin and hair had once been.

  The face was almost gone.

  Skull, partially covered with thin, darkened skin, frozen in a twisted expression. Lips dried and pulled back, revealing yellowed teeth. Eye sockets were empty, deep, dark.

  Arms rested near the torso. Sleeves still held shape, but inside there was no flesh — only bones visible through fabric. The hand seemed unnaturally light, as if floating inside the sleeve.

  Lynette inhaled unconsciously.

  At that moment, the head slowly tilted to the side.

  No movement — just dried ligaments giving way. The decades-old skull toppled silently, empty sockets fixed on her.

  On the corpse’s chest lay an object, covered with a thick layer of dust.

  “No way…” Lynette whispered.

  She approached cautiously, hands trembling.

  Touching it lightly, she lifted the object, keeping her gaze on the remains. Part of the dust fell to the floor.

  Tiptoeing backward, she wiped the rectangular object clean.

  “Ah-choo!” she sneezed, coughing in the dry air.

  It was a painting. Nearly perfect, as if it had just been painted—yet only in shades of red, like blood.

  Dorian was right… it was her work.

  Lynette sharply lowered her bag, opened the black flap, and slipped her hand inside.

  “Where is it… ah.”

  Her fingers found something cold and heavy. Hammer: double-sided — one edge sharp and narrow, the other thick and sturdy. She carefully checked the edges.

  Immediately, she plunged her hand back into the bag, searching for the medallion.

  Faster! Where is it?!

  Her fingers finally grazed the cold metal. At first she couldn’t grasp it.

  “Got it!” she cried, finally holding it tightly.

  Linette pulled the medallion free and placed it next to the painting.

  The portrait of the elegant man, oddly resembling Cliff, lay on the floor, with the silver, oval medallion nearby, its delicate tree pattern glinting faintly even through dust.

  Lynette paused, staring at the portrait.

  “Do I just… hit it?” she whispered, raising the hammer.

  Aligning the hammer’s sharp side, she began her motion. It was her first time. Her hand moved slowly, but in reality, it was swift toward the painting.

  Linette glanced again at the corpse before her.

  Esther…

  Suddenly, behind the remains, a clean canvas appeared. From it, with a scream:

  “NO!!!” Esther burst out. The remains she passed through collapsed to the floor in scattered fragments.

  Lynette couldn’t stop the motion — her hand seemed to live its own life, determined to destroy everything.

  The ghost moved closer and reached out, aiming to crush her head. But the moment his hand touched her, it turned into a cloud of iridescent paint.

  The colors swirled wildly, shifting through every imaginable shade.

  “What… just happened?” Lynette muttered, turning slightly.

  “Damn it!” the spirit yelled, recoiling from the excruciating pain.

  The hammer pierced the canvas. Realizing this, Lynette pulled it further, damaging the portrait even more.

  “ENOUGH!!!” Esther’s shout echoed, reaching people outside.

  Lynette froze, staring at the entity before her.

  “One strike was enough…” said the spirit, dissolving into a swirl of colors. “Don’t… torture… me…”

  Lynette, sweating, gripped the hammer, retreating. Her body burned.

  A small sphere, the size of a blueberry, emerged from the canvas. It shimmered in all shades of emerald, like a living gem absorbing the light.

  For a few seconds, it hovered in the air, then shot straight into the medallion, as if finding its home.

  “Leave me…” the girl whispered in white.

  There was the same humility in its eyes Lynette had once seen in Sophie.

  Linette carefully packed everything into her bag and quietly walked away with it.

  You won’t hurt anyone else…

  Alone, the ghost exhaled.

  “Ah… I lost…”

  So… pitiful…

  Tears ran down her face.

  “Did I… really want this?.. Never… But what’s inside… won’t let me… stop…”

  Her legs disappeared, and her body dropped sharply.

  “Damn it…”

  She clawed her way forward with one arm, dragging her dying body inch by inch, until her trembling fingers finally grazed the canvas.

  Raising her head, darkness stretched before her.

  “Huh?.. My vision…” she muttered.

  The ghost ran its hand over the torn portrait.

  “I vaguely… remember you… your face… like in a fog…”

  Her arm slowly vanished, and her strength to speak left her.

  Why did I get close to him?.. Juliana…

  The face that once gave her light—the image of her kind and righteous mistress—stood before her, lighting her way.

  Right… you asked me… to take care of them…

  The phantom image of her mistress reached out a hand to her.

  Do you want… me to… finally rest?.

  The woman’s palm drew closer and closer.

  No… I’ve killed so many… their pain… their hatred… I carry it all…

  The light vanished—she returned to the familiar darkness. Her thoughts began to fragment, and her body started dissolving from the bottom up.

  I truly… love you… all…

  She let fall her final tear, unable even to move, and vanished along with the portrait of her beloved.

  Forgive… me…