Chapter 30: Epilogue: Everything has a price

"Next stop, Haverleigh Park."

The bus’s automated voice announced its approach to Vrenford’s most prestigious residential district.

Outside the window, Ryan watched one large villa after another slide past, each surrounded by immaculate gardens.

The pain in his chest showed no sign of letting up.

He would go home just long enough to drop off his rugby bag, then call a cab and have it take him to the hospital.

He pressed a hand to his ribs and angrily clenched the fabric of his jersey.

Damn you, von Rosen... You picked a fight with the wrong person. You’re going to pay for this. I promise you.

The stop where Ryan got off was only a few minutes’ walk from his house.

And yet, that short route he walked every day to catch the bus to Miskatonic felt endless this time.

With every step, pain shot through his chest and set his ribs throbbing all over again.

It was only late afternoon, but with winter just around the corner, darkness had already swallowed Vrenford.

Above the rooftops of the villas, the moon hung high in a clear black sky completely devoid of clouds.

That fucking bastard has no idea what kind of trouble he just got himself into— what the fuck?

Ryan spun around.

The street was completely deserted.

No cars passed by. No voices. Not even a dog barked.

And yet, for a moment, he could have sworn he had heard the faint sound of footsteps behind him.

He stood perfectly still, staring at the empty sidewalk.

Nothing.

Just the road disappearing into the darkness beneath the cold glow of the streetlights.

After a few seconds, he started dragging himself toward home again, the rugby bag on his shoulders somehow feeling heavier than ever.

Ryan flinched when a sudden sound shattered the silence of the street.

It was only his phone.

He glanced down at the screen and grimaced the moment he saw who was calling.

Shit...

He didn’t even need to answer to know why.

"Hey, Mom. What is it?"

"No, you tell me what the fuck you did at school today! The principal just called me and said you got into a fight with another boy!"

His mother’s voice was so loud that Ryan instinctively pulled the phone away from his ear.

"How is it possible that at eighteen years old you’re still throwing punches around like some little kid?!"

"Stop acting like it’s a fucking national emergency. Nothing happened."

With his mother still yelling in his ear, Ryan left the main road and turned onto the side street where his family’s large villa stood at the far end.

"Nothing happened, you say? Maybe not to you! Do you have any idea what it’s like for me and your father to live with the constant fear that someone’s going to call because you’ve gotten yourself into some other mess?!"

God, what a fucking pain in the ass this woman is...

Ryan huffed and let his arm drop to his side, holding the phone away from his ear.

His mother’s shouting still reached him perfectly clearly.

...What the fuck?

It was only when he stopped paying attention to his mother’s tirade that Ryan realized just how thick the fog around him had become.

He looked around in confusion.

He couldn’t even remember when it had started swallowing the street.

Distracted by the phone call and the pain in his chest, he simply hadn’t noticed.

Now, though, it was impossible to ignore.

The white blanket stretched all around him, so thick that it nearly concealed the villas lining the road.

Even the light of the moon and the streetlamps vanished into the haze, reduced to pale, indistinct halos.

Ryan kept staggering forward, aching and increasingly disoriented.

Gates, trees, front entrances — every landmark disappeared after only a few yards.

Before long, he wasn’t even sure whether he was still heading home or had started walking in circles.

His heart hammered inside his aching chest, almost drowning out even the shouting still coming from his phone.

Then, suddenly, the fog began to thin.

Within moments, it had almost completely vanished, as though swept away by the wind.

Ryan looked around and realized he was only a few steps from the large gate of his family’s villa.

"Are you even listening to me?! Why aren’t you answering?!"

Ryan let out a long breath and brought the phone back to his ear.

"I can hear you, Mom! You don’t have to yell so loud! At this rate, I’ll hear you straight from the house!"

As he spoke, he slid the key into the lock of the smaller gate and turned it.

Ahead of him, a long paved driveway cut through the garden toward the villa.

"Don’t think this is over! I swear, the second you get home—"

The call cut off abruptly, severing his mother’s voice mid-sentence.

Ryan lowered the phone and frowned.

As tempted as he had been several times to hang up, he hadn’t ended the call.

"Fuck you."

After making his way up the driveway, he finally reached the front door.

He threw it open, already bracing himself for yet another family argument.

Crack!

The phone slipped from his fingers and smashed against the floor.

The sharp sound echoed through the deathly silence engulfing the house.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck...!"

Ryan froze on the threshold.

Three bodies lay motionless on the floor in the middle of a scarlet pool that continued to spread slowly across the tiles.

A man.

A woman with a phone still clutched in her hand.

And a child with a toy car held between blood-smeared fingers.

His mind refused to recognize them.

But eventually, he could no longer deny what was right in front of him.

"M-Mom... Dad... Micky..."

Ryan went pale.

"FUCK, NO! FUCK!"

He wanted to run to them. Call for help. Scream until his throat tore apart.

He couldn’t do any of it.

His body remained frozen in the doorway, rigid, while his legs began to tremble and his breath came in short, strangled bursts.

Tears flooded his eyes almost instantly.

They streamed down his cheeks as his mouth twisted into a desperate, helpless snarl.

At first, the shock had kept him from noticing that someone else was in the living room.

Ryan only saw him when he finally managed to tear his eyes away from the bodies.

Sitting in an armchair with one leg crossed over the other was a boy with hair as black as night.

Lars.

He watched Ryan in silence, wearing his usual cold, unreadable expression.

"L-Lars..."

The grief on Ryan’s face twisted into rage.

"You fucking bastard... W-WHY DID YOU DO IT?! WHY?!"

His voice broke between sobs.

"T-They had nothing to fucking do with what happened between us! They didn’t—"

A violent coughing fit cut him off.

Ryan doubled over. His stomach suddenly clenched, and he vomited onto the floor.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, gasping for breath, before finally managing to look back up at Lars.

"M-My little brother... He was only five years old, fuck!"

Lars slowly rose from the armchair.

"Everything has a price, Ryan Foster. This is the price of your insolence."

Ryan stared at him as he approached, unable to move, still petrified by shock.

"But do not despair over their passing."

Lars stopped in front of him.

"In a few moments, you will be reunited with them."

He reached out and closed his fingers around Ryan’s throat.

Ryan reacted on instinct.

Kicks. Punches. Even headbutts.

Nothing so much as made Lars budge.

Ryan struggled with less and less strength, gasping for air as the grip crushed his throat. His face began turning blue, and his blows rapidly lost their force.

"W-What... what the fuck are you?"

A faint grin appeared on Lars’s face.

"Farewell, Ryan Foster."

End of Volume 1