Hero? More like a villain-Chapter 51 - 48: Where is she?

Lina Zchazi, 22, stood at 5’3". Her fair skin contrasted sharply with her flaming red hair and piercing yellow eyes. With a slim face and a model’s physique, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew too much. A Filipina by birth, Lina was known for her intelligence and cunning, owning a vast network of information circles that spanned the globe.

Jack Badson, the Saints Organization’s former supervisor and a world-renowned scientist, sat quietly. At 43, his brown skin and short gray hair framed a face that bore the weight of middle age. A strand of hair hung over his forehead, a remnant of his once-youthful style. A retired Russian scientist, Jack had spent his career studying ability users, finding ways to create and enhance them.

Tael-Joonsin, just 8 years old, perched on a chair far too big for him. At 100 cm tall, with dark purple hair and matching eyes, he looked like an ordinary, cheerful boy. But his jolly face masked a deadly attitude. A Korean and a former human experiment,

Ryui Jinsu, the 27-year-old Chairman of the Saints Organization, adjusted his expensive glasses, his dark brown eyes sharp and calculating. His dark skin and neatly styled hair gave him a polished, professional look. As the head of cooperative disaster management and the primary moneymaker, Ryui was both the brains and the backbone of the Saints.

Isakawa, President of the Third Division of the Saints Organization and the youngest son of the powerful Subaru family.

Dulac took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the room, noting each figure’s significance.

’Isakawa’s fake job as an inspector in the Heroes Organization hides his true identity as the SSS-class hero, the Unranked. But his real position... President of the Third Division of the Saints Organization,’ Qoas thought nervously.

’It’s obvious the young lad’s scared. All the big bosses of our organization are gathered in one place,’ Dulac mused, nodding to himself.

"Now, can we start the meeting?" Isakawa asked with a smile.

"Yes, sir!" they answered in unison, their voices echoing through the room.

_______

"Eh!! What... happened?" Iris gasped, her eyes fluttering open. A sharp pain pulsed in her temples, forcing her to lie back against the cold, soft surface beneath her. She groaned, her head pounding like a drum, and tried to make sense of her surroundings.

The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, adorned with beautiful carvings. She slowly sat up, her body protesting every movement, and her heart skipped a beat. Her legs were shackled—thick, black metal cuffs digging into her skin and were cold. Panic surged through her chest.

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the luxurious décor: velvet curtains, gilded furniture, and a crystal chandelier that casted its reflection on the polished marble floor. But there were no windows. No doors she could see. It felt less like a room and more like... a gilded cage.

"Huh?!" Her voice cracked. "Why am I chained up?!"

Her mind raced back to the festival. The colorful lights, the music, the laughter—then, the attack. The explosion. The screams. Her breath hitched.

"Mum! Dad!" Iris screamed, her voice echoing off the high walls. "Are they okay?! What happened at the festival?" She clutched her chest, tears welling in her eyes. "Please... please let them be okay."

She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she called out, "Death? Alka? Kaguya? Are you there?" The silence pressed in around her like a suffocating blanket. No response. No familiar voices to comfort her.

Her tears spilled freely now. ’I don’t know why I’m here...’

Hours dragged by, the oppressive quiet broken only by the sound of her muffled sobs. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, the heavy door creaked open, its hinges groaning.

Iris’s heart leapt into her throat. She wiped her eyes, forcing herself to sit up straighter. Footsteps echoed, growing louder until a shadow loomed in the doorway.

"Hey, kid. Get up!" a gruff voice barked.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into the room, his face obscured by the dim light. He banged a fist against the metal door, the sound reverberating through the walls.

Iris didn’t move. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, defiance burning in her chest. "Who are you? And why should I listen to you?" Her voice wavered slightly, but the glare she shot him was as sharp as a blade.

The man’s face twisted in anger. "You little brat!" he snarled, storming toward her. Before she could react, his rough hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back.

"If you don’t do as you’re told," he hissed, "you’ll meet an early death in this place."

He released her with a shove, expecting her to crumble. But Iris stared back at him, her blue eyes staring at him coldly. The man faltered, taking an unconscious step back, unnerved by her gaze.

But then, as quickly as her defiance had surged, it crumbled. Iris’s bottom lip quivered, and fresh tears welled in her eyes. The weight of fear, confusion, and exhaustion crashed over her like a tidal wave. She sobbed, her small body shaking with each breath.

The man sneered, unaffected by her tears. Without a word, he knelt down and unlocked the chains attached to the walls that were connected to her ankles and held it in his hand, the metal clinking against the floor as he dragged it.

"Get moving," he muttered, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her toward the door. Iris stumbled after him, her mind racing with questions and fear.

’Where am I? Why am I here? And where is Mummy and Daddy...?’

’I don’t understand why this new kid is getting such a good room,’ the man thought bitterly, his grip tightening on the chains as he yanked Iris forward. His boots echoed against the cold, stone floor as they moved down the dimly lit hallway, the walls lined with flickering lanterns.

Iris, desperate to learn anything about her surroundings, didn’t resist. She let herself be dragged, the cold metal cuffs biting into her wrists and ankles. Her heart pounded with every step, but she kept her eyes open, scanning everything, searching for a clue—’any’ clue—that might tell her where she was.

As they turned a corner, Iris noticed a strange door ahead. It was massive, towering over her, its black surface scarred with scratches and rusted hinges. It looked ancient. The door was slightly ajar, just enough to see inside.

Curiosity and dread wrestled in her chest as she slowed her steps, tilting her head to peek through the crack.

Her breath hitched.

She froze, her legs refusing to move, as the gruesome scene burned itself into her mind.

The room beyond was filled with the mutilated bodies of children—limbs severed, skin peeled back in grotesque layers. Some lay in pools of their own blood, their faces twisted in agony, mouths frozen in silent screams. The stench of death was suffocating, even from the hallway. It clung to the air, thick and rancid.

Iris’s entire body began to tremble. Her stomach churned violently.

’Is this... what they’re going to do to me?’ The thought sliced through her like a knife. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the horrific sight. ’How could anyone be this cruel?’