CHAPTER 157: [HAVE TO WONDER]

"I just got off the phone with my parents."

The words came out fragile—barely above a whisper.

Caelen’s head lifted at the sound of Jabby’s voice. It was quieter than usual, trembling just enough to betray the fear hiding behind it.

She stood a few feet away, her phone still clutched in her hands like it was a lifeline.

The screen dimmed, but her thumb stayed frozen above it, her expression locked somewhere between hope and dread.

Her eyes weren’t on them. They were glued to the large monitor across the room, where the live feed played in a loop of static and flickering darkness.

The faint hum of the broadcast filled the air—uneven, distorted by interference—but the image was clear enough to see what mattered: the entrance of the dungeon, silent and motionless.

"Any news?" Jabby asked after a pause, her voice cracking halfway through.

Caelen had been sitting there since the broadcast began—silent, unmoving, elbows braced on his knees, eyes glued to the feed.

The glow of the screen washed over his face in dull shades of blue and white, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw and the cold stillness in his gaze.

When he finally spoke, his tone was blunt. Too blunt.

"Either they’re dead," he said, "or there’s one hell of a monster down there that just won’t die." He leaned forward slightly, squinting at the trembling camera feed. "Either way, they’re showing no signs of—"

A sharp elbow jabbed into his ribs.

Caelen’s brow furrowed, his head snapping toward Punzo with visible irritation. "You better have a good reason for doing that, Punzo."

Punzo didn’t respond immediately. He simply gave a subtle tilt of his chin toward Jabby, his bright pink eyes narrowing slightly as if to warn him—watch what you’re saying.

Caelen followed his gaze—and froze.

Jabby’s hands were trembling. Her grip on her phone was so tight that her knuckles had gone white. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Her shoulders looked tense, locked, like one wrong word would be enough to break her.

’What is he—oh.’

Right.

Mel.

Jabby’s twin brother. One of Kairo’s team members. One of the ones trapped inside that dungeon.

Caelen’s mouth closed immediately, the rest of his sentence dying in his throat.

Emotion wasn’t exactly his strong suit. He’d always considered it a nuisance—something that clouded logic, slowed judgment. He didn’t understand what it was like to worry for someone. Not really.

Kairo was his brother. His blood brother much to Caelen’s dismay.

Their father’s golden child.

And yet, worry wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of him.

If anything, there was a faint, shameful satisfaction in imagining Kairo struggling for once—seeing the prodigy falter, even bleed, for something he couldn’t control.

’The prodigy who’s never known failure. How poetic if the dungeon finally humbles him.’

Still... this wasn’t about Kairo.

This was about Mel.

Jabby and Mel were twins—loud, competitive, annoyingly affectionate in their own strange way.

Caelen had seen it before: how she’d light up every time his name came up, how they’d bicker like enemies only to defend each other a heartbeat later. Different guilds, different paths—but a bond that clearly never broke.

And now, that spark in her eyes—the one that always came up whenever Mel was mentioned—was gone.

’I’ll never understand that kind of closeness,’ Caelen thought, shifting uncomfortably. ’It’s almost disgusting... but I guess that’s just how people like her are.’

The silence that followed was thick and heavy. The only sound was the low hum of static from the monitor.

Caelen cleared his throat awkwardly. He wasn’t built for this—comforting people. Words of reassurance never came naturally to him, and even now, part of him itched to smirk, to make a snide remark to fill the emptiness.

But Punzo’s warning look stopped him.

So instead, he coughed lightly and gestured for Punzo to speak.

Punzo sighed but stepped forward, reading the tension in the room the way Caelen couldn’t—or wouldn’t.

"Hey," Punzo said softly, his tone steady but gentle. "You know your brother. If anyone can make it out of there alive, it’s him. Mel’s tough, remember?"

Jabby didn’t respond right away.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the screen, lips parting just slightly as if she wanted to say something—but couldn’t. The reflection of the flickering feed shimmered in her eyes like water.

"Trust me," Punzo said softly, his voice breaking the silence that had settled over them. "They’re probably just having a hard time, but they’ll make it out of this for sure."

Jabby nodded weakly, though the motion was barely there. Her eyes never left the screen—the flickering feed painting fractured shadows across her face.

Every few seconds, static cut through the image, distorting the shapes of figures moving in the darkness. The sound was faint, almost ghostlike.

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. She just stared.

Caelen shifted in his seat, the faint hum of the monitor buzzing beneath the quiet. He tilted his head slightly toward her, the light from the screen reflecting in his sharp orange eyes.

"He’s probably fine," he said after a moment. "Keep in mind, they have Eli with them. I’m sure those little gears in his head are already turning—trying to figure out how to get everyone out alive."

His tone was steady, confident, almost dismissive. But his expression didn’t match the words.

Leaning back in his chair, Caelen crossed his arms, eyes still fixed on the screen. The flicker of blue light washed over his face in pulses, faintly illuminating the edges of his dark hair.

His jaw was set, expression unreadable—but beneath that surface calm, something shifted. A subtle, unwanted feeling stirred in his chest.

Not quite concern.

Not quite guilt.

Something else.

’What the hell is this supposed to be?’ he thought with a faint frown. ’Pity? Annoyance? No... something’s off.’

He glanced at Jabby again.

Her reflection wavered in the glossy surface of the monitor—eyes wide, shoulders tight, her whole body screaming worry.

It made him feel... uncomfortable.

Then, a voice cut through the silence.

"You’ve got a lot of faith in Elione Noa Ahn, Caelen."

The sudden comment drew Caelen’s gaze sharply to the side. Arman stood behind Jabby, his arms loosely crossed, his orange eyes glowing faintly under the dim light.

His expression was unreadable—calm, almost casual—but something about his tone was heavier than usual.

Caelen narrowed his eyes. ’Something’s off with him.’

"Arman!" Punzo called out, turning to him in surprise. "Where have you been? You were just here, and then—poof—you disappeared. And now you’re back?"

Arman shrugged easily, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Just went to grab a snack. The live feed’s boring—nothing’s really happening."

He moved past Jabby, giving her shoulder a gentle pat before settling down beside Caelen. The action was casual—too casual.

Caelen’s gaze followed him closely, silent but sharp.

Arman stretched, leaning back in his seat like he hadn’t just slipped out unnoticed. "Relax," he muttered. "You’re all too tense. They’re fine."

Caelen didn’t answer. He just stared at him for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly. He could smell the lie. The hesitation between Arman’s words, the way his tone wavered for half a second—it was small, but Caelen caught it.

Caelen was a liar.

And a damn good one.

He knew how to spot the tells—the darting glance, the casual shrug that wasn’t casual at all. Arman was a terrible liar.

Still, Caelen didn’t press. Whatever Arman was hiding, it wasn’t what mattered right now.

Not to him, anyway.

"It’s rare for you to hold someone in such high regard," Arman said, breaking the silence again. He turned his head toward Caelen, arms crossed over his chest. "We were just teasing at first, but... did Elione really help you that much? Enough for you to put more faith in him than Twilight Guild’s best team?"

The question drew Punzo’s attention too. Even Jabby blinked, finally tearing her eyes away from the monitor to glance at Caelen.

Caelen met Arman’s gaze without hesitation. His expression didn’t change.

"Yes."

The single word landed heavy in the quiet room. No hesitation. No sarcasm. Just certainty.

"I’m willing to bet a whole lot of money," Caelen muttered, leaning back in his chair. The glow from the monitor painted faint streaks of blue and white across his sharp features.

He lifted one hand and pointed toward the desk beside him—toward a single file, slightly creased from being thumbed through too many times.

Eli’s photo sat clipped to the top corner, his face caught mid-smile, almost smug. The kind of picture that irritated Caelen for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.

"After all this is over," he continued, his voice steady but laced with something unreadable, "all the gratitude, all the credit—will go to this one rich B-Class hunter."

His tone wasn’t bitter, exactly. Just certain. Like he already knew how this would play out.

Punzo exhaled a small laugh, trying to ease the tension that still lingered in the room. "Damn. On our next raid, we should really team up with Eli then," he said, glancing toward Jabby with a teasing grin. "Not just you, Caelen."

The joke was light, but his voice carried just enough warmth to make Jabby blink out of her daze.

She hesitated for a moment, then gave a tiny nod, her lips twitching faintly upward. "Now I kind of feel bad for enjoying kidnapping him," she muttered under her breath.

They all heard it.

Punzo immediately snorted, covering his mouth with his hand as a laugh slipped out. Even Caelen’s lip twitched upward for half a second before he hid it behind a scoff.

For a fleeting moment, the heaviness in the air lifted—just a little.

But not for long.

Because while they were talking, Arman hadn’t said a single word.

He sat at the far end of the table, half-slouched in his chair, his orange eyes fixed on the live feed like he was trying to see something the others couldn’t. His posture was relaxed, too relaxed—but his gaze was sharp. Unmoving.

Caelen noticed. Of course he did.

He always did.

But he didn’t say anything. Not yet. Not when Jabby’s shoulders were finally starting to ease and Punzo was still trying to keep the room from sinking back into silence.

Instead, Caelen turned his focus back to the monitor. The feed flickered again, static cutting through for half a second before the image steadied.

The cavern came into view—dark, blurred shapes moving in the distance. It was impossible to make out details, but the faint glow of crimson light flashed across the screen every so often, like the reflection of fire underwater.

Caelen’s expression hardened. His fingers tapped absently against his armrest, the rhythm uneven.

’I do have to wonder...’

His gaze sharpened, eyes tracking the shadowy shapes that flickered across the feed.

’What the actual fuck is happening in there right now?’