"So I have a question," Alex said after a long stretch of silence. "Why did you kill yourself?"
They were walking side by side, heading toward where Adam had gone.
Kahdijah slowed, then stopped completely.
"Kill myself?" she repeated. "Why would I do that?"
She looked genuinely confused.
"I endured for years," she continued. "I counted the days. I told myself I just had to last a little longer and I’d be free of her. Why would I give her the satisfaction of seeing me break?"
Alex frowned. "Then why did your stepfather say you committed suicide?"
She stared at him, then shook her head slowly. "If it was him, that would have been easier. At least that would make sense."
Alex’s chest tightened. "Then... don’t tell me."
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "He wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger."
Alex stopped walking.
"...Your mother."
Kahdijah nodded once.
Silence stretched between them.
"Whatever you do," Alex said quietly, "don’t let Adam find out. If he does, he’ll kill her."
Kahdijah didn’t respond. She just looked ahead, expression unreadable.
A message flashed across Alex’s vision.
[I’m afraid he already knows.]
Alex froze mid-step. "What do you mean he already knows?"
[He knew the moment he saw her.]
Alex swallowed.
[He recognized her immediately. He believes he failed her. He believes his distance, his anger, his absence pushed her into it.]
Alex clenched his fists.
[He left because he couldn’t face her yet. He was coming back to talk. Then he heard you.]
Alex’s voice dropped. "He’s not going back as Nonexistence."
[Correct.]
Alex felt his stomach sink.
[He is going back as Adam.]
Kahdijah stiffened at the same time.
She received the message too.
"Wait," she said. "What is this I’m hearing about Adam being a street king?"
She turned to Alex. "And why does it sound worse than him going as... whatever he is now?"
Alex didn’t answer right away.
He exhaled slowly. "Because if he goes as what he is now, your mother will die quickly."
Kahdijah raised a brow.
"But if he goes as who he was," Alex continued, "then she won’t die."
She tilted her head. "That doesn’t sound worse."
Alex looked at her. "She’ll beg for it. And she won’t get it."
For a second, Kahdijah just stared at him.
Then she laughed.
Not a small laugh. Not a bitter one.
A real one.
She laughed so hard she had to bend forward, one hand on her stomach.
Alex blinked, then let out a breath and laughed too, shaking his head.
"Wow," Kahdijah said between laughs. "What did he do back then? Don’t tell me he did something stupid and your dad had to chase him out."
Alex stopped laughing.
"No," he said.
She noticed immediately. "Then what?"
"He was killed."
Her laughter died instantly.
"That’s why Adam became that," Alex continued. "That’s when he snapped. You’ll get the full story later."
Kahdijah straightened. "So he didn’t become a monster for fun."
"No," Alex said. "He became one because the world took everything from him."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then, softly, "He always did that. Took pain and turned it into something sharp."
Alex nodded. "That’s why this is bad."
She crossed her arms. "And you think he’ll listen to reason now."
Alex didn’t answer.
She sighed. "Figures."
She looked ahead. "You know, if he kills her, I won’t stop him."
Alex glanced at her.
"But," she added, "if he becomes that person again... I might."
"That’s the problem," Alex said. "He’s not going for justice. He’s going for closure."
Kahdijah’s lips curved slightly. "Closure is messy."
Alex sent a silent message.
Rebecca, stop him if you can.
He turned back to Kahdijah. "We have to move."
She nodded. "Then let’s go. Before he reminds Earth why people were afraid of his name."
They stepped forward together, knowing they were already too late.
Earth
18 years after the nuke that wiped out the Red Bandits and Lionhead’s crew.
Today marked the marriage anniversary of Abdul and Zainab.
Across the country, it was being treated like a national event. Cameras. Convoys. Foreign guests. Powerful people flying in from places most Nigerians only saw on television. What started years ago as a quiet union had turned into a symbol of power.
Over the years, Haddy’s stepfather had climbed fast. Too fast.
One day, he was on the news as the winner of a tight election. Governor of Lagos. Then another position. Then another. Deals nobody could trace. Enemies that vanished. Allies that grew rich overnight.
Now he was the president.
People didn’t know how it happened. They just accepted that it did.
And today, the world came to celebrate him.
No one noticed the moment something entered the upper hemisphere of the planet.
No alarms went off. No satellites screamed. No systems failed.
A presence simply returned.
Adam stood still, letting the air fill his lungs.
He took it in slowly.
The smell of heat. Smoke. Oil. Salt. Rot. Life.
"Still smells the same," he muttered.
"Polluted. Loud. Stubborn."
He looked down at his hands, then up again.
"I’m back in this hellhole called Earth."
His eyes unfocused.
The world unfolded to him all at once.
Cities. Borders. Oceans. Deserts. Wars paused mid-shot. Prayers whispered in rooms. Children crying. Men laughing. Women lying. Governments pretending.
Then his focus narrowed.
Nigeria.
Lagos.
His jaw tightened.
The city looked bigger. Meaner. Richer on the surface. Hungrier underneath.
He searched for ghosts.
Most of the Red Bandits were gone. Burned. Buried. Forgotten.
But not all of them.
"There you are," Adam said quietly.
Tayo.
Alive.
Older. Sharper. Wearing suits now instead of hoodies. No longer hiding in alleys but sitting in rooms with flags and guards and contracts.
The Red Bandits hadn’t died.
They had evolved.
Street-level muscle had turned into a crime syndicate. Ports. Drugs. Weapons. Data. Influence. Fingers inside banks and ministries. Deals that crossed borders like they didn’t exist.
Adam’s lips curled.
"What a joke."
Then he saw the rest.
Tayo wasn’t fighting the government.
He was working with it.
Adam’s expression finally changed.
"That’s new," he said. "And disappointing."
Memories stirred.
Late nights. Blood on concrete. Laughter after fights. Loyalty sealed with pain.
He remembered the boy Tayo used to be. Fast. Smart. Angry at the world.
"You survived," Adam said softly. "And you sold yourself."
His gaze shifted again.
The anniversary.
The mansion.
The guests.
The president smiling for cameras, arm around his wife.
Abdul.
Zainab.
Adam’s eyes darkened.
"So this is where you ended up," he said. "From that house... to this throne."
He remembered Haddy’s voice. Her laughter before it broke. The way she used to sit quietly when things got bad. The way she never asked for help even when she needed it.
He remembered the lie.
Suicide.
His fingers twitched.
Adam looked away from the mansion and back to Tayo.
"Yeah," he said. "You first."
The world didn’t feel him move.
But he was already gone.
And somewhere in Lagos, a man who thought he had buried his past was about to learn that some ghosts don’t stay dead.