"Stop acting and get back on your feet, or I'll crush them," Sonia threatened, her voice cold as she approached the boy lying on the ground. She lifted her foot slightly, ready to stomp on his legs to prove her point.
Ace flinched, his body trembling as he tried to muster the courage to move, but seeing the seriousness in her eyes, he froze.
"Alright, that's enough," EAD Matthews finally intervened showing concern for the mortal, stepping forward and grabbing Sonia's wrist mid-motion. Her grip was firm but calm as she stopped the impending stomp. "Lesson number one: we don't hurt innocents. Got it?" Her voice carried an unmistakable authority.
Sonia narrowed her eyes at the agent, glancing down at the hand gripping her wrist. "He's not innocent," she retorted flatly, her tone unwavering. "He's dangerous." She twisted her wrist slightly, trying to free from Matthews' grip, but the agent's hold was ironclad.
"What do you mean?" Matthews asked, furrowing her brow as her gaze shifted to the boy still sprawled on the ground. His face was a mess of tears and snot, trembling as if he couldn't pose a threat to a fly. Matthews activated her best curse-sensing art, focusing on him. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't detect any curse energy emanating from him. She frowned in confusion. "He feels ordinary to me."
"He's been to the Weasly Winery," Sonia stated, her sharp eyes narrowing as she pointed at the mud caked on the boy's shoes. "And the mountain range behind it. Today."
Ace's heart skipped a beat. How does she know? His mind raced, panic clawing at him, but he kept his face carefully composed, thanks to the Apex earring's passive effect. Though his tears and snot added to his act of helplessness, his mind was a storm of alarm.
Matthews glanced at the shoes, her expression still skeptical. "Are you sure?" she asked, her gaze flicking between Sonia and Ace. She couldn't reconcile the terrified, wailing boy before her with someone who could cause Sonia, a curse slave, to feel threatened.
"Give me a second alone with him," Sonia said, her voice low and steady, her gaze piercing as she stared at Ace. "I'll prove it to you."
The weight of her words hung in the air as Matthews hesitated. Meanwhile, Sonia's senses remained sharp, her instincts screaming at her that this boy wasn't as harmless as he appeared. Traveling both worlds with her father, she had encountered countless monsters, but none had unsettled Scratchifer like Ace—especially after sensing the mud on his shoes.
"Young man, get up and clean yourself," EAD Matthews commanded the mortal with a firm tone firm tinged with exasperation unable to continue watching Ace crumpled on the ground, covered in tears and snot, was more than she could bear. She turned to Sonia and asked again for confirmation, "Are you sure? Could it be a dormant curse or something?"
Ace scrambled to his feet, fumbling as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He quickly wiped his face, cleaning away the mess with hurried, purposefully clumsy movements. His hands trembled slightly as he worked, and his wide, teary eyes darted nervously toward the agent, as though silently pleading for mercy. Every action screamed obedience, an effort to convince her he was no threat.
Sonia nodded, her gaze still fixed on Ace. "Yes, it's possible," she admitted, her brow furrowed in thought. She couldn't shake the feeling of danger Ace exuded, but as she considered it further, she realized it might not be him she was sensing—it could be a dormant curse. After all, dormant curses were infamous for their ability to linger, waiting to strike, and capable of spreading. The more powerful the curse, the greater its influence on its surroundings. Her voice softened slightly as she added, "I've known Astrid to use dormant curses for assassination."
The shift in her tone was subtle but noticeable. Sonia's initial hostility was replaced by pity as her mind began to piece things together. If Ace was carrying a dormant curse, his fate was already sealed. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy—no one deserved the kind of gruesome death that awaited him.
"Can you call her and ask her to undo it? Or at least get the name of the curse?" Matthews asked, her voice steady but laced with urgency. She understood the risk of tampering with a curse without knowing its nature, especially one that might be as insidious as this. Removing it improperly could easily kill the boy.
She made a mental note to alert her team stationed at the Weasly Winery to be on high alert for dormant curses. Especially, Crimson Eyes as they McSuile were famously known for being capable of detecting them. The realization that Astrid might be employing such tactics made her reassess just how dangerous the woman was. Matthews couldn't afford to underestimate her again—not when her subordinate's lives were at stake.
As her thoughts raced, she couldn't help but consider the bigger picture. Her plan to secure an international informant was already proving more troublesome than she had anticipated, but she remained resolute. The potential intelligence could be invaluable for her country, even if the road to securing it was fraught with complications.
Hearing them mistake him for someone cursed with a dormant curse, Ace couldn't tell if it was a blessing in disguise or another nail in his coffin. The situation had long spiraled out of his control, and there wasn't much he could do now but go with the flow, carefully navigating the dangerous waters and watching out for the hidden boulders.
His eyes darted toward Mrs. Martin. Despite her outward indifference, he had noticed subtle cracks in her façade. It was an act, he was certain of it.
She looked just like an older version of Ava—mature, composed, and strikingly similar in features. The only difference was her hair: blonde, unlike Ava's vibrant red. Yet their most telling feature was the same—their eyes. Those eyes seemed indifferent at first glance, cold even, but they betrayed something deeper. They always looked just slightly wet, not in a way that suggested tears but as if they were under constant, immense restraint. She seemed reluctant to harm an innocent unnecessarily, and Ace found himself clinging to that sliver of hope, betting everything on it.
"No, asking her will only speed up his death," Sonia said flatly, folding her arms. She knew Astrid too well. If Sonia dared to inquire about the dormant curse, Astrid wouldn't hesitate to kill the boy outright rather than risk revealing her curse arts. Astrid's loyalty to Sonia and her father was unquestionable, but when it came to survival, she trusted no one but herself. That was the golden rule in the cutthroat 'World of Curses.'
"Fuck!" Matthews cursed under her breath, breaking her composed demeanor. She was so frustrated that she momentarily forgot her status. The situation had grown far more complicated. She couldn't simply dispose of the boy without first dealing with the dormant curse, not with the risks involved. If the curse was powerful, it could influence those around it, slowly spreading to his family or anyone who spent enough time near him.
Altering his memory and sending him home was no longer a viable option. If the curse claimed him, his anguish and the dormant curse combined could give birth to a curseling. He was essentially a walking time bomb. Matthews sighed deeply, rubbing her temples in irritation.
But what truly annoyed her wasn't the boy or even the cursed situation—it was the logistics. Removing a dormant curse could take days, maybe even weeks. And during that time, how was she supposed to deal with his parents? The thought of having to explain any of this made her head throb.
Seeing the struggle on Mrs. Martin's face, Ace began to calm down, realizing she likely wouldn't use the memory-altering drug on him.
The memory-altering drug used by the C.I.B. wasn't from the World of Curses but the mortal one. It was essentially a chemical compound—not addictive but still dangerous in its own way. Depending on the dose, it could wipe away a few hours or even days of memory. Though it wasn't physically harmful, with the way C.I.B. used it after was enough to ruin someone's life.
If Mrs. Martin followed standard C.I.B. protocol, she would use the drug on him, then dump him at a hospital by the police involved. His parents would be called in, and they'd be told the cops found him unconscious on the street. Conveniently, the "tests" would show that he was experimenting with some new street drug.
Even if Ace ever managed to recall fragments of the truth in the future, no one would believe him. The C.I.B.'s strategy was flawless: paint him as a drug addict, severing trust with everyone who cared about him. It was a cruel, calculated move that could shatter someone's life as effectively as a curse.
Ace swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly at the thought. But Mrs. Martin's hesitation was clear. Her eyes were locked on him, flickering with conflict, her lips pressed in a tight line. She wasn't indifferent—far from it. And for now, that was his only hope. But he doubted she would let him off the hook with just a warning.
Still, Ace was grateful that Emi's curse concealment art was working flawlessly. Against all odds, he had managed to evade detection by two high-level curse masters.
He wasn't entirely sure how Sonia had sensed that his fear was merely an act—it had unnerved him for a moment. Yet, in the end, they seemed to have fooled themselves.
Ace's shoulders sagged slightly as he let out a slow, silent breath, careful not to draw attention. Beneath his terrified facade, his mind raced. He had survived this encounter without revealing his identity, but he wasn't naïve enough to believe his luck would hold out forever.