After the lift doors sealed shut, Gil remained frozen in place, his eyes locked onto the solid wall.
The heavy plates had fitted together seamlessly, leaving no trace that an opening had ever existed—as though he still hoped to pierce the metal with his gaze and see the healer standing on the other side.
After a long moment, a voice called out from behind him.
"Gil?"
He recognized it instantly. Without bothering to turn around, he asked, "What is it, Greg?"
"Um... the others sent me to fetch you."
"Huh? They were too afraid to come over themselves, so they made you the messenger?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," Greg said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But didn't we have something important to discuss?"
"Yeah. I'm coming."
With one final look at the seamless doors, Gil turned on his heel and followed Greg toward the back of the hall, heading for their usual spot.
All along the walk, Greg could feel the crushing aura hanging over the guy behind him. Something was definitely off.
Attempting to break the stifling silence and test the waters—even though he already had a fair idea of what was eating at Gil—Greg spoke up.
"Hey, Gil... don't worry too much about little Arya. You know what they say, right? Good people always have a lucky star watching over them."
Understanding what Greg was trying to do, Gil forced a faint smile.
"I hope so, Greg... I hope so."
Deciding to open up a bit more—since Greg was actively trying to lift his spirits—Gil let out his breath in a heavy sigh.
"You know... I don't even know why I'm this affected. I barely met her. We didn't talk for long, hardly exchanged a few words, and we only met yesterday. Logically, I shouldn't be in this state, but..."
He slowly clenched and unclenched his fist, staring down at his knuckles.
"...I don't know. Is it because her situation could just as easily happen to me, to you, or to any of us, and I'd be just as helpless? Or is it just a harsh reminder that down here, we don't get to decide what happens to us tomorrow? Honestly, my head isn't clear enough to make sense of it right now."
Having gotten a real response—and seeing that Gil was actually willing to talk—Greg fell silent for a long moment, thinking deeply.
Then he offered a smile.
It wasn't forced, nor did it carry any hidden edge; it was pure, honest, and filled with all the genuine goodwill he could physically convey—a warmth that seemed to ripple actively across the subtle link connecting them.
"You know," Greg said softly, "even if something were to happen to me... I wouldn't hold it against you. Because I know you'd take care of whoever did it. Maybe you can't do anything right now, but you will later. If there's one person here who won't let that kind of cruelty slide, it's you. So even if your hands are tied today, you'll make it right down the line. Keep your eyes open and lift your head up, man. You're so grumpy and full of gloom right now I almost didn't recognize you."
Feeling the raw, profound sincerity radiating from Greg, Gil felt a deep swell of emotion before the full weight of his friend's words settled in.
Greg was far from a fool.
He knew better than anyone that surviving down here was already a monumental task, let alone taking responsibility for others. Seeing how deeply Gil—despite his reluctance to admit it—was struck whenever someone close was swallowed by the dark, Greg had proactively released him from that burden. It was an act of pure, honest brotherhood, intended to lighten whatever grief might press on Gil's shoulders if the worst ever came to pass.
Look at that, Gil thought, his smile softening. Now I've got Greg consoling me.
"Hey! Brat, stop talking about stuff like that! Talking like that will bring it down on you—it's bad luck," Gil said.
Greg chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Ah, I didn't know you were superstitious, man."
"I'm not," Gil countered firmly. "Just cautious. You never know what might be listening in a world like this."
Having been plagued by his foresight, strange abilities, and the uncomfortable ways people looked at him because of them, Gil wouldn't call himself superstitious, but he had developed a healthy respect for things beyond his understanding.
As far as he was concerned, most people down here would live a lot longer if they did the same.
Greg wanted to burst out laughing, but managed to keep his composure, simply nodding.
"Alright, alright, I get it, Boss."
"You rascal," Gil scolded jokingly.
He hadn't forgotten the scene at the lift, nor the uncertain fate of Arya and Helena. Yet, the suffocating weight on his chest lifted just enough to breathe.
Stepping alongside Greg, Gil clapped him hard on the shoulder. He didn't say much more, but seeing Gil back on steady ground, Greg grinned back.
Puffing out his chest with an unmistakable I fixed him expression, Greg threw an arm around Gil's shoulder and led him back to the rest of the crew.
When the squad saw Gil return, the contrast to the brooding storm he had been moments ago caught them off guard. One look at Greg's smug, proud posture made the source of the shift immediately clear to everyone.
"Well," Gil said, settling in. "I'm here. I guess we can start."
He could already feel the mounting impatience radiating off Kuro like heat. With a quiet sigh, Gil sat down, and the others formed a tight circle around him.
After scanning their surroundings to ensure no other captives were eavesdropping—and verifying that Mao was far out of earshot—they finally turned to the long-awaited topic: the mysterious Way Hugo claimed to know.
Just as Orphée was hesitating, preparing to question Hugo himself, Gil held up a hand to stop him.
"Wait a second."
Turning back to Greg, Gil's expression grew intensely serious. "During your fight against the healer...were you actually able to hear me, ...or was it more like a faint instinct—a vague impression?"
If it had been nothing more than a gut feeling, Gil couldn't manipulate it further. But if Greg could genuinely hear his thoughts...
Greg was taken aback by the sudden question, but his eyes lit up as realization struck him. A spark of excitement flashed across his face. "Both, actually. At first, it was clearly your voice . Toward the very end, right before the impact, it turned into raw impressions."
"Ah... that makes things so much easier," Gil murmured, a subtle shift in his aura taking hold.
He turned toward Orphée and Hugo, his gaze piercing as he looked between the two of them.
I would have preferred waiting until we knew each other better before doing this, Gil thought , a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but considering the circumstances, we don't have a choice.
He couldn't afford to take any risks. If there was even the slightest chance their corner of the room was bugged by devices or sensory abilities, speaking aloud about an independent Way was suicide.
Taking a leap of faith with Orphée and Hugo was the lesser danger.
Holding their gazes intensely, Gil added in a firm, quiet tone, "Don't resist. And don't be alarmed."
Before they could reply, two translucent, ghostly chains manifested from Gil's right hand, shooting forward to latch onto Orphée's and Hugo's wrists.
Gil carefully scrutinized their faces to gauge their immediate reactions.
Orphée didn't seem to feel physical pain or anything, but Gil felt a distinct resistance as the link tried to close around him. Establishing a connection with Orphée felt like trying to grasp at smoke or scoop up the wind—intangible, elusive, constantly slipping through his fingers. Yet, after a momentary struggle, the spectral link finally anchored itself firmly around Orphée's wrist, securing the channel.
Connecting to Hugo, however, triggered a far more drastic reaction.
The moment the chain wrapped around the giant's wrist, it simultaneously made contact with the strange, sentient amalgam of flesh and intent within him.
Without Hugo consciously reacting, the living mass within his body reacted violently to the intrusion. Hugo let out a low growl, instinctively surging to his feet as his eyes darted around the dark room, his instincts screaming that he was under attack.
"Orphée! Tell him it's me—tell him to stay calm!" Gil barked inwardly through his existing connections.
Though Orphée didn't fully grasp what Gil had just manifested, he rapidly translated the message to the giant.
Hugo froze, staring at Gil with a mix of shock and profound awe. After giving Gil one last long, scrutinizing look, the giant slowly sank back down into their tight circle.
"Good," Gil muttered, taking a steadying breath.
Wanting everyone to be on the exact same page without uttering another dangerous word, Gil flashed a surge of his internal energy through all four established links simultaneously.
In an instant, the mental bridge snapped into full clarity. Orphée and Hugo's minds expanded into the shared network, finally realizing this side of Gil's extraordinary ability.
Recalling the subconscious rush of setting up the link during their fight against the healer—and drawing inspiration from the mysterious shadow entity he had encountered in his inner sanctuary—Gil harnessed his energy once more to convey his thoughts without uttering a single sound.
Can all of you hear me? he projected into the shared mental space.
Every single one of them flinched as Gil's voice suddenly echoed inside their minds.
Greg's eyes lit up with wild excitement. He almost opened his mouth to shout, but caught himself just in time, clamping his lips shut and concentrating hard on pushing his own thoughts back through the connection.
Kuro flinched too, her cold demeanor cracking for a brief second in sheer astonishment. She quickly regained control, her jaw tightening as she realized the terrifying tactical advantage of what Gil was doing.
In a subterranean prison, possibly monitored by unknown surveillance, Gil had just handed them a completely silent line of communication.