( hello everyone the new volume starts now ...I’ll be starting this volume from the time Raina entered the house as I was told in my last Chapter that I didn’t really describe the atmosphere of the house properly so I’ll start here ..so do not think it’s a repitition...also this volume would be told mostly from the third person prospective.thank you for making it here and happy reading !)

The house was darker on the inside than it had looked from the street, as though whatever light existed in this place had long since given up trying to survive here. A single lamp burned somewhere deeper within the structure, its weak glow barely reaching the entryway, stretching the floorboards into long, warped shadows that shifted subtly as Raina stepped inside.

The air was stale in a way that suggested disuse rather than neglect. Dust lingered heavily, layered over old wood and something faintly damp, like rain that had once found its way in and never fully left. Every sound felt amplified in the quiet—her breathing, the soft shift of her shoes, the faint complaint of aging timber beneath her weight.

She moved forward slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.

"Hello?" she called.

The sound disappeared almost immediately, swallowed by the walls.

For a moment there was nothing in response, only silence so complete it felt deliberate. Then a voice drifted through the interior of the house, calm and unhurried, as if it had been waiting for her arrival without any doubt that she would come.

"I’m glad you came."

Raina stopped.

The voice was controlled, steady, almost conversational. Yet something about it sat wrong in her mind. Not unfamiliar exactly, but close enough to familiarity that it made her instincts sharpen.

"I’m here," she said carefully. "Who are you?"

A soft chuckle moved through the room, echoing faintly off the walls.

"No, no, no, Princess."

There was amusement in the correction, gentle but unsettling.

"The wrong question."

Raina’s gaze swept the darkness, trying to locate the source. "Then what is the question?"

The voice seemed to smile when it answered.

"The question should be... who are you?"

A pause followed, deliberate and heavy.

"You have so many faces," it continued, "that I honestly wonder whether you remember the original one."

The shadows shifted.

A shape moved deeper in the room, still mostly hidden.

"There was Himari."

One gloved hand lifted into the faint light, a single finger raised as if marking the first entry in a list.

"The cold little college girl who watched everyone as though she was studying a world she didn’t belong to."

Another finger joined the first.

"Then there was LumiLove."

A faint laugh threaded through the voice.

"The sweet little VTuber who smiled for hours and acted like nothing ever touched her."

A third finger appeared.

"And then we have Raina."

The figure tilted its head slightly.

"The woman who builds her life in daylight and buries her truths somewhere no one thinks to look."

The room felt smaller somehow, as if the walls had leaned in to listen.

"So tell me," the voice lowered, becoming quieter, more intimate, "which one are you today?"

Raina felt a chill move through her that had nothing to do with the temperature of the house. Hearing those names spoken aloud, in that tone, created something deeply wrong in her chest. It wasn’t just knowledge. It was familiarity. The kind that implied long observation, long attention, long silence spent watching without being seen.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said.

The words came too quickly.

Too defensively.

A faint hum of amusement followed.

"You know what I find fascinating?" the voice asked.

Raina didn’t answer.

"Liars," it said anyway.

A pause.

"As a species."

The figure shifted again, slow and unhurried.

"They always think the lie is the dangerous part."

Another pause, longer this time.

"It isn’t."

Silence gathered between them.

"The dangerous part," the voice continued softly, "is believing it."

Raina’s jaw tightened. "Show yourself."

A brief stillness followed, as though the request had been considered rather than heard.

"Oh?" The voice brightened slightly. "You want to skip the rest of the story already?"

A slow movement in the shadows, then a shape stepping forward just enough for the faint light to catch it.

"And ruin the fun?"

Moonlight slipped through a fractured window behind him, cutting across the room in thin, pale lines.

Enough that she was able to see him clearly.

A man stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed entirely in black. His presence was grounded, controlled, deliberate. But what dominated the impression wasn’t his posture or clothing.

It was the mask.

A rabbit’s face.

White, cracked along one side, its surface worn in a way that suggested it had survived more than one story it should have.

The eye sockets were hollow, dark enough that they felt less like decoration and more like absence.

Raina felt her stomach tighten.

"It’s you," she said quietly.

The rabbit tilted its head slightly, as if considering her reaction.

"It is."

"X-Reveals."

The figure gave a small, theatrical bow.

"Guilty."

Then he straightened again, almost casually.

"Though I’ve always preferred Bunny Head. It has more personality..."

His gloved fingers tapped lightly against the side of the mask, as if checking that it was still properly in place.

Raina studied him more carefully now. Not the mask, not the theatrics, but the ease. There was no hesitation in him, no sign that he had lured her here under pressure or fear. He stood like someone who had already decided how this conversation would end.

"You’ve been following me," she said.

The rabbit laughed softly.

"Oh, Princess."

His head tilted.

"You make it sound so one-sided."

The words landed harder than she wanted to admit.

"You’ve spent years watching Ethan."

The rabbit shrugged.

"I spent years watching you."

For the first time since entering the house, genuine fear stirred within her.

"I think you’re sick."

The rabbit’s shoulders trembled.

Not from laughter.

From excitement.

"See?"

He pointed toward her.

"That’s what I like about you."

"What?"

"The hypocrisy."

His voice lowered.

"You call me sick."

The rabbit slowly spread his arms.

"As though we aren’t standing here because you murdered your boyfriend."

Raina felt her blood turn to ice.

The rabbit laughed.

A horrible sound.

Raina took a slow step forward. "Take off the mask."

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable for him, but observant, like he was studying the timing of her demand more than the demand itself.

Then he laughed quietly.

"You really want that moment, don’t you?"

"I want to know who I’m talking to."

"You already do."

"I don’t."

The rabbit shifted his weight slightly.

"You do," he repeated. "You just don’t like the answer."

Then he stepped forward.

Not quickly. Not aggressively.

Deliberately.

The moonlight caught more of him now, sharpening the contrast of his silhouette against the dark interior. When he stopped, he was close enough that she could see the texture of the mask more clearly—the fine cracks, the uneven paint, the faint distortion around the mouth that made it feel almost alive in low light.

Raina didn’t move.

"You’ve been careful," she said. "But you made a mistake coming here."

That earned a quiet sound from him.

"Did I?"

"Yes."

A pause.

The rabbit froze.

Then laughed.

"There she is."

The response caught her off guard.

He sounded pleased.

Like she’d passed a test.

"I was wondering when Raina would finally show up."

For a brief moment neither spoke.

Then the rabbit glanced toward the front windows.

"Oh, by the way."

His tone brightened.

"You should probably call off your men."

Raina’s heartbeat skipped.

"What?"

"The men parked across the street."

He waved casually.

"The ones waiting to rush in if you scream."

Raina couldn’t hide her reaction.

The rabbit immediately noticed.

"Oh my God."

His voice dripped with amusement.

"You actually thought that was a clever idea."

How?

How did he know?

The rabbit pointed directly at her.

"You’re wondering how I know."

Raina said nothing.

The rabbit nodded.

"Thought so."

Then he stepped closer.

Much closer.

Close enough that she could hear him breathing.

"That’s because I see everything."

The whisper slid across her skin like ice.

Then he reached into his coat and produced a phone.

"Watch."

Raina hesitated.

Then looked.

The screen displayed a live video feed of the street outside.

Frank’s vehicle sat across the road. Her men positioned discreetly around it, watching the house, waiting for any movement.

For a brief moment, nothing happened.

Then the edges of the frame began to shift.

Movement in the shadows.

One figure.

Then another.

Then more.

People began to emerge from places that hadn’t been visible a second earlier. Between parked cars. From alleys. From behind fences. From rooftops.

Bunny Masks covered their faces in uneven variety—some crude, some theatrical, all unsettling in their anonymity.

Then the first impact came.

A bat against glass.

A sharp crack echoed faintly through the phone.

Then another strike. And another.

The street dissolved into sudden chaos.

Frank’s men reacted immediately, but the numbers made it meaningless. The masked group wasn’t just attacking. They were surrounding. Cutting off exits. Closing space with deliberate coordination that felt practiced rather than spontaneous.

Raina’s grip tightened as she watched.

The rabbit took the phone back gently, as though the demonstration had concluded.

"You should really stop underestimating how much noise people make when they think they’re invisible."

She didn’t respond.

Because anything she said would have been irrelevant.

The rabbit tucked the phone away and let the silence return.

Outside, the distant chaos continued, muffled but unmistakable. Inside, the space between them felt narrower than before.

"You came prepared," she said finally.

"I came informed," he corrected.

The distinction mattered.

He gestured slightly toward the back of the house.

"Come."

Raina didn’t move.

"What if I don’t?"

He stood still for a moment, then gave a faint shrug that suggested the outcome of that decision had already been accounted for.

"Oh, Princess," he said quietly. "You already made your choice the moment you stepped through that door."

Then he turned slightly, beginning to walk deeper into the house.

Before disappearing into the hallway, he paused.

The rabbit mask turned back toward her.

"I brought something with me," he added.

Raina’s expression tightened.

"Something that belonged to Felix."

The world seemed to lose its edges for a moment.

He didn’t wait for her response.

Instead, he began walking again, his voice fading slightly as he moved deeper into the house.

"And I think," he said, almost conversationally, "you’re going to want to see it."

The darkness ahead of him felt less like emptiness now.

And more like a waiting room.