Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 822 - 824

Chapter 822: Chapter 824

The corridor opened into a larger space, a chamber filled with outdated technology, rusted control panels, and broken monitors that flickered weakly, displaying distorted images.

But the figure wasn’t here for the machinery. They approached the center of the room, where a single chair stood, chains coiled around its base.

A body sat in that chair, unmoving. The dim light cast shadows across their face, making it difficult to tell if they were conscious. The figure took another step forward, the sound of their boots against the concrete sharp in the silence.

"You’ve been waiting," they said, their voice even, devoid of emotion.

The person in the chair stirred, their head lifting slightly, though the effort seemed almost too much. A dry chuckle escaped their lips. "Took your time."

"You knew I’d come."

A slow nod, though the motion looked painful. "Eventually."

There was no immediate response. The figure simply studied the prisoner, their gaze unreadable. Finally, they reached into their coat and withdrew a small, silver device, no larger than a coin. They placed it on the armrest of the chair, pressing their fingers against it for a moment before stepping back.

A faint vibration filled the air as the device activated, sending out a low-frequency pulse that only those attuned to it would recognize.

The prisoner tensed. "You know what you’re doing?"

"Yes."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. The prisoner exhaled, leaning their head back against the chair. "Then let’s not waste time."

The figure adjusted the settings on the device, the hum growing stronger. The old monitors around the room flickered violently, static washing over them before stabilizing into a distorted, yet recognizable, image.

A face appeared on the screen, sharp, calculating eyes staring through the feed as if they could see directly into the room. The voice that followed was smooth, deliberate.

"You must be desperate to contact me."

The figure didn’t flinch. "I need answers."

A short laugh. "You never did like working in the dark, did you?"

The prisoner shifted slightly. "Cut the games."

The person on the screen tilted their head, feigning curiosity. "Is that any way to speak to the only one who can help you?"

The figure didn’t move, their posture remaining unchanged. "We don’t have time for this."

A pause, then a slow sigh. "Fine. Ask your questions."

The figure’s fingers curled slightly. "The thing that’s been watching us. What is it?"

The amusement on the screen faded slightly. "Ah. So you’ve noticed."

The prisoner let out a low breath. "We all have."

For a moment, there was nothing but static, as if the person on the other end was considering their response. Then, finally:

"You won’t like the answer."

"I don’t have to like it. I need to know."

A long silence. Then: "It’s not from here."

The air in the room seemed to grow colder. The prisoner stiffened, and even the figure’s expression, unreadable as it was, seemed to darken.

"Explain."

The face on the screen leaned forward slightly. "You think you’re dealing with something that follows the rules you understand. You’re not. It doesn’t belong to your world. It doesn’t belong to any world you can comprehend."

The prisoner swallowed, their voice rough. "Then what does it want?"

A shadow of a smile flickered across the screen. "That’s the question, isn’t it?"

The figure exhaled slowly. "You’re enjoying this."

"Only a little." The expression on the screen shifted, the amusement dulling slightly. "But in all seriousness, you’re asking the wrong question. It’s not about what it wants. It’s about what it needs."

The prisoner’s hands curled into fists. "And what does it need?"

A pause. Then, the answer came, quiet but unwavering.

"A way in."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The figure’s grip on their coat tightened slightly. "It’s looking for an opening."

"More than that," the voice on the screen corrected. "It’s looking for the right one."

The prisoner exhaled sharply. "Meaning?"

The person on the screen leaned back, their expression unreadable. "It’s not just here to observe. It’s waiting for something, or someone, that can break the barrier for it."

The weight of those words settled in the room like a lead weight. The figure exchanged a glance with the prisoner before turning back to the screen. "And if it finds what it’s looking for?"

The response was immediate. "Then your world won’t be yours anymore."

The prisoner let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. "And let me guess. You know how to stop it."

The smile on the screen returned, but it was colder this time. "Of course I do."

The figure’s voice was sharp. "Then tell us."

Another long pause. Then, the voice on the screen softened, but the words carried a weight that neither the prisoner nor the figure could ignore.

"The only way to stop it is to make sure it never finds what it’s looking for."

The prisoner stiffened. "You mean, "

"You know exactly what I mean."

A heavy silence. The figure’s jaw clenched. "There has to be another way."

"Maybe." A pause. "But you don’t have the time to find it."

The prisoner’s breathing was uneven now. "So we just, what? Kill whoever it’s after?"

"If you want to survive."

The weight of the answer crushed the air from the room. The figure’s hand hovered over the device, as if considering shutting the connection down.

But they didn’t.

Instead, they asked, "Who is it looking for?"

The person on the screen hesitated, for the first time since the conversation began. Then, finally, they spoke.

"You already know."

The prisoner’s face paled. The figure’s posture stiffened.

The voice on the screen gave a final, almost regretful sigh. "Good luck."

And then the feed cut out.

The figure and the prisoner stood in silence, the dim hum of the now-deactivated device the only sound between them.

After what felt like an eternity, the prisoner whispered, "What do we do now?"

The figure didn’t answer right away. When they finally spoke, their voice was quiet, but firm.

"We don’t let it win."