By the third day since the incident, no more shattered crystals and broken glass scatter on the hall where chaos broke. When the sun rose that fateful morning, every maid and servant had their hands on cleaning the area with no drop of blood left.

And by the third day since the incident, Yaya is still asleep.

Nothing in her brain can remember what happened that night. She doesn't know where everyone is.

When she wakes up, her maids are acting like nothing even happened. They wipe away the dust from shelves and cupboards as her eyes blink away. She sees her vision spiral and distort amidst the sunlight, but it's enough for her to feel the throbbing feeling in her head.

Plus one of them changing the bandage by her arm.

She doesn't have the energy to bounce up. Dizziness clouds her eyesight and all she can do is mutter incoherent questions. "Where are my friends...? Where's BoBoiBoy...? What happened...? Am I dead...?"

Funny, she's talking about BoBoiBoy. Must be the sedatives.

Or she cared. Or she cares.

It's the first time they're actually trying to communicate with her, as the maid bandaging her arm grabs on a notepad and pen to write on. It was BoBoiBoy's notepad.

Yaya doesn't mind the other servants turning to look at her at the sound of her voice. Instead, she tries reading the note given to her.

Laid down on bed, her eyes narrow. "Do keep your voice down, ma'am," the cacography reads under the thin paper.

A question unanswered. She looks to them all.

"Under The Jaguar's authority, we must not speak or reply. Neither converse. The Jaguar is our master, and must be obeyed."

The Jaguar. That talking jaguar. Now, he's only a shadow in her head, a blurb of memory diluted, barely visible or recognizable.

They're not even surprised, the maids. If given the chance, they would've even explained it all to her, if not forced into silence by their true master. However, in one way or another, they try giving her looks. Looks to tell her everything that had happened the past three days.

They come in foggy memories. Each maid tries to sign their statements to avoid writing on paper. They can't have written dialogues, especially with the arousing suspicion Yaya is yet to discover. "We can't tell you the truth, ma'am," the elderly butler, Abah, attempts to say. "This is all we can do for now. At this point, we can only disobey, little by little, under somebody else's order."

"I don't understand," she whispers, even when she comprehends bits and pieces of information. "So you all are disobeying...The Jaguar. Then who do you serve? Where are my friends?"

Her tone rises a bit. And her maids leave.

This time, they shuffle away gracefully at the sight of the open door behind her. In her head, this usually means BoBoiBoy's presence. And with all the company she can seek comfort in, she never expected to want BoBoiBoy to come by her door.

Except, they don't scurry off as they usually do. They exit carefully.

Without knowing why, she isn't happy seeing Ocho by the door.

He whimpers as he enters. A whining sound fills the room while he comes slowly, a tail curling up behind him. As they leave, the maids shut the door closed.

Yaya doesn't expect wanting to brush on his fur either. He seems sincere, kind, less fierce. Like he's there to calm her. Right now, nothing can make sense. Everything feels numb. Anything can be comforting as long as it reminds her that she's alive.

Touching the panther is warm. He liked warmth. Ocho's fluffy chin rises to lie on her lap, and his fuzzy fur brushes on her knee. Senses keep her head into thinking she's still in one piece, even when others might not be.

At her touch, she can't even feel the hurt Ocho must've felt after thrown into the wall. She doesn't even remember what happened that night.

Did it hurt? If only she can ask.

Only a little bit, yes. I mean, you can scratch that part if you want.

Confusion permeates her completely. How am I talking to you? Is this real?

For a panther, he meows. Miss Yaya, don't act like this is the first time you can hear my voice, really. It's strange, I know. But believe me, you've been hearing my voice since the day we met.

Weirdly, she insists with speaking. "But how? When...?" She feels dizzy again. It must really be the sedatives now. Though she knows nothing about them.

The whispers reach Ocho's ears. Well, there isn't a better way to say, 'I can speak only to Chosen People,' is there?

Chosen People. Two words nebulous in her mind. And with her brain all hazy and latent, barely anything even registers. 

In such a daze, anyone may feel alone at these times, but Ocho takes a paw to her resting foot. Something like an I'm-here-for-you meets her ears and soothes her ever so slightly. His talking passes by in an instant, as if only seconds have passed. At least one thing is clear.

Golden eyes connect with hers. I'm sure you're not the type to tell anyone, so I must say that I'm on your side now, Ocho says. BoBoiBoy no longer holds such authority over me, and thus, the next days must be confusing.

Ocho continues. Not like you'd stay much longer, however. I'm here to get you out.

To her surprise, she hears his absent voice loud and clear. And she winces. "Wait. You'll help me out of here?"

Yes. If anything, I must. Though I am afraid I'll have to with a condition, he purrs.

A condition. Of everything you can hear from a talking panther; a condition.

I have the choice to get you out all by yourself, with my help, but you'd be alone. However, if you prefer to have your friends with you, I might as well offer you a deal.

He mentioned her friends, ultimately meaning to her that they're still alive. She hardly pays attention to what Ocho states next.

If you want your friends safe too, help me save BoBoiBoy.

No attention is paid on the statement. She can't tell if she's losing her mind, or she's resorting to drastic measures, speeding to the hatch by her shelf and wanting to see some sort of reassurance that they're still safe. Wanting to roll down the bead to hear it echoing down the passage and hear their voices, she swings the opening.

Another spruce wood door covers the whole tunnel, locked from the inside, and hard enough to resist a punch.

Like all hope falls off Yaya's shoulders, but it isn't like she can't save them anymore. There's the light from Ocho, a last chance to free herself from her predicament. Yet with one demand.

Even with everything, she's still curious. Yaya continues questioning their safety, his safety, and the possibilities line her imagination with horrors.

A pull attracts her from behind, taking her to slowly look into Ocho's amber eyes.

That voice calms her down. The wind carries the sound once more. Silent purring comes to her earshot again. She's heard this voice. Back at the grassland where they first met.

Come. Help.

※

In the dungeon, each bar is taken to shut hard. Chains tangle over loose ends, and the secret passageway had already been discovered and closed up for good measure.

When guards enter, desperation encompasses the area. All the boys' eyes are torn from just looking at Ying leaning by the cell corner, hidden from the torchlight outside. It sparks flames. Fires of freedom. Freedom they were so close to having, but didn't manage to attain.

Rather, they almost paid the price with their lives.

Gopal was lucky to haggle one of the guards into lending them a roll of gauze to cover up Ying's wounds from BoBoiBoy's strong grasp that night. And now, there she sits with eyes half-shut as she tries getting some good night's rest without worrying about her arm. 

She's worried with how it stings. She's worried with how BoBoiBoy's nails actually dug into her flesh, and how it all felt cold.

The fact he even used his left hand to mark her disturbs her more.

Fang eyes over the perimeters once before he speaks. All clear. "I'm sorry, but I seriously j-just want to ask," he stammers, a fidgeting finger scratching his light brown khaki pants. "About that guy, B-B-BoBoiB-Boy, I think. Could've he really been-?"

"Oh, could you just shut up, kid, would ya?" Gopal blows.

Ying's head spikes up at the noise. I gotta deal with this nonsense again, huh? "Gopal."

"It's either you're too innocent on this matter, or you're butting into adults' business, or you're just this stupid."

"B-B-But, if he was on our side, how could've the p-passageway been bbblocked-?"

"I don't care! Whatever fairytale you read, kid, I swear to god, you ain't being less of a moron reading it-"

"Gopal, mind your language because Yaya isn't any different, so keep your mouth sealed or I will slam you through the wall with my bare hands, understood?!" Ying's scolding is cold, deadly, tired. The yell is crisp enough to keep Gopal down, but not Fang.

"It's okay, M-M-Miss Ying," he intervenes. 

Now, Gopal can just grumble. "I just wanted to say I don't trust that vile guy, is all." He rolls his eyes. Fang composes himself and sits back down. Gopal's teeth, however, remains clenched. "Not like I'm offending Yaya or anything."

"Apparently, you did. Three days ago," Ying murmurs, with arms loosely crossed.

They didn't quite feel it coming but, yes, indeed three days passed for them too. And yet, they all remember everything. The emotion, the pain, and the confusion, most importantly.

"Y'all, then just tell me a better way to hate on somebody without having to give me some slack!" Gopal spits.

"In times like this," Fang sighs. "I-I don't even thhhhink we can afford to hate on someone right now. Hate is- a st-st-strong word, and hate could even be t-the least thing we'd need right now. M-Miss Yaya is in danger and we can only s-s-survive with others...because it'll be a m-miracle if we make it out of here b-by ourselves.

"Honestly, hate seems like sssomething Miss Yaya doesn't have. M-M-Maybe that's why that B-BoBoiBoy stuck with her and let her l-l-live with him."

Ying looks down to the floor.

"Like I'd believe he even wanted her with him!" Gopal says. "I know we need all the help with can get, just not from that guy. If anything, he's the reason why Ying..."

Without even continuing his sentence, they both gaze at her. She has already fallen asleep, in relaxed eyes but tense brows. By the day, she weakens. And by the day, Fang has been concluding why.

He resorts to whispers. "I a-a-actually never told you, Mister G-Gopal, but, that day PPPapa got taken away, I was awake. And I heard him babbling ab-bout...gray eyes or something."

"So, what, you saying BoBoiBoy actually might be a Sadist?"

Puckering his lips, he nods.

Gopal breathes a curse word.

Considering the danger ahead, they can't help but reach such conclusions. And to come up with one must need proof, though they have very little. To the contrary, not even Yaya can possibly support their theory. She either denies doubting him, or she doesn't know to begin with.

Well, she better start believing now if she doesn't want Ying to end up in that 'worst case scenario.'

Fang and Gopal's brains can't help but collide as they think, although they reach to one unanswered question. If BoBoiBoy used his left hand, and it's been days since Ying was marked, why is nothing happening yet?

※

Yaya stands in contrast with the dark cobblestone of the basement. Her feeble steps track Ocho's paws as he leads her down the path to the underground chambers.

Neither of them know the dungeon is just nearby.

"Where are you taking me?" she mutters.

Ocho looks at her. To the truth.

※

The old television set in the cramped room can just bother to blink faint static visuals to provide light in the darkness. Amidst all that, still, The Jaguar's dark, twining tail is as clear as day. "So let me get this straight. Since thirteen days ago, you've been lying to me. You did not invest yourself in hunting, you were handling a bunch of prisoners with the guards under your command, correct?"

The thunderous voice bounces off the walls as The Jaguar looks back at him there. Seated on the chair, BoBoiBoy's hair is scruffy and wet. Hands are behind his back and though only one side of him is bleeding, his whole torso is gauzed up. No white coat is on him. His shoulders expose the devices strapped on him and the collar on his neck stands out. 

He's panting instead of answering.

The Jaguar interrogates more. "Not only did you decide on keeping them a secret from me, but you also fooled me, of all people, into thinking you've been sticking to our conviction, yes?"

Once again, no answer. BoBoiBoy grunts.

"You've set that girl up to make me think that you have marked her all this time. You did this to cover up your selfish plan so I would not apprehend you like last time, right?"

"This has nothing to do with the other girl," BoBoiBoy finally blurts out.

The device by his right shoulder blinks. And the computer by The Jaguar's side speaks. "Truth serum activated. Blood pressure rise detected. Enhancing..."

From far away, one can hear it. The fizz of electricity. The volts igniting BoBoiBoy's nerves from his collar to his brain, or even down to his chest. The fiery shocks don't ebb until he starts screaming and grunting. But he's memorized all of this. He balls his fists, attempting to tame the pain.

There's a force for him to cuss about the collar. I'm so done with this, he thinks. I don't want any more of this. I've had it with this brutal interrogation. I don't want any more of this blasted torture.

I've been at this for so long, why can't I just break free?

As if The Jaguar just read his brain, he cackles like the evil feline he is. "Such a shame. I should've been half-proud or half-irritated. But all you are now is a disappointment."

Before his weak eyes, it unfolds. From the soles of The Jaguar's paws, black smoke rises to coat its body, covering it until it shrivels and crumbles. The dust slowly clears, moulding into ash and crumpling into a shape of a man. A tall man. The silhouette finally comes out of the shadows. The Jaguar has manifested with strong arms, a clean, black shirt, and white streaks of hair from one side of his head. His feet are barely visible, spiraling in black cinders.

A jaguar morphing into a man.

He looks at BoBoiBoy menacingly. With red eyes. He plays with his trimmed beard.

"And I'm sure you know where this discussion will be headed."

※

Even without BoBoiBoy's help, Yaya was able to find a short white dress for her to wear. The sleeves run long enough to cover her shoulders, and the fabric is light as she walks. In the dark halls, she looks like a ghost with short brunette hair.

It seems like she's always been like this, but when walking behind Ocho, she realizes she has no shoes on. She shouldn't be surprised.

Her attentiveness comes back once Ocho raises his tail and he peers into the hall corners. Yaya immediately follows suit and halts.

She can remember that room. That forbidden room. Almost everything is still in place. There is the keypad she's been dying to know the passcode of.

Not like she'd need it now. The mechanical door is ajar right at the middle. It's more than enough to hear and see figures in the inside.

Too much scrutiny is poured on the open door, she doesn't notice Ocho walking away.

Heavy feet tromp over the hard floor in that room while BoBoiBoy hisses. In human form, The Jaguar's voice sounds deadlier. "You are forcing my hand."

The crack at the ceiling makes BoBoiBoy almost invisible, but he can be seen. The Man comes with clear tubes to tether at the device attached to BoBoiBoy's left shoulder. "You...don't have...to do this...but why...?"

"Why? Of all the questions you dare to ask me, you ask 'why?'" The Man shouts, riled. "Have I not explained it to you enough? You are born to be my splitting image and you could do nothing to rebel against that! The fact that I could've killed you instead of using you should've made you grateful.

"But still, you resist. Still, you insist to make me think you can live without me and instead, you think you can feed off of, what do they call that blasted word-? Emotions!"

BoBoiBoy can't help but watch him rage. Admittedly, he can't do anything. It's even more sickening to think he is his father. "Why bring it up-?"

"Why bring it up...?" The Man laughs. "Oh, goodness. You really want me to answer that?!"

More electrical shocks come his way. He said something wrong again. The splurting energy feels like ripping on his skin, burning it. He isn't used to it just yet. The red, lightning-looking marks by his neck stand as evidence.

"I hid you away from emotions because emotions hurt you. You know that, right?"

He knows it. That's the worse part; he knows it. BoBoiBoy can recall almost every bit of it, even after so many years. It's the reason why he's in all this. Why his father resorted to disciplining him with a collar, why he resorted to giving him some guard panther.

The vivid image before his eyes still has the depth. That girl's voice prevails to be soft, he can still hear her whispering in his ear. Her face is vague, though he knew one thing. He was so young. He first came up with this rebellious plan as a youngster. He thought of it working.

He was so stupid.

That plan was failure because of one thing. "It only hurt me because of you."

"What?"

"You hid me away from the good side of emotions. You kept me in the dark. At this point, must I even call you my father-?"

Hard hands whip against the air to slap him. His cheeks flush with red. The Man hit his other cheek.

Insanely, BoBoiBoy feels like snarling. Wonderful, a girl slapped my left and you slap my right.

"Lies!" The Man says. "You do know that you cannot lie to me! You may be a good liar to those stupid girls but you can't lie to me!"

BoBoiBoy tries keeping his mouth pasted shut, yet his skin pursues to crawl with agony, temptation, the urge to scream and rebel for at least one more time. "You hid me away from this-truth-of-a-world, you are angered by me, you have emotions, you have emotions that I cannot possess- How can you be so selfish-?!"

"And how can you be such a brat?! Dare spitting at the man who raised you to live??? Most parents only raise their child for a couple of years...But I tolerated your arrogance for sixty-six years and yet this is how you pay me back? I give you immortality, but you give me your stubbornness?!"

"You just gave me something I did not want! I did not want to live for your dreams, I did not want any of this, I just wanted to be normal, I never asked!"

Before he could say anything more, The Man rises to straighten his back, with a sneer forming on his face. "Ah..." he says. "for so long, I've kept your heart captive. I've kept it shackled and chained to stop feeling.

"But now, look at you, you're suffering. It's like holding back a rock in a slingshot for so long and finally letting go. In the end, it'll be dangerously reckless. And in the end, you'll still need me."

This time, BoBoiBoy doesn't fight back, with all he said, the last statement catches him deep, pulling him down like barbells. Behind The Man, a bronze tank with gears and a crank shines into view. Rust gathers at its ends and a thermostat with a dancing arrow lodges at the front of the mechanism. Because of it, there's the tangy smell of metal. But there's the mix of the sweet smell of flowers.

What looks like blood flows from the tank with an eruption of steam as The Man cranks it through the tubes. Except, BoBoiBoy knows all too well that isn't blood. Made from a bunch of red flowers, boiled, then brewed, then fermented into a potion he so fears.

It runs through the room to the device strapped to his shoulder. It's the machine he uses to inject himself with his daily vials. This would be a new potion now. 

The Man takes a bunch of BoBoiBoy's hair to grab on, and pulls his head up. He doesn't resist. "Basically, if you don't want to cooperate with me, I might as well force you into what I want to do with you."

He doesn't budge when his father tosses his head away. "And if you don't put up a fight, that'd be even better-"

A laugh breaks through the wind while the machine churns more of the potion.

BoBoiBoy. "You're so desperate for me, aren't you?" he giggles maniacally. "You failed in the past, so here you are, miserably using me for your selfish desires...You're pathetic-"

The sound of a shovel swinging BoBoiBoy's chair down rings out.

He crashes to the floor, with hands still tied and coughing at the impact.

Still, The Man doesn't stop. Even with the bullet wound and with bruises, he flips his son to make him lie on his back. His red eyes are ablaze. "You forget so much, don't you? Why must I always force you to remember what you are made of?!" he yelps. "You are my last resort! My final plan and the only remaining Sadist in this land!" His tone rises.

Hands claw at the walls outside the room. Her fingers twitch as she continues to hide. She might've let out a gasp.

Yaya heard it all.

The air is empty behind her, so she's confident she can look through without being noticed. Straight away, regret comes to pulse through her body. The Man takes the shovel to the ground. It digs not through soil.

It sinks into BoBoiBoy's abdomen.

He lies on the ground, shrieking, quickly holding on that large, hidden scar on his body as soon as his father lets go of it. The scar is only visible when The Man takes the shovel away. A giant crescent, a nail mark. His mark.

"Keep memorizing that mark of yours, boy," The Man whispers, bending down. "This is your place. This is how I made you. And you obey me."

Seconds later, The Man has his hand on the machine's crank, and BoBoiBoy manages to get up on his knees and palms. There's no hesitation in The Man's eyes when he sees his son coughing blood.

His other hand reaches for a lever by the side. "I will not be asking if you're ready, for you're literally calling for my force now."

The lever is pulled.

Down at the ground, BoBoiBoy trembles with hands over his head. Machines hum in high tones, syncing with his shrill screams of pain. The sensation crawls in his senses, like all emotions mixed in the ugliest way possible. They swallow him in a tinging feeling.

His eyes open to a blurry vision.

"Stop...!" he heaves a breath. "Stop- argh!"

From brown eyes, they blink to red.

"You have no choice but to follow me, son," The Man says, then changing topic. "Finally, after all these years, I will be able to hear the wonderful words that'll make me so proud of you. 'Daddy, I killed someone for you.'"

BoBoiBoy pushes it away. Over and over. Brown then red, brown then red. "I'm not...a killer..."

"Oh, really? Though do you know why you used to kill ants as a kid?"

Ants.

He tries to reply. "'Cause they sound good when you crush them...?" he scoffs, blood dripping from his lips.

"Of course, yes, that. But also because you have all the power to. They're so tiny, and they aren't even the size of your fingernail. You can totally take a life on one go." The Man rolls his eyes. "But there's another reason.

"We kill ants because they're in the way."

BoBoiBoy's heart skips a beat. So does Yaya's.

"And that brunette is no different from an ant-"

"Shut up, no-!"

"I've changed this room's passcode, so there's no way to get out. But, if you care for her life that much, I know you'll find a way. Let them all go under my nose and it'll all be swell. If I catch her, or anyone else, in this dwelling, however, I'll have to get rid of them my own way.

"I'll give you your precious time, and I'll let you rest here. But for now, I'll be on patrol," he says.

They don't notice the door open, or Yaya behind it.

"I shall see you soon," he finally greets before letting more smoke consume him from the ground.

Yaya's eyes witness the final moments of the two in the room. She never saw the man's face, though she got a glimpse of his tail. The Man had morphed back to the animal he once was. He prowls away, to the back door hidden within the room, away from her sight. In her head, it all comes together.

Sadist. Son. Last resort.

But why does it all still feel...unreal...?

Repeatedly, she blinks at the floor, not knowing that she's let down her guard. She's right in front of the door, suddenly, unaware she's hobbled her way in front of it.

When she raises her head back into consciousness, the first thing she sees is BoBoiBoy's eyes.

They stare at her. He stares at her.

Heavy breaths follow as her eyes look all over him. Blood on his hands from all the wounds. The bruises on his face. The tubes affixed to his shoulder. His messy hair.

His red eyes.

Yaya takes a step back.

"Yaya...?" is all BoBoiBoy can mutter.

She can't cry now. There is no energy to feel the tears. There's only pain. Unbearable, unfathomable pain.

Is this betrayal? Distrust? Shock?

Whatever it is, she can't handle it. She runs.

"I didn't mean to..." BoBoiBoy whimpers.

No acceptance. No tolerance. The pain drives her heart away. 

She doesn't like living to feel this.

She's better off dead.