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Once (Y/N) saw Marc's hooded figure run away through the roofs of the city's buildings, she and Layla knew that they had to leave as soon as possible to avoid getting spotted by Harrow or any of his followers.

(Y/N) climbed into her bike and Layla did the same with hers, almost ready to take off before the latter's attention drew onto something else. (Y/N) felt Layla jab her in the ribs to catch her attention, and she was ready to complain when she signaled her to be quiet and look.

An innocent man was picking up something small from the floor, and (Y/N) didn't find anything strange about it until she heard that familiar voice again.

"I'm sorry, but that belongs to me," Harrow strutted into (Y/N)'s sight and she could barely make up his full form because she was hidden in an alley. "I can offer you food, clothing, but I am unable to offer you this. Thank you."

(Y/N) squinted her eyes to have a better look at what Harrow was doing, taking the object away from the man's hands but lingered his touch on his palms.

She didn't think that much of it until she saw the poor man strangely tremble and his body jerk to the side before his knees gave up and made him collapse. Harrow still stood above the man without acting bothered about the whole thing, and now (Y/N) finally noticed what he had in his hands. It was the scarab.

With terror in her eyes, Layla started the engine of her bike and knocked (Y/N) off her train of thought, remembering that she had to leave before Harrow noticed either of them.

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On the other hand, Marc sat down on his knees in some sort of outdoor stage, far away from the place he'd last seen (Y/N) in. He finally had control of his body again, and the exhaustion from the previous fight with the jackal and the frustration of losing the scarab was taking a toll on him.

"So, this is what it's like?" Steven's voice cut the silence. Marc turned his head to look behind him to find Steven's reflection on the broken mirror in the center of the stage. "Being on the inside?"

Marc nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Steven's figure in the reflection was standing up unlike Marc, holding his hands together with trembling fingers. "It's horrible."

"It's all right. You're all right."

"I feel like I can scarcely move."

"It's all right, just breathe through it. It gets easier."

"How long have you been doing this?"

Marc's shoulders sagged and his expression hardened, though it was evident in his eyes that he held a certain amount of guilt. "I don't know. It's. . .a long time."

"I don't like it," Steven whimpered. "I don't want it. Can I have my body back?"

"I can't do that right now, Steven."

"Please," his tone was desperate and scared. "I'm taking it back."

Marc got up from the floor and walked away from the mirror, then whirled on his heel after hearing Steven grunt as he tried to regain control of the body without succeeding in the process.

"Sorry," Marc said. "We've always managed to keep a wall between us, but something's changed. The one who controls the body has become stronger."

Marc could see Steven shake his head in denial as he kept talking. "The reflections help, but most of the time, it'll take all your willpower just to be a fly on the wall."

"You can't do this, keeping me trapped in here. You have no right," Steven began, the anger starting to bubble in his chest. "My whole life. . .I can't go on a bloody date. I can barely keep a goldfish alive. I lost my job. It's been you. It's always been you, eating away parts of my life like a parasite."

"Look, when I am done, when I have repaid my debt, I swear you will never see me or hear from
me again. I promise you," Marc tried to reason. "We wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Khonshu. And my. . .servitude is the price that I pay."

Steven didn't back down. "What kind of servitude?"

"The kind that leaves me covered in blood."

"Yeah, well, that blood is on my hands," Steven raised his voice. "You ruin people's lives. Everything you touch, you ruin. You hurt people, you abandoned your friend. You left her stranded with that strange illness."

At the mention of (Y/N), Marc snapped. "I did not. I am protecting her. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you did. I saw."

"Khonshu has his eyes on her. He offered to help her just to have her as my replacement. I'm never gonna let that happen. You hear me?"

Steven inched his face closer to the mirror and pointed an accusing finger. "You're a liar. I don't believe you. I don't trust anything you say. You hurt people."

"I'm never letting him near her," Marc protested, now angered because of what Steven was saying. "Just shut up."

"I won't let you hurt anyone again!"

"Steven, shut up!" Marc yelled. "Just shut up!"

Steven didn't listen. "I will never give you a moment of peace, I promise."

"Shut up!"

Marc's final straw snapped and he desperately stomped on the mirror to stop Steven's angered rant and cut him off completely, breaking the mirror easily with his foot. It was already bad enough to blame himself for what he had done just to keep (Y/N) safe, but it was worse to have his alter scream to him about it.

"You shut up! Shut up!"

The bells tolled and the booming noise was drowned away by Marc's angered yells, his voice drying up when he heard the final part of the mirror snap before a strong wind began to blow the leaves of the trees, and knocked the chairs of the outdoor stage down. It could only mean one thing.

"You swore he would not interfere," Khonshu's powerful voice broke the silence, and Marc turned his head to spot him by the roof of the church.

"I know," Marc nodded solemnly. "I'll handle it."

"You have proven you cannot," Khonshu sneered in his low voice.

"I will."

Khonshu jumped away from his previous spot on the church and looked down at Marc from the highest point of the building. "Ungrateful, Marc, altering the terms of our agreement. You were nothing more than a corpse when I found you. You think you own this body?"

Khonshu laughed with derision and when Marc heard the laugh grow louder, he whirled around to see Khonshu now standing right behind him, holding his staff with a crescent moon on the top.

"It belongs to me," Khonshu stated.

Marc looked up to him. "We'll find the scarab."

Khonshu lowered down to his level, too close that his beak could touch Marc's nose. "Too late. Harrow has it."

"Then we'll find another way," Marc insisted. "We'll get to Ammit's tomb first."

"You know I'll protect you with everything I have," Khonshu taunted. "You are worth protecting."

"I'll do whatever it takes then," Marc nodded. "Then you let me go."

Khonshu held his staff close to him and got up to his full height again. "I know that you enjoy the work I have for you. We need each other."

"We have a deal."

"Let me remind you, my offer still stands, and when the job is done, you may not like my next candidate, near and dear as she is to you."

Marc paused at his words, remembering what Khonshu had told him a few months ago. He knew it was a selfish decision, but he didn't want (Y/N) to get involved in his mess. She didn't deserve it. Or him.

"Where are we going?"

"Where the hell do you think?"