Chapter 1659: Do you… smoke?

When Slater stepped out, he spotted Penny already reaching the living area. He quickened his pace and caught up just as she reached the front door.

"Whoops!" Slater reached out and opened the door with a grin. "Let me get that."

Penny glanced at him but said nothing as she stepped outside. Slater held the door for her, then followed.

He took a small leap forward to walk beside her and cast a sideways glance.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone cautious.

Penny smiled and returned the look. "Why wouldn’t I be?" She faced forward and shrugged. "We got clearance. Most of our questions were answered. I’m not over the moon, obviously. What we found out is... a lot. Bigger than I am, Third Brother."

She paused and gave him a wry smile. "I wasn’t supposed to make it out of prison back then. But here I am. So, it’s still something."

"We’ll start small." Slater gave her a gentle pat on the back, making her glance back at him with a smile. "Compared to before, this is a much better place to start, don’t you think?"

"Mhm." Penny nodded. "You’re right."

A moment of silence passed as Slater continued observing her side profile. His brow furrowed slightly as he tilted his head.

"Penny," he said, earning a quiet hum from her. "Why do you look like... I don’t know how to say it. Did she hurt your feelings or something?"

"What?" She stopped walking, her brows drawing together. "No. She didn’t."

"Then why do you look like that?"

She raised her brows, clearly confused. Slater sighed and shrugged.

"Never mind," he muttered. "Maybe it’s just in my head. I guess... I was expecting something more?"

"More?" Penny snorted and resumed walking, Slater falling in step beside her. "Third Brother, we’ve both lived two lifetimes. Compared to before, our lives now are far better. Sure, the ghosts of our past still haunt us, still remind us of what we went through..."

She lifted her head and drew in a deep breath. Looking up at the sky, the corners of her lips lifted faintly.

"I’m not thankful for the things I had to endure. But at the same time, I can’t help but think... if I hadn’t gone through all that, I wouldn’t be the Penny I am today." She turned to him with a gentle smile. "If you’re wondering what was on my mind... I was just curious."

He raised a brow. "Curious about what?"

"Where was she all those years?" Penny shrugged. "That’s all."

"..." Slater pressed his lips together. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed.

"You knew what happened to her, didn’t you?"

He nodded, his expression growing solemn. "She died."

"Oh?"

"I don’t know the details," he admitted. "But from what I heard, it was ugly. Her long struggle still ended in horror."

"Well... that sounds like Priscilla," she murmured in understanding. "With her, it was never a matter of how. Only when."

They didn’t dwell on it any further. It was a fleeting curiosity — one Penny allowed herself to entertain for a moment.

After all, they had bigger concerns now.

What they didn’t know, however, was that while it was true Priscilla had died in their first life... the details were far from what they expected.

---

[Short Flashback]

A soft groan echoed in the dimly lit room.

Priscilla winced as pain slowly dragged her back into consciousness. Strands of hair clung to her face, her lips cracked and caked with dry blood.

"Ugh..." she groaned, blinking open her swollen eyes.

Her vision was hazy. Her eyelids ached. As her memories returned, she tried to move — but her body didn’t respond. She was tied to a chair, and it groaned under her struggling weight.

"Mmh!" she gasped, eyes widening in panic.

Even through her blurred vision, she could make out the empty room. The windows were sealed. Clear plastic covered the floor. Nearby was a thin metal can with unused charcoal inside. Her panic surged with each new detail.

"Mmh!" she screamed, though the sound was muffled behind the tape over her mouth.

She thrashed in place, rocking the chair violently. It eventually toppled over, crashing to the floor with a hard thud.

"Ugh!!" Her entire body was already bruised and battered. The fall reignited the pain, sharp and immediate. She gasped as her lungs fought for air — it felt like something in her chest had cracked.

Even so, she clenched her jaw and endured. Her skin was pale, her head spinning.

Then she noticed the second chair, just a few feet away.

Her swollen eyes barely lifted before she heard footsteps approaching. Her heart pounded in her ears. She spotted polished black shoes moving toward her.

The man sat down in the other chair.

Priscilla’s breathing quickened. She tried to look up, but before she could, two men entered from the side and lifted her chair back upright. They didn’t speak. They just retied the ropes — tighter this time — making her wince and groan.

When the worst of the pain dulled, she forced herself to meet the man’s gaze.

Cold, dark eyes stared back, devoid of emotion.

Priscilla gulped. She didn’t recognize him, but his presence was chilling. He had the air of someone important. Dangerous. Maybe from the organization.

But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t anyone from the world she thought she understood.

He was just supposed to be the head of a company — a man on a violent spree.

Zoren.

"Do you... smoke?" he asked, tilting his head.

Priscilla didn’t respond. She simply watched him as he pulled out a small canister of cigarettes.

"I’m asking because I don’t," he said, slipping a stick between his lips. "Still, I’ve been trying new things lately. Tonight, that includes smoking."

One of the men lit the cigarette for him. Zoren inhaled once — and immediately coughed.

"Bitter," he muttered, pulling the cigarette away and glaring at it as if it had wronged him. "I don’t understand why some of my family like this crap."

Then his eyes snapped back to her. A small, cold smile curved his lips — the kind that made her stomach turn.

"That’s all."

He flicked the cigarette into the metal can of charcoal and stood. From his pocket, he pulled out a folded bill and handed it to his bodyguard, who lit the end.

Zoren watched the flame climb the paper before dropping it into the charcoal.

"You know," he said casually, "it’d probably be easier for you if you were a chain smoker. Deaths don’t always have to be bloody. Enjoy the smoke."

But as he took a few steps, he paused and added, as if to make her suffering ten times worse. "By the way, your daughter’s next."

And with that, he turned and walked away.

The charcoal caught fire.

When the flames died down, smoke began to rise, thick and suffocating, with nowhere to go.

Priscilla screamed through the tape on her mouth.

But in the end, the smoke took her breath away.

And didn’t give it back.