Chapter 7- Nice joke

She tied it around her nose and mouth to filter the smoke, then hurriedly reached out, grabbing both Helga and Aron's hands

. "Come on, we have to move!" she urged, her voice muffled but insistent.

With Esme leading the way, they rushed toward a set of shelves where various files were neatly arranged. Helga and Aron exchanged a quick glance, nodding to each other in silent agreement, then followed Esme without a word.

Reaching the shelves, Esme's eyes darted to a vase perched on one of the upper shelves. She grasped it firmly and rotated it slightly to the right. The shelves, which had seemed solid and immovable, began to shift, revealing a hidden door behind them. The shelves swung open to reveal a secret room hidden behind the facade.

"Quick, inside!" Esme urged, pulling Helga and Aron toward the hidden room.

Helga hesitated, her eyes searching Esme's. "What about you?" she asked, her voice trembling with concern.

"I'll be right behind you," Esme lied, her voice calm and steady. She pushed them gently but firmly towards the opening. "Go now!"

Aron, sensing the urgency and the underlying determination in Esme's tone, nodded and guided Helga into the hidden room. Once they were inside, he turned back to look at Esme, worry etched on his face.

Esme gave them a reassuring smile, though her heart was pounding like a drum.

"Leave as fast as you can. At the end of this room, there's a door that will lead you out of this building. As soon as you're outside, leave this country," she said, her voice firm and unyielding.

Helga's eyes widened with a mix of fear and disbelief.

"What do you mean, leave this country? We can't leave without you!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with panic.

"Helga, please," Esme's tone softened slightly, but her resolve remained unshaken.

"They're coming for me. If they have to deal with me, they'll need to kill you and Team B. That's why, as long as you all are safe, nothing will happen to me."

"But—" Helga's protest was cut short as the smoke in the room began to thicken. Esme's eyes gleamed with a sudden, intense golden light, causing Helga to stop mid-sentence. Esme quickly covered one of her eyes, trying to mask the transformation.

"You have to leave now," Esme urged, her voice strained with urgency.

"Beom is getting restless. There must be something dangerous coming. Leave right away. When everything is stable, I'll call you back." Her voice was laced with determination as she gritted her teeth and kept her hand over her glowing eye.

Before Helga could argue further, Esme pulled the vase again. The shelves slid back into place, concealing the hidden room from view and cutting off Helga's last words.

As the smoke thickened, curling through the room like a living entity, Esme turned away from the hidden door, her eyes scanning the office for any signs of danger.

Her worry was palpable, a cold dread seeping into her bones. She could feel the oppressive weight of the threat looming closer.

Esme took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever was to come.

Adjusting the makeshift mask around her nose and mouth, she moved toward the main door with purposeful, determined steps. Her eyes, still glowing with an eerie golden light, narrowed with resolve.

"Beom," Esme called out in a cold, commanding voice. The golden light in her eyes intensified, casting a surreal glow in the smoke-filled room.

In an instant, a bright light materialized in the air, and a massive white tiger with black stripes and golden eyes appeared beside her.

Beom's body was far larger than any real tiger, his presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying. He stood beside Esme, muscles tensed and ready to attack, his golden eyes fixed on the door.

Soon, the door creaked open slowly, and three figures emerged from the thick smoke. Although the haze made it difficult for anyone else to see clearly, Esme recognized them instantly. She didn't need to see their faces; she had known these people for years.

As the smoke began to dissipate, the figures became clearer, revealing the faces of Esme's adversaries.

The woman in the center had the same black hair and eyes as Esme, though her features were marked by a dullness that contrasted sharply with Esme's vibrant presence.

Her face was a mask of cold calculation, her eyes void of warmth, her hair falling in lifeless strands around her shoulders.

To her right stood a rotund man with a pasty complexion. Despite his considerable girth, his face was unnaturally thin, exaggerated by the heavy makeup he wore. His skin was a sickly shade of pale, almost ghostly under the layers of powder and rouge.

He was adorned with expensive jewelry that jingled with every movement—rings on every finger, a gaudy necklace, and a gold-studded belt. His hair was a garish shade of blonde, clearly dyed, the roots showing a stark contrast of dark brown.

On the woman's left was a young girl, no older than twenty-two. Her appearance was deceptively innocent, with soft, delicate features and large, expressive eyes. Yet, there was a hard edge to her gaze that betrayed her true nature.

Her dull black hair, identical to the older woman's, was styled into neat waves. She wore a simple frock that contrasted with the opulent green necklace around her neck, an emerald that seemed to pulse with a sinister energy.

Esme's eyes narrowed as she faced them. The tension in the room was palpable, and Beom growled lowly, sensing his mistress's unease.

"Oh my, what happened, my dear daughter?" the man asked in a mock-innocent tone, his eyes twinkling with feigned concern.

He glanced at Esme, whose face was rapidly losing color, her usual resilience replaced by an unmistakable pallor.

Esme didn't respond immediately. Her gaze shifted past the man, fixating on the door behind him.

A chill ran down her spine, and she could feel an ominous presence even before the door creaked open.

Every instinct screamed at her that someone truly dangerous had entered her territory.

Her heart pounded erratically in her chest as she forced herself to maintain composure. Despite the tremor in her hands and the dryness of her lips, she managed to ask in a cold, steady voice,

"Who are those behind you?" Her eyes, though filled with trepidation, bore into the man's with a fierce determination, refusing to show the fear that threatened to consume her.

The man's eyes glinted with a sinister amusement as he replied in an innocent tone, "What do you mean 'behind us'? It's only us here." His gaze bore into Esme, a chilling undercurrent lacing his words.

Hearing his response, Esme scoffed, a sharp, derisive laugh escaping her lips.

"Haha, nice joke." Her voice was laced with biting sarcasm as she met his gaze with a cold, unyielding stare. Her lips curled into a mocking smile, and the muscles in her jaw tightened, a visible sign of her mounting frustration and anger.

The man's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as he gritted his teeth. His expression twisted with barely contained rage, and he clenched his fist tightly at his side, the knuckles turning white.

"You…" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. The sinister amusement in his eyes was replaced with a burning intensity, his facade of innocence shattering.