The man speaking to her was Cyrus, First Executive Officer of the District 616 outpost—the highest-ranking military officer stationed here.
Though in a graveyard like this, rank had lost all meaning. After being exiled to Terra, Cyrus had stopped caring about stripes on a uniform a long time ago.
Bunny met his gaze.
Beneath his sharply styled black hair was a pair of long, narrow eyes—dark, unfathomable, and cold as distant stars buried beneath a winter sky. There was not a trace of warmth in them, only absolute rationality and an overwhelming, iron sense of control.
Although his eyes were fixed on her face, he didn’t seem to be looking at her so much as looking through her, searching for something hidden far beneath the surface.
His lowered lashes gave him an air of detached indifference. He wasn’t just observing her; he was assessing her. Only someone who had spent a lifetime in absolute authority could wield a gaze that sharp and oppressive.
Cyrus sat beside the bed, long legs crossed in a posture that was relaxed, almost careless. The collar of his black shirt sat slightly unbuttoned, the fabric stretched taut across his broad, muscular chest to reveal his collarbones and defined pectoral lines. Beneath a rolled-up sleeve, the edge of a dark, forbidden tattoo peeked out against his skin.
A single phrase popped into Bunny’s head: He was a gangster in a suit.
Before entering her room, the men had all showered and changed. Otherwise, the reek of blood and gunpowder clinging to their combat armor would have made her nauseous within seconds.
Gathering her courage, Bunny looked around the rest of the room.
Beside Cyrus stood a pair of white-haired twins with striking crimson eyes.
Near them were two rebellious-looking men with fiery red and green hair who shared a distinct family resemblance.
Then came a striking blue-haired man with large, pale eyes the color of frosted glass; a handsome blonde Sentinel with heterochromia; a dark-skinned man with a gorgeous crown of dark curls; and a silver-haired, gray-eyed younger man who looked almost impossibly youthful.
Finally, tucked quietly into the furthest corner, was someone with bright pink hair.
Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, violet...
Were they planning to form a futuristic boy band? The explosion of bright hair colors was making Bunny’s eyes ache.
Counting Liam back in the containment cell, there were only eleven of them present.
Strange... Where is the twelfth?
"You’re the new Guide dispatched by high command?" Cyrus asked, resuming his interrogation.
Bunny nodded. "I am."
"What’s your name?"
"Bunny." She paused, then added instinctively, "Just Bunny. Like P!nk or Cher."
Hearing that, Brandon—the silver-haired, gray-eyed youth—burst out laughing. His young voice rang with unabashed amusement. "Cher? What’s that?"
Only then did the reality hit Bunny: these were humans living nearly a thousand years in the future. The culture of the old Earth had been erased a long time ago.
Surely, they had no idea who those women were.
"Oh," she amended quickly. "It’s not important."
This was a completely different world, it was completely normal to assume that Sentinels did not even know what music was.
San, the red-haired Sentinel, scanned Bunny up and down with an incredulous frown. "You are... an A-rank?"
There was no surprise in his tone—only pure disbelief.
How could an A-rank Guide possibly suppress Liam’s violent rampage? Liam was an SSS-rank Sentinel. The gap between their power levels was a canyon. Even with a deep mental bond, calming a Sentinel four full tiers above her should have been impossible.
Besides, Liam was no ordinary Sentinel; he was a Dark Sentinel. Her mental sea should have been shattered by the psychic backlash alone.
Bunny, however, had no idea what the problem was. "Is something wrong with being an A-rank?"
Is that considered low? Is there workplace rank discrimination going on here, too?
The room fell silent once more.
Cyrus’s fingers tapped lightly against his thigh. His hands were pale and cool, with sharply defined knuckles and prominent veins running over the back, radiating a quiet, restrained strength.
"Did you form a bond with Liam?"
Bunny sighed inwardly. She didn’t understand why these men were so fond of answering questions with more questions.
Especially Cyrus. Talking to him felt less like a conversation and more like being grilled by an impossibly intimidating detective.