Diana continued to look at the portrait.
A small, thin smile appeared on her face.
It wasn’t a happy smile, but it wasn’t a sad one either.
It was simply the expression of someone who had stumbled across something she didn’t expected to see.
“Fate has its own ways of playing with us, doesn’t it?”
Marvin stared back and forth between Diana and the painting, his voice dropping into a tense whisper.
“I have so many questions.”
“I’m sure you do.” Diana folded her arms, her tone entirely casual.
“The woman in that painting is my mother.”
Marvin froze.
His eyes immediately snapped back to the canvas, tracing the brushstrokes with a completely different level of dread.
“And the sword?”
Diana glanced toward the gold-carved pedestal.
“That was one of her weapons.”
Suddenly, a sharp, angry red spark ran along the length of the massive sword hanging on Diana’s back.
Crack.
The sound was brief and violent.
Marvin jumped slightly, stepping back.
The weapon had almost sounded alive.
Like it was growling.
Diana let out a heavy sigh.
“There she goes again.”
She reached behind her shoulder and rested a calloused, gloved hand firmly on the handle.
The aggressive red glow faded almost immediately under her palm.
“Easy, Carla.”
The weapon settled, the static dying out.
Marvin blinked.
Then he blinked again, staring at the leather-wrapped hilt.
“…Carla?”
“Yes.”
“Your sword is named Carla?”
Diana nodded simply.
Marvin looked at her.
Then he looked at the sword.
Then he looked back at her, his logical mind desperately trying to find a foothold.
“Miss Diana…”
“Yeah?”
“Did you just calm down your sword?”
“Of course.”
“As if it were a person.”
Diana’s brow furrowed, her expression shifting into a slight frown.
“As if?”
Another tiny, irritated spark ran along the blade.
Diana patted the handle reassuringly.
“Ignore him.”
The spark disappeared into the steel.
Finally, he pointed a trembling finger at the massive hunk of metal.
“That’s a claymore.”
Diana immediately looked offended.
“She’s not a claymore.”
Marvin stared, utterly speechless.
Diana crossed her arms, her jaw setting.
“She’s a sword.”
“Miss Diana—”
“A sword who just happens to be a big girl.”
Marvin rubbed his forehead, feeling a dull ache beginning to form behind his eyes.
Somehow, that explanation had only managed to create a dozen more questions.
He looked between Diana and the ancient portrait again.
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s normal.”
“You said this is your mother.”
“It is.”
“But this painting was made centuries ago.”
Diana nodded, her eyes reflecting the dim museum lights.
“That’s true.”
Marvin stared at her, his voice rising a fraction.
“Then how is that possible?”
Diana smiled faintly at the portrait.
“You know, if I showed you a modern photograph of her, you’d probably say she aged better than fine wine.”
Marvin opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.
That answer made significantly less sense than the painting.
“No.” He shook his head firmly, trying to ground himself in reality.
“No human being can live that long.”
For a moment, Diana remained entirely silent.
Her gaze never left the woman in the portrait, her face masked in deep shadows.
“You’re right.”
Marvin felt his stomach suddenly tighten.
Something in her tone had changed.
The casual, teasing edge was completely gone, replaced by a cold, heavy stillness.
“Miss Diana…?”
Slowly, she turned her head toward him.
The familiar warmth in her eyes had vanished.
Their deep crimson glow seemed much brighter than before, cutting through the dimness of the vault.
Marvin suddenly felt very small.
It wasn’t an explicit threat of violence.
It was just the sudden, crushing awareness that he was standing in a closed room with something far older and stranger than he had ever assumed.
Diana held his gaze, letting the silence stretch between them.
Then, her lips curled into a small, jagged smile.
“You’re right,” she murmured.
A brief, heavy pause followed.
“No human could.”
Marvin’s heart skipped a beat against his ribs.
“But I never said my mother was human.”
The police cruiser came to a smooth stop outside the grand gates of the mansion.
Garin stepped out of the passenger side first, her small boots hitting the damp asphalt.
Andrew followed a moment later, shutting the heavy car door behind him with a solid thud.
Several emergency vehicles were still parked haphazardly around the property, their red and blue lights painting the trees.
Officers moved back and forth through the grounds in quiet, organized patterns, while forensic investigators documented the scattered aftermath of the assault.
Andrew looked toward the mansion entrance.
Then he looked down at Garin.
“I still don’t understand.”
Garin tilted her head up, her dark circles prominent in the flashing lights.
“U-understand what?”
“Why you’d want to become a demon hunter.”
Garin nervously fidgeted with the oversized sleeves of her coat, looking down at her boots.
“I-I already started training before I was adopted.”
Andrew let out a slow sigh, rubbing his forehead with a calloused hand.
That bit of information somehow made him feel even worse.
“I never liked Diana getting involved in this business.”
Garin blinked, watching the old officer’s tired expression.
Andrew folded his arms over his uniform chest, his eyes turning distant.
“And her mother wouldn’t have liked it either.”
Garin looked up quickly, her analytical brain immediately catching the detail.
“Hm?” A moment passed as she gathered her courage.
“D-Did you know Miss Diana’s mother?”
Andrew went completely quiet.
His eyes drifted toward the dark silhouette of the mansion, though it was entirely clear he wasn’t really looking at the building anymore.
He was looking at a memory.
“…Yeah.”
Garin waited patiently, remaining perfectly still beside him so she wouldn’t break his train of thought.
Andrew smiled faintly, a soft, rare warmth entering his gruff features.
“She was like a big sister to me.”
Garin’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.
Andrew caught her expression and immediately pointed a firm, warning finger at her face.
“Don’t start asking questions.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were thinking about it.”
Garin quickly lowered her head, her face flushing slightly.
“…Maybe.”
Andrew snorted dryly, his hand dropping back to his side.
“That’s a story for another day.”
Then, his expression turned entirely serious again, the professional cop reasserting control.
He adjusted his duty belt.
“For now, let’s figure out what’s actually happening here.”
The two of them turned away from the cruiser and headed toward the mansion entrance.
Police officers were constantly moving in and out of the building.
Whatever had happened inside those walls, it clearly wasn’t over yet