Nora lifted a hand and wiped the blood away from her forehead.
The thick smear dragged across her skin and streaked along her fingers, revealing beneath it a face that was pale—
But still conscious.
She glanced down at the gun in her hand.
Then, without hesitation, she threw it to the floor.
Metal slammed against the wooden boards with a heavy clang, rolling half a turn before coming to a stop.
She was out of bullets.
At this point, the thing was nothing more than dead weight.
She breathed hard.
Her chest rose and fell violently.
The ringing of gunfire still echoed inside her ears.
Slowly, her gaze swept across the ruined room.
The walls were cracked.
Furniture overturned.
The carpet was covered in drag marks and impact damage.
Broken table legs lay scattered across the floor.
Glass glittered everywhere, mixed with large smears of blood and some kind of thick black fluid.
The good news—
Most of the blood on her body was not hers.
The bad news—
Tim had been taken.
That fact lodged in her mind like a stone.
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They had not even found Jack yet before the creature attacked them.
From nearby came a cautious voice carrying a heavy Italian accent.
“Is… is the monster gone?”
Nora did not answer immediately.
Nora crouched down and began examining Lovejoy’s wound.
In the chaos moments earlier, the loyal servant had thrown himself forward to protect his master.
That was why the creature’s claws had torn across his abdomen.
Blood was still slowly seeping out, soaking through the dark fabric of his uniform until an entire section was drenched.
The wound was in the stomach.
Stopping the bleeding came first.
Nora’s mind assessed the situation rapidly.
She stood again and scanned the wrecked room.
Very quickly, she spotted a broken piece of furniture wood among the debris.
Walking over, she picked up the splintered stick and turned to De Rossi.
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The man looked up in confusion.
He still seemed half dazed, capable only of staring blankly at the blood-covered aristocratic young lady who had just been firing a gun moments ago.
Nora shoved the wooden stick into his hands.
“Go break every mirror nearby.”
De Rossi froze.
“What?”
Nora was already searching for something suitable to use as a bandage, her movements so quick they barely paused.
“Find a doctor. Tell them to come here.”
Then, as if finally realizing he might not understand at all, she added,
“And—don’t leave a single mirror intact.”
With that, she dropped back down beside Lovejoy and began tearing apart relatively clean fabric to press against the wound.
De Rossi stood frozen for several seconds.
He had absolutely no idea what mirrors had to do with any of this.
But when the creature had burst into the room earlier, this lady had been the very first person to fire.
In the end, he silently tightened his grip on the wooden stick and began seriously searching the nearby corridors for mirrors, smashing them one by one whenever he found them.
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Again and again, the sound of shattering glass rang through the ship.
The noise echoed unnaturally through the silent hallways, as though the Titanic itself had fallen into some strange, cursed rhythm.
Half kneeling on the floor, Nora tightly wrapped lace around Lovejoy’s abdominal wound as a temporary binding.
The white fabric was quickly stained red with blood.
But at least the bleeding had begun to slow.
Lowering her head, she checked the injury one more time.
For now, she had done everything she could.
The rest depended on whether a doctor arrived in time.
Nora stood and glanced around the room.
At the moment—
There was no one else there.
Nora did not waste a second.
She walked straight to the wardrobe, yanked the doors open, and began digging through Cal’s clothes.
The expensive suits hung neatly inside, every piece tailored with absurd care and wealth.
She grabbed a shirt and a pair of trousers without the slightest concern for aristocratic propriety.
The next second—
She stripped off the gown and layers of petticoats she had been wearing.
That elaborate dress would only get her killed now.
Nora quickly pulled on the easier-to-move-in clothes, only to immediately discover—
The size difference was ridiculous.
The pant legs were absurdly long.
She had to roll them up again and again.
The sleeves were the same.
Even after several folds, they still hung too loose.
In the end, she grabbed a belt and cinched it tightly around her waist, forcing the oversized clothes into something barely wearable.
Then she seized a silk scarf and tied all her long hair up into a high ponytail.
Only then did she finally reach what could generously be called a “combat-ready” state.
Once she finished, Nora did not hesitate.
She headed straight for the door.
Just as she reached it—
A weak voice came from behind her.
Lovejoy was awake.
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The elderly servant opened his eyes.
At first, his vision was unfocused from blood loss.
Then, little by little, the blur sharpened.
And he saw Rose standing at the doorway.
Wearing oversized men’s clothing.
Trouser legs rolled up unevenly.
Sleeves hanging loose.
A belt tied tightly around her waist to force the outfit into place.
And blood all over her face.
Lovejoy stared in silence for two full seconds.
A thought crossed his mind.
Perhaps he had lost too much blood and was beginning to hallucinate.
His voice came out rough and hoarse.
“Where are you going?”
Nora turned her head.
The emotion in her green eyes was unmistakably clear.
“To find Cal.”
Lovejoy lay on the floor, looking at her quietly for a moment.
“And if I tried to stop you… would you listen?”
Nora looked directly at him.
Her answer came immediately.
“You stay here and wait for the doctor.”
“I’m going to find my future husband.”
And with that—
She turned and left.
Without giving anyone even the slightest opportunity to stop her.
Lovejoy could only stare at the doorway, now completely empty.
Then, lying there on the bloodstained floor, he let out a long, exhausted sigh.
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Nora moved quickly through the corridor.
Very quickly.
She knew the dream had not collapsed yet.
Which meant Tim was still somewhere on this ship.
And right now—
She was furious.
Truly furious.
That creature had dared to take someone right in front of her.
In a dream where a dream-eater was present.
It had stolen away the very person the dream-eater was protecting.
This was no longer simple danger.
It was a provocation.
Nora followed the distant sounds of shattering glass, her pace growing faster and faster.
As she passed one section of the corridor wall, she suddenly stopped.
Then backed up a few steps.
She looked up at something mounted there.
Reached out—
And pulled it straight off the wall.
Then continued forward.
At last—
She found De Rossi, who was still earnestly searching for mirrors to destroy.
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The young Italian man was drenched in sweat now.
He looked utterly miserable.
His clothes were disheveled, and several small cuts marked his cheeks where flying shards of glass had struck him.
Yet he had not complained once.
He was simply carrying out Nora’s instructions with complete sincerity.
At that moment, he was preparing to smash another mirror.
The wooden stick rose high above his head—
And then—
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone approaching.
He stopped.
Turned his head.
And nearly stared his eyeballs out of his skull.
“M-Miss Bukater?”
De Rossi spoke in a tone of extreme uncertainty.
He genuinely was not sure whether the person standing before him was the same aristocratic young lady from earlier.
Because what she was wearing now was utterly bizarre.
Neither properly masculine nor feminine.
An oversized men’s shirt tied tightly at the waist.
Pant legs rolled to the calves.
Hair pulled up high.
And most terrifying of all—
She was carrying a sword.
The weapon had a strange spiral design along the hilt, looking both heavy and deeply dangerous.
De Rossi had absolutely no idea where she had obtained such a thing.
“Mm.”
Nora answered briefly.
As casually as if she were responding to a question about the weather.
Then Nora walked directly up to the mirror.
It was enormous.
An ornate decorative mirror framed in gold carvings, reflecting the dim yellow glow of the corridor lamps and the silhouettes of the two people standing before it.
She turned to De Rossi.
The expression in her green eyes was frighteningly serious.
“In a moment, I’m going inside the mirror.”
De Rossi froze.
His brain stopped functioning for a full second.
“…What?”
Nora did not explain.
She simply continued.
“After I go in, keep breaking the mirrors.”
She lifted a finger and pointed directly at the one in front of them.
“Including this one.”
De Rossi looked even more stunned.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then finally asked the only honest question left in his mind.
“Then… how are you supposed to come back?”
Nora paused.
Then she turned toward him and smiled.
It was a very brief smile.
Certain.
Steady.
“He’ll know.”
The next second, Nora stepped forward with the sword in hand.
The instant her body touched the mirror’s surface, the smooth glass rippled like water.
Silver waves spread outward.
The reflective surface twisted softly—
Then swallowed her whole.
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The corridor fell silent again.
Only De Rossi remained standing there alone.
Still clutching the wooden stick, he stared blankly at the now motionless mirror for a very long time.
Long enough for reality to slowly return.
At last, he spoke under his breath.
His tone carried the complicated sorrow of someone mourning a friend before the battle had even begun.
“Jack… my friend…”
“You never had a chance.”
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The moment Nora stepped into the mirror world, her shoes were instantly soaked.
Ice-cold water seeped through the soles at once, the freezing chill shooting straight up her legs so sharply that she nearly lost her balance.
Her body swayed sideways before she barely managed to steady herself.
The floor was tilted.
Not an illusion.
The angle of the entire ship had already begun to change.
Instinctively, Nora grabbed the wall beside her and caught her breath before rapidly scanning the corridor around her.
The hallway was dim and deathly silent.
Lights flickered on and off.
Water had already risen to her ankles, icy seawater flowing continuously across the carpet.
Frowning, she crouched down and dipped a finger into the water.
Then brought it to her lips.
Salt.
Seawater.
Nora fell silent for two seconds.
Tim Drake.
So the ship was absolutely going to sink no matter what.
“…Goddammit.”
The curse slipped out under her breath before she immediately forced herself forward.
But the situation was even worse than she had imagined.
The slanted floor alone made walking difficult.
Combined with the flooding and the soaked carpet turning slick beneath her feet, every step felt like walking through shifting mud.
Her shoes kept slipping.
Nora braced herself against the wall while using the sword in her hand like a cane.
The tip struck the floor with sharp metallic clicks, barely helping her maintain her balance.
The corridor was freezing.
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That kind of damp cold seeped straight into the bones.
She moved quickly through the corridor—
Then abruptly stopped at a corner.
Nora turned her head slightly.
Held her breath.
And listened carefully.
The sound of water.
Wood crashing against wood.
Shattering glass.
And beneath it all—
A low, animalistic growl.
Nora opened her eyes.
She had confirmed the direction.
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The good news was—
Tim had emptied every last bullet from his gun before it got soaked.
The bad news was—
The monster was still alive.
Tim could not help letting out a bitter laugh.
“There’s another piece of bad news now.”
He was breathing hard, his voice roughened from prolonged fighting and running.
“The ship is sinking.”
During the battle earlier, there had suddenly been a massive boom.
The entire ship lurched violently, hard enough that even the metal decorations bolted to the walls had rattled.
At the time, Tim had still been trying to figure out what the sound was.
Then only a few minutes later—
The water came in.
Freezing seawater burst through from the far end of the corridor.
Now Tim stood half-balanced inside a tilted room, floodwater already covering the tops of his shoes.
Historical data surfaced clearly in his mind.
From the moment Titanic struck the iceberg to the moment she fully sank—
Only two hours passed.
At this point, he honestly did not know which would happen first.
Whether the ship would sink—
Or whether the monster would catch him first.
The creature lunged again.
Tim immediately grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it at full force.
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The sound of wood slamming into flesh was horrifyingly heavy.
The chair shattered on impact.
But the creature only staggered sideways for a moment before straightening again.
Tim’s breathing was becoming harsher.
This monster had already been shot multiple times.
Including Rose’s shots.
And his own.
The bullets had definitely hit.
But it did not matter.
The thing either could not feel pain—
Or it simply did not care unless some vital core was destroyed.
Truthfully, Tim had seen plenty of monsters in Gotham before.
Mutated creatures.
Human experiments.
Victims of toxic chemicals.
Even stranger things than those.
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Compared to the high-intelligence criminals of Gotham, monsters were actually much simpler.
They usually followed instinct.
They did not create elaborate schemes.
They did not play psychological games.
And they did not manipulate human nature.
But even the simplest monster became a nightmare in a prolonged pursuit like this.
Tim let out a heavy breath.
His left arm was bleeding.
Earlier, while dodging through the narrow corridor, the creature’s claws had swept across him, tearing open a deep wound.
Blood was still running down his arm, dripping steadily into the freezing seawater below.
And the blood loss was beginning to affect his stamina.
Tim glanced down briefly at the injury.
Then lifted his head again, blue eyes locking back onto the creature.
His body had begun to shake.
Not from fear—
But from the cold.
The seawater had long since soaked through everything. Wet clothes clung tightly to his skin while the freezing temperature burrowed into his bones like countless tiny needles.
His fingers were growing numb.
Even clenching his fist required deliberate effort now.
Breathing was becoming harder too.
But in the middle of all this—
He noticed something.
The creature’s movements had slowed as well.
That realization dragged Tim’s fading focus sharply back into place.
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Low temperature.
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No matter what the creature actually was, it was still ultimately bound by environmental conditions.
Tim straightened himself again and began moving.
Deliberately heading upward—
Toward the higher decks and colder air near the surface.
He needed space now.
And he needed lower temperatures.
He began consciously guiding the monster.
Drawing it after him.
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Truthfully—
The creature really had slowed down.
But Tim himself was reaching his limit too.
His body had started trembling uncontrollably. Every muscle was gradually stiffening from the cold. His lips had gone pale, and his soaked clothes clung to him like sheets of ice.
Every breath hurt.
He could even feel his own movements slowing along with the creature’s, sensation fading from his limbs little by little.
In his haze of exhaustion, Tim suddenly remembered something from years ago.
Back when he had only recently become Robin.
During one mission, he had accidentally fallen into the ocean in the middle of winter.
The cold was exactly the same.
Cold enough that every breath felt like knives cutting through his lungs.
The human body died frighteningly fast under rapid hypothermia.
Back then, he had even started feeling sleepy.
In the end, Batman had jumped into the water and pulled him back out.
The memory was too vivid.
So vivid that Tim lost focus for a single second.
And then—
His footing suddenly slipped.
A chunk of broken iceberg caught under his foot.
Tim crashed hard onto the deck, icy water splashing across his face the instant he hit the ground.
One thought flashed immediately through his mind—
Never lose focus during a fight.
He rolled sharply onto his back—
Only to see the creature already lunging toward him.
Too close.
Close enough for him to clearly see the split-open jaws and rows of jagged teeth.
Tim’s mind blanked out completely.
And then—
“Move!”
A woman’s voice suddenly cut through the storm.
Against the backlight, Tim could not make out who it was.
But he saw something diving down from the higher deck above.
Fast enough to resemble a streak of white.
Acting on instinct, Tim rolled half a turn to the side.
The next second—
“SHLK!”
A massive white object pierced straight through the creature’s skull.
Black fluid exploded outward instantly.
Spraying across the deck.
The monster’s entire body convulsed violently.
And finally—
Tim saw clearly.
Rose—
Was standing on the creature’s back.
Both hands clenched tightly around a white sword buried deep inside the monster’s head.
A blade made from a narwhal tusk.
Her entire face had been splattered with black blood. Strands of hair clung messily to her skin, and the men’s shirt she wore was soaked through, pressed tightly against her body.
Her breathing was ragged.
But she paid no attention to any of it.
Her lips were pressed into a hard line as she stared down at the creature beneath her feet, watching for even the slightest movement.
Like a warrior charging out of the light itself.
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