Michael:Darius, despite his seclusion, feels… deeply. He forms bonds, powerful ones. Bonds that transcend the physical.
The air in the study crackled with unspoken anticipation.
Michael: *He gestures towards Monja, his expression softening.* Your connection to Christopher, Monja… It resonates with an almost supernatural intensity. It could act as a beacon, drawing us towards Darius, or perhaps, him towards us.
Jin-Woo: *He rubbed the back of his neck, still adjusting to the idea of this otherworldly connection.* So, we're using Monja as… bait?
Michael: *He winced slightly.* Not bait, Jin-Woo. A… focus point. A conduit.
Monja: *She took a deep breath, a hint of worry in her eyes.* And how do I become this conduit?
Michael: *He stepped closer, his voice gentle.* Focus, Monja. Focus on your connection with Christopher. Let it fill you, guide you.
Monja closed her eyes, the image of Christopher's face, so familiar yet subtly different, flashing behind her eyelids. This Christopher was the one she knew and loved, the man she felt in her soul, not the man standing before her with the same face. The incongruity felt like a sharp stab to her heart.
Monja breathed deeply, trying to push aside the image of Jin-Woo and concentrate on the ethereal threat that linked her to the man she knew and love. Silence descended upon the study, thick with anticipation. Only the soft rustle of Michael's wings and the almost imperceptible hum emanating from Monja broke the stillness.
Jin-Woo: *He watched Monja, a strange mix of curiosity and unease swirling within him. He felt like an outsider looking in on a deeply personal moment, and the guilt gnawed at him. He wondered what the real Christopher would think of all this.* How long will this… take? *He whispered to Michael.*
Michael: *He held a finger to his lips, his eyes fixed on Monja.* Patience, Jin-Woo. Such connections… they operate on their own time.
The tension in the room thickened, each passing second stretching the silence into an almost palpable entity. Jin-Woo shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his borrowed life pressing down on him with renewed force. He wondered if Monja could sense the difference, feel the subtle shift in the soul she was reaching for.
Monja: *Her brow furrowed, a flicker of doubt crossing her features. The connection, like a radio signal struggling through static.* Something's… wrong.