(THO) CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Coil wasn’t stupid. 

He liked to believe that, above all else—above charm, above ruthlessness, above cunning—his intelligence was what had kept him alive and in the game this long. A lesser man would have hesitated. A sentimental man would have waited. Coil was neither.

He did not mourn broken tools, nor did he lose sleep over sacrifices made in pursuit of greater victories. This world, the entire institution of masks and secrecy, did not reward sentiment. It rewarded methodicalness.

Tattletale had always been a liability. A brilliant one, granted, but a liability nonetheless. She was too smart, too sharp, and too ambitious for her own good. She played every game like she was five moves ahead and smiled like she knew exactly when you’d fall for the trap she’d laid. That kind of mind didn’t settle. It maneuvered. And eventually, it betrayed.

Coil had known, from the day he brought her into his organization, that she would eventually try to dismantle it and assume control. It was in her nature, the same way it was in his to hide and plan. Every conversation, every report, and every joke she made had carried the same undercurrent of arrogance and creeping threat. 

He knew, and had done his best to hide it all this time, that the moment she thought she had a winning hand, she’d make her move. 

So he’d simply moved first.

It was the only logical conclusion. She had served her purpose. And once he’d confirmed Gojo Satoru’s reaction, he knew it had been the right decision.

Because for all his aloofness, everything had gone according to plan, and Gojo had taken the bait. 

That was the moment Coil knew the stories were wrong. Gojo’s indifference was merely a facade. The man could form attachments. He could be provoked.

Not over Lisa Wilbourn, of course. Gojo didn’t care about her. That had become clear.

But Taylor Hebert? Missy Biron? Amy Dallon?

Something was there.

He still didn’t know why the man had taken an interest in them, and he wasn't naive enough to think it was random. Maybe it was some twisted mentorship instinct, or maybe something stranger, or worse. But it didn’t matter. He didn't even need to know. What mattered was that It made him realize something: 

The key to handling Gojo wasn’t force. It wasn’t containment. It wasn’t even diplomacy. It was understanding what moved him. And now, Coil had a list.

Those girls were important to him in some way, and that made them valuable.

More than that, it made them leverage.

And Coil was nothing if not a man who knew how to use leverage.

He just needed the right incentive. 

“Candy, now?” a hoarse voice whispered. 

The lights in the room dimmed slightly as he turned in his chair toward the bed in the corner. Dinah Alcott sat there, small, pale, with her knees drawn to her chest, and her thumb halfway to her mouth. Her eyes were rimmed red. She’d been crying again.

He frowned. 

The nails were gone, bitten to the quick. The others weren’t much better.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

Her shoulders tensed, and rose from his desk, walking slowly toward her. The ever-reassuring mask of kindness slid into place as he knelt in front of her and gently pulled her hand away from her mouth.

“Two more questions, pet,” he said, affecting a softer voice. “Then candy. I promise.”

She flinched but gave a small, jerky nod.

Coil stood, folding his hands behind his back and waiting for her to steady herself. When her breathing evened slightly, he spoke again, voice low and patient.

There was no need for theatrics; she knew what was coming.

“Tell me the numbers for the same situation,” he said. “But if I sent the Travelers instead.”

Her mouth trembled.

But she closed her eyes, and shifted through the possible worlds, the numbers beginning to form.

For a moment, Coil almost felt a flicker of sympathy. Almost. Then he smiled. 

Tattletale had failed to understand something, and that led to her disappointing death. Control wasn’t about brute force, or having the most powerful figure at your beck and call. 

It was about knowing when to let the right piece fall.