Chap­ter 12 — Per­fidy opens with a shift in pace as Bulan, now com­mand­ing the respect of his strange com­pan­ions, moves qui­et­ly through a for­est path near the long-desert­ed long-house. His thoughts remain fixed on Vir­ginia, whose safe­ty is uncer­tain, and whose pres­ence he is deter­mined to locate. At the same time, the res­cue party—led by Pro­fes­sor Max­on and Von Horn—receives a vague report that some­one resem­bling Vir­ginia was seen being car­ried off by a white giant. Von Horn, ever cal­cu­lat­ing, warps the account to align with his strat­e­gy, sub­tly imply­ing that Bulan is the kid­nap­per. With this manip­u­la­tion, he gains lever­age, push­ing for­ward a plan that leaves no room for trust or trans­paren­cy. The pro­fes­sor, although frail from fatigue and a sud­den fever, agrees to pause and rest, unaware of Von Horn’s ulte­ri­or motives. What unfolds next is a sequence of deci­sions root­ed in manip­u­la­tion and the self­ish pur­suit of gain.

In the heart of the jun­gle, Sing Lee, dri­ven by his mis­trust of Von Horn, takes it upon him­self to trail the par­ty unno­ticed. The trail leads him to a fierce conflict—a scene chaot­ic and lay­ered with dan­ger. Bulan, ever brave, is seen defend­ing Vir­ginia from mon­strous foes, fight­ing with a raw blend of des­per­a­tion and val­or. Yet Von Horn arrives only in time to seize cred­it, whisk­ing Vir­ginia away while aban­don­ing Bulan to the sav­agery of the moment. Sing Lee, ever the watch­ful guardian, reacts in hor­ror as the truth becomes appar­ent. He fires at a threat­en­ing crea­ture to pro­tect him­self, but by then, the land­scape has already shift­ed. Bulan, though wound­ed and alone, is left in the wilder­ness, his brav­ery ignored and his part erased. The jun­gle swal­lows the rest of the scene, leav­ing only the truth with Sing.

The reunion at the long-house car­ries an air of man­u­fac­tured tri­umph. Von Horn boasts of a dar­ing res­cue, con­struct­ing a tale that removes Bulan’s hero­ism entire­ly. Vir­ginia, shak­en and con­fused, has no chance to cor­rect the record. Sing Lee, sens­ing the injus­tice, bites his tongue, aware that tim­ing mat­ters more than truth in this moment. Max­on, vis­i­bly relieved, receives his daugh­ter with grat­i­tude, but ques­tions linger behind his eyes. Von Horn seizes the oppor­tu­ni­ty to draw clos­er to Vir­ginia, press­ing for a renewed engage­ment based on what he describes as shared dan­ger. Max­on, uncer­tain but tired, gives his con­sent qui­et­ly, more out of pres­sure than con­vic­tion. The long-house becomes a rest­ing place for wound­ed truths and half-believed sto­ries.

Vir­ginia, though safe, remains emo­tion­al­ly adrift. She can­not ignore the image of the man who fought so fierce­ly for her—whose name she may not know, but whose heart she felt in every action. Von Horn’s pres­ence feels heav­ier now, like a cloak placed upon her shoul­ders that doesn’t belong. Though grate­ful for the sup­posed res­cue, she sens­es a gap in his sto­ry, a miss­ing detail her soul refus­es to for­get. Her emo­tions pull her toward the unknown savior—the one with no name but an unmis­tak­able pres­ence. Von Horn, notic­ing her hes­i­ta­tion, masks his frus­tra­tion with charm, vow­ing to wait for her answer. Yet even he knows the foun­da­tion of his pro­pos­al is built not on truth, but on bor­rowed val­or.

As the chap­ter con­cludes, threads of deceit, long­ing, and inner con­flict begin to form a more intri­cate pat­tern. Each char­ac­ter finds them­selves caught in a moment of per­son­al reck­on­ing. Von Horn clings to his ver­sion of events, seek­ing reward with­out mer­it. Max­on, reel­ing from his own deci­sions and the bur­den of guilt, qui­et­ly ques­tions whether he tru­ly under­stands the peo­ple around him. Sing Lee, hold­ing the truth close, pre­pares to act, know­ing jus­tice may still have its moment. And Vir­ginia, haunt­ed by a voice and gaze that stirred her soul, begins to under­stand that grat­i­tude and love are not always the same. In the shad­ows of lies and half-truths, the stage is set for the bat­tle not just for survival—but for truth, iden­ti­ty, and the heart’s most sin­cere inten­tions.