Natalie Saint Grenn sat behind her polished desk at the Imperial Justice Department, papers strewn in front of her.
Her black hair was tied into a neat bun, secured with two silver pins angled like blades.
A few strands had slipped loose and now framed her tired, pale face.
Her sharp yellow eyes, always so precise, looked heavier than usual and darker with exhaustion.
In her hand was yet another report, stamped in red: Missing—Gresha Chapel.
She skimmed the names, the times, the witness testimonies… again.
And again.
"No updates... nothing from the underground rings, not even from the dumb cults."
She muttered, flipping the paper and tossing it aside.
"What kind of ghost story is this...?"
She leaned forward, elbow on the desk, fingers digging into her temple.
"I've closed over forty-two human trafficking cases in the last six years… and this one decides to be the pain in my ass."
She growled.
Then, with a dramatic exhale, she spun her chair around and stared at the man sitting awkwardly on the sofa near her desk.
He was clutching a teacup carefully, like it might bite him.
A thin man with brown hair, a formal coat slightly too big for his shoulders, and square glasses that always sat too low on his nose.
"Owen."
His hand flinched.
A small splash of tea hit his cuff.
"Y-yes, Madam Natalie?"
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"How's the new division going?
The one made in honor of both ISD and IJD?"
"Oh! Yes, of course."
He scrambled for a paper towel and began blotting his coat sleeve while still speaking.
"According to our informants at the ISD, the division was deployed just yesterday to Gresha.
They've already begun work.
And matter of fact your brother is actually the appointed Praetor of the Saintless Ward."
Natalie blinked once.
Then again.
"...What?"
Owen paused mid-dab, towel stuck to his wrist.
"Yes… Praetor Noel. Your brother.
He's leading the division."
"Why the hell would they put him in that position?!
He's sick.
He literally just left the military.
Didn't he resign from the ISD like—publicly?!"
"Well..."
Owen mumbled while trying to clean the tea off the sofa cushion now.
"...Wouldn't that mean the department must have consulted him?
And he signed off on it?
That's the only way something like that would've happened, Madam…"
Natalie stared at him.
He froze.
"...I apologize," he added quickly.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair, lifting her legs up on a small stool nearby.
"Unbelievable…"
While she rubbed her temples again, Owen kept patting the cushion. Then—
"OW—!"
He jumped, stumbling forward.
His foot had collided with the edge of the small table in front of the sofa.
He dropped the teacup, thankfully empty now, and his glasses slipped off his face, landing with a gentle plonk near the rug.
Natalie blinked at the scene.
Then, despite everything, a soft chuckle escaped her lips.
Owen groaned, crouching to find his glasses.
"First the toe, now the floor.
I am truly cursed…"
Natalie kept watching.
Then her expression shifted a little.
It was the first time she saw Owen without his glasses.
His eyes, now squinting and a little watery from the pain, were unexpectedly sharp in color.
A deep gray that almost looked silver in the office light.
Owen finally stood up again, ruffling his hair and wiping his glasses on the hem of his shirt.
He noticed her gaze.
"Please don't laugh at my misery, Madam…"
Natalie's eyes widened slightly, then softened.
She looked away.
***
The small room was dimly lit by a warm lantern hanging on the wall, casting a soft golden glow across the stone floor and the neatly tucked bed.
Aelwen lay under thick woolen sheets, her body still weak, but her eyes, wide and glassy, were open.
Beside her bed sat Bran and Seris.
Bran's knees were pulled up to his chest, arms resting on them.
While Seris sat more properly, hands folded in her lap like she'd been told by one of the nannies.
Aelwen slowly turned her head toward them, blinking tiredly.
"Did something... happen?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper, rough and low.
Bran looked at her with wide eyes, then opened his mouth quickly as if he'd been holding it in the whole time.
"You fainted.
On the stage!
We were doin' the play and you just fell, remember?
You were holding your teddy bear and your doll and you just started... shaking..."
"I wasn't scared...but Seris was..."
Bran said confidently while avoiding direct eye contact with Seris. But she could feel a cold creep up his spine.
He said, his voice speeding up.
"And then that ISD guy—the one with the yellow eyes and that long coat...he came runnin'.
I swear, he held you like this—"
Bran mimicked cradling someone.
"...and then he pulled out a gun!
A real gun!"
Aelwen blinked slowly, listening.
Bran leaned forward, eyes big.
"He pointed it right at you.
I really thought...really, really thought he was gonna shoot you, Aelwen.
My legs couldn't move.
I couldn't do anything."
His voice cracked at the end of that sentence.
He looked away quickly, embarrassed.
"But then... he didn't."
Bran continued, quieter now.
"He shot your teddy bear.
And... and it just caught fire.
Like regular yellow fire.
But it was purple."
He paused, his hands tightening around his knees.
"I've never felt so scared in my life.
Like... like my chest hurt 'cause I couldn't do anything."
Seris put a gentle hand on his arm, but Bran didn't look at her.
He kept staring at the floor.
"I don't wanna feel that way ever again."
He said softly.
"I'm gonna become a knight.
A real one. Like the ones in stories.
No, I'll become the most powerful holy knight the empire has ever seen.
And then I'll protect you.
I promise."
Aelwen smiled weakly.
Her lips barely moved, but her eyes softened.
"You're silly, Bran..."
She murmured.
Then, her body twitched slightly, and she coughed into her hand.
Seris immediately grabbed the wooden cup beside the bed.
"Here—have water—!"
But Aelwen shook her head gently.
"No... I'm okay.
Just... very, very tired."
She let her head sink deeper into the pillow, eyes already starting to close again.
Seris and Bran looked at each other but said nothing more.
The door creaked open slowly, its old hinges groaning faintly in the still room.
Bran flinched and turned around quickly, eyes narrowing.
Seris looked too, her little hand instinctively moving toward Aelwen's arm under the blanket.
A tall woman in a long, pale-blue gown stepped in.
Her white head covering marked her as one of the chapel nannies.
She smiled faintly at the children.
"Come now..."
She said gently, folding her hands.
"It's time to go."
Bran stood up immediately, confused.
"W-Where to?"
The nanny smiled again.
"We're moving rooms.
You've all been asked to relocate."
Bran looked at Seris, then shook his head.
"No, we're not supposed to leave."
He said firmly.
"The ISD people said so. And Father Gideon.
They told us not to visit other rooms or even walk alone..."
Seris nodded.
"We're supposed to stay here till they say so."
The nanny stepped further in, the lamplight casting a soft shadow behind her.
Her voice didn't change, but her smile sharpened.
"You don't want to be bad children, do you?" she asked.
"The Divine Lumina... doesn't like children who don't listen to their elders."
Bran hesitated, sniffing.
His small fists clenched at his sides.
"But... but what about Aelwen?"
He asked quietly, wiping his nose.
"She's sick... she's really tired..."
The nanny's eyes fell on the girl lying still in bed.
Then, without another word, she stepped forward and gently slipped her arms under Aelwen's body, lifting her slowly but with strength.
"I'll carry her," she said softly.
Seris still looked unsure, but Bran, after one more glance at Aelwen, slowly walked toward the door.
The nanny turned and motioned for them to follow.
And without another sound, the children stepped out of the room, the door being left open.
***