Decker POV
Dinner had been unbearable for Decker; to call it uncomfortable would have been a gross understatement. Every second spent seated at that table felt suffocating, another reminder of the circumstances his brother had forced upon him. His gaze drifted toward his wife. There was no warmth in his eyes, no affection hidden behind the silence. Yes, they shared a son, but that child had not been born from love. Benjamin's existence was not the culmination of passion between two people—it was the product of anger, frustration, political necessity, and betrayal.
Decker slowly rose from his seat and turned toward the exit.
"I will be waiting in the carriage," he said coldly before walking away.
Hersea stood abruptly as well, turning toward him with a sorrowful expression, the kind that silently begged for affection that would never come.
"Please… stop."
Decker glanced back at her for only a moment before continuing on without another word. He did not entirely hate his wife, but neither did he love her. To him, she was simply another consequence of a life he never wished to live.
He climbed into the carriage and sat in silence, waiting patiently for his brother, who was clearly enjoying his breakfast far more than Decker had enjoyed the breakfast. Minutes passed—far too many—before Arion finally entered the carriage.
A cloth rested in Arion's hand as he wiped the corners of his mouth, satisfaction evident in the faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Now then," Arion said as he exhaled comfortably, "I believe it is time to depart."
Decker rolled his eyes and stretched his arm outside the carriage window, signaling the coachman to move.
The carriage lurched forward.
"Now that you're settled," Decker said, leaning slightly forward, "perhaps you could finally explain the reason for this meeting."
Arion chuckled softly.
"Oh? I thought I already did."
The joking expression vanished from Arion's face almost instantly. His demeanor sharpened as he shut the carriage windows tightly before lowering his voice to a whisper, ensuring nobody outside could overhear.
"As you know, over the past few months, the terrorist organization we have yet to officially identify has been causing chaos throughout the nation. Supply lines have been destroyed, slave transports intercepted, and several important trade routes rendered unusable because of their repeated attacks."
"I know all of that already," Decker replied impatiently. "So what changed to the point where the heads of the Five Great Families have finally decided to intervene personally?"
Arion frowned slightly and glanced over his shoulder. Something in his expression shifted—something uneasy. His mannerisms alone revealed the seriousness of the situation. Decker had not seen his brother behave this cautiously in years.
"Is something wrong?" Decker asked.
Arion's smile returned almost immediately, though this time it looked forced.
"It was probably nothing."
Decker tilted his head slightly, confusion etched across his face.
"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with," Arion said as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Recently, they've begun spreading the name of what we believe to be their religious figure. He goes by the name Noura Zori. We do not know what he looks like, nor where he originated from. All we know is that they worship him—or at the very least, use his name as justification for their actions."
Decker leaned back slightly as he pieced together the events of the past few months.
First, the Headmaster's death.
Then the interruption during the Selection Game.
And now this.
If it had not already been obvious, it was undeniable now. Every catastrophe that had unfolded recently was connected to a single organization.
But another question quickly formed in his mind.
"So how exactly do we stop this?" Decker asked. "They must have demands. Nobody wages war without reason."
Arion laughed quietly.
"Demands? We do not negotiate with terrorists. If they desire violence, then we will answer them with greater violence."
Decker looked away, skepticism visible in his eyes.
"What is it?" Arion asked.
Decker slowly turned back toward his brother, and for the first time, there was something close to fear hidden in his expression.
"Do you truly believe someone capable of killing the Headmaster will be easy to defeat?"
This time, Arion did not answer immediately. Silence settled between them as he processed the question.
Finally, he spoke.
"We have no reason to fear… so long as Adel still stands."
Tristan POV
Tristan stepped out of the shower, his thoughts still tangled from the nightmare he had endured the previous night. Even now, fragments of it lingered in his mind like poison refusing to leave his bloodstream.
As he exited the washroom, he overheard several women whispering amongst themselves. From the fragmented pieces of conversation he managed to catch, Tristan gathered that important visitors had arrived.
Very important visitors.
A towel rested over his damp crimson hair as he entered his room. He released a slow breath before sitting on the edge of his bed and drying his hair in silence.
Once finished, he dressed quickly and stepped back outside, curiosity pulling him toward the source of the commotion.
But before he could go any further, someone blocked his path.
Godfrey's assistant.
She stood silently in front of him, expression unreadable.
"What's going on?" Tristan asked.
With an almost mechanical calmness, she replied, "My master has requested that you remain inside your room."
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"And why is that? Your master seems rather secretive."
The woman stared at him for several moments before finally answering.
"My master keeps secrets because it is better for everyone if he does."
Tristan sighed softly and turned back toward his room. As he walked away, however, he glanced over the railing overlooking the lower floor.
Two men were making their way to Godfrey's office.
Both wore uniforms bearing the insignia of Pillar Orion.
From the aura they emitted alone, Tristan could tell they were strong—far stronger than ordinary Star Masters. Perhaps close to Killington's level… or maybe even beyond it.
He glanced behind him. Godfrey's assistant still stood there, watching him carefully.
Tristan entered his room and quietly locked the door behind him.
Then he spoke.
"Killington… it's time to get to work."
His shadow separated from beneath his feet and slid silently underneath the door. Concealed within the shadows cast throughout the building, it moved undetected down the staircase and into Godfrey's office.
There, it latched itself onto one of the men—a broad-shouldered figure with reddish-brown hair and an eyepatch covering his left eye.
Through Killington's senses, Tristan observed the meeting unfolding inside the office.
"Gentlemen," Godfrey said pleasantly, "welcome to my humble establishment. What may I do for you today?"
The second man appeared far less patient. Aggression radiated from him almost immediately.
"Don't play dumb, Godfrey," he snapped. "You know exactly why we're here. Where's the information you promised us?"
Godfrey leaned forward slightly, feigning confusion.
"Information regarding what exactly?"
The man slammed both hands onto the desk.
"Jack the Ripper," he barked. "Information regarding Jack the Ripper!"
Godfrey smiled faintly and tapped his forehead with one finger.
"Ah, yes. My memory has become rather unreliable lately. Old age, perhaps."
The aggressive man slowly stepped forward.
"Do you have the information or not?"
Godfrey shook his head calmly.
"Not yet. I've been searching, but locating someone who hides themselves so thoroughly is… difficult."
"You've been giving us excuses for weeks," the man growled. "Perhaps you've forgotten that if you fail to provide us with what we want, we can shut this entire humble establishment down."
Godfrey only smiled wider, as though the threat amused him.
"Don't worry," he said lightly. "I'm fully aware."
Just as the conversation seemed ready to continue, the silent man—the one Killington had attached himself to—slowly turned his head.
Then he looked downward.
Directly at his own shadow.
He crouched slightly, staring at it with a faint smirk spreading across his face.
"I can sense you."