Alma sat quietly at the dinner table, with Emily and the cloaked boy seated beside him, still shaken, while Jasmine and Max sat across from them. The apartment was peaceful, almost unusually so considering everything that had happened over the past several days, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everyone simply sat together beneath the warm lights of the dining room.
"So... who's this cloaked guy?" Jasmine asked curiously.
Before Alma could answer—most likely with a gentle reminder to be respectful—Emily spoke first, though her voice shook.
"He doesn't have a name," she said softly. "And no... he doesn't want to take the cloak off."
Jasmine nodded immediately, respecting the boy's wishes without another word. Even so, that answer only satisfied one of the many questions floating around in her head.
"Then who are you?" she asked, turning her attention toward Emily. "We've seen you before when Dad visited the Leviathan Monarch, but... who are you exactly?"
Emily hesitated for only a brief moment before answering.
"My name is Emily Grace," she said quietly. "My parents never gave me a family name... either they forgot, or they just didn't care. Anastasia was the one who gave me both my names." A small smile crossed her face before she continued. "And I turn thirteen in September."
Jasmine's eyes widened.
"No way you're nearly my age!" she exclaimed. "You're so tall."
"Yeah," Max agreed with a nod. "You're even taller than me."
Emily smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck. "It isn't by much," she replied. "I guess I was just born with the right genes."
"I'm four foot seven," Jasmine said proudly. "How tall are you?"
"And I'm exactly five feet," Max added.
Emily looked between the two siblings before answering, seemingly forgetting what had transpired a few moments ago.
"I've never actually measured myself," she admitted. "But... judging by Max, I'd probably say around five foot two."
"You're going to grow into a tall and gorgeous young woman one day, Emily," Alma said warmly.
A faint blush immediately appeared across Emily's cheeks, proud to receive such a compliment.
"Thank you," she replied with a shy smile. "Maybe one day I'll even be as tall as you."
Alma chuckled quietly. "I wouldn't count on that."
Emily tilted her head curiously.
"How tall are you, anyway?" she asked. "Because every time I've seen you standing next to someone, you make them look tiny."
Alma scratched the side of his face with an embarrassed smile.
"Oh, I'm not that tall," he said modestly. "Though the last time anyone officially measured me was when I was fourteen years old, and I was already six foot one back then. If I had to guess now... probably somewhere around six foot four or six foot five."
Emily's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Beside her, even the cloaked boy slowly lowered his jaw in complete disbelief.
"Six foot five?" Emily repeated. "You call that 'not tall?'"
"Y-Yeah..." the cloaked boy murmured quietly from beneath his hood. "Th-That's... really tall..."
Max and Jasmine couldn't help smiling proudly at the reaction. For some reason, seeing other people become amazed by their father filled both of them with an indescribable sense of pride.
"That's right," Jasmine declared confidently as she puffed out her chest and planted both hands on her hips, smiling with her eyes closed. "Our father is just that cool."
"Yeah," Max agreed with the exact same proud grin. "He's the real deal."
Alma laughed awkwardly before waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, enough about me," he said with a sheepish smile. "Let's get back to our guests."
He looked affectionately toward Emily and the cloaked boy before wrapping an arm around each of them.
"Starting today," he announced cheerfully, "Emily and this fine young man will be your sister and brother... and my daughter and son." His smile only widened. "Welcome home."
The words seemed to freeze the entire room.
Jasmine and Max stared blankly at Alma for several long seconds before slowly turning toward Emily... then toward the cloaked boy... before looking back at their father again.
"What...?" the two whispered almost inaudibly.
Neither of them knew whether Alma was joking or completely serious.
Emily herself seemed equally surprised, blinking several times as she looked up at Alma, while the cloaked boy remained completely motionless beneath his hood, seemingly unsure how to react to what had just been said.
Then—A sharp, unmistakable sensation suddenly pierced Alma's awareness. His smile disappeared instantly. The warmth in his expression vanished as his eyes narrowed, his attention abruptly shifting away from everyone sitting around the table and toward something unimaginably distant.
Beside him, the cloaked boy reacted almost at the exact same moment.
Without saying a word, he slowly turned his head toward the apartment window as though instinct alone had compelled him to look outside.
Alma's expression darkened.
'That feeling just now...' His eyes narrowed even further. 'Was the death of the Leviathan Monarch...!'
───
February 17th, 2033—2:50 PM.
Inside the Oval Office, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Emmanuel Thatcher—the President of the United States—sat behind the Resolute Desk with his hands clasped together atop the polished wood, his eyes closed and his head lowered slightly as though the weight resting upon his shoulders had become almost unbearable.
Seated together on one side of the room were Ora True, the Cerberus Monarch, and Montana Bristol, the Cetus Monarch.
Across from them sat Weston Cooper, the Centaur Monarch, with Amelia Spring, the Dryad Monarch, seated beside him.
Standing near Ora and Montana was Tanner Ormond, the Hydra Monarch. Opposite him stood Alma Alastor, the Dragon Monarch.
No one spoke.
The silence pressing against the room felt almost physical, while the tension hanging in the air had become so dense that it seemed as though even a single misplaced word could reduce the entire meeting to chaos.
Finally, Emmanuel lifted his head. "I don't think I need to explain why I called all of you here," he said quietly as he opened his eyes. "We all felt it."
Every Monarch present nodded silently.
The room fell quiet once more. Only this time, the silence lasted mere seconds.
"This is impossible!" Ora suddenly shouted as he shot to his feet. "She can't be dead! Not Anastasia! That just... isn't possible!"
Montana immediately placed a comforting hand upon his arm.
"But it is, Ora," she said gently. "Every one of us felt it. That connection disappearing... I never imagined something like that could even happen."
Ora barely seemed to hear her.
Instead, he turned sharply toward Alma.
"And you!" he shouted, pointing directly at the Dragon Monarch. "You didn't help her! You didn't go after her! You didn't protect her like you're supposed to! You didn't do anything!"
Alma remained perfectly composed. He understood that grief was speaking—not reason.
"Ora..." Montana whispered softly.
"I understand why you're upset," Alma replied calmly, "but I had no way of knowing where Anastasia was going, nor where any of you are at every moment. That has never been the responsibility of the Dragon Monarch."
His calm answer only fueled Ora's anger.
"You could've done something!" Ora shouted, stepping forward.
Before anyone else could react, Emmanuel slammed both hands against his desk. "Enough, Ora!"
Every head turned toward the President.
"Alma is right," Emmanuel continued firmly after sitting back down. "The Dragon Monarch exists to keep the authority and power of the Monarchs balanced—not to make prisoners out of the rest of us."
His expression softened. "I know Anastasia meant more to you than she did to anyone else in this room."
Then it hardened again. "But that does not give you the right to blame someone who had absolutely nothing to do with her death."
"Then why are we even here?" Ora demanded. "Let's go find the bastards who killed her!"
"And have the rest of you die as well?" Emmanuel fired back. "Before Alma became the Dragon Monarch, Anastasia was the second strongest Monarch alive, surpassed only by me. Every single one of you remembers what happened the last time you sparred against her."
His eyes swept across every Monarch gathered inside the Oval Office. "If something was capable of killing the Leviathan Monarch—the same Monarch who constantly pushed even me to my limits—then whatever did it would slaughter every one of you without hesitation."
Reason finally overtook Ora's grief and he slowly lowered his head. Every Monarch present knew Emmanuel was right.
There was nothing they could have done.
Nothing... except mourn.
Then, as though a sudden thought had struck him, Ora straightened in his seat, a spark of hope returning to his expression despite everything that had happened. "Then how about we send Alma to find whoever did it?" he suggested, looking between Emmanuel and the Dragon Monarch. "If anyone can track down the one responsible, it's him."
Emmanuel let out a quiet breath before slowly shaking his head. "I have already considered that possibility," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "However, the risks of sending someone as valuable as Alma anywhere near—let alone into—the Ruin Zone, while leaving the United States completely undefended, are not ones I am willing to take. And I doubt he wishes to do that either."
"So what...?" Ora asked, his voice trembling with frustration as he clenched his fists tightly at his sides. "We just abandon her? We throw her away like she never mattered?"
"No," Alma answered, his calm voice immediately drawing every eye in the room toward him. "We are not abandoning her."
He took a slow step forward before continuing, his tone remaining steady despite the grief weighing upon the room.
"Now simply isn't the time to begin an investigation. If whatever killed Anastasia is still waiting near where she died, then the moment any of you arrive, you'll meet the same fate she did." His eyes swept across each Monarch before settling back on Ora. "I am the only one here who can enter that place and guarantee my own return. We will postpone the investigation until the proper opportunity presents itself, but we will never forget the one we lost."
The room fell silent once more.
Alma quietly walked over to Ora before lowering himself onto one knee beside him, gently placing a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.
"If the entire world somehow forgets Anastasia," he said softly, "then rest assured... I never will."
Ora looked down at Alma's hand before slowly raising his eyes to meet his, the anger that had consumed him only moments ago gradually fading away. A faint smile formed across his face as he gave a small nod of understanding.
Then Alma's attention shifted toward Emmanuel as he stood up.
"I couldn't help but notice something, Mr. President," Alma said thoughtfully. "You've been watching me this entire meeting." He tilted his head slightly. "Is there something you wanted to say?"
Emmanuel remained silent for several seconds before slowly rising from behind his desk and turning toward the large windows overlooking the White House grounds. His hands folded neatly behind his back as he stared out across the landscape beyond the glass.
"Alma," he began quietly, "you have been a loyal ally and an even better friend. Whenever this country—or even I—have needed someone the most, there has never been a better person to rely upon than you."
He paused. "But..." The word lingered heavily within the room. "I've begun to question where your heart truly lies—not only regarding your responsibilities as the Dragon Monarch, but in your everyday life as well."
The instant those words left his mouth, the doors behind Alma slowly swung open.
Three figures stepped into the Oval Office, each dressed in distinct attire unlike anyone else in the room, and each wearing a mask that concealed their identity.
The timing was too perfect.
Alma's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as realization settled into his mind.
'So that's why he kept looking at me,' he thought. 'He planned this from the very beginning.'
"Cordell has informed me," Emmanuel continued, finally turning away from the window to face him once more, "that he believes you have been working alongside a group of Beasts of Ruin."
His gaze sharpened. "Is that accusation true?"
Alma remained silent for a moment before turning his attention toward the three masked individuals now standing inside the office.
Something about them felt... strangely familiar.
Their coordinated entrance, their disciplined posture, the unsettling feeling they carried simply by standing there—it all reminded him of another group he had once faced.
The Sanctum Arc.
The memory, though already four years old, resurfaced almost immediately, bringing with it an instinctive sense of caution and unease that settled quietly in the back of his mind.
He pushed the thought aside. For now, there were more important matters to address.
"It isn't," Alma replied sternly, his voice carrying a quiet certainty as he shifted his gaze across the room before settling it upon the three unfamiliar figures standing before him. "Ever since I became the Dragon Monarch—and even before then—I have killed Beasts of Ruin whenever the opportunity presented itself. I do not converse with them, nor do I hesitate whenever a human life is at stake." His mind drifted back to that conversation he and Beatrix had, his eyes lingering upon the three figures for another moment before narrowing ever so slightly. "And who, exactly, are these people supposed to be?"
"My name is Cleo!" the woman standing to the right of the center figure announced cheerfully, practically overflowing with excitement as her bright, giddy voice echoed throughout the Oval Office. Covering her face was a pristine white mask bearing only a single eyehole positioned directly in the center, its interior completely blacked out so that nothing behind it could be seen. She wore an equally immaculate white doctor's uniform, its coat hanging neatly over her frame, while a concealed weapon rested comfortably against her left hip.
"I am Constance," the woman standing to the left of the central figure introduced herself, her voice carrying an unmistakably weary, almost melancholic tone, as though every word required effort simply to speak. Her face was hidden behind a pitch-black mask with two white eyeholes placed unnaturally upon it—one positioned across the forehead, the other resting where the chin would normally be. Draped over her body was a long black dress that reached just above her ankles, exposing only a pair of equally black platform Mary Janes beneath it.
Standing calmly between them, the final woman stepped forward before offering Alma a graceful, almost theatrical bow by placing her right arm across her chest while bending forward ever so slightly, twisting her torso just enough to continue looking up at him throughout the gesture.
"And my name is Black And White," she said softly, her voice smooth, composed, and effortlessly seductive, immediately drawing the attention of every male Monarch within the room—including Emmanuel himself. Covering her face was a mask divided perfectly into black and white halves. Upon the white side rested a properly placed eyehole, though its interior had been blacked out completely, while the black side possessed an equally filled but white eye hole. Matching the mask was a sharply tailored black-and-white business suit, each section alternating flawlessly between the two opposing colors.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alastor."
Of the three, Alma found himself staring at her the longest.
An uneasy sensation slowly crept beneath his skin, sending a feeling unlike anything he had experienced before coursing throughout his body, and despite the countless horrors he had endured throughout his life, he found himself unable to identify exactly what he was feeling. It was not fear, nor helplessness, nor even the instinctive caution he normally experienced before a dangerous opponent. Instead, it was something entirely unfamiliar—something impossible to place into words—and for that reason alone, it unsettled him more than he wished to admit.
Cleo, who had been unsuccessfully trying to suppress her giggling beneath Alma's unwavering stare, finally broke the silence.
"Well?" she asked playfully. "Aren't you going to say anything? No 'welcome,' no 'how are you,' nothing like that at all?"
"Now, now, Cleo," Black And White interrupted gently, the corners of her voice curling into an amused smile. "We must remain patient. The duties of the Dragon Monarch are exceptionally demanding, and I'm certain he has far more important responsibilities occupying his time than entertaining the likes of us."
Meanwhile, Ora and Tanner found their attention wandering despite themselves, their eyes drifting toward Black And White's figure before lingering upon the graceful curves of her body. She carried herself with remarkable elegance, possessing a beauty that naturally drew the eye despite the strange mask concealing her face, and although everyone present understood perfectly well that she was someone capable of tremendous strength, that knowledge did little to stop their gazes from lingering upon her as though admiring an expensive jewel displayed behind pristine glass.
"Black..." Constance whispered quietly from beside her. "They're staring at your body."
Black And White merely chuckled beneath her mask before giving the slightest nod.
"That's perfectly alright, love," she replied with complete confidence. "Let them stare. They already know they'll never have it."
"I still have yet to learn why any of you are here," Alma said, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of everyone within the room. "I understand that accusations have been made against me, despite those accusations possessing no evidence whatsoever, but that still does not explain why the three of you have been brought here specifically."
Emmanuel quietly cleared his throat before lowering himself back into his chair.
"These three individuals," he began calmly, "have been assigned by both myself and Cordell to observe you at all times, every day, in order to ensure that you are not acting as a traitor."
Alma remained silent for a moment before speaking again.
"I appreciate your honesty in telling me this directly," he said, his tone remaining surprisingly composed despite the implication behind Emmanuel's words. "However, you do realize who I am, don't you? You know that I have never once stepped beyond the responsibilities granted to me by my title, and yet you've decided to inform the Dragon Monarch himself that he will now be watched constantly without even the privacy of his own life."
His eyes met Emmanuel's.
"You know exactly how dangerous I am."
"And it is because of that knowledge," Emmanuel answered without hesitation, "combined with the trust I still place in you, that I chose to tell you myself."
Alma's brow tightened ever so slightly.
"Then why don't you believe me?" he asked, confusion finally beginning to seep into his voice. "You already possess months of proof showing that I have never acted outside the responsibilities expected of me. You know I'm not a traitor... so what is it?"
"If you recall last year," Emmanuel began calmly, his voice measured despite the weight of the accusation he was about to make, "when you were sealed inside that college in California, several hours passed before anyone saw you again. During that time, you were conveniently trapped inside by a Human of Ruin while both the Hydra and Cetus Monarchs were nearly killed by another. You eventually appeared, saved them, and eliminated the Human of Ruin responsible... but the timing was simply too coincidental."
"And let's not forget," Cleo added with an exaggerated pout, "that you kinda ran off into the forest afterward instead of checking on the Monarchs, and... well..." She shrugged innocently. "You let everyone inside that college die."
Alma's head immediately turned toward her, genuine surprise crossing his face.
He had removed his tracker specifically so that nobody would know where he had gone.
'How does she know that?' Alma thought.
"I hope you understand where both Cordell and I are coming from, Alma," Emmanuel continued, his expression remaining serious. "We aren't doing this simply to protect the people of the United States. We're doing it to protect the entire world."
Alma slowly lowered his gaze toward the floor.
"It wasn't really your idea, was it?" he asked quietly. "Those thoughts... they didn't originate with you."
He lifted his eyes once more.
"It was Cordell."
Silence settled over the Oval Office once again.
Alma understood the position he had been placed in.
Everyone in that room—and, if they truly understood the extent of his strength, perhaps everyone in the world—knew that he possessed enough power to kill every single one of them without much difficulty.
But if he ever chose to do that... He would become exactly what they feared. Exactly what they believed him to be.
'But am I really... not a monster?' Alma wondered. 'Maybe they're right... maybe their fears aren't born from fiction at all.'
The thought lingered only briefly before another immediately replaced it. His children. They were the only opinions that truly mattered.
Not the governments of the world, not politicians, not even the Monarchs.
Jasmine. Max. Even Emily and the cloaked boy.
They were his family now, his responsibility, and if there was anyone whose trust he absolutely refused to lose, it was theirs. Slowly, Alma raised his head to face Emmanuel once again.
"I understand," he said calmly. "However, understand this as well." His voice became noticeably firmer. "None of them will investigate my private life."
The room grew still.
"If I discover that they know something they never should have known—something unrelated to your suspicions of treason..." He left the sentence unfinished.
"I know," Emmanuel answered before Alma could continue. "Rest assured, they will not. If they violate that boundary, what they've done will be illegal."
"But you know..." The soft, almost playful voice belonged to Black And White. "...that the Leviathan Monarch's death was your fault."
Alma slowly turned toward her.
She responded by letting out a quiet giggle.
"You're supposed to be the guardian of all Monarchs, aren't you?" she continued innocently. "The one responsible for keeping them in line... keeping them in check... making sure none of them go rogue." She tilted her head. "And yet you failed at the only job you were given."
"What are you doing?" Constance whispered nervously from beside her. "You're making him angry."
"I did not fail," Alma replied, his composure remaining completely intact. "My responsibility applies only to the duties of a Monarch."
He spoke each sentence deliberately. "Their responsibilities as Monarchs... and their individuality as human beings... are entirely separate matters."
Black And White hummed thoughtfully. "Then didn't it strike you as odd," she asked, "that Anastasia left so suddenly after speaking with you?"
She smiled beneath her mask. "You should have followed her." Her voice remained gentle. "You should have checked on her."
"It was your responsibility."
"I monitor their responsibilities as Monarchs," Alma answered. "What they choose to do during their personal lives, outside their duties, belongs solely to them and to whomever they decide to share it with."
For several long seconds... Black And White simply stared at him. Then she laughed quietly.
"Very good..." She gave him a slow nod. "Darling."
Without another word, she turned toward Emmanuel. "If he's as innocent as he is convincing," she said pleasantly, "then I believe you have nothing to worry about, Mr. President."
With that, she calmly walked toward the exit. Cleo quickly followed after her. Then Constance.
The doors quietly closed behind the three women. Alma continued staring toward the place where they had disappeared, blinking only once.
'Darling...?' he thought.
Finally, he turned back toward Emmanuel. "Well," he asked calmly, "am I finished here?"
Emmanuel gave a single nod.
"Indeed. You've been informed of your current circumstances, and there is nothing further that needs to be discussed." He offered a polite smile. "You may leave."
A moment later, Alma vanished from the Oval Office without leaving behind so much as a trace.
Emmanuel slowly turned his attention toward the remaining Monarchs. "As for the rest of you..." A faint smile crossed his face. "It's time to work you to the bone."
───
Outside the White House, Black And White skipped happily across the stone walkway, practically bouncing from step to step while humming an upbeat tune beneath her mask, her excitement impossible to hide.
Constance stared at her for several moments before finally asking, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Cleo added, tilting her head in confusion. "This is really uncharacteristic of you. I'm usually the cheerful one."
Black And White suddenly threw both arms high into the air before spinning around several times, letting out another delighted giggle.
"Neither of you understand!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Didn't either of you feel his presence!?"
She continued spinning as though completely lost in her own world.
"He was absolutely marvelous!" Another laugh escaped her. "I genuinely thought I was going to faint from how unbelievably cool he was."
She clasped her hands together. "That posture... those eyes... that stature..." Her voice softened dreamily. "What a man truly crafted by God."
Slowly, she brought both hands against the cheeks of her mask before sinking dramatically onto her knees. "I wonder..." She sighed blissfully. "...if he becomes rough whenever he's angry... or gentle whenever someone encourages him."
Another thoughtful pause followed.
"Maybe he's the type to praise..." She giggled. "...or maybe he'd rather degrade." She tilted her head toward the sky. "Oh... the man you are, Alma Daedulus Alastor..."
Although neither Cleo nor Constance's eyes could be seen behind their masks, their body language alone made their expressions painfully obvious.
They stared at her with complete confusion...
...and just a little disgust.
"Girl..." Cleo finally said. "What are you even talking about?"
Black And White slowly rose back to her feet before dusting herself off as though nothing unusual had just happened.
"Anyways," she said cheerfully, instantly returning to business, "it's time to get everything moving."
Her voice became calm again. "Make sure every part of the plan is prepared exactly as discussed." She smiled beneath her mask. "I already have the perfect event planned for June..." Her smile widened. "It'll be more than enough to permanently destroy his career."
---
5:00 PM.
Alma reappeared in the center of the living room in a sudden motion, startling Emily and the cloaked boy, who had been standing beside the table, while Jasmine and Max remained completely unfazed, still seated where they had been all along. Emily immediately turned toward them with a bewildered expression, her eyes darting between the two siblings before settling on Alma once more. "How are you two so calm?! He just appeared out of nowhere!"
Jasmine and Max merely shrugged in response before turning their attention toward Alma, as though such an entrance had long since become an ordinary part of their daily lives.
"So, how did it go?" Max asked.
Alma looked at them all with a solemn expression, the usual warmth in his face replaced by a heavy sadness that immediately told them something was wrong before he even spoke. "Anastasia Tamsen... is dead..."
The words struck the room like a physical force.
Emily's eyes widened in horror as the color drained from her face, while beside her, the cloaked boy began trembling uncontrollably, his head slowly lowering toward the floor.
"No... that's not possible..." Emily whispered, though the sentence never found its end as tears rapidly welled within her eyes, causing her legs to give out beneath her until she collapsed onto the floor.
The boy continued shaking in silence, quiet sobs escaping him as his fists clenched tightly, desperately trying to hold back the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to consume him.
Without saying another word, Alma walked over to them both and gently pulled them into his embrace, while Jasmine and Max quietly stepped forward and wrapped their arms around them from behind, silently sharing in the comfort.
The boy could no longer contain himself, gripping tightly onto Alma's shoulder as he buried his face against him, his quiet crying breaking into loud, painful sobs that echoed throughout the apartment. Alma simply rested a comforting hand upon his head, slowly stroking his hair.
"I'm sorry," he whispered softly. "I'm so... so sorry."
"I don't get it..." Emily cried between sobs, barely able to catch her breath. "Annie isn't the type to act carelessly and get herself killed... unless..."
"Unless?" Alma asked gently, looking down at her as Emily slowly pulled away, her sobbing beginning to subside despite the endless stream of tears still running down her cheeks.
"This morning... while me and him were sleeping... Annie screamed at the top of her lungs." Emily's voice trembled violently as she spoke, making Alma's brow slowly rise. "We rushed downstairs to see what happened... and we saw... we saw..." She struggled to force the words out, her body shuddering all over. "Annie's sister... lying on the carpet... dead. Her organs had been ripped out... and her skull had been crushed..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "It was so scary..."
The cloaked boy continued crying into Alma's shoulder without pause, his sobs refusing to end, while Alma continued gently patting his head as Jasmine remained embracing him from behind, though both she and Max now listened intently to every word Emily spoke.
Emily's trembling only worsened as she wrapped both arms around Alma, clutching him tightly as though letting go would make her relive the memory all over again.
Alma quietly patted the back of her head before lifting his gaze toward Jasmine and Max, who immediately understood the meaning behind his expression without a single word needing to be spoken. He looked back down at Emily and the boy, simply holding them close while their cries gradually filled the room with grief.
After nearly five minutes had passed, the two of them had finally managed to calm themselves enough to sit beside Alma on the couch. The cloaked boy quietly leaned against Alma's side, exhausted from crying, while Emily sat upright with Jasmine and Max supporting her from either side.
"So...?" Emily finally asked, her body still trembling despite the tears beginning to slow. "What are we going to do now?"
"Well, you'll stay here with me, of course." Alma smiled warmly at her, causing Emily's eyes to widen in complete surprise.
"But... that would be asking way too much of you. Annie only said you were supposed to watch us for a few hours."
"My earlier statement about you two becoming my children wasn't a joke," Alma said with a gentle smile. "I don't view either of you as my own children quite yet—we only met today, after all—but there is absolutely no way I'm allowing the two of you to survive on your own." He looked at both of them before continuing. "When you both turn eighteen and have stable incomes, then you'll be free to decide whether you want to move out or continue living with me."
Emily stared at him for several long moments before another smile slowly spread across her face, and without thinking, she leaned forward and hugged him once again. "Thank you... truly, thank you."
"Anytime." Alma smiled, gently patting the back of her head before the two finally separated.
He then shifted his attention toward the cloaked boy, whose grip had loosened considerably, his slow, quiet breathing now audible throughout the room.
Emily followed Alma's gaze before looking back at him.
"He's been through a lot," she said quietly, her eyes lingering on the boy. "He deserves the rest."
She suddenly let out a yawn before awkwardly rubbing one of her eyes. "Sorry... I know it's only the evening, but I'm just really exhausted."
"That's perfectly alright. You can sleep if you'd like, but before you do..." Alma paused briefly. "If you can, could you tell me where Anastasia lives?"
Emily nodded.
"Sure... but it isn't Anastasia's house. It's her sister's place."
Alma silently nodded.
───
Alma stood quietly before the lifeless body of Anastasia's sister, his expression hardening with disgust as his eyes slowly took in the horrific condition of the corpse. Emily had spoken nothing but the truth. The body had been utterly desecrated, reduced to something almost beyond recognition, making the scene before him feel less like a murder and more like an act of pure hatred. It was revolting to witness, difficult to comprehend, and even more horrifying to imagine another human being willingly carrying out such cruelty.
Then, without warning, Alma felt another presence within the room.
He slowly turned his head toward the doorway, where Black and White stood completely motionless, silently observing both him and the corpse.
"What are you doing here?" Alma asked.
"I could ask you the very same thing." Her voice remained calm, though unmistakably condescending beneath its innocent tone. "Why is the Dragon Monarch standing before a slaughtered corpse?"
"Do you know who this is?" Alma asked.
She nodded without hesitation.
"Of course. This is the Leviathan Monarch's sister, Joline Grace." She tilted her head ever so slightly. "But why is she so important that you would simply shrug off everything I said earlier?"
"Because whatever situation you're attempting to fabricate in order to frame me immediately falls apart the moment reality gets involved." Alma's eyes never left hers. "Now answer my question. Why are you here?"
"To search for clues." She smiled faintly beneath her mask. "The same reason you're here, I would imagine."
"Then we both came to Anastasia's house to investigate how she was murdered, correct?" Alma asked.
"This isn't Anastasia's house." Black and White corrected him almost instantly. "It's Joline's. It said so in the file."
'Something's off,' Alma thought.
His expression remained perfectly neutral before shifting into one of mild surprise.
"Really? I must've misread it then. My mistake." He turned his attention back toward Joline's body. "I was hoping to speak with her sister to find out whether she'd noticed any unusual behavior or an unstable mentality lately..." He quietly gestured toward the corpse. "...but I suppose that possibility has flown out the window."
He looked back toward Black and White.
"I'm going to speak with Emmanuel in a little while to see whether he knows anything more about her. If you happen to discover anything, let him know."
With that, Alma disappeared.
───
5:15 PM.
Back inside the apartment, Alma lowered himself onto the couch and let out a slow breath. "Yeah... that woman definitely has something to do with this."
"What woman?" Emily asked, looking away from the card game she had been playing with Jasmine and Max, while the newly asleep cloaked boy remained peacefully resting nearby.
"Earlier today, before I returned home, the President introduced me to three..." Alma paused briefly, searching for the proper word. "...interesting women. One of them calls herself Black and White. Every time I'm around her, I feel this strange tension. It isn't fear... but something telling me to stay on guard."
He folded his arms. "I intentionally referred to Joline's house as Anastasia's, and she immediately corrected me."
Emily frowned. "How did she know? Only Annie, Joline, and the President knew that."
"If Emmanuel briefed them on Anastasia's situation, then it's possible he also told them who owned the house." Alma narrowed his eyes. "But even then... that information has absolutely nothing to do with me or Anastasia's murder. Something doesn't fit."
"What are you going to do about it?" Emily asked. "Is there anything you can do? There has to be... right?"
"Not yet." Alma slowly shook his head. "I need more information... and more evidence." His eyes narrowed further. "But I have a feeling Cordell is involved somehow, too."
He looked back toward Emily and smiled confidently. "Don't worry. I'll solve this." His smile widened into a toothy grin. "I'm the strongest in more ways than just strength."
Emily nodded, only for Jasmine to suddenly catch her attention during their card game. "Why you little—!" Emily exclaimed as Jasmine nearly won the round.
'Why do I have this bad feeling...?' Alma thought, his smile slowly fading as his expression tightened. 'It's one of those gut feelings... which means whatever's coming is going to be really bad.'
His eyes slowly drifted across the room, stopping first on Jasmine, then Max, then Emily, and finally the sleeping boy.
'If anything happens to any of them...' His thoughts abruptly halted as his eyes filled with tears, forcing him to look away. '...I won't let that happen. I'll suffer before any of them do. Neither possibility will ever come to pass.'
Just then, Emily's stomach loudly growled. She slowly looked over toward Alma with an embarrassed, sheepish smile. "Can we get something to eat?"
"Of course." Alma smiled warmly. "We'll eat out tonight, though we'll bring the food back here. So... what does everyone want?"
As everyone began listing their choices, Alma quietly glanced toward the sleeping cloaked boy.
"The boy..." he murmured. "He doesn't have a first or last name?"
Emily shook her head.
"No... he doesn't have one. Annie always avoided naming him... and honestly, I'm not even sure where he came from."
"Well..." Alma smiled thoughtfully. "We have to call him something besides 'the boy.'"
Just then, the child slowly woke up, blinking sleepily as he looked around the room before his eyes settled on Alma.
After thinking for a few seconds, Alma smiled.
"How about... Desear Everest?" he asked gently. "Do you like that name?"
The boy's face immediately brightened, and without hesitation, he eagerly nodded.
"Everest?" Jasmine questioned. "Shouldn't it be Alastor?"
Alma shook his head. "He hasn't been adopted lawfully by me yet. And Desear Everest has a nice ring to it. Alastor can be his middle name, because Desear Everest Alastor doesn't sound goo– ouuu... that does sound good." He said, making everyone except for Desear chuckle.
"Then Desear Everest it is, then! Welcome home, son!!" Alma said, smiling.
---
11:00 PM.
They had all finished eating, and now the five of them sat together on the couch watching television, with Emily and Desear curled up against Alma's left side while Jasmine and Max rested comfortably against his right. Despite everything that had happened throughout the day, a quiet sense of peace had settled over the apartment, wrapping the room in a comforting silence that Alma found himself cherishing. Simply spending time with his children filled him with a happiness he had not experienced since before his parents, Jack, and Jack's parents had all been taken from him.
As the night gradually drew to a close, the five of them began getting ready for bed.
"Jasmine, Emily, you two sleep in my bed. Max and Desear, you two can sleep in the bed opposite of it," Alma said.
"But where are you going to sleep?" Jasmine asked.
"On the couch." Alma smiled faintly as he picked up his pillow and folded sheets before laying them across the cushions. "It was fine when it was just me and Jasmine sleeping together, but adding another person would make it too cramped, so I'll stay out here for a while."
None of the four objected, quietly making their way into the bedrooms before climbing beneath the blankets. As Alma, Jasmine, and Max bowed their heads and quietly said their nightly prayers, Emily and Desear remained respectfully silent, listening without interrupting.
"Alright... goodnight. I love you all," Alma said warmly.
"Love you, too," Jasmine, Max, and Emily replied almost in unison before the apartment gradually fell into silence.
Alma rolled onto his side and slowly closed his eyes, allowing himself one final hope before sleep could finally claimed him.
'I'll do whatever it takes to protect them. Even if I need to die for it.' And with that final thought, Alma made a promise to himself that he couldn't afford to break.
A promise from The Strongest.