The principal froze mid wiping the sweat off his face when Agent Clove's voice sliced into the room.
"Principal."
She didn't raise her voice, but the tone was absolute. "Leave....Now."
The man sputtered, glancing between them.
"But I ..
"I said, now."
Her eyes didn't move from Zaviel. The principal muttered something about important calls and shuffled out, closing the door behind him.
The room fell silent.
Zaviel leaned back in his chair, legs spread slightly, one arm lazily resting on the armrest.
He didn't flinch when Clove stepped closer, producing a thin metal badge from her coat pocket and letting it gleam under the light.
"Colonel Clove. Special Operations."
Zaviel's eyes flicked to it once, then back to her face.
"And?"
Her brow creased slightly. "That means you're talking to a high-ranking officer, kid. I'd recommend you..."
"No."
Her eyes narrowed. "No?"
"No, I don't recommend anything to anyone unless I care. And the only arrogance allowed in this room…" He gestured lazily between them, "…is mine. That's the rule and if you want something from me which of course you do....you have to play by it"
A small muscle in her jaw twitched. She slipped the badge back into her coat.
"You're an interesting peat, Zaviel."
"I know I am. Why'd you send the principal out?"
"Because I have questions for you. And you're going to answer them."
He tilted his head slightly. "You sound sure."
"Why did you turn down the scholarship?" she asked flatly.
He smirked. "Because I'm not interested in becoming a pawn for the military. You can dress it up however you want....prestigious university, future opportunities but at the end of the day, I know a leash when I see one."
Her eyes sharpened. "You think you'd be a pawn?"
"No," he said, leaning forward, "I know I would be. The military doesn't give out gifts without expecting something in return. And before you feed me a speech about national service, let's save us both the boredom."
Her expression didn't change, but he caught the briefest flicker in her gaze....an acknowledgment that he wasn't wrong.
"You're sharp," she said finally.
"And you're avoiding the real question," he countered. "Why me?"
She crossed her arms. "Since you're not accepting the offer, I'm not obligated to answer that."
Zaviel smiled faintly, almost mockingly. "And yet… here you are, still talking. Which means you want me to keep asking. So I ask again.....why me?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, the corner of her mouth twitched, almost a smile. "You'd make a dangerous interrogator."
"I already am."
Silence stretched between them, tense but electric. Zaviel's eyes never left hers.
"Let's skip the scholarship," he said finally. "Why is someone like you, a high-ranking officer personally visiting a lowly pest like me?"
Her lips curved slightly. "Pest, huh?"
"Your words, not mine."
"No," she said, "my word for you is… anomaly."
With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small photograph, sliding it across the desk.
Zaviel didn't move at first. His gaze dropped to it without touching it.
The image showed a rooftop against a moonlit sky, grainy, blurred by motion. But the subject in the frame was unmistakable: the silhouette of the Night Demon mid-leap.
The photo had been enhanced, and the eyes… they glowed.
The same eyes that Zaviel saw in his own reflection.
"You were there during his attack?" Zaviel asked..... In an almost genuine voice
"I was," Clove answered. "I was able to get this just before he vanished. Look familiar?"
He met her gaze again, unblinking. "Apart from the eyes which i believe might be the same, No!"
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything. I said I don't know. What you do with that is your problem."
Her stare didn't waver. "How are you related to the Night Demon? You both have the same eyes, that can't be mere coincidence depending on the rarity of such a peculiar set"
"Was that a question or an accusation?"
"A question."
"Then the answer is the same.....I don't know."
She studied him for a moment longer, then reached down beside her chair and placed a briefcase onto the desk.
The metallic clasps clicked open, revealing neat stacks of crisp bills.
Zaviel's eyes lit, just a fraction, just enough to betray that he'd noticed...but his mouth curved into a slow smirk.
"What exactly do you want to know?" he asked.
"Tell me if you're connected to him."
Zaviel leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "What if I told you I am the Night Demon? Or maybe his son. Do you think he'd let you walk away after interrogating me like this?"
Her expression hardened into a cold glare. "Let him come if he can."
Zaviel chuckled darkly. "Bold. I like that."
She tilted her head. "What do you think about justice?"
The question was sudden, a curveball meant to catch him off guard.
But Zaviel didn't even blink.
"Justice?" His tone was flat. "Justice is a word people hide behind when they want their side to look right. It's not my problem. It never will be."
Clove's lips pressed into a thin line. She shut the briefcase and stood. "We're done here."
She turned, but before she could take a step, Zaviel's hand shot out, grabbing the handle of the briefcase.
"You really want to take it back?"
Her head turned slightly, eyes narrowing. "It's not yours."
"Weren't you giving me a scholarship?" he said lazily. "I turned it down, so you're going to give me money for compensation. And besides…" He leaned back, the briefcase still in his grip, "…you just got some very *vital* information from me. Won't you pay for that?"
Her jaw tightened. "I have the right to interrogate anyone....."
"And I have the right to be paid for my time. Especially when you came here for something you can't get from anyone else."
For a moment, they were locked in a silent contest of wills. Then grudgingly, she released the handle.
Zaviel smiled faintly, the expression more dangerous than warm.
"Pleasure doing business," he said, sliding the briefcase toward himself.
Clove turned sharply and stormed out without another word.
As the door clicked shut, Zaviel leaned back in his chair, running a finger over the metal clasp of the case.
He muttered under his breath, his tone laced with sarcasm and shadow.
"High-ranking officer, elite interrogator… still played like a cheap violin."
The faintest ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.
"Now to take care of the rest" He said as his eyes looked outside the window to a faraway building.