In a dim room, two men stared at a computer screen.
"No leads on the guy with the bounty?" the first one asked, nervous.
"I think I might have one… but it's not solid. Pretty weak lead."
"Don't care. We'll take it."
"Alright, look. This building right here… apparently that's where he lives."
⸻
Back at the apartment, Conor stood frozen in front of the board.
"Investigating the leader of the Osiris…" he murmured, troubled.
Marta sighed, keys already in hand.
"Okay… I'm heading out before it gets too dark. You two be careful, alright?"
Silas didn't answer. His back was turned, focused on cleaning his dumbell in silence.
Conor stood up and hugged her gently.
"Be careful on your way home, Marta."
"…Yeah. Thanks, Conor."
She went down the stairs, her heart light. Reaching the lobby, she froze.
"Huh? I forgot my scarf… Whatever, I'll call Conor."
She pulled out her phone and dialed.
A chilling voice stopped her cold.
"You callin' Conor?"
She turned slowly.
Two men were walking toward her.
The bigger one chuckled:
"See? Told you you had a nose for this, bro. You said the lead wasn't sure, right?"
"Yeah, yeah," the other muttered. "But it's the right place. We found him."
Marta went pale, phone still pressed to her ear.
"Marta? Hello? You can't hear me?!" Conor shouted on the other end.
But she heard nothing. Her breath was locked by fear.
Silas lifted his head. One look at Conor's expression was enough.
He snatched the phone from his hand and listened.
"So this is where Conor lives?" one of the men asked.
"You his girl or what? C'mon, tell us the floor unless you want this to go bad for you, sweetheart."
Silas shot to his feet. Conor did too.
But before he could move, Silas grabbed him by the collar and pinned him to the wall.
"Absolutely not. I go. You stay."
"Let me go! She's in danger!"
Conor tried to fight back, but it was useless. Silas's grip was monstrous.
"If you go, you'll only confirm you actually live here," Silas growled, voice ice-cold.
He shoved him to the floor.
"Stay. And shut up."
Silas vanished down the stairs.
Conor punched the wall, furious.
"Dammit! You bastard! Shit!"
Outside the lobby, Marta was trembling violently.
"I-I… I don't know what you're talking about…"
"Relax, sweetheart," one of the men said, touching her shoulder. "Tell us where he is and no one gets hurt."
But before he could finish his sentence, a shadow appeared behind them.
That was Silas.
The two men turned.
"So you're Conor, huh?" one of them said.
Silas answered flatly:
"Do I know you?"
The other squinted at him.
"Yeah, you look like a Conor to me…"
Silas pulled Marta behind him.
"Yeah. Conor Gorlon. She's my little sister, Marta Gorlon. You got a problem with my sister?"
The man looked at his brother, confused.
"Damn it, Carl, you messed up ! Thats the wrong Conor, again…"
he looked back to Silas and Said
"But, you know what ? I don't like the way this dude talks to me."
Silas slowly lifted his cap. His face appeared under the sick, pale neon light.
His eyes… cold. Unforgiving. Empty.
"And I," he said calmly, voice sharp as a blade, "don't like the way you acted toward my sister."
He stepped forward.
"Actually… I would really love to tear you apart."
The man stumbled back, terrified.
"Whoa, man I'm joking, chill out!"
Silas didn't move. Not a blink. Not a twitch. Just that stare dead cold.
The other brother grabbed his arm.
"Carl, let's go. This ain't him anyway. The real Conor's blond, according to the poster. This one's brunette."
They left in a hurry.
Marta threw herself into Silas's arms, still shaking.
"Thank you… thank you, Silas…"
"Too touchy," he grumbled. "Shoo."
⸻
They walked back up to the apartment.
Conor rushed to her.
"Marta! You're safe, thank God! I was freaking out!"
He hugged her tightly. Silas stood aside, arms crossed.
After Marta left again, Silas walked slowly to Conor.
And without warning, he drove a brutal punch straight into his stomach.
Conor collapsed to the floor, gasping.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Silas didn't even look at him.
"That was for earlier. You let your emotions take over."
He crouched down.
"Every time you lose control like that, I'll hit you. And I won't hold back."
Conor curled up in pain.
"Shit… feels like I got punched by a damn gorilla…"
Silas tossed a bottle of olive oil onto the floor.
"Rub that on your stomach, kid. You'll learn two things from this: pain… and how to rise from it."
⸻
That evening at dinner, Conor stayed quiet.
The pain was still there.
But deep down, he understood.
He didn't let me screw up… he saved me.
He makes me stronger—his own way.
"Silas?" Conor asked softly.
Silas lifted his eyes for a moment, then resumed eating.
Conor smiled. Guess that means he's listening.
"When are we going to investigate Jack?"
Silas finished chewing, then answered calmly:
"Tomorrow."
Conor almost choked.
"Huh—tomorrow?!"
"Yes. You'll follow me and watch. Pay attention. And learn."
Conor groaned.
"You're basically a dictator…"
Silas frowned just a little.
"…Sad."
Conor laughed under his breath.
"Man… you really have no emotions."
Silas set his chopsticks down calmly.
"When I need them, I use them. I just never need them."
Conor stayed silent.
« That look again… the only expression he ever shows… That flicker of sadness… I think deep down, Silas must be terribly unhappy! »
Silas stood up.
"Sleep early. We're up at dawn."