Yeah, they got their asses kicked.

  The odds and laws of their world practically guaranteed it. But for this moment, on this rain-soaked pier under the vast night sky, two powerless boys chose to reject their assigned fate.

  "For a while there," the Irregular boy began. "I actually thought we had a chance."

  Acacia let out a chuckle.

  "You'll get used to it. It's like finding a caldera—at first, you're excited by the discovery, then reality reminds you it's still burning hot." The metaphor earned him a blank stare. "Besides, they were so focused on beating us senseless that they completely forgot why they were chasing you in the first place."

  The boy’s eyes widened like saucers.

  “My money!” He checked his pockets; it was still there! “Wait! You didn’t plan for that to happen, right?”

  "Hard to predict stupidity, but sometimes you get lucky with your guesses." Acacia shrugged.

  Awkward laughter passed between them, genuine despite their battered state. They sat there on the beach, letting silence settle like a comfortable blanket before Acacia spoke again.

  "You know, I never actually told you my name. It's Acacia. Just Acacia."

  "Isn't that a girl's name?" said the Irregular boy.

  "And aren't you a smartass?" Acacia puffed out his chest in mock indignation, adopting an elderly woman's wavering tone with his next words: "As your savior and senior, I humbly deserve your respect, young man!"

  The boy's answering chortle turned into a wince as it aggravated his bruises. "Since when were you my senior? I'm a second-year, and for all I know, you could be a first-year. You certainly look like one."

  "Heh. Third-year.”

  “Dammit!”

  “Anyway, what’s your name, ?” Victoriously acknowledging his upper status to the boy, the underclassman snorted before replying.

  "Trifa. Trifa Siragusa."

  "Hm. Nice name." Acacia knew he shouldn't smile—knew he shouldn't let warmth bloom in his chest at finding another Irregular to talk to. Tomorrow's shadow loomed too large for such indulgences. And yet...

  "Wait, Trifa, what time is it?"

  "Um, judging by the moon, we're getting close to midnight. Why are you—w-wait, Acacia! Where are you going?"

  Guilt cascaded down Acacia's features like winter rain. The cruel irony twisted in his gut: his first real friend since that day, and tomorrow he'd face the executioner. Everything he'd done today—the fight, the victory, this moment of connection—would crumble to nothing.

  He'd chosen this fate himself, hadn't he?

  Instead of facing his problems, instead of standing against oppression with his head high, he'd sought the cold comfort of death's embrace.

  But, there only existed one thing to do, to rectify his sin against humanity.

  “Trifa, it’s getting late. Head home.”

  It was time to face his burden straight ahead.

  Pandora Kircheisen's footsteps echoed through Ocarina's bustling airport terminal, each click of her black boots against polished floors blending into the cacophony of voices, ringing phones, and travel's distant hum. Her mind churned with conflicting emotions, duty, and desire locked in eternal combat.

  Today marked her time's end here. She was expected to board a flight back to her base of operations, bidding farewell to a city she'd scrutinized for days. Not that she'd miss this port town, and especially not its spineless police force. They cared nothing for the “heart” of the case, merely the results. In her mind, such people had no business carrying the law's mantle.

  Yet deep within her chest, regret bloomed like a poisonous flower, knowing she would leave behind something crucial to her very being.

  The Case of Giovanni Copernicus Narma. Son of the family that had industrialized this port centuries ago, Giovanni was destined to be Ocarina’s brightest star. An exceptional student and gifted Thaumaturge, blessed by the Centrum Supremum’s—the central government’s—favor

  On the surface, Gio seemed flawless.

  He was poised to become the first subject from Ocarina ever to enter the prestigious Vanguard University, nestled in Magnolia’s metropolitan heart. His success would have brought enduring honor to his family name, securing their legacy and possible promotion from Lesser Nobility. Yet, without warning, that brilliant flame was extinguished, leaving only shadows of what could have been.

  Pandora had anticipated a morally bankrupt adolescent, the kind who’d revel in snuffing out a rising star. But Acacia was different. He wore a silence, a lifelessness that hinted at something far deeper than guilt. None of it fit—those haunted eyes didn’t belong to a cold, calculated killer. Every fiber of her intuition pointed to one undeniable truth: Acacia did not kill Giovanni Narma.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Intuition wasn't evidence, however. His status as an Irregular made him the perfect scapegoat for authorities desperate to close the case. The House of Narma demanded someone to blame for their son's death, and the local IPA were all too happy to oblige. Acacia made the perfect sacrifice to their altar of expediency.

  Pandora silently grumbled as she made her way to her airport gate.

  As a member of the Centrum Supremum, she'd travel by private flight back home—all she needed was to clear security and customs. She had already somewhat accepted Acacia's fate if she was being honest with herself. This wasn't her first dance with harsh conclusions, nor her first case where execution hung in the balance. People lived and died—that was life's simple truth. And Acacia had chosen death over fighting for his life.

  "Get back here, boy! You can't be here without a verified flight ticket! That's a fifty Stella Domina fine!" said a middle-aged security officer as he chased after a dark-haired teenager racing through the terminal.

  "Instead of laying it on me, old man, you should lay off the sourdoughs! Just get off my case already!" replied that teenager.

  Pandora's attention snapped to the commotion. She recognized the boy instantly: Acacia? Here? How—?

  Her wonderings shattered as she watched him weave past the officer's taser like a matador, sending the man stumbling into a wall. A chuckle escaped her lips. She'd known he had courage somewhere beneath that resignation.

  A hand suddenly clasped her shoulder. She jerked away instinctively, hands flying into a defensive stance—only to find herself facing another elderly airport worker. He quickly tilted his head in confusion.

  "Um, miss, could you please stop scaring people with that weird pose? You're frightening everyone."

  "Y-you saw that?" Heat rushed to Pandora's face. She'd unconsciously pumped her fist in the air watching Acacia's dodge like some sports fan cheering a perfect play.

  The man flashed an annoyed expression, muttering something along the lines of “I don’t get paid enough for this,” before going away. Immediately, she quickly recomposed herself, but before she could fully recover—

  "M-Ms. Pandora, please wait!" Acacia called out, panting.

  She looked down at him, gold eyes narrowing. "What happened to you? Weren't you supposed to stay in your cell until your execution?"

  "Yeah, well... they let me out for my last few days before the execution. I stayed in my cell the past two days, but today I decided to get some fresh air," Acacia explained between ragged breaths.

  "That explains nothing about your current state."

  "Well, I went out to explore the city, found a boy getting thrashed by some thugs. Stepped in to help, and—" he grimaced, picking at the angry red welts decorating his arms, "learned a valuable lesson about blocking Air spells with bare hands."

  Pandora nodded slowly, almost like something was creaking in her head. "So, you wanted one last taste of freedom? I thought you’d be sleeping your sorrows away.”

  "That’s a cruel way of putting it…" A slight blush colored his cheeks as he turned away.

  "Well, what should I say? I saw you from the window—sleeping like a corpse."

  "Can't argue with that," he sighed. Then something shifted in his expression, determination replacing embarrassment. "But that's not why I came here. There's something I need to tell you."

  The Irregular balled his fists and bowed deeply.

  "I'm sorry, Ms. Pandora. I'm sorry for not understanding what you were trying to drill through my thick skull. These past few days—no, for a long time, I've been drowning in doubt. I convinced myself there was no hope left, that death would be easier than living. But I was wrong."

  Acacia straightened, eyes blazing.

  "I won't let them tear away my life! I didn't kill Gio! Being an Irregular doesn't make me their perfect scapegoat, someone already beaten down that they can bury even deeper. I refuse! I refuse to be controlled by bastards who abuse power just because they were born with it!" His roar carried across the terminal, drawing stares that he ignored completely. "So I'll fight! I'll fight this execution! I'll speak my truth! If they kill me for it, fine—but I won't die tomorrow. I won't die labeled a murderer! I won't die a victim! I won't die defeated! I refuse to die!"

  And so, silence fell like a heavy curtain.

  "A-Are you done?" Pandora asked awkwardly.

  "Er, yes. Thank you for listening," he mumbled, red creeping back into his cheeks.

  "You're... welcome?"

  They exchanged glances, and suddenly, Pandora started laughing.

  "Why’re you laughing?!" Acacia protested. "I'm trying to be serious here!"

  "S-sorry," Pandora managed between chuckles. "It's just... so unexpected. You always looked like you were begging for death."

  "That's probably because of how they planned to execute me. Didn't exactly want to see crowds of people jeering 'OFF WITH HIS HEAD' or whatever." He shuddered, suddenly looking younger and more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him.

  "You know what?"

  "What?"

  "I believe you."

  "...For real?"

  "I believe you didn't kill Gio Narma." Pandora's brow furrowed as she spoke. "My intuition led me there from the start. But intuition isn't enough to judge a case fully. I needed concrete evidence, an irrefutable testimony. That's why I pressed you so hard in interrogation. If belief alone could solve cases, we Inquisitors wouldn't need to exist."

  "But that doesn't mean I can't believe in the best possible outcome." Her smile, when it came, transformed her entire face. Beyond the cold exterior of a ruthless Inquisitor lay a woman dedicated to preserving true justice. That smile shone like a beacon through uncertainty's shadows, carrying the gentle warmth of sunrise breaking through morning mist.

  The moment passed. Her expression returned to its usual steadfast determination as the crowd around them thinned. Now she could explain the full gravity of his situation as she scanned the area to notice any eavesdroppers before continuing.

  "To be blunt: you screwed yourself with that act you put on a few days ago."

  "Tell me something I don't know," Acacia muttered mirthlessly. "I'm facing execution tomorrow, and these cops are convinced I'm their killer."

  Pandora bit her lip at his defeated tone. "We'll try appealing the execution date, gather more evidence. But it'll take time. I can't guarantee we can get it postponed."

  “That won’t work.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I heard that Gio’s mom and dad bribed two higher-up IPA officers to set the execution to tomorrow. That’s what I heard while being transferred between cells among those two same people.” Acacia sighed in dismay. “I know you’re an Inquisitor and all, but unless you call on the Centrum Supremum directly or something, that probably won’t be possible. The Narmas are the bosses here, and they make all of the rules.”

  “Then!”

  Pandora inhaled and smirked. The window for a proper appeal had long since closed. Their only miracle would be the Narmas choosing to wait—about as likely as snow in summer. There was one solution left, but it was dangerous. It meant conflict with the ones in charge of the accursed city… and meeting man again. Her position as an Inquisitor would be at stake, shielding an Irregular from the Empire’s blade.

  But if she could save an innocent boy from a meaningless death, then maybe—just maybe—she could find lasting, repentance.

  “Acacia, you must vanish in the eyes of Ocarina.”