Acacia's lungs burned as he finally caught his breath, having sprinted relentlessly for five minutes through Windsor's darkening streets. The sunset had faded completely, leaving only starlight and the artificial glow of street lamps to illuminate his path. By his calculations, another ten minutes of walking would bring him to Pandora's house.

  He paused on the dimly lit sidewalk, gathering himself before the final stretch.

  "Pardon my interruption, but might I have a moment of your time, Acacia Belmont?"

  The voice cut through the evening air with surgical precision. Beneath a street lamp stood a man whose appearance seemed deliberately crafted to disarm—messy ginger hair, emerald eyes behind bifocals, a stubble that suggested brilliance rather than neglect, and a labcoat draped over his lanky frame. But his smile—that was what stopped Acacia's breath. Perfectly still, utterly tranquil, yet somehow wrong in its unwavering consistency. Almost angelic in its artificiality, as if something vast and unknowable wore human features like an ill-fitting mask.

  "Who are you?!" Acacia's voice wavered, yet the man's smile remained fixed and unchanging. "I-If this is a robbery, I have money!" He fumbled for his wallet, hands shaking as he extracted a few meager coins. "Wait, that's all I have! And how do you know my name?! I haven't told anyone!"

  "I have no interest in robbing you," the ginger chuckled softly. "My name is Sirius Trafalgar. I'm merely a humble engineer who's made Windsor his home." His eyes closed, smile never faltering.

  The blood drained from Acacia's face.

  "By Sirius Trafalgar... you mean the creator of Seven Shades Technology?" The Irregular's mind raced. "Of course…SST was founded in Windsor. The flagship store..."

  Sirius laughed at Acacia's words, his lips moving like a sea of chrysanthemums blooming into life. He almost sounded like a machine that was designed to make the boy feel comforted by his words.

  "Indeed, I am SST's creator."

  "You're joking." Acacia's expression went blank. "You're literally my idol." The realization of his earlier rudeness hit him like a physical blow. He dropped to his knees, prostrating himself on the pavement.

  "Please forgive my disrespect, Mr. Trafalgar! Leave me here to rot! Take what little money I have!"

  Sirius watched the Irregular's descent into despair amusedly. "How fascinating. Though we've never met, you're clearly familiar with my work. That makes things far more interesting."

  "What do you mean, sir?" Acacia asked, both confused and secretly terrified by that predatory smile.

  "How are you finding the SST Mark I? It won't be available to the public for another two weeks." The inventor's eyes gleamed. "Imagine my intrigue when I discovered someone already possessed one, registered under 'Acacia Belmont' and Pandora Kircheisen's authority. Almost as if fate arranged our meeting."

  "Ah... well... Pandora sort of insisted on it..." Acacia mumbled, still processing that he was speaking to his idol.

  "Well? Your thoughts on the first cellphone to utilize my technology?" Sirius leaned forward slightly, genuine curiosity bleeding through his composed demeanor.

  Acacia paused, gathering his thoughts before responding. "It's remarkable. The Mark I's compact design fits perfectly in hand, unlike existing devices. While expensive, the functionality justifies the cost. It's almost as if it was designed specifically for my needs. The computational novelties packed into a single device suggest enormous potential for the future."

  Sirius nodded, barely containing his excitement. "A true enthusiast! With the war behind us, I've shifted focus from Mystic Gears to civilian applications. Though it's quite different from SST's usual offerings, I believe it will revolutionize the market. I look forward to its public release."

  Acacia nodded in agreement, his eyes still glued to the phone in his hands, but he did have a question to ask.

  "How did you find me?" Acacia's tone sharpened as he met Sirius's gaze. "You had only my name and benefactor. How did you know my location?"

  "Pandora told me." Sirius's laugh fully carried genuine warmth now. "I've been crafting that girl's equipment and Mystic Gears since her Legion days! She's practically a daughter to me, though quite the handful. I take immense pride in her journey."

  Acacia couldn't help imagining a younger Pandora attempting Water Thaumaturgy with some ridiculous training wand, but Sirius's next words shattered the amusing image.

  "She's shared your situation with me. Quite the tale. She's clearly invested in extracting you from this predicament."

  "Yes, the journey from Wallachia was challenging—"

  "You don't need to lie anymore. Cagliostro Narma will be a difficult enemy to face. Pandora told me the truth." Sirius cut him off gently. "However, I don't believe you'll face him alone. I'm not one for violence—I'm an engineer, after all. I prefer elegant solutions, so I’ll be offering my assistance."

  Acacia's eyebrow rose, even as he fought to keep his shock from showing. His face remained carefully neutral as he spoke.

  "...So you want to help with Gio's murder case?"

  "While I may not know the full scope of your situation as Pandora does, I'm familiar with the Narma Family's history of arrogance and power. I don't believe you deserve their brand of justice. After all..." Something flickered in his eyes. "I once knew another Irregular... who suffered unjustly at the system's hands."

  His smile wavered slightly as he spoke.

  "I will help you, Acacia. You have my word."

  "I can't let you endanger yourself," Acacia protested. "I'm grateful you haven't reported me, but this is dangerous territory. You could get hurt."

  "How far have I fallen if I can’t aid a child in need?" Sirius's tone carried unexpected gravity. "Here's a piece of wisdom: don't reject freely offered help. Pandora and I will ensure they never lay a finger on you. Consider this my personal project. No one needs to know." He paused, as if glimpsing some dire future, but the words that might have followed remained unspoken.

  Instead, he simply turned and began walking away.

  "W-wait! Mr. Trafalgar!"

  "We'll discuss this further tomorrow, Acacia." Sirius didn't break stride. "Isn't it past your curfew? I know from personal experience the folly of angering Pandora."

  "Todoloo~!" He offered a casual wave with his left hand, his wry smirk suggesting he knew exactly what awaited Acacia at home.

  They say never to never meet your heroes…as they'll only disappoint you.

  You're getting dangerously close to that line, Sirius Trafalgar.

  Acacia wasn't sure how he survived yesterday's confrontation, but what truly perplexed him was Pandora's reaction—or rather, her conspicuous lack of one. Coming home late after a confrontation with one of Windsor's top noble heirs should have earned him at least a stern reprimand, if not worse. Instead, when he'd stumbled through the door well past curfew, she'd simply walked away.

  The silence felt wrong. High Inquisitor Pandora Kircheisen, former member of the Imperial Legion and one of the most feared names in the Tachyon Empire, wasn't known for holding her tongue. Her reputation spoke of swift judgment and sharper words. Yet she'd looked at him with those impossible golden eyes and said nothing at all.

  Now, sprawled across her living room couch and staring at the ceiling with deliberate disinterest, Acacia tried to parse the contradiction. Perhaps his initial read on her had been wrong. The cold, efficient High Inquisitor might be nothing more than a carefully constructed facade. But if that were true, what lay beneath? He had a feeling she'd reveal that truth in her own time, along with how exactly she'd earned her position among the Empire's elite.

  The more he pondered, the deeper his confusion grew until a frustrated groan escaped his lips. It was a weekday, and technically he could spend it resting, letting his mind and body recover from recent events. But inaction had never sat well with him. Better to start gathering information, building a clearer picture of his new reality. Still, he'd have to wait for Pandora's instructions before she left for work—assuming she planned to give any.

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  The persistent sound of running water from upstairs told him he'd be waiting a while longer. That, and the vague promise of a "meeting later" with Sirius Trafalgar, gnawed at his thoughts like a persistent migraine. The man was an enigma: genius inventor, vanguard of the Empire’s future, and complete madman all rolled into one brilliant, perplexing package. Despite—or perhaps because of—his unorthodox nature, he'd proven invaluable to Acacia's survival, offering help without expectation of compensation.

  Acacia glanced at the clock, resigning himself to waiting.

  9:35 AM.

  She's really taking her time...but then again, I'm kinda in the same boat. Acacia mused, though he couldn't really complain. The past two weeks felt like a dream deferred, reality warped beyond recognition. He needed time to process, and understand how he'd gone from condemned prisoner to whatever he was now.

  "So...let's go over the facts, shall we?" Acacia muttered to himself under his breath, glancing at the TV for a second before gazing back at the ceiling.

  The basics first: he was a falsely accused criminal, running from Cagliostro Copernicus Narma, father of the late Giovanni Copernicus Narma. The Ocarina Imperial Police Association had pinned Gio's murder on him—partly because they couldn't find the real killer, but mostly because he was an Irregular. He was a perfect scapegoat. Then Pandora had intervened, spiriting him away to Windsor where he now had not one but two of the Empire’s most powerful figures helping him evade Cagliostro's wrath.

  It should have felt absurd—an Irregular accused of killing a noble, protected by figures who could reshape the empire with a word. But after everything he'd seen, everything he'd survived, absurdity had become his new normal.

  Something still bothered him about the whole situation. Pandora especially remained an enigma, and his mind kept circling back to their first meeting in that sterile interrogation room in Ocarina. She'd presented herself as upright and fair, a paragon of imperial justice, but he'd sensed deeper currents even then. The rumors that she was also Mercutio, the legendary war hero who'd painted battlefields in quicksilver during World War III, seemed almost impossible to reconcile with the woman he knew. Yet the evidence was there—he'd seen her wielding that unique Thaumaturgy during their escape, temporarily putting that liquid metal on his body to save his life.

  But a twenty-something-year-old war veteran and Second-Ranked High Inquisitor? The math felt wrong. The timeline didn't add up. Something about her story remained hidden, though whether she was protecting herself or him with that silence, he couldn't say.

  The shower stopped abruptly, interrupting his thoughts.

  "Finally," Acacia muttered, relief coloring his voice. As much as he needed to sort through his thoughts, more pressing matters demanded attention. He still hadn't figured out how to repay her for everything she'd done. Despite her apparent distaste for gratitude, he'd resolved to help her however he could when she needed it. A debt was still a debt, even if she refused to acknowledge it.

  Footsteps echoed down the stairs, marking High Inquisitor Kircheisen's descent. Acacia closed his eyes and released a measured breath.

  "About time. I was starting to think you'd drowned up there."

  Pandora ignored his attempt at levity, moving to the couch with her usual calculated grace. She wore her standard Inquisitor uniform, crisp and pristine as always. A subtle floral scent followed in her wake—though knowing her, Acacia wouldn't have been surprised if those innocent-seeming flowers were actually poisonous.

  She crossed her arms, settling into the cushions with faux casualness.

  "I'm not exactly in the best of moods, Acacia."

  "Look, about the curfew—I know I got back late, but THE Mr. Trafalgar stopped me on the way. It wasn't exactly something I could avoid." Even to his own ears, the excuse sounded weak.

  "That's not what concerns me."

  A chill crept up Acacia's spine. If she wasn't angry about his late return, that left only two other possibilities. He silently prayed she was just irritated about his incomplete exploration of Windsor, but the set of her shoulders told him this was something far worse.

  "I'm angry about your altercation with Alaric Ptolemy."

  "How did you—" he started, then caught himself. "I mean, isn't there a chance you're imagining things?"

  The look she gave him could have frozen hellfire.

  "Your good buddy Sirius Trafalgar happened to witness someone lecturing the Ptolemy heir and another boy by the riverside playground. Interestingly, this mysterious person was waving around the only registered SST phone sold under the name 'Acacia Belmont,' apparently trying to record the confrontation for blackmail purposes. Ring any bells?"

  The blood drained from Acacia's face as realization struck.

  He'd been played—completely and utterly outmaneuvered. Sirius's casual mention of Pandora giving away his location had been an obvious lie! She couldn't have known his exact movements! The inventor had been testing him, seeing if he'd catch the inconsistency. Instead, Acacia had walked right into it, confirming that Sirius had been tracking him since the initial confrontation. No wonder the man had seemed so composed during their first meeting. Acacia had been dancing in the palm of their hands the entire time.

  A cold sweat broke out along his neck as the implications spiraled through his mind.

  "Wait!" Acacia began, desperately trying to salvage the situation. "You think Mr. Trafalgar assumed I was attempting blackmail? That doesn't make sense. If that were my goal, why would I use a phone registered in my own name?"

  "You were doomed the moment you decided recording a fight between a noble and a commoner was preferable to running away." Pandora massaged her temples, genuine frustration bleeding through her usual composure. "Even if it could serve as leverage, involving yourself in criminal affairs while in hiding demonstrates a remarkable lack of judgment." She fixed him with a piercing stare. "Please tell me you at least had the sense not to give Alaric your name."

  "I-I'm not stupid!"

  "Evidence suggests otherwise." She sighed, and for a moment Acacia glimpsed something like regret in her expression. "Let's set aside your questionable decision-making for now. Answer me this: why didn't you run? I gave you explicit instructions to avoid drawing attention or revealing your status as an Irregular. What possible outcome did you envision from that confrontation?"

  "What, are you mad that I didn't just abandon someone who might have needed help?"

  "Of course I am!" The sudden force in her voice made him flinch. It was the first time he'd heard real anger break through her careful control.

  The outburst left him momentarily stunned. He'd never encountered someone so invested in his safety before. It made him wonder if there wasn't some deeper reason for her intervention in his life, but he quickly dismissed the thought. The idea that she might harbor any kind of familial feelings toward him was too dangerous to entertain.

  Why do you care so much about someone like me, Pandora?

  "Okay," he said finally, the word falling between them like surrender.

  "Don't you dare 'okay' me." Her voice had dropped to something dangerous and low. "Is that all you have to say? You disregard my instructions, attempt to gaslight me about facts I know to be true, and your only response is 'okay'?"

  "I—" he started, then forced himself to actually consider his actions. "I saw Alaric destroying the park, threatening assault. I didn't know how strong the other person was, whether they needed help..."

  "And who exactly was this other person?"

  "Elias Scryer."

  Golden eyes widened before narrowing to dangerous slits. "Elias Scryer? Leila's friend?" A pained grimace crossed her features. "One of only two students in Windsor selected for Vanguard this fall. Acacia, you have an extraordinary talent for inserting yourself into situations far beyond your scope."

  "I know that now. The recording became pointless once Elias demonstrated his power." He matched her grimace with one of his own.

  "Which is precisely why you should mind your own business and remove yourself from dangerous situations." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "No one asked you to intervene. That's why people like me exist. I understand your aversion to seeing others hurt, but there are limits to what you can—what you should—attempt."

  "But I wanted to help Elias…he looked like he was in danger of being attacked by Alaric, and I had the phone to record it..."

  Pandora violently sighed as she massaged her temples, quickly reaching her breaking point. "Just why do you have to be so damn selfless?! No one is asking you to do that! That's why people like me are here! I know that you don't like seeing other people getting hurt, but there's a clear limit here!"

  "No one asked me? What about you, then? You're telling me to run away at the first sign of danger—that makes you a hypocrite!"

  "That's different."

  "How? You use your abilities to help people even when it's not your direct responsibility. That's exactly why you saved me!"

  "There's a fundamental difference between helping others because you have the capability to do so, and helping because you don't know how to prioritize your own survival!" The knife was already a foot in his chest, but Pandora twisted it deeper. "Don't make me remind you that you're just an Irregular!"

  The words escaped before she could stop them. Regret flashed across her face instantly, but it was too late. The atmosphere crystallized into something sharp and cold and painful.

  "...You're right." Acacia nodded, staring at the floor as he absently rubbed the back of his neck.

  "I didn't mean—"

  "To say that? Don't apologize. What you said was completely valid." His expression had gone blank, carefully emptied of emotion.

  In that moment, he realized he'd been far too presumptuous, too forgetful of his place.

  For someone who should have died years ago, when flames consumed Litore and his heart smoldered to ash—for someone who lived without reason, who sinned without purpose, who bore no power and thus desperately tried to emulate those with strength—for someone who had always lived in fear, felt perpetually inferior, who wanted nothing more than for fate to stop toying with his existence—Acacia Belmont would never be able to truly help others.

  After all, he couldn't even save himself.

  A smile crept across his blank visage as he glanced at the dumbfounded woman sitting across from him. It was the furthest thing from genuine, more like a puppet's expression after its strings had been cut, merely going through motions learned through bitter necessity.

  "You don't have to be kind to me. I'm fine on my own." Each word fell hollow and empty. "I don't expect kindness anymore. I just wanted you to know that I understand. Sorry about yesterday." He could have said more—could have shouted back, told her she was wrong, that she was just trying to help someone in trouble, that she didn't need to be so harsh, that he could handle whatever came his way.

  But he couldn't.

  He wouldn't.

  For Acacia Belmont had never deserved kindness.

  He would never smile like others, for he had forgotten what true joy looked like. He would never feel genuine happiness, for such emotions had been burned away long ago. For Acacia, nothing was more pitiful than a life forged without hope.

  "You're right. I'm nothing but an Irregular."