The news about the sector's fall hit Yannick hard.
It wasn't the blow of losing a sector—it was the collapse of something that had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. Andorrea wasn't just a place to him; it was his home. The city had shaped him, had given him a purpose, and now, just like that, it was being taken away. The weight of the news sank into his chest like a stone, and for a brief moment, it felt like the air had been stolen from his lungs.
"Wait... young girl, are you serious?" Yannick's voice cracked, panic rising like a wave that he couldn't fight back.
Alice, standing before him, nodded slowly—hesitantly, almost as if she was still trying to comprehend the enormity of what she had just revealed. But the nod was firm enough to confirm what had been only a suspicion until now. It was all they needed to know. The truth was undeniable, and the horror of it was written all over Yannick's face.
Lucid stood in the corner of the room, still and calm, watching them both with a quiet intensity. His eyes flickered, but his expression remained unchanged. He wasn't shocked, or even surprised. If anything, the news didn't seem to affect him the way it affected Yannick. In the midst of the chaos, Lucid remained steady.
So… what Shion asked the nobles wasn't meaningless, Lucid thought, his mind racing. A whole sector was at stake. A single sector.
He paused for a moment, allowing the thoughts to settle. He recalled the ruthlessness with which Shion had interrogated and killed the nobles, the cruelty in her methods. No wonder she was more than willing to torture and kill them. The stakes were that high.
Lucid's glass mask glinted softly in the orange glow of the dying sunlight that streamed through the windows. The day was slipping into evening, and the amber light of the sun stretched long across the room, painting everything in a warm, almost surreal light. The mask, which had once seemed like a barrier, now seemed to amplify the intensity of his thoughts. The golden-orange reflection shimmered across the glass, capturing his contemplative expression.
Yannick, his face pale and drawn, moved quickly to gather his belongings. His hands trembled, and there was a desperation in his movements as he shoved things into his bag, not even bothering to check if he had everything.
"Hey—wait! Yannick, where are you going?" Lucid asked, his voice firm but carrying a hint of concern.
Yannick didn't stop. He didn't even look up at Lucid. His eyes were glassy, and his jaw clenched tightly as if he were struggling to keep his composure.
"To my students…" Yannick said, his voice shaking. "I have to find them. I can't let them… I can't just let them—"
Lucid didn't need to hear the rest. He could see it in Yannick's eyes. There was an urgency there, a desperate need to be with the people who mattered most to him. Yannick wasn't just an educator; he was a mentor. A guide. And now, it seemed like his world was shattering.
Lucid's mind raced. He had fought with many, and against many. Some of them had become comrades, while others had remained distant allies. But the thought of them—of the people he had trained alongside, and perhaps even the ones he had taught —vanishing without a trace, without a chance to say goodbye, was something Lucid could not fully grasp.
Yannick's distress was palpable, and it tugged at something deep within Lucid. His own mind wandered to the people he cared about, to those who were still in danger. He couldn't help but think of Andrew, of how he would feel if he lost someone precious to him. The thought was too painful to bear.
"Hold on. I'll go with you," Lucid said, stepping forward with determination.
"No! Stay out of this!" Yannick snapped, his voice harsh as he turned to face Lucid. The distress in his eyes was so raw, it almost felt like Lucid could reach out and touch it.
Alice, who had been silently watching the exchange, moved quickly to step between the door and Yannick, her hands raised as if to stop him. Her voice, soft yet firm, was laced with concern.
"Listen to him please"
"Alice… No. Let him go," Lucid said, his voice barely above a whisper.
His words were calm, but there was a weight to them. He understood Yannick's pain. He could see that, at this moment, no one could stop him from going. No amount of reasoning would convince him to stay. Lucid knew, too well, what it felt like to lose someone you cared for, to be unable to change the outcome.
What if it had been Andrew? Lucid thought to himself, his chest tightening at the idea.
He shook his head slightly, as if trying to dispel the thought. Alice, noticing the internal struggle within him, moved slightly to the side, allowing Yannick to push past her. He didn't hesitate. He stormed out the door, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind.
Alice, her eyes still filled with worry, ran to Lucid and hugged him tightly. She pressed her face into his chest, her small form trembling as she fought to hold back her tears.
"Oh… where is this coming from?" Lucid asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion he didn't often show.
"I'm afraid…" Alice whispered, her voice barely audible. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what will happen now."
Lucid's heart ached as he held her, feeling the weight of her fear. He could feel it, too. The unease that settled in his own chest that Alice was displaying. The anxiety that came with the unknown.
"Me too," Lucid admitted softly. "I'm afraid, too."
Alice pulled away slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Then… how are you so calm....?"
Lucid smiled faintly beneath his mask, but his eyes were soft with affection. "I have to be, Alice. I have to stay calm, for you, for everyone."
His voice held a quiet strength, but Alice could see the subtle tension in his shoulders. She knew better than anyone that Lucid was just as afraid as she was. But he was holding it together. He always did.
"Alice…" Lucid began, his tone gentle but firm. "Who told you about the fall?"
Alice's eyes flickered, and for a moment, she seemed hesitant to answer. She looked down at the ground, the weight of the moment pressing on her. Finally, she spoke.
"I… I was walking to buy some fresh-baked bread for Andrew. Then I heard the golems—the ones that patrol the city—they were making this strange static noise, and they kept repeating something."
"The golems?" Lucid repeated, his attention fully on her now.
"Yes…" Alice nodded. "They kept repeating: 'Sector 12 has fallen. Please remain-…'"
She stopped there, unable to finish the sentence. Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that escaped.
"Hey, Alice…" Lucid said softly, his hand reaching to her shoulder. "It's okay. Look at me."
He guided her face up with a gentle touch, meeting her gaze with the same quiet strength he had been showing all along. "Everything will be fine."
She sniffled, her chest heaving with the weight of her emotions. Lucid wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close as she cried. He could feel her trembling, but he refused to let go, offering her the comfort he knew she needed.
After a while, she stopped crying, her sobs turning into quiet sniffles as she pulled back. "Big Bro… what will you do now?"
Lucid's expression softened, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me, Alice. I'll help Yannick."
Alice nodded slowly, still unsure of everything that was happening. "Okay…"
Lucid patted her head gently, rubbing it in soothing circles, before pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to her so she could dry her tears.
Just as he turned to leave, he saw a figure standing in the doorway. It was a familiar figure—one he hadn't expected to see at that moment. The figure stood there, draped in a long scarf and headgear, looking at him.
Lucid's heart skipped a beat, but then he recognized those sharp, intense eyes. A small sigh escaped him as he relaxed.
It was Shion.
"Oh, hello there, Shion," Lucid said, his voice still calm, but with a slight tinge of surprise.
Shion stepped forward, removing her scarf and headgear. Her face was the same as always—sharp, but softened by the calmness that surrounded her. Her hair fell in soft waves, dark as night, and her eyes, though fierce, seemed almost… gentle.
She looked at Lucid with a soft expression, her gaze lingering on him. There was something almost endearing about it, as if she had been watching him with a quiet admiration.
"It's great to see you, Lucid," she said, her voice low but sincere. "You have a surprising soft side."
There was no teasing in her voice—only a genuine appreciation.