INSPECTOR LAEVATEIN'S OFFICE – THE AFTERMATH
The office felt small, suffocating. Inspector Laevatein leaned back in her chair, but there was no comfort in the gesture. Her brow was a map of deep, jagged furrows—the physical manifestation of a frustration she couldn't vent.
The press release had gone out this morning. The "Eye Tower Tragedy" was officially closed, filed away as an attempted coup followed by Aslan's suicide.
But the gaps in the story were screaming at her. The missing CCTV footage, the mysterious "Daniel" from Santino's entourage, and the impossible physics of the crime scene—Baron Frey dead in the ballroom while Aslan supposedly pulled the trigger on a helipad. Her mind looped through the interrogation of Erebos, Santino's representative, like a damaged film reel.
"Good morning, Inspector Laevatein. I am Erebos, representing Mr. Santino." A professional smile had graced his lips, but his eyes remained fragments of ice.
Laevatein had pointed to the chair, her gaze frozen, refusing to be intimidated. "Take a seat, Mr. Erebos. We have a few questions regarding the banquet at Eye Tower—the one that never happened."
Erebos had sat with a fluid, predatory elegance. He'd glanced at the Lieutenant standing by the desk, who was clutching a tablet full of new findings. Erebos radiated an aura of absolute untouchability.
"Of course, Inspector. Mr. Santino deeply regrets the tragedy involving Baron Frey and the former General Aslan. We are prepared to cooperate fully to clear Santino's name of this... unfortunate incident," he had said, his tone dripping with a sincerity that was almost too perfect. It was a masterpiece of a lie.
"Cooperate?" Laevatein had sneered, her voice like a whip. "My team found banquet invitations on the reception desk explicitly referencing Mr. Santino. Explain how your employer attended an event where dozens were slaughtered, and why you failed to report it."
Erebos had offered a faint smile before pulling a thick envelope from his inner pocket. He laid it on the table: a duplicate invitation. An alibi crafted with surgical precision.
"We acknowledge the invitation. However, Mr. Santino was ill that day and refused to be represented by anyone. Neither Mr. Santino nor any of his associates set foot in the Eye Tower that morning."
Laevatein had snatched the card, checking the seal and the grain of the paper. Her Lieutenant confirmed it: the forensics matched. She'd had to clench her jaw to keep from snapping.
"Fine," she had hissed, sliding her data tablet toward him. "Even if Santino stayed home, we found a single entry in the guest log: 'Daniel, from Santino'."
Erebos's face had shifted into a look of convincing confusion. He studied the name, then shook his head slowly.
"Inspector, as I said, my employer refused to be represented. Furthermore, we have no one by that name in our ranks. I can provide our entire payroll for your review," he had replied, his tone shifting just enough toward the defensive to feel real.
Laevatein searched for a crack in the mask. "We also found that every CCTV camera within a two-kilometer radius was professionally wiped. What if Santino initiated this massive blackout to erase his own footsteps?"
Erebos had let out a soft laugh—polite, yet condescending. "Inspector, Mr. Santino runs a shipping network, not a hacking ring. We move cargo; we don't build software. If I recall correctly, wasn't the Baron's family business the one in tech? Something called AEGIS..." He tilted his head. "We are happy to provide a list of every digital vendor we work with to prove we have no hand in such... sophisticated deletions."
He had parried every blow perfectly: the "original" invitation that proved his absence, a fictitious name, and a deflection toward the Baron's own tech empire.
"We know there was a partnership between Santino and Frey, and that Santino's business is currently skyrocketing. I'm no detective, Inspector, but if all of this was staged to frame us with invalid evidence like this 'Daniel' character... well, that would be a grave smear on Mr. Santino's reputation."
In one move, he had flipped the script. He'd turned the mafia into the victim of a conspiracy.
Laevatein tapped the desk. "Fine, Mr. Erebos. I'll expect that vendor list. You're free to go. For now."
Erebos stood. His professional smile returned, wider this time. "Of course, Inspector. Thank you for your time. We are always happy to help."
As the memory dissolved, the real Laevatein slammed her fist onto the desk, shattering the silence of her office.
"He's lying!"
The sound of the impact echoed through the empty room.
"The representative was a snake, but his logic was bulletproof. He cut every string connecting Santino to that tower," she muttered to herself, pacing like a caged animal.
She slumped back into her chair, looking at the ceiling. "Santino? A victim of defamation? Give me a break. He's a two-bit mobster who breathes bribes. He must have greased the wheels with his dirty money!"
She knew the truth. The case wasn't being closed for lack of evidence—it was being closed for an excess of cash. Money flowing upward, poisoning every step of the justice system. Inspector Laevatein was forced to swallow this tactical defeat, bound by a system she despised. The official investigation was dead.
CLUSTER SANTINO – NIGHT
On the other side of the city, behind the gilded gates of the Santino estate, the power play ended not with money or politics, but with an ancient, aching loyalty.
Erebos was on his knees. The silence between the two men was heavy with a decade's worth of regret.
"Young Master Ren," he repeated, his voice raw, cracking under the weight of suppressed grief. "I have come to beg for your mercy."
Ren didn't move. His thin, cynical smile had vanished, replaced by a cold, evaluative stare. He had never given Erebos his true name. But this confession confirmed the suspicions that had been gnawing at him since he joined the Santino family.
"I was a Knight of the Marble Kingdom, Young Master. When you were only a year old, King Henry—your father—sent me on a secret mission to the Orchard District. I was tasked with protecting you and Lady Luna in secret while he filled the vacuum of the throne." Erebos didn't care about his posture anymore. He was a broken shield at the feet of his prince.
Erebos looked up, his sharp eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The words spilled out like a litany of failures.
"When they came for Lady Luna... you were only five. I was there. I swear to you, I fought. But the Queen's men... their numbers, their preparation... it was too much. I failed to protect you both. It is a shame I carry to my grave."
He bowed his head low, his voice trembling. "I was incompetent. I stripped myself of my title and vanished into the slums. I spent five years as a beggar in the streets of the Kingdom, searching for even a whisper of where they took you."
"But the trail was cold," he continued, his voice breaking. "By the time I found the orphanage where they'd hidden you, it was too late. Santino had already sold you. Once again... I lost you."
Silence hung in the room. Ren stood still, letting the confession carve the truth of his past into his mind.
Erebos raised his head again, his eyes now burning with a dark, vengeful light. "After the Kingdom fell, I heard Santino was looking for muscle. I applied. I rose through the ranks just to get close to him... so I could be the one to slit his throat and avenge the pain he caused you."
"And then," Erebos took a shuddering breath, looking at the man Ren had become. "Four months ago, Santino brought you home. At first, I wasn't sure. The 'Master Ren' I remembered had silver hair. But the bone structure, that aura you carry... and then one night, I saw you remove those contacts. When those crimson retinas appeared, I knew. It was you."
Erebos pressed his forehead to the floor in a gesture of total surrender. "I have failed you a thousand times. I beg for your judgment. If my life is the price for my failures, take it."
Ren let the words settle into the quiet room. After a silence that felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. His voice was low, stripped of emotion.
"Erebos. I remember that name. A ghost of a memory from my mother," Ren whispered. "So, Henry did provide a shadow for us after all, didn't he?"
He took a few slow steps, stopping right in front of the kneeling man.
"Before I left for Eye Tower, I called for you. I laid out the plan, right down to the possibility of a police interrogation. I was testing you, Erebos." Ren leaned down slightly. "That's why I had you craft the duplicate invitations. That's why I trained you for the Inspector's questions. Our chances were fifty-fifty at best."
Ren exhaled, his gaze shifting to a cold, definitive appraisal.
"You didn't flinch. You didn't betray me. You executed your role perfectly."
It wasn't an emotional pardon, but for a failed knight, it was the only validation that mattered. This was a new pact, sealed not by blood, but by a proven, lethal intelligence.
"Erebos,"
Ren's right hand, free from its sling, was steady and cold as he drew a black blade from his harness. The metal swallowed the light, looking as though it were ready to tear through the air—or through Erebos—at any moment.