Tristan crept closer to the door of the seemingly abandoned house. It had been barred from the outside with weathered wooden planks, yet it was obvious that Ripper had entered. Faint traces of his Star Energy still lingered around the house like the scent of a predator refusing to fade. Tristan reached for the planks barring the entrance and tore them away using nothing but raw strength. He flung the broken wood aside before pushing the heavy door open.
Its hinges groaned with age, rust protesting every inch the door moved, though not enough to stop him. The moment Tristan stepped inside, thick cobwebs draped across the doorway clung to his face. He spat in disgust and ripped the webs away.
"Disgusting," he whispered.
Tristan cautiously made his way through the house, weaving around the dust-covered furniture scattered throughout the abandoned home. At first glance, nothing appeared out of the ordinary beyond the thick layer of dust and the rats that scurried through the shadows whenever his footsteps echoed across the floorboards.
He climbed the stairs, his eyes drifting toward the portraits hanging along the walls. Each painting depicted the same man, one with dark brown hair and a neatly groomed beard. Beside him in every portrait stood a woman, presumably his wife. She possessed fair skin, flowing blonde hair, and a radiant smile that seemed almost too warm for the lifeless house she once called home.
Tristan lifted his gaze as he continued climbing the stairs, each step releasing another cloud of dust into the stale air. There were five rooms in total, and he searched each one thoroughly. Every room held nothing but more neglected furniture buried beneath years of dust and silence.
He folded his arms and sighed.
"He's not here."
He remained standing in the center of the master bedroom for a full minute before deciding to leave. That was when it happened.
The moment his foot landed upon a particular section of the floor, it sank slightly beneath his weight.
His brows furrowed.
'That was strange.'
He had crossed the room moments earlier, yet the floorboards had felt perfectly solid. This time, however, something had shifted.
His gaze lowered.
The floorboards were hidden beneath an old carpet.
Tristan knelt down and dragged the carpet aside, revealing a concealed trapdoor built seamlessly into the wooden floor. He gripped the iron handle and lifted it open, exposing a narrow staircase descending into darkness directly beneath the staircase he had used to reach the second floor.
He inhaled deeply before beginning his descent.
With every step downward, an all-too-familiar feeling crept over him.
It reminded him of the hidden laboratory beneath Constella Academy.
Cold.
Oppressive.
Wrong.
He reached the bottom of the staircase and stepped into an almost completely dark chamber. The only source of illumination was a single hanging light bulb that flickered weakly overhead, barely managing to push back the suffocating darkness surrounding it.
"So... you followed me."
Ripper's voice emerged from one of the shadowed corners before the man himself stepped into the dim light like a demon crawling from the abyss.
"Do you have a death wish, boy?"
Tristan stared at him silently.
Ripper's appearance had changed. He removed his plague doctor's mask, revealing an unkempt beard and long, scruffy brown hair that framed a weary face.
"I'm not scared of you."
Ripper chuckled quietly as metallic claws extended from his Celestial Forge, their polished edges glimmering beneath the lone light bulb.
Tristan glanced at the claws before locking eyes with Ripper once more.
"I'm still not scared. I didn't come here to fight you. We share a common enemy—one we both wish to destroy."
"And why," Ripper asked as he stepped fully into the light, "would I believe you? You protected the very nobles you now claim are our enemies."
Tristan lowered his eyes for a brief moment, drawing in a slow breath before answering.
"Those two... are special to me. I care about them. If I can, I want them to live in the new world I intend to create."
He raised his head once more, his brown eyes meeting Ripper's.
"Have you ever cared about someone so deeply that you would sacrifice everything just to keep them safe?"
For the first time, Ripper faltered.
His hardened gaze shifted ever so slightly, and the metallic claws disappeared back into his Celestial Forge.
He stepped completely into the light.
Dark bags rested beneath his eyes, and despite wearing a finely tailored black suit, exhaustion and grief clung to him far more naturally than elegance ever could.
"I had someone like that once."
He bit down hard on his lower lip until blood trickled from it.
"But she was taken away from me..."
His voice grew quieter.
"By Arion Vermillion."
Tristan had heard the name during his investigation into House Vermillion.
He had learned how Arion had seized control of the family, along with the countless atrocities committed in the process. Among the many stories was one that disgusted Tristan more than most: Arion had stolen married women from their husbands, forcing them into his bed whenever they refused his initial offer.
"What happened?" Tristan asked sincerely.
Tears slowly gathered within Ripper's eyes before he finally spoke.
"Her name... was Olivia."
...
Ripper's POV
Fin awoke to the dawn of a new day beneath the brilliant summer sun of the Third Sector.
Its light seemed brighter than ever before...
Or perhaps it only felt that way because of the woman lying beside him. Resting peacefully at his side was his beautiful wife, Olivia Crystal.
Having married only the previous day, they had spent their very first night together as husband and wife. A smile stretched across Fin's face as he leaned closer and gently kissed her forehead.
She let out a soft chuckle before slowly opening her eyes.
"Good morning, my love," Olivia said.
"Good morning," Fin replied warmly. "Breakfast?"
She smiled and nodded.
Fin climbed out of bed and pulled open the curtains, allowing the warm rays of the morning sun to flood the room.
He made his way downstairs and began preparing breakfast.
Fresh eggs.
Crispy bacon.
Slices of warm, freshly baked bread.
He carefully arranged everything onto two plates.
Moments later, Olivia descended the staircase, stretching her arms while rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She walked over to the dining table and took her seat before glancing toward Fin.
"Do you need any help?"
Fin smiled and shook his head.
"No. I'm almost finished."
He carried her plate over and gently placed it before her before taking his own seat beside her.
Olivia inhaled deeply.
"It smells delicious."
Fin chuckled.
"Then let's dig in."
Before touching the food, the couple clasped their hands together and bowed their heads, offering a quiet prayer to the God of Famine that their bellies would never know hunger.
Only then did they begin eating.
Between bites, they spoke happily about the future.
"I think I'll stop by the market today," Olivia said. "There are still a few things the house needs. And tonight..."
She smiled warmly.
"I'll be making dinner."
Fin placed his hand gently atop hers.
"I can't wait."
After a brief silence, he continued.
"I'll work on the lawn today. The grass has grown far too long, and the fence still needs painting. I want everything to be perfect."
He smiled at her lovingly.
"After all... I don't live alone anymore."
Olivia kissed him, their lips meeting just as their hearts had years before. Once breakfast was finished, Olivia dressed herself and headed toward the market to purchase supplies. Most nobles would have sent servants to perform such mundane tasks. But Fin wasn't that kind of noble. He belonged to a low-ranking noble family—wealthy enough to receive invitations to the High District, yet nowhere near wealthy enough to own servants or slaves.
Truthfully...
He preferred it that way. He had never liked ordering others around. And slavery was something he had always despised.
Letting out a content sigh, Fin stepped outside and began trimming the overgrown grass surrounding their home. Fortunately, the lawn was modest in size and took little time to finish.
Painting the fence, however...
That was another matter entirely. After some thought, he selected two colours. The front would be painted peach. The back would be painted a soft pink.
By the time he finished, the sun hung high overhead.
One o'clock.
As though perfectly timed, Olivia returned.
She arrived not on foot...
But inside an extravagant carriage. The crest decorating its side belonged to a high-ranking noble. There was no mistaking it. The carriage door opened. Olivia stepped out first, smiling brightly as she waved toward Fin.
Fin smiled and waved back.
Then...
Another figure emerged.
Arion Vermillion.
His attire was embroidered with the finest fabrics imaginable, garments so luxurious that Fin could scarcely dream of wearing them himself.
Confusion immediately settled across Fin's face.
Why...
Why was Arion Vermillion here?
The Head of House Vermillion approached the newly painted fence separating the two men.
With effortless confidence, he extended a gloved hand.
"I am Arion Vermillion," he said with a pleasant smile. "Head of House Vermillion."