Amelia and Garfield slowly retreated, taking cautious steps backward as fear of Tristan's mysterious compatriot settled deep within their hearts. Their palms grew damp with sweat while their bodies trembled uncontrollably. The prospect of death slowly crept into their minds, suffocating every rational thought they possessed. Their breathing became increasingly ragged with every step the woman took toward them. She continued advancing at an unhurried pace, each footfall carrying an inexplicable weight, before finally coming to a stop.
"I can feel your fear," she said calmly, standing a fair distance away from the pair. "I don't blame you. We are only human, and humans are meant to fear what they cannot understand. So... I'll ask my question from here."
She paused for a brief moment, her unwavering gaze fixed upon the two of them before speaking once more.
"Tell me... why do you still cling to the memory of your former friend?"
Amelia immediately knew who the woman was referring to. She swallowed nervously before answering. For her, the answer was simple.
"Because I care for him. Tristan was my first friend—the first person who ever had the courage to truly look at me and speak to me without fear or prejudice. And... in a way, I still carry the guilt of dragging him into all of this."
Garfield turned toward Amelia before lowering his gaze to the cobblestone beneath his feet. He slowly shook his head before offering his own answer.
"I believe I know Tristan better than anyone. We were roommates... and he was my best friend. Because of that, I have an obligation to bring him in and ensure that he stands trial."
Silence settled over the trio.
The woman sighed quietly before tapping her staff three times against the cobblestone road.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
"You are both selfish," she said.
Both Amelia and Garfield stared at her in disbelief, caught completely off guard by her blunt accusation.
"I... I... I..." she continued. "That is all I heard from either of you. Every reason you gave was for your own peace of mind, not for Tristan's. Neither of you spoke of what would truly be best for him. You are both selfish... and neither of you is acting like his true friend."
The woman's words struck Amelia like a blade driven straight through her heart.
She was right.
Everything Amelia had said revolved around her own feelings. She wanted Tristan back because she cared for him. Because she missed him. Because she loved him. Yet nowhere in her answer had she considered what Tristan himself truly wanted. Her reasons, no matter how noble they sounded, were born from selfish desire.
Her shoulders slumped as her gaze slowly drifted toward the cobblestones beneath her feet.
The woman's staff dissolved into countless brown particles before returning to her Celestial Forge. She let out another weary sigh before lifting her eyes toward the sky.
"It seems our conversation ends here."
Both Amelia and Garfield frowned in confusion.
Before either of them could question her, they instinctively looked toward the roof of the grand hall.
Standing near its edge was a crimson-haired man.
His long hair was tied neatly into a ponytail that flowed down his back, swaying gently in the cold wind. His crimson coat billowed dramatically behind him as he looked down upon the mysterious woman without the slightest hint of fear.
It was Decker Vermillion.
"It's best if you leave," he called down. "But tell Tristan... that I'm coming to find him."
The woman merely smirked.
Without another word, her body sank into her own shadow until she vanished completely, leaving nothing behind.
Decker leapt from the rooftop with effortless grace before landing before Amelia and Garfield.
He briefly examined the pair before speaking.
"I trust neither of you is injured?"
The two nodded.
Amelia, however, wore an expression filled with confusion.
Decker Vermillion had just saved them. But... how had he known they were here? More importantly... how had he known Tristan would attend the ball?
Decker slowly walked toward the blood-soaked remains scattered across the street before releasing a slow breath.
"Where is Tristan?"
Amelia hesitated.
She still believed Decker intended to capture Tristan, and if that happened, Tristan would almost certainly be executed.
She frowned and deliberately turned her eyes away from him.
Decker sighed softly.
"I can't help him if you refuse to tell me where he went."
"Help him?" Amelia repeated quietly as she turned back toward him.
Decker slowly approached the pair. White clouds of mist escaped his lips with every breath as the snowfall, relentless for hours, finally began to lessen.
"I want to help Tristan," he said sincerely. "But I can't do it alone. He doesn't like me very much... but if his friends were to speak with him, I'm certain he would listen."
A faint smile crossed Amelia's face.
If Decker truly intended to stand beside Tristan, it could dramatically improve Tristan's chances during the trial. Decker's influence among the Five Great Families was immense. If someone of his standing defended Tristan publicly, perhaps execution would no longer be inevitable.
"We—"
Amelia barely managed a single word before Garfield interrupted her.
"I'm sorry, sir," Garfield said firmly, "but Tristan is a criminal, and aiding a criminal is against the law. Tristan must be brought in to answer for the consequences of his actions."
Decker studied him quietly before replying.
"Those sound like the words of a soldier... not a friend."
His piercing gaze never left Garfield.
"What happened to the boy who challenged society's expectations? The boy who stood inside a coliseum full of nobles and spoke without fear? What happened to that boy?"
Garfield's breathing faltered.
He bit down so hard on his lower lip that blood slowly trickled from the wound.
"That boy..." he whispered.
"...died."
Without another word, Garfield turned and walked away. Amelia watched him leave, her heart growing heavier with every step he took. He claimed that boy was dead. But Amelia knew better.
That fearless Garfield still existed somewhere beneath the surface, buried under years of rejection and an overwhelming desire to finally be accepted.
She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to tell him he wasn't alone. But there was nothing she could say. All she could do was watch him disappear into the falling snow.
"I hope you'll help me," Decker said gently as he rested a reassuring hand upon Amelia's shoulder.
After several silent seconds, Amelia gave a small nod.
Decker's POV
Decker knew that taking Tristan away from the terrorist organization would be anything but easy.
There were countless obstacles standing between him and that goal, and charging forward alone would accomplish nothing. Before attempting to save Tristan, he needed allies—real allies. One young woman, no matter how capable she was, would never be enough.
So... he called upon an old favor.
Under ordinary circumstances, Decker would never have been granted permission to operate within the Third Sector, especially after his retirement. Yet, owing to his reputation and past service, certain influential figures had reluctantly allowed him temporary freedom to move through the district.
Together, Decker and Amelia boarded a carriage bound for the estate of one of Decker's oldest acquaintances.
The carriage eventually came to a halt before a pair of towering silver gates.
Decker stepped down first before extending a gentlemanly hand to help Amelia descend.
He approached the guard stationed outside the entrance and introduced himself politely.
"Greetings. My name is Decker Vermillion, and I have come to see Gustav Forwall."
The guard's eyes immediately widened with excitement.
"There is no need to introduce yourself, sir. I know exactly who you are. Who wouldn't recognize the great Decker Vermillion?"
His enthusiasm quickly faded.
"But..."
The guard hesitated before glancing back toward the magnificent mansion standing beyond the gates.
"My lord left strict instructions that you were never to be allowed inside."
Decker simply sighed.
"Tell Gustav... it's time to repay his debt."
The guard nodded immediately before sprinting toward the mansion.
As they waited outside, Amelia finally broke the silence.
"Who's Gustav?"
Decker folded his arms behind his back.
"A former classmate... and my old partner," he replied. "We were inseparable once. But after I chose to retire, we gradually drifted apart."
Several minutes later, the guard came running back, his spear still clutched tightly in one hand.
He planted it into the ground before turning the massive iron mechanism controlling the gates.
The gears groaned loudly.
The heavy silver gates slowly creaked open, the guard straining with all his strength until there was just enough space for the pair to enter.
"My lord will receive you."
He straightened respectfully.
"Lord Decker Vermillion... Lady Amelia."
The two stepped through the gates and made their way toward the mansion.
Waiting at the grand entrance stood a man wearing wire-rimmed glasses, his brown hair slicked neatly back and a meticulously groomed beard framing his face.
His sharp eyes settled upon Decker before a faint smirk appeared.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing your face here, Decker Vermillion."