The carriage rocked gently beneath him—black lacquered wood, iron trim, and a brown horse whose hooves struck the cobblestones with a dull, rhythmic clop. It should have been wondrous. In all his years in the slums, Leximus had only seen such things in dreams or from behind rusted fences. Yet now that he was inside one, his first real carriage…
He felt nothing.
He sat opposite the man who had dragged him out of his ruined home. Sirius. His expression unreadable. His presence suffocating.
Leximus's mind replayed the night over and over—the flash of movement, light-brown eyes, tanned skin, a smile that didn't belong on a murderer's face.
It was him. I know it. He killed them.But even if he knew the culprit, even if he found his sister…
You're too weak.
He stared down at his trembling hands. Not from cold. From the truth.
"Still troubling you, isn't it?"
Sirius's voice pulled him back to the present. Leximus blinked. The slums had vanished behind them. The world outside the window was unreal—clean, stone-built houses, lamplight glowing amber beneath the reign of the moon. Streets without screaming. Buildings without rot. A town that looked warm and alive compared to the hollow pit he had grown up in.
"How does it feel?" Sirius asked casually. "Your first time outside the slums."
Leximus froze.How does he know it's my first time?
He could have pretended he'd gone out before. That he wasn't some gutter rat dragged into a stranger's carriage. But Sirius knew. Too much.
The man looked like something carved from the upper districts—grey eyes that glimmered even in the dark, neatly combed pale-brown hair, a knee-length coat over a high-collared shirt and slim black tie. Aristocratic. Untouchable. Dangerous.
Leximus's throat tightened. Maybe he was involved in the incident. Maybe this was all engineered from the start.
Then Sirius's lips curled faintly.
"Your name is Leximus," he said. "Correct?"
The tremor in Leximus's hands intensified. His mouth dried.Did I seal my fate the moment I stepped into his carriage?
"And should I address you as Leximus Razin… or Leximus Cross?"
Blood turned to ice.
"H–how do you know that?" he rasped.
"It's simple," Sirius replied, as calmly as if reciting a grocery list. "We've been watching you ever since your first parents died. I was supposed to take you in years ago, but Paul beat me to it. I trusted him to raise you. Now that he's gone… the responsibility falls to me."
Leximus's heartbeat thundered. The explanation made sense—and yet every word coiled tighter around his throat.
"Who… are you?" Leximus forced out.
Sirius lifted his chin slightly. "Sirius Eden. A great ally to both your fathers."
He said ally, not friend.
Leximus noted that. Clung to it. Allies did not guarantee safety.
The carriage slowed. Outside, buildings shifted from refined homes to smaller stone structures, more tightly packed, dimly lit. The carriage halted before a narrow, lamp-lit inn whose sign swung weakly in the night wind.
Sirius opened the door, tossed Leximus a cloak, and stepped out. "Put it on," he said without looking back. He spoke briefly to the driver, then guided Leximus into the inn.
Warmth struck him first—stale ale, sweat, laughter, and the clatter of plates. Chaos. No cleaner than the slums, merely richer. Drunks sprawled across tables, men stared too long at the waitresses, and fights simmered beneath every loud conversation.
The slums had filth. The towns had polish over filth. Nothing more.
At the reception, the woman's face lit up the moment she saw Sirius—far too bright, far too eager, like a girl whose fiancé had just returned from war. But when her eyes dropped to Leximus's ripped shoes beneath the cloak, her expression twisted with disgust.
She hid it poorly.
Sirius asked for a room. She obeyed instantly.
Leximus followed him up the stairs. The moment they entered the room, Sirius locked the door behind them.
Leximus stiffened. Here it comes.If Sirius intended to kill him, this was the place.
Sirius moved toward the desk—Leximus braced himself for a blow——but the man merely pulled out the chair and sat.
"Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the bed.
Leximus exhaled shakily and sat.
"Do you remember my proposal back at your house?"
"I… accepted it, didn't I?" Leximus said, though doubt gnawed at him.
"Yes. But I should explain what exactly you're agreeing to." Sirius sighed. "The organization I belong to deals with very particular cases. We—"
"What kind of cases?" Leximus cut in.
For the first time, Sirius looked genuinely surprised. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then stood. He moved to the window, peeled back the curtain to check outside, then shut it again.
Without a word, he pulled on a pair of black gloves.
"Instead of telling you," he murmured, "I'll show you."
He sat back down, raised one hand to eye level, and snapped his fingers.
A burst of flame roared to life in his palm—bright, alive, hungry.
Leximus's breath hitched. His eyes widened despite himself.
"…Nice magic trick," he managed weakly.
Sirius stared at him, offended. "If I wanted to perform tricks, I'd join a circus."
"I can't believe my father's ally was a circus clown," Leximus muttered.
Sirius blinked, wounded. "What part of that looked like a trick?"
"You put the gloves on," Leximus said flatly. "If it wasn't a trick, you wouldn't need them."
"Fine," Sirius snapped. "If it's a trick, you try."
He tossed Leximus a glove.
Leximus put it on. Snapped his fingers.
Nothing. Not a spark.
Sirius snapped his other hand—fire bloomed instantly.
The truth hit like a punch.
This wasn't sleight of hand.It wasn't illusion.It was real.
"The organization you'll be joining," Sirius said, holding the flame steady, "is called the Nightcrawlers. We hunt down Avatars who break the law." His tone softened. "So. Are you willing?"
Leximus stared at the fire, entranced and terrified.
"Do you believe me now?" Sirius asked, extinguishing the flame.
Leximus nodded.
"Good. Rest for tonight." Sirius unlocked the door and slipped out.
Leximus lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.If I gain power like that… I can find her. I can make him pay.
His stomach growled viciously. He curled up, hunger gnawing at him.
No money. No food. No strength.
But something new burned inside him—A spark.
Below, Sirius reached the reception when a familiar voice called out.
"Sirius!"
The receptionist—Violet—hurried toward him. She lowered her voice. "Let's sit."
She led him to a small mahogany table. Her concern was sharp and unhidden.
"What's your deal with that kid? Don't you know whose son he is?"
"I do," Sirius said calmly. "That's why I'm taking him in."
She studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Just… be careful. You know what this means." She stood and walked away.
Sirius watched her go, then left the inn. The carriage waited. The driver—Gibson—grumbled as Sirius stepped inside.
Sirius sat and smiled faintly at the figure already in the seat opposite him.
"Nice to see you here, Calvin. How've you been?"
Calvin, dressed head-to-toe in black, yellow hair messy from combat, green eyes sharp, answered dryly:
"Oh, perfect. Aside from fighting three high-rank Avatars, digging for clues on Desmond, and infiltrating a viscount's estate… absolutely delightful."
Sirius chuckled. "All right. What do you have?"
Calvin's face hardened. "Desmond moved from the capital to the slums today. After that—he vanished."
"Anything else?"
"Nothing."
Sirius leaned back, fingers at his chin. "He's an Aether. Space manipulation is his specialty. Sixteen years missing… he could've risen far."
"A pain," Calvin muttered.
Silence settled as the carriage rolled into the deeper night.
"Where's the kid?" Calvin asked.
"Hotel."
"And is he any good?"
"We'll know tomorrow."
The carriage continued into darkness.