Master Avalon’s words cut like a knife, sliding gently but deeply into Serenity’s chest.

  On the surface, her polite smile remained as a perfect, porcelain mask. Beneath the heavy folds of her skirt, however, her left hand was clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, anchoring her against the emotional waves threatening to breach her composure.

  "Father, it's true he was only an experimental subject," Serenity said softly. Her voice did not waver; it was the cold, practiced tone of a Peaceraft. "We will use them if necessary. And when the purpose is served... we will leave him."

  Avalon’s smile widened, an expression that held a thousand unspoken thoughts. "Hm."

  "Yes," Serenity replied, maintaining her rigid stance.

  "I wanted to tell you—your brother has returned," Avalon said, his attention already drifting back to the documents on his desk. "You may go back to rest now."

  Serenity felt the air leave her lungs. "Brother Honest..."

  "What's wrong?" Avalon asked without looking up.

  "Nothing, Father. It's just... it's been a long time."

  "Say hello when you see him," Avalon dismissed her, sinking back into the piles of files.

  "I will."

  Serenity exited the solar. The guards, Ashil and Vashil, snapped into a crisp salute as she passed, but she didn't acknowledge them. She moved with a desperate, quiet haste toward the back garden—the only sanctuary in the estate uncontaminated by the oppressive clink of marble and the suffocating rules of the Peaceraft lineage.

  White lilies bloomed along the winding path. Their serene, cloying scent felt like a mocking contrast to the storm in her heart.

  In the center of the garden, a young man stood among the flowers. His back was toward her, but Serenity would have recognized that silhouette across a thousand lifetimes. Her pace quickened unconsciously.

  The man turned. His features were sharp and handsome, his eyes like polished brown garnets—strikingly similar to Serenity’s own. He looked as if he had been sculpted from the very shadows of the twilight.

  "My little sister," Honest said softly.

  "After twenty years in the Oblivion Tower… we finally meet," Honest added.

  Serenity's stomach tightened. "Yes, in Ipsix time... even though I was only in exile for two years in the Oblivion Tower, Brother," Serenity replied.

  Honest's gaze drifted away, his voice turning stone cold.

  "And after that punishment, you still dared to interact with him, Serenity Peaceraft, The Regulator of Time and Space."

  Hearing her full name and title made Serenity's heart drop.

  Brother knows I met Lian. And he's angry.

  Honest stared at her for a long moment. "Do you understand the meaning of the pens have been lifted and the pages have dried?"

  Serenity fell silent, refusing to answer.

  "Silence is golden," Honest continued, stepping closer. "But can silence solve everything?"

  Serenity just lowered her head. Every word hit her hard, because they were all true.

  He reached out, his voice dropping to a low, pained murmur. "I am an observer. I am trained to be rational, to be measured. But I am also your brother. It breaks my heart to see you entwined with something so dangerous... so irreversible."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The dam broke. Tears welled up in Serenity’s eyes, spilling over the mask she had fought so hard to maintain.

  "My little sister," Honest murmured, gently touching her cheek. "Let your tears today be a reminder. Every decision... has a cost."

  Without another word, he turned and vanished into the darkening foliage. Serenity stood alone in the fading light, her voice a broken whisper.

  "Lian... to me, you are bliss. But to you... I am a disaster."

  She returned to her room, accompanied by the dark night sky.

  ***

  Meanwhile in Syntax, under a sky glowing a bruised, violent red, the dusk settled over the city of Serion.

  Leuliang awoke with a jolt. The air was heavy with the sterile sting of antiseptic. Blinding white LED lights burned his retinas, and a cold weight tugged at his left arm—an IV drip.

  "This... is a hospital?" he rasped.

  His eyes darted to the needle. His first instinct wasn't relief or a sense of safety; it was a cold, pragmatic dread. Is my insurance still active? How will I pay for this?

  He looked toward the window, his gaze hollow. He looked like a man who had realized he no longer had a home to return to.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  "Come in," he said weakly.

  A nurse named Aida entered, her Military Medical uniform crisp and intimidating. As she checked his vitals, another series of sharp knocks echoed through the room.

  Two men in military fatigues stepped inside, their presence instantly shrinking the room.

  "Is patient Esculenta awake?" the blond one asked. His nametag read: Ron Eosvile.

  "Yes, Lieutenant Colonel," Aida replied.

  The second man, Nox Eosvile, stepped forward. His dark hair and shadowed eyes radiated a palpable animosity.

  "We’re taking over," Ron said firmly. "You know the procedure."

  The nurse nodded silently and retreated, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

  "Leuliang Esculenta, is that correct?" Ron asked.

  Leuliang stared at them blankly, his frame trembling. "You..."

  Before he could finish, Nox lunged. He grabbed Leuliang’s collar, hoisting him upward.

  "Nox, calm down!" Ron shouted, grabbing his partner's arm.

  "He’s a mass murderer!" Nox snapped, his face inches from Leuliang’s. "He destroyed a city! He killed our parents, Ron!"

  "That is an accusation, not a conviction!" Ron retorted.

  Something inside Leuliang snapped. The fear was replaced by a jagged, raw exhaustion. He slapped Nox’s hand away with what little strength he had, clutching his own collar as he screamed.

  "SUSPECT! MURDERER!" His voice was raw, tearing at his throat. "IF YOU WANT TO KILL ME—DO IT NOW!"

  Nox’s expression curdled into pure disgust. With a grunt, he shoved Leuliang back with all his might.

  BAM—

  Leuliang’s body slammed into the metal IV pole. It went down with a deafening clang. On the wall, the heart monitor erupted into a high-pitched, piercing shriek. Leuliang hit the ceramic floor hard.

  CRACK.

  Light exploded behind his eyes. Blood poured from his temple. The IV was pulled out, leaving a stinging wound. He groaned, gasping for breath, his body shaking violently.

  "Enough!" Ron roared. "Nox, get out! Now!"

  Nox froze, glaring at the broken man on the floor, before storming out of the room with a curse.

  Ron knelt beside Leuliang, who was slumped against the wall, his breathing coming in ragged hitches.

  "Sorry," Ron muttered, the word sounding heavy and inadequate.

  Leuliang let out a dry, hacking laugh. "You're so good at apologizing to someone who can't fight back."

  "I didn't mean for—"

  "I'm a wildflower on the side of the road," Leuliang interrupted, his eyes unfocused. "Wither or bloom... no one cares."

  Ron went quiet, absorbing the bitterness in the man's voice. "I'm Ron Eosvile," he finally said. "Chief of the Military Police. I'm the investigator for the destruction of Vellion."

  Leuliang lifted his head slowly. His eyes were empty. Broken.

  "I don't want to hurt you," Ron continued. "I just want to understand."

  "What I need... isn't that, Sir Ron."

  Ron sighed, standing up. "Fine. I won't force you today. I'll be back tomorrow."

  In the corridor, Nox was waiting, vibrating with suppressed rage.

  "Nox," Ron said, his voice like ice. "The punishment and the warning letter for your file are non-negotiable. You violated procedure."

  "You're punishing me for a mass murderer?" Nox hissed. "He killed our parents! And you're playing the gentle investigator?"

  Ron stepped into Nox's personal space. "This isn't about who killed whom. This is about the law. You broke it. Period."

  Leaving Nox fuming, Ron summoned the medical staff. When they re-entered, they found Leuliang still collapsed on the floor.

  "Sir Leuliang! You're bleeding," the doctor exclaimed.

  They hoisted him back onto the bed. Leuliang winced as the doctor pressed on the swelling wound on his temple.

  "This is trauma from blunt force violence," the doctor muttered, glancing at Ron with disapproval.

  "He needs a sedative. Right away."

  As the needle entered his skin, Leuliang’s breathing finally began to stabilize. His eyelids grew heavy, his world fading to gray.

  Ron stood by the bed for a long time after the doctors left, staring at the wound on Leuliang’s head. His face hardened, then softened, a complex mix of guilt and a curiosity that went far deeper than any case file.

  To Be Continued...