"I realized I was the one suffering, I was going all the way to hell because I was trying to drag another person into the fire, yet I was already getting burnt." ― Temi O'Sola

* * * *

Sera sat with a straight spine in Cross Café, her eyes distant.

Her black coat was slightly damp from the drizzle outside, the faint scent of rain and steel lingering in her aura. Her long raven hair, loosely tied to the side, framed her pale face with ethereal grace.

Zest sat next to her, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee with both hands wrapped around it like it might escape otherwise. The faint violet hue in his otherwise black hair caught the light now and then, but his crimson eyes—usually bright and wickedly sharp, were clouded today. Tired. Like something in him had begun to sink.

"Situation's getting worse," Zest said, his voice low but firm. "Even the cafés are empty now."

Sera gave a small, bitter smile. "Yeah. Larissa and I have been in talks already. If this keeps up, we may have to evacuate. Maybe even leave Eldario entirely. The Abyss is drafting contingency plans."

Zest scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "Eldario's eating itself alive. You can practically taste the hysteria in the air. The witch hunts, the riots… The hunters might not even need to do anything anymore. The public's already been poisoned enough."

Sera leaned forward, resting her elbows against the counter. Her voice was soft, but it carried weight. "Even if we had proof—concrete, undeniable proof of what happened in Veridale… The experiments, the deaths, everything… Do you really think they'd care? Eldario wouldn't believe it. They never cared for the truth. Not when it comes from the mouths of the Gifted."

Zest's eyes flickered toward her. "No. They wouldn't. Because they already see the Gifted as monsters. Less than human." His voice hardened. "And Nicolosi's damn speeches are only fuelling the fire. That bastard's not just rallying support. He's giving permission. Permission to hate. To kill. To purge." He sighed. "And let's be frank. Even before the witch hunts, Eldario already loathed the Gifted. Nicolosi's rallies and speeches are only spurring on what is already there. The hatred for the Gifted."

Silence lapsed between them. The unspoken weight of Veridale sat like a tombstone in the center of the café.

Sera shifted slightly, glancing toward the counter where Timo continued to polish glass. "I'm surprised you're still here," she murmured. "Didn't you say something about leaving Aurora?"

Timo gave a faint smile, tired but genuine. "Yeah, I did. Reina and I have been arranging things quietly. Can't just vanish overnight. That'd raise eyebrows. Give it a month or two, and we'll be out of here."

Before another word could be said, the bell above the door chimed.

All three of them turned reflexively.

A gust of cold wind swept in, scattering a few dry leaves. A tall, lean figure stepped in through the door, closing it behind him slowly.

Lucas.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

His dark hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, but it was looser now, less precise. His jacket clung to him like it hadn't been properly cleaned in weeks. And his onyx eyes, once sharp and proud, looked dimmer. Even haunted. Like he hadn't slept properly in days. Maybe longer.

Next to Sera, Zest tensed immediately. His crimson gaze narrowed, his shoulders stiffening.

Sera, however, showed no outward reaction. Her expression remained unreadable as she murmured, "…Lucas."

"I want to talk," Lucas said. His voice was low and strained. It wasn't a request. It was a plea wrapped in brittle pride.

Timo set the glass down and gestured toward the corner booth. "Go on. I'll close up early. Doubt anyone's coming in anyway."

Zest and Sera exchanged a glance before rising, with Lucas following them, before settling in the back corner, wrapped in silence.

Zest kept his back half-turned toward Lucas, his arms crossed, and his fingers tapping against the table with barely-contained restraint. Sera sat with quiet poise, her eyes unblinking.

Lucas was the first to speak. "I'll go straight to the point," he said. "The Veridale facility… You did it, didn't you?"

Sera tilted her head. "I wonder?"

"You didn't have to kill everyone inside—"

Sera's tone turned glacial. "If you'd seen what we saw, you'd have done the same. And as for the 'victims'—by the time we arrived, there was nothing left to save. They were beyond help. The only mercy we could offer was a quick death."

Lucas flinched. "Still—"

The table shook as Zest slammed both palms down, rising halfway from his seat, fire barely contained in his voice. "You know… Every time we meet, I walk away wanting to punch you square in the face!"

Sera's voice cut in, gentle but firm. "Zest."

"No, let me say this." Zest's voice trembled. Not with weakness, but with the weight of rage held back for too long. "You sit there, all righteous and noble, looking down your nose at her—at us—like you're some paragon of justice. Like you're better."

Lucas was stunned. "What—"

"You preach about second chances. About rules. About restraint. You let monsters walk free because you can't stomach doing what needs to be done!" Zest's voice cracked, years of frustration boiling over. "What about their victims, huh?! Where's their second chance, Alescio?!"

The fire in his eyes burned with sincerity. "You put those freaks back on the streets. People who tortured, experimented, and killed the Gifted without remorse. Because you're too damn scared to prosecute. Because you don't want to dirty your hands. So guess what? We do it for you. The underground does your job. And then you call us criminals."

Lucas opened his mouth, eyes wide.

"I don't care what uniform you wear, Lucas Alescio," Zest continued, his voice softer now, and more deadly. "You have no right to judge Sera. No idea what she's sacrificed."

Sera placed a hand on Zest's arm. He paused, then pulled away, but sat down.

Lucas exhaled, trembling. "I… That's not what I meant. I didn't come to judge her. I just… I don't know anymore. What's right or wrong. Everything feels blurred."

Sera stared at him. "That's something only you can answer." She then reached into her coat pocket and slid a small data card across the table. "Veridale," she said. "A copy of the data we recovered. Minus certain details. Read it. Somewhere off-network. What you choose to do with it…is your burden. But be careful who you trust."

Lucas looked at the card, then back at her. "Sera…"

Sera rose to her feet. "Lucas, it's better if you forget about me."

Zest stood as well, brushing his coat off. "Let's go."

The two turned, walking past the bar. The bell above the door tinkled once more as they disappeared into the misted streets of Aurora.

Lucas sat in silence. Moments later, a cup of coffee was set in front of him. He looked up. Timo stood there. "I didn't order anything," Lucas muttered.

"I know," Timo said. "But you look like you need it."

Lucas gripped the cup, but didn't drink.

"You know," Timo continued, wiping the tray clean. "They're harsh. But they're right."

Lucas's voice was hoarse. "Timo…"

"Every time you come here to see Sera… It ends in an argument. And she never says it, but she agrees with Zest. All of it."

Lucas bit his lip, his throat tightening. "Was I…really that terrible? I never meant to judge her. I just… None of this feels right."

Timo leaned back slightly. "Who decides what's right or wrong, Lucas?"

"…What?"

"You think they're wrong. They think you're wrong. And in this world? Justice is made by the powerful. It is just a bunch of principles made by those with power to suit themselves. Might is made right through power. Laws bend to those who can enforce them. And morality…" Timo looked toward the door. "Morality is just an opinion, until someone bleeds."

Lucas stared at his coffee.

Timo's eyes softened. "You like Sera, don't you?"

Lucas hesitated. "…Yeah."

Timo gave a small, sympathetic smile. "Sorry, kid. But I don't think you're the one she'll choose. You're too different. Your paths don't align. You want justice. She's after truth. And those two things don't always meet in the middle."

Lucas swallowed hard. "You think she'll choose Zest?"

Timo nodded. "If she hasn't already."

Silence stretched.

Finally, Timo said quietly, "Take her advice. Forget her. Or you'll be the only one left hurting."

Lucas clenched the coffee cup tighter.

"I remember what I told her long ago, the first time I met her. And it's the same thing I'm telling you now." Timo's voice grew gentle. "Everyone must walk their own path. So that when the end comes, they can face it with pride."

The bell above the door swayed once more in the wind, a soft, echoing chime.

Lucas remained at the booth alone. The data card still sat on the table in front of him, gleaming faintly beneath the flickering light.

And outside, beyond the glass windows of Cross Café, Eldario's storm continued to gather.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.