Ryn landed lightly on the edge of a tiled roof and paused.

Below him, the capital stretched out in quiet layers with the occasional patrol drifting past in practiced loops.

The city was asleep.

He crouched for a moment longer than necessary, realizing that he'd been roof-hopping a lot recently.

Ryn exhaled softly and glanced down at the road running parallel to the estate wall. Well-lit and guarded, but not excessively so.

If he wanted to, he could just walk.

Present himself. Request an audience. Let the system grind its gears.

Be in the light instead of staying in the dark, maybe forget his tendencies for a little bit.

Then he imagined it. Waiting, being delayed, then ultimately—politely dismissed.

Ryn grimaced.

"…No way," he muttered.

He pushed off the roof and moved again, momentum carrying him forward as the city blurred beneath his feet. A final leap carried him over the outer wall of the Gremory compound.

Landing without a sound, Ryn slowed and looked around. It seemed the only way to get an audience tonight—

Was through a window.

He slipped inside without resistance. Honestly, it seemed a bit too easy. Seems like a certain Head of Security was a bit lacking in his job.

The window closed behind him with a soft click, and the room settled back into stillness.

Taylor Gremory stood near the desk, back turned, a thin sheet of light cast across the papers in front of her.

She was working.

Ryn stopped two steps inside the room.

Didn't advance. Didn't breathe louder than necessary.

He thought about how to get her attention without setting off alarms—or making this any worse than it already was.

Finally settling on something:

"Your Highness," he said calmly, voice low but clear.

"I'm unarmed."

The air tightened.

Essence surged, snapping into focus. Ryn felt it immediately: her Blessing brushed against him like a blade drawn. It seemed like she had more combative power than meets the eye.

He didn't move nor flinch, instead raising his hand in the air clearly.

Her shoulders lowered—barely.

"…Ryn Eden Arctis," she said.

"You have ten seconds to explain why you're in my room instead of in chains."

"Because," Ryn replied evenly, "if I'd asked for permission, you would've said no."

A pause.

Then, unexpectedly, Taylor exhaled. The pressure receded slowly, Ryn retracted his hands at the same speed.

"…You're either very brave," she said, turning fully now, "or very foolish."

Ryn met her gaze.

"I was hoping you'd decide after you hear me out."

He glanced at a nearby table, then gestured lightly.

"May I sit?"

Taylor studied him for a moment longer, then gestured toward the chair opposite her desk.

"Carefully," she said.

Ryn took the seat without rushing, posture relaxed but attentive. He didn't lean back. Didn't lean forward either.

He waited until she did.

"…You have my attention," Taylor said. "Briefly."

Ryn nodded once. "Then I'll start with a simple question."

Her gaze sharpened.

"Who is your current candidate?"

Silence followed—not because she hadn't expected the question, but because she hadn't expected him to ask it.

Taylor didn't answer immediately.

She didn't need to.

"Amelia Grandal," Ryn said calmly.

Her eyes flicked just a fraction, enough for him to confirm.

Ryn continued before she could respond.

"That's not a criticism," he said. "She'd succeed. Probably better than most."

Taylor folded her hands atop the desk. "Then why are you here?"

"Because she shouldn't be your Hero."

The words landed cleanly. No accusation nor challenge.

Taylor's expression cooled.

"Explain."

Ryn met her gaze evenly.

"Amelia doesn't need the Hero's Path," he said. "She already has influence. Military backing. Political reach. If you elevate her to a singular symbol, you narrow her utility."

"A Hero commands authority," Taylor replied.

"And loses flexibility," Ryn countered. "She becomes visible. Targeted."

He paused, just long enough.

"Trust me—I'd know. Deimos."

The silence stretched, Taylor nodded in agreement, but skepticism still lined her eye.

"You'd be trading a queen for a knight," he finished. "Even if that knight wins."

She leaned back slightly, studying him now with open interest.

"…You're suggesting I leave my strongest asset untouched."

"I'm suggesting you protect it," Ryn replied. "Gremory doesn't need Amelia to prove herself."

A faint, thoughtful silence filled the room.

"And," Ryn added evenly, "she doesn't need to be defined by a trial designed to justify her worth."

Taylor's fingers tapped once against the desk.

"How do I know this isn't just fiancé talk?" she asked.

Then, after a beat:

"If not Amelia—who are you suggesting?"

Ryn didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he reached into his coat and placed two thin objects on the desk between them.

Taylor's eyes dropped to them at once.

"…Ledgers," she said.

"Copies," Ryn corrected.

He slid the first one closer to her.

"Fritz Calder."

Taylor opened it, scanning quickly. Her Blessing brushed the page, almost like a habitual action.

"…He was present," she said. "Consistently."

"Yes."

She turned another page.

"And yet," she continued, "the commendations don't belong to him."

Ryn nodded once.

Fritz Calder — present at engagement.

Fritz Calder — actions recorded.

And then—

Aurelian Voss assumed command.

Aurelian Voss delivered the decisive strike.

Aurelian Voss stabilized the situation.

Taylor's fingers stilled.

"He's being narrated," she said quietly. "Not evaluated."

"Yes," Ryn agreed. "Fritz's record reads like supporting documentation."

He slid the second ledger forward.

"Aurelian Voss."

Taylor frowned and opened it.

Then paused.

She turned a page.

Then another.

Nothing.

Just a name pressed into the leather—and empty pages beneath it.

Her Blessing brushed the ledger again, sharper this time.

"…This isn't incomplete," she said.

"No," Ryn replied. "It's been emptied."

Silence settled.

Taylor leaned back slowly, eyes moving between the two books.

"So Fritz Calder exists," she said. "And someone used his record to describe another man."

"That other man," he said evenly, "is Raias' current Hero candidate."

Ryn didn't press the advantage, instead leaning back calmly.

"You don't have to investigate this," he said. "You don't have to question Raias, the Church, or the records."

Taylor's eyes flicked back to him.

"I'm not here to ask you to fix anything," Ryn continued. "I'm here to tell you something you already know."

He tapped the first ledger once.

"Fritz Calder did those things."

"He was there. He fought. He endured. Every decisive moment attributed to Aurelian Voss required someone on the ground before him."

Ryn met her gaze.

"That someone was Fritz."

Silence followed.

Not the awkward kind.

The measured kind.

Taylor didn't look at the ledgers. She looked at him.

Ryn held her gaze without flinching, watching the subtle shifts—the stillness settling into her posture, the way her fingers stopped moving entirely.

She was recalculating.

Not if he was right.

But what it would cost her if he was.

At the same time, Taylor was watching him just as closely.

The certainty in his tone. The lack of embellishment.

The fact that he hadn't pushed any further.

He had more to say.

She could see it.

"…Go on," Taylor said at last.

Ryn exhaled softly.

That was permission.

Ryn nodded once.

"Fritz Calder is recruitable," he said. "Cleanly."

He reached into his coat again, this time producing a single folded document.

"Raised within Gremory's Rokhan branch," Ryn continued. "You'd have no qualms over choosing him, even if Raias were to try and disagree."

He slid the document across the desk.

"And Cardinal Leon," Ryn added evenly, "is willing to attest to all of it."

"Leon doesn't lend his name lightly," she muttered.

Her gaze lingered between the Ledgers and him for a while.

"Say I do nothing," she said quietly. "Say I decide this is too inconvenient to pursue."

Ryn didn't hesitate.

"Then nothing changes," he said. "Raias proceeds. The Path begins. Even if we lose the Hero, Gremory as a whole doesn't stand to lose that much influence."

That was deliberate.

Taylor leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled.

"And if I act?"

"You gain a candidate," Ryn replied. "One who qualifies. One raised under your branch. One you didn't have to fight for."

Silence.

"You're asking me to bet," Taylor said. "On someone the world already dismissed."

"Yes."

"And you're confident."

Ryn met her gaze.

"Yes."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Ryn leaned forward—just enough.

"Trust me," he said.

"I'll make sure Fritz becomes the next Hero."

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