The laboratory was cold, and of course it made things more comfortable to do it there. Cyn was cleaning himself inside the lab while listening to several bursts of laughter coming from the Scar.

In an irritated tone, "You're truly unbearable! Half an hour has passed already! Just shut up—I didn't even know scars could laugh! Where do I even turn you off?!"

The Scar replied in an amused voice, "But~ hahaha, but who would have expected you to actually do it yourself! Really—ahahaha!"

Cyn argued back, "It doesn't matter! Doing it in the lab is the same as doing it outside or anywhere else. I was awake, it was my choice, and besides, I'm a man—there's nothing to be ashamed of!"

The Scar objected, "But! Even if you say that, it still—"

Cyn cut it off, "Just shut up and leave me alone! We have other things to worry about! Why am I feeling scar energy? Didn't you say I'm just a tool for energy to take shape in reality, and that I have no way to sense or use it?!"

The Scar of Pride answered him, though the laughter and mockery in its tone remained. It was a natural reaction, one the Scar couldn't control. "Yes, you can't control the Scar's energy, nor sense it, or anything else. But you can do so once the energy takes form. So the moment you felt warmth and something crawling inside you, the energy had already taken shape."

Cyn was confused. "What is that even supposed to mean?! Isn't it the same thing? I mean sensing energy in its raw form and sensing it the moment it takes a physical shape!"

The tone contradicted him. "No. The energy we scars sense and possess is rough and chaotic. The slightest contact with that energy would destroy you—assuming you'd even be able to sense it in the first place before it takes action against you. What you feel is a modified, filtered, and refined version processed by the Scar. The downside is that the energy you feel is far weaker than the real thing."

"There's a term for this, but I forgot it, considering I haven't been in contact with the outside world for an eternity!"

Cyn mocked it, "You haven't been in contact with the outside world since the moment you were created."

The Scar asked, "Guess what?!"

Cyn replied indifferently, "What?"

The Scar said playfully, "In all that time, I never once thought about wetting myself! Ahahahahahaha!"

Cyn simply went silent. He had no choice but to endure it—after all, the fault was entirely his. As for the other matter, that Tristan—whatever his name was. He glanced at him as if asking, What are we going to do about him? And how are you controlling him again?

The Scar answered, "Don't worry about him. I've taken care of it. He'll answer whatever we want. At the very least, I dealt with the shock he was suffering from—but I'm not sure about the rest."

Cyn remained silent and watched Tristan, who looked lethargic, as if there wasn't a single shred of strength left in his body. "Then what's wrong with him? Are you still controlling him?"

The Scar replied, "Oh—right. I forgot for a moment!…"

A few seconds later, Tristan's eyelids began to twitch and tremble slightly, but he remained in the same state and made no other movement.

Cyn was about to ask the Scar whether it had made a mistake that disrupted Tristan's nervous system or damaged something—as if he were some kind of machine—but the Scar answered him first, "Are you an idiot or what? It's obvious he's just pretending. He's awake now."

Cyn didn't know whether the part about calling him an idiot was necessary, but he adapted to it anyway. Who would've thought the Scar of Pride would be this talkative.

In an indifferent voice, "Hey. I know you're awake. Save me the trouble. Honestly, I've started to hate blood lately—everything around me has become sticky and bloody. So stop pretending."

The moment his words reached Tristan's ears, the latter jolted and recoiled in panic. "A-ah! I'm sorry—please don't do anything! I'll do whatever it takes—blood? Bloood! I don't want it either!"

Cyn mocked him with a smile. "Oh? Really? You were just rambling about planting a deep pair of scissors inside me a moment ago."

Tristan replied with a confused expression, "Huh?"

The Scar mocked Cyn, "Idiot, that was me. He doesn't remember."

Cyn understood the situation. He grabbed a chair, sat on it backward, resting his arms on the backrest, a smile on his face. "Then—Tristan, your trial begins now. You have no right to defend yourself or ask questions. Your job is to answer. Honest answers. In the end, the judge—me-will decide whether you deserve to live or die. Of course, your cooperation will be taken into account. No dodging questions—we'll know if you're lying."

Tristan swallowed hard—gulp!—as if he had already heard the final verdict calling for his execution before the trial even began. The sound of a guillotine blade slicing through the air before dropping on his neck, the cheers of the delighted crowd, children playing with his head like a ball.

And with a confused look as if asking ' Who's we?'

Cyn's cold voice pulled him back to reality. "Tristan. I already know the answer, but how did you and your other friend track me?"

Tristan hurried to answer despite his stammering. "Uh… it was when Valgean found blood trails leading toward the outer districts and followed them until they reached a barn and a small farm belonging to a family. He interrogated them, and they told us that someone had come and promised them a large payment if they guided him to the northern part of the capital, toward a guild—"

Cyn interrupted him, "Alright. Stop. I know the rest. Why did you kill the old man and his family?"

Tristan answered quickly, as if his life depended on the speed of each reply. "Valgean decided that eyewitnesses had to die."

Cyn continued questioning him. "When I left the lab, I saw people carrying torches. Was that you? And if so, why were you late in catching up to me?"

Tristan was starting to get used to the questions, his memory flooding his mind, his mouth answering without hesitation. "Yes—we were carrying torches. When we arrived, we found the entrance leading to the cave destroyed, meaning someone had demolished it and escaped, as if they were expecting us. But there was a brief window to enter quickly and leave before it collapsed completely. Especially since we had a map leading to the laboratory inside the cave—"

Cyn cut him off, "A map?"

Tristan answered, "Yes. We had a map of the cave's routes because they were tangled and hard to navigate, and finding the lab's location was difficult. Just as our men were about to enter for reconnaissance, other people arrived—but they were merely following us. They weren't there for the lab and didn't know why we were there. They were members of the ExoduS Club, but just subordinates. We got rid of them. They knew that Valgean and I were scar-bearers."

Cyn thought to himself, A map? The people allowed to enter are very few—aside from delivery workers who are either killed or detained inside the lab since they're slaves to begin with. Who knows about the lab's existence? Someone other than us. Someone else.

Cyn looked at Tristan and asked, "Where did you get the map?"

Tristan became nervous—not because he didn't want to answer, but because he didn't have one. "Well… about that… I don't know. Please, I really don't know! Don't kill me! All I know is that the Raging Floods Guild was receiving messages from an anonymous source. At first, it talked about whether we wanted to remove the Ravenline Guild from our path—we didn't even know such a guild existed! When we investigated, we found it was massive. Despite its low fame and reputation, it had branches across most of the kingdom. We held a vote, and the majority decided that removing the Ravenline Guild would grant us great wealth, which we could invest in mercenary armies sent to wars outside the kingdom."

Tristan paused, but Cyn ordered him, "Continue. Speak freely. Reveal everything."

Tristan continued, "The messages from the unknown source kept coming—especially about your operations, and how you recently wiped out a barony in the south using bandits. They weren't under your name, but they belonged to you. Through those messages that fed us information about you, we reached several things. One of them was the sole survivor of that barony—we sold her at an auction. That was after several clashes between us, meant to send you a hidden message that we knew everything about you.

But—!"

Cyn asked with a smile, "But what?"

Tristan looked at Cyn and answered, "We weren't planning to go further—especially after that message. When we learned that the Ravenline Guild was backed by people inside the palace, an immediate vote was held. All plans against you were scrapped, and we retreated. We had no intention of making a move against people inside the palace—it would've been madness. But the message that came afterward Attachments changed everything. Because after it, we gained a supporter inside the palace as well. There was a seal on the letter—a seal belonging to someone from the palace. Guild Leader Chibi recognized it. He didn't tell us who it belonged to, but he stated with certainty that it was someone from within the palace. He refused to reveal the identity, claiming there were traitors among us."

Cyn addressed the Scar, What do you think?

The Scar replied, What does that have to do with me? Those are your personal problems. But if you're asking for my opinion about that little wetting incident earlier, I'd be more than happy to give my humble thoughts—

Cyn cut it off, "Just fuck yourself."

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