The cold night enveloped the Kingdom of Averidane, a silent witness to a dozen different dramas playing out at once.
At the very same moment that Erwin, sprinting through the dark alleys, was whispering, "Stay with me, kid," to the fragile, dying girl in his arms…
Sebas was in the newly established, underground headquarters of the Vipers. Above ground, it was a simple noodle shop, a perfect, unassuming front. He had chosen this location for its proximity to the red-light district, where he had already begun laying the groundwork for his grand plan: a multi-storied establishment in the Eastern style, where information, not just pleasure, would be the most valuable commodity.
And in the warm, cozy loft of Café LeBlanc, Zero and Soma were laughing, their friendly argument about the vote count a perfect picture of peace and contentment as they happily sipped their coffee.
But the Animus Hub, the shared space of their consciousness, did not respect distance or mood.
The raw, unfiltered horror of Erwin's discovery—the high-tension sprint through the alleys, the crushing weight of the lifeless children, the suffocating stench of decay, the oppressive darkness of that hidden underground room—did not stay with him alone. It surged through the red strings that connected their souls, a psychic shockwave that slammed into each of them with the force of a physical blow.
In the middle of his triumphant vote-counting, Soma's face went slack. The joyful numbers on the paper blurred. He saw it all. He saw the bodies. He smelled the rot. A violent, visceral wave of nausea churned in his stomach. He dropped the papers, scrambled from his chair, and rushed to the bathroom, the sound of him vomiting echoing through the suddenly silent café.
Zero, who had been laughing a second before, went deathly pale. He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white, trying to hold his ground as the horrific images flooded his mind. The feeling of the child's frail, trembling body in his—in Erwin's—arms was so real it made his own arms ache.
And in the underground headquarters, Sebas, who had been calmly giving orders to the terrified Viper executives, suddenly went rigid. The placid, serene mask he wore did not crack, but his eyes went cold and distant. He was there, in that cellar, seeing what Erwin saw. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the meeting, leaving his new, confused subordinates staring after him, a silent, murderous fury now radiating from him in palpable waves.
…
Just as Erwin was about to burst out of the alleyway and back onto the main street, a dark figure dropped from a rooftop, landing silently before him. It was Sebas.
"Excuse me, Young Master Erwin," the butler said, his voice a calm anchor in the storm of Erwin's focused panic. He reached out, placing a single, white-gloved palm on Elisa's forehead. A gentle, warm light emanated from his hand as he activated his 'Healing Palm' technique.
As he worked, Elisa's shallow, ragged breathing became deeper, more prominent. The faint tremor in her small body subsided. But after a moment, Sebas shook his head, a flicker of frustration in his otherwise placid eyes.
"I cannot heal her completely," he stated. "My main card is not that of a dedicated healer. I have stabilized her, but she will need proper medical attention. There is no longer any immediate danger of her expiring." He looked at Erwin. "Go to the hospital, Young Master."
"You take her," Erwin countered, his mind racing. "You're much faster than I am."
Sebas shook his head firmly. "No can do, Young Master. My role is to assist you from the shadows. The moment I am exposed as anything more than a simple butler, my usefulness to all of you is compromised."
Erwin gritted his teeth, accepting the cold, hard logic. He nodded once, then started to run again, his long legs eating up the ground as he burst out of the alley and sprinted down the main street.
On the way to the hospital, his desperate flight began to attract attention. People recognized the girl, the baker's missing daughter. They recognized the stern, blond man from the stories that had been circulating. The gossip, the legend, was being forged in real-time. A freelance photographer, hearing the commotion, snapped a single, perfect picture: the determined detective, his sharp features set in a grim expression, the dying child held protectively in his arms, his long coat fluttering behind him like a hero's cape.
He arrived at the hospital and didn't bother with the door handle, simply banging it open with his shoulder. "Emergency!" he roared into the brightly lit reception area. "Someone get a healer!"
Nurses and physicians rushed over, their professional calm taking over as they carefully took the girl from his arms, immediately checking her pulse and breathing. One of them, a middle-aged halfling woman with a kind but no-nonsense face, turned to him. "What happened to her?"
Erwin shook his head, his own exhaustion finally catching up to him. "She was kidnapped. I don't know the full details. I found her in an underground chamber beneath an old hut."
The nurse's face darkened with a grim understanding. "We will do everything we can," she promised. "Are you her guardian?"
"No," Erwin said, already jotting down Elisa's parents' information on a piece of scrap paper from his pocket. "Contact her parents." He handed the note to the nurse, then turned to leave, his voice ringing with a cold, unwavering conviction.
"I have an investigation to return to."
…
Erwin arrived back at the alleyway to find its entrance already blocked off by a hastily erected Watcher cordon. Morhan and Celvise, their faces grim in the harsh glare of the magitech lamps, waved him over.
"Did you let anyone touch the scene?" Erwin asked immediately, his voice sharp.
"Not yet," Morhan replied. "The clean-up team just arrived. We were about to begin the investigation."
Erwin took a step forward, positioning himself between them and the hut. "With all due respect, Detectives," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I cannot let you or your team touch anything inside that hut."
"Why is that, Erwin?" Celvise asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Because," Erwin said, "I need to trace back the fingerprints."
From behind him, a new, skeptical voice cut in. "Fingerprints? What nonsense are you talking about?" It was Detective Sergeant Lomare, who had just arrived on the scene.
Erwin didn't turn to face him. "I cannot let you touch anything," he repeated. "And even when you do, I want every officer to wear some form of gloves to avoid leaving a mark."
"Are you questioning the cleanliness of our crime scenes, private detective?" Lomare scoffed. "This isn't the first one we've processed."
Erwin sighed, finally turning to face the Sergeant. "Tell me, how do you currently determine who was present at a crime scene?"
Lomare sighed, exasperated, but answered. "Witnesses, footprints, items left behind. All the basic stuff."
Erwin nodded. "Right. But what if I told you there's something even more foolproof?"
The three detectives exchanged glances. Erwin held up his own gloved hand. "Look at your fingertips. See those tiny ridges?"
Celvise inspected her own hand, squinting in the dim light. "Yeah?"
"Those ridges are unique to every individual," Erwin explained, his voice taking on the tone of a lecturer. "No two people in the world, not even identical twins, have the same pattern."
Morhan raised an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"
"Fingerprints," Erwin stated simply. "Everyone leaves behind a unique, invisible pattern whenever they touch a smooth surface. If we can find these 'prints' on objects within the crime scene, we might be able to identify exactly who was there."
Lomare's eyes widened slightly, the incredible implication dawning on him. "Are you saying… we could find the killer just by checking these… 'fingerprints'?"
"Exactly," Erwin confirmed.
Celvise frowned. "That sounds incredibly useful, but how do we compare them? It's not like we have a record of everyone's prints."
Erwin crossed his arms. "We don't need the whole city's prints. I already have a list of potential suspects—specifically, the staff at Limstar Academy, Pinecrest Public, and the other schools connected to the previous victims. It will be a long, tedious process of collection and comparison, but it is far more foolproof and direct than any other method."
Morhan's expression hardened. "You think someone at one of the schools is involved?"
Erwin nodded gravely. "The missing children all shared a common path home that intersected at a single point. The timing of their disappearances aligns perfectly with their respective school dismissal hours. Whoever is behind this had inside knowledge of their movements."
Lomare exhaled slowly. "Damn… This could be huge."
Celvise smirked, a look of grudging respect on her face. "And here I thought you were just a rumor."
Erwin chuckled dryly. "You still think I'm just playing detective?"
Celvise shook her head. "No," she admitted. "I think you're actually onto something."
"Alright," Morhan said, adjusting her own standard-issue night leather gloves. "Let's do this properly."
Lomare turned to the surrounding officers and the newly arrived forensics team. "No one steps foot inside that crime scene except for the three of us and Mr. Smith!" he shouted. "We're going to collect every trace of evidence and every single one of these... 'fingerprints'... we can find. Bag everything!"
The officers saluted. "Yes, sir!"
Erwin took a deep breath, looking at his own gloved hand. 'If only they had latex or rubber gloves,' he muttered to himself. 'Well, I suppose fabric will have to do.'
…
Sebas arrived back at the café just as Soma was finishing the cleanup from their impromptu anniversary celebration. The butler's presence was a calm, steadying anchor in the emotionally turbulent room. Soma offered a weak smile, his face still pale, the aftereffects of the shared trauma lingering. Zero, still gripping the counter, looked up, a silent question in his eyes.
"Young Master Erwin is alright," Sebas reported, his voice even. "My theory is that the stress of the discovery was so acute that the experience was forcibly transferred through the Animus Hub."
"How is... she?" Zero asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"She will be alright," Sebas reassured them. "And with this act, Young Master Erwin's fame among the populace will only grow. He is now a hero in their eyes."
"Still pragmatic as ever, huh?" Zero said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Well, I guess the cards really do influence a lot of our personalities."
"For now, I think we should remain vigilant," Soma interjected, his voice serious. "There's no way we can handle these kinds of psychic bursts on a regular basis. If one of us is under too much stress, it could explode and affect all of us."
"You're right," Zero agreed, a grim look on his face. "We need to familiarize ourselves with the Hub, learn to control it." His expression then shifted, a spark of their old Gacha-fueled excitement returning. "And speaking of more control… and more clones… let's roll two 11-pulls tonight."
Soma's face lit up, the horror of the past hour momentarily forgotten. "Let's go! I'll take a bath first to clear my head!" He then ran upstairs to the bathroom.
Sebas walked over to the counter, his eyes falling on the scattered pile of paper slips. "What is this, Master?"
"It's the vote for our fixed menu," Zero explained, a genuine smile returning to his face. "The winner, believe it or not, was the breakfast pancakes."
Sebas nodded, then his expression turned more serious. He looked at Zero. "I believe your earlier suspicions were correct, Master."
"What are you talking about?"
"About the cards, and their influence over our personalities," Sebas clarified. "In a way, it is simply a matter of nature versus nurture. These cards gave us memories, skills, techniques, Ki—all things that are now a fundamental part of our nature. We are all different integers, but the source, the prime number from which we are all derived, will always be you. Because I am you." He looked at Zero, his gaze steady and reassuring. "You have nothing to worry about."
A look of profound relief washed over Zero's face. "Thank you, Sebas," he said quietly. "I was just... worried. To what extent these cards might change you."
Sebas simply smiled as Zero prepared him a calming drink, the unspoken worries of their strange, shared existence momentarily put to rest.
**A/N**
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**A/N**