It had been a couple of days since the chaos in the commoner's sector. The family they saved had been safely taken in by a quiet tavern. Yu Sakamoto—still as enigmatic as ever—had stayed with them, speaking little and watching much. Andrew, who had quietly recognized the resemblance between Yu and the person on the wanted posters, chose to say nothing. Seeing the family safe and in distress he chose rather not to say anything while knowing what was transpiring. Instead, after a quiet conversation with Lucid, he helped arrange somewhere more permanent for them to stay.
Lucid, meanwhile, spent his days assisting Andrew and reading with Alice—something he had only recently begun doing. Oddly enough, he found himself learning more than teaching. Alice's insights often left him thinking long after they closed the books.
That evening, the carriage wheels screeched over the uneven cobbled paths of Andorrea's crumbling outskirts. Above them, the floating sector dimmed beneath the creeping haze of dusk. The family—father, mother, and child—huddled quietly in the back of the carriage as it swayed through rust-worn arches and crumbling aqueducts, their silence broken only by the child's hiccuping sobs. Lucid sat across from them, one gloved hand resting near his coat—ready, just in case.
Yu Sakamoto sat beside him.
Their figure was composed and silent. Their eyes caught fragments of lantern light as the carriage rolled. Their scarf fluttered slightly with every bump in the road, but their dagger was tucked away—its work, for now, finished.
The ride was long. Lucid welcomed the silence. Or perhaps it was cowardice—a reluctance to speak after what he'd seen. His stomach still turned, not from the road, but from guilt. He had hesitated even if it had transpired days ago.
Yu finally broke the silence.
"You were right."
Lucid blinked. "About what?"
"About stepping in. You were going to. I saw it."
Lucid didn't answer. Was that forgiveness? A test? Manipulation? He couldn't tell.
"Why didn't you?"
The question cut deeper than any blade.
He pulled his coat tighter. "Because I had someone to protect."
Yu tilted their head slightly and finally glanced at him.
"The girl?"
Lucid nodded.
Yu leaned forward, elbows on their knees, staring at the carriage floor.
"I thought you were like the rest," they said. "Vultures pretending to be saviors. But you're something different. You wait as if waiting for a moment all the while calculating. You're slow to act, but when you do-it matters."
Lucid didn't know if that was praise or critique.
Yu turned their head, studying him.
"What's her name?"
"Alice," he replied. "She's… important to me."
Yu nodded. "You're lucky."
Lucid raised an eyebrow. "You sound jealous."
A pause, then a chuckle. Yu's voice was less guarded now.
"Maybe I am. Maybe it's been too long since I had anyone to protect."
Lucid leaned in.
"Is that why you do this? Hunt nobles, challenge the order, expose corruption?"
Yu hesitated.
"That family back there? Could've been mine."
Lucid's breath caught. "Your family?"
Yu didn't respond directly. They removed one glove and pressed bare fingers to the wooden wall of the carriage.
"I was supposed to inherit my village. Lead it. But tradition doesn't care for leaders who don't fit their mold."
Lucid leaned closer. "They sent you out?"
Yu nodded. "With no resources, no support. Said I could redeem myself if I proved my worth. The irony? When I did… they sent assassins."
Lucid exhaled. "They abandoned you."
"Don't tell anyone," Yu whispered. "Especially not the girl."
"I won't."
Yu smiled faintly, a real one this time--and leaned slightly closer.
"You really do take your time with things," they said, brushing his shoulder lightly. "Even when reading to Alice. You try to explain things you don't fully understand."
Lucid raised an eyebrow. "You were watching me?"
Yu smirked. "Of course. I keep tabs on people who carry that much mystery."
The carriage began to slow.
They had arrived.
The family was unloaded discreetly into a lesser-patrolled sector. Andrew had arranged a safe shelter nearby. Temporary, but out of harm's way.
Yu helped the mother down gently. The boy clung to her, wide-eyed. Yu ruffled his hair.
"You're brave," they told him. "Stay that way."
Lucid stood nearby, watching. Then, unexpectedly, Yu approached him.
"You could join me," they said. "We're not many but we're capable."
Lucid considered. "You mean your syndicate?"
Yu nodded.
"Thanks," Lucid said. "But I have my reasons."
"Fair enough."
They turned to leave, then paused.
"I won't forget this," they said. "And neither will they."
For the first time, Yu's hand moved slowly toward her face, fingers hesitating at the edge of the fabric. There was a rare tremble in her motion, almost imperceptible—like a shadow flinching before the light.
"This is a thank-you," she murmured, her voice low and quiet, as if speaking too loud might unravel the moment.
The scarf slid down, catching the breeze for a moment before fluttering to the ground like a wilted petal. Then came the headwear—the thin armor-like visor she always wore—unfastened gently, deliberately.
And just like that, her mask was gone.
Lucid's breath caught. For the first time, he saw her—truly saw her. The woman behind it all. Her features were sharp, unmistakably elegant, framed by strands of ink-black hair that fell freely now. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes-those piercing eyes, held something real. Vulnerability, perhaps.
Her voice, no longer distorted or veiled, rang softer than he'd ever imagined.
"My name is Shion," she said, her lips curling into the faintest of bittersweet smiles. "Thank you… for being kind when you didn't have to be."
Lucid's gaze didn't waver. A gentle shift crossed his face—neither shock nor confusion, but something softer. Recognition.
"I already knew," he said calmly.
Shion blinked. "You… did?"
"I guessed," he clarified, voice quieter now. "A while ago."
A breath of silence passed before she let out a light, almost amused exhale.
"Of course you did," she said with a smirk, the edge of her usual sharpness returning for a brief flicker.
Then, without another word, she turned her back to him. The mist rolled in from the distant ruins, curling around her figure like a curtain drawing closed.
"I'll see you again, Lucid," she called, not turning around.
And just like that, she disappeared into the haze—leaving only the faint scent of her perfume.
"Sh-Shion..." he muttered as he turned away.