- 04: Decision -
She's here.
Still. Quiet. Sleeping like there's nothing wrong in the world.
I wanted to talk to her—but I think it's better if she just lies there. She looks peaceful. Happier than she has in weeks. Like whatever dream she's in is kinder than the waking world.
I reach out, place my hand in hers.
"Val… am I still a good person?"
Probably not.
If she were awake, she'd be shouting at me. No one wants a murderer for a brother.
But it was an accident.
Yet…
Thud.
The door opens.
Doctor Tales steps inside. He doesn't knock anymore. Doesn't pretend this is anything other than what it is.
"Steven."
I stand, bow slightly. "Doctor Tales."
He nods, already looking tired before he even speaks.
"Valeria… she can't stay here. If we don't get the full payment of her operation by tomorrow, the hospital is kicking her out."
And let a child die?
"I'm sorry, Steven. Unlike before, this issue is being seen by my higher-ups… I can't help you two with this."
His voice is steady. Professional. But I know him well enough now to see the hesitation in his eyes. He doesn't want this. Hopes there could be another way.
The world has decided Val has to die.
Because she was born weak. Poor. With a brother who's good for nothing but survival.
"Steven, I—"
"Understand. I understand."
But I'm not going to stand here and wait for my only family left to rot in the gutter.
"I'm sorry, Doctor. I have business to attend to."
He steps forward, blocking my path.
I meet his eyes.
And realize mine are burning.
"I won't let her die," I say. "I'll get the money."
He lets me go.
Outside, the sun hides behind clouds too ashamed to shine.
As soon as I step into the street, I pull out my phone.
There's only one number I can call now.
Beep.
"Coco Brown Café. Three P.M."
Beep.
————————
The Coco Brown Café isn't the kind of place you find by accident.
It's tucked away between two forgotten alleys, where the neon doesn't flicker because no one bothers to plug it in anymore. The sign outside is faded, the paint cracked like dry skin. But when you step inside, something shifts.
It smells like coffee and cinnamon—but not just any kind. The kind that clings to the back of your throat, rich and slow-burning, like memory. There's a faint scent beneath it too, something harder to name. Maybe old books. Or dust. Or time itself.
The lights are soft—like someone turned them down on purpose. Not dim enough to hide in, but not bright enough to feel safe. The walls are lined with wooden shelves filled with mismatched mugs and glass jars labeled in handwriting that looks like poetry. A quiet jazz track hums from an old speaker overhead, barely louder than the tick of the wall clock.
She's already here.
Sitting at the far end of the café, near the window where the light catches her hair just right.
Maria Aloria | ROOK | Oceanus Association.
A rook? I have never seen a Knight in real person. And here, a rook is just sitting there waiting for me.
She wears a long coat made of fabric so fine it almost glides over the chair. Her silver hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders, catching the light like strands of moonlight. Her eyes are grey—pale, unfocused, always slightly off-center. Maybe blind. Or maybe she sees too much .
There's a pin on her collar, shaped like a crest I don't recognize. It gleams under the low light. She holds a white mug with both hands, sipping slowly, delicately, like she has all the time in the world.
When I sit across from her, she smiles—not like someone greeting a killer, but like she expected me.
Like she's been waiting.
A barista approaches, setting a cup in front of me without a word.
"We're running a small event today," the girl says, voice gentle. "Free dessert set for couples."
She turns to Maria.
"Would you like to take advantage of it?"
Maria tilts her head slightly, as if considering the question from angles I can't see. Then she smiles—soft, genuine.
"Sure."
I blink.
Isn't she supposed to be some high-ranking Agent? Some big shot with a sword longer than my leg?
Yet here she is, smiling over free pastries like it's a normal day.
And somehow, that makes it worse.
Because nothing about this is normal.
Silence settles once the barista leaves.
The café feels heavier now, like the air knows what we're about to say.
"It's nice to finally meet you," she says.
I can't bring myself to agree.
The pictures they sent me flashes in my mind. The dark the destruction the blood. I have to know.
"Is the woman really dead?" I ask, hoping that she'd say no.
Her fingers trace the rim of her cup before she sets it down.
"Yes."
That confirms it. I am a murderer.
"W—who was she?" Because if she is just a normal woman walking on that night, all of this won't happen.
Her gaze drifts toward the window, though I doubt she's seeing anything out there. Her voice drops, just slightly, like the name carries weight.
"The Pale Ghost. I doubt you recognize who that is."
I don't know whose life I took…
She catches my silence and smiles again—this time, there's something sharper beneath it. Not cruel, but knowing.
"If it helps you feel better," she says softly, fingers tracing the rim of her cup, "that woman deserved to die."
I blink.
Her eyes flick up to mine, calm as a storm before it breaks.
"She was an E-Seven threat to the Cities."
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
E-7.
Even among the whispers and rumors, even in the darkest corners of the Boards, that name doesn't get spoken lightly. It's not just a classification—it's a verdict. A warning carved into every database, every Agent's training manual, every citywide alert that never sees the public eye.
There are only eight rank of threat and… and the Pale Ghost was one of the second most dangerous?
The woman from last night?
I remembered how sad she looks up at the starless sky before she died.
"That would explain the amount of money we sent you," Maria says casually.
They are a bounty money.
For Agents.
And they are just there on my floor.
"But it wasn't meant for me," I say, looking for a sign in her face. But her expression stays. I don't think it can ever change.
"No," she says quietly. "No one ever imagined a civilian would be the one to kill Miyori."
"So now we who put up the bounty," She aims her 'eyes' at mine. "Is in a big trouble. We have the dead body of the Pale Ghost but have no good explanation for the public who done it and get the money. If it's ant other issue we can cover it with… stories. But there are too many eyes looking into this, tying our hands. And we could've just cut loosoe end."
I lean back, stomach twisting. It is obvious that they could have just made me disappear and no one alive can dig into their stories.
She chuckles—actual amusement in her voice—and takes another sip of her coffee.
"But." She places the cup down gently. "The plan has changed."
Then they want me to do something.
There's no point dancing around it.
"Will I be able to use the money if I do what you want?"
She gives me a little smile—small, polite, unreadable. "Of course."
"Then what is it?"
"I wonder…"
Huh?
She stands.
Slowly.
Gracefully.
Like she's rising from water.
She reaches for the slender cane beside her chair, pulling it close with a practiced motion. The wood is dark, polished smooth with age. At the base, there's a symbol carved in—something ancient, something I don't understand.
"Why do you stare at me unsatisfied? I only came to chat the man who killed Miyori."
I blink. "Miyori?"
The Pale Ghost?
She bows slightly. "You'll hear from us again soon as for now, you're freely to use the money."
I sit there.
Alone.
Coffee cooling. Cake untouched.
The weight of everything presses down.
I killed someone.
Maria may never said it but she knows. She has to know.
I touches my arm, trying to find it. But there is nothing to feel but my skin.
And if everything that I dream is real… it has to be here.
I close my eyes.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Don't stop now. Save Val.