After some time, the last curse fell. Its metallic cries faded in the deserted corridor, replaced by a heavy silence, sticky like congealed blood. The academy had been completely cleansed. The air, once thick with the scent of panic, rust, and death, was now decomposing into a lighter smell, the smell of dust, cold stone, and conclusion.

  San stood, his breath rising. ... His mind was as heavy as millstone. He looked around. The bodies weren't here, they had been removed, but the traces of battle remained: deep scratches on the polished walls, black stains of unnatural fluids, scattered glass shards gleaming like frozen tears.

  It was a victory. Technically, yes. Every threat was eradicated. But the price... the number of slain staff, the guards, and the lost ones was very high.

  Was this truly a victory? He wondered, staring at his hands. The hands that had killed, that had unleashed unknown energies. The hands that, in a moment of absolute despair, had emitted that mysterious black halo. A feeling of cold heaviness still lingered in his bones, a hidden memory like an invisible brand. Victory tasted bitter, like harsh medicine that saves a life while burning the throat.

  On the way back through the darkened passages, silence was the only companion. Elena walked with quiet steps, her eyes scanning the shadows warily. Shin was like a walking statue, vigilant, closed off.

  At the transport doors, the Commander turned towards them. His falcon-like face beneath his helmet was weary, but his eyes were still sharp as blades.

  "San, Elena, Shin," he said. "The journey to the city will take time. It would not be wise for you to disperse now. I would like, if you have no objection, for you to be my guests at my residence when we reach the city."

  San looked at Elena, who nodded her head calmly, then at Shin, who showed no reaction other than a slight shrug of his shoulders along his jawline. San thought. Refusal? On what grounds? Fatigue? Suspicion? Neither was logical at this moment. In fact, refusal itself might seem suspicious, a sign of unnecessary guilt or fear. In a world whose rules seemed to be shifting beneath his feet, perhaps staying close to power and authority was the safest move, even if temporary.

  "Thank you, Commander. We gratefully accept your invitation," San replied, trying to prevent his voice from sounding too weary.

  The journey passed through barren borderlands, then penetrated dense forests that seemed from another world, with trees whose leaves had a faint purple hue. Finally, the city appeared.

  Its walls were colossal. They were not mere barriers, but sheer vertical slopes of gleaming black stone, easily exceeding fifteen meters, as if carved from a single mountain. The gates were immense and black as well, but adorned with intricate patterns in pure gold that shimmered under the light of large crystals mounted on the towers. The engravings depicted battle scenes, mythical beasts being conquered, noble figures raising their hands towards a star-studded sky. It was a silent yet stark message: Power, History, Impregnability.

  As they approached, the guards on the towers and before the gate bowed, a single deep and synchronized bow, their weapons gleaming in silent unison. The respect was clear and absolute. It was not directed at the guests, but at the man leading them.

  The city was not small. It teemed with life. The wide streets paved with light-colored stones were crowded with people of all kinds: merchants folding their stalls or setting up new ones, families strolling, guards walking in orderly patrols, children playing with balls that glowed with a faint light. The buildings were not uniform; some were carved stone with intricate decorations, some were dark polished wood, others seemed to have grown from the earth itself, covered in glowing vegetation. On the horizon, one could see towering spires gleaming at their peaks with massive crystals like beacon lights.

  The city was immense. Not hundreds of thousands, but perhaps more. San thought, watching this harmonious scene of activity and light, that perhaps a million souls lived here. The idea was astounding and bewildering.

  The Commander's residence was not a house. Even the generous description "villa" or "small palace" would have been an insult. It was a true palace, separated from the rest of the city by its own high walls, surrounded by a walled garden that seemed like a miniature forest, filled with strange trees and flowers radiating soft colors in the dark. The main structure was a majestic mass of light grey stone and dark glass, stretching across a width that could rival an entire municipal building from San's previous world. Columns carved in the shape of mythical creatures supported balconies, and the balconies themselves were large enough to host small gatherings. San immediately recalled images of presidential palaces and leaders' residences from old history books, that blend of architectural beauty and declared authority.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The Commander ordered some servants, who appeared as if from the shadows, to take the "guests" to bathe and rest. San looked at the Commander, who was slowly removing his heavy glove.

  "What?" asked the Commander, his eyes meeting San's contemplative gaze.

  "Do you truly describe this place as merely a 'house,' Commander?" San asked, gesturing with his hand towards the imposing building.

  The Commander smiled a faint smile, slightly crinkled at the edges. "Heh. What else should I call it? Is not every place we sleep in a house to us?"

  San nodded, acknowledging the superficial logic of the words, and followed the servants with Elena and Shin.

  They were taken to a secluded wing on the western side of the palace. The bathroom was the size of a living room. In its center was a huge sunken bath, carved from smooth ivory-colored stone, easily large enough to hold twenty people. It was filled halfway with clear, warm water, emitting a light steam scented with a mild herbal fragrance, like mint and clean wood. Around the bath, the floor was of blue and gold mosaic depicting a night sky.

  The servants presented light "shorts" made of a soft fabric resembling linen but smoother, then withdrew in silence.

  San and Shin entered the water. The heat was perfect, penetrating tense muscles and weary bones like magic. The sensation was as if every charge of tension, every atom of terror that had clung to him throughout the day, was melting and floating away in the steam. There was no sound but the gentle lapping of water and a distant chirping of what sounded like frogs from the garden.

  After half an hour, the servants returned with new clothes. They were garments black as night, but embroidered with dark red silk threads on the shoulders, chest, and sleeves, forming abstract patterns resembling feathers or frozen flames. When San put them on, the fabric's texture felt like liquid silk on his skin, astonishingly smooth, cool, and thin, yet warm at the same time. The feeling was strange: he no longer resembled the weary doctor or the dirty survivor, but something... different. Perhaps a nobleman. Or something similar.

  ...In the great hall, there was a massive dining table of gleaming wood, long and rectangular, easily accommodating twenty people. The half of the table near its head was covered with dish after dish: richly seasoned roasted meats, vegetables San had never seen before in vibrant colors, gleaming fruits, and bowls of soup emitting fragrant steam. The opulence was silent yet overwhelming.

  San was contemplating a dish of fruit resembling grapes but with larger berries gleaming with a ruby-like hue, when he raised his eyes.

  Elena was entering through a side door.

  San's breath caught for a moment. She wore a long gown of dark blue silk, the color of a deep sea on a clear night. The dress was simple in design but the fabric itself was the magic: it caught every flicker of light in the room and seemed to glow from within. Her long blonde hair, usually tied up, now cascaded over her shoulders, wavy like a waterfall of liquid gold. She wore almost no jewelry, yet she was... like a princess from one of the storybook tales, reminding him that she had been fighting by his side just hours ago.

  My children, he thought suddenly, with an inner shock, if I ever have children... with her... my god. They will break many hearts. He smiled a faint internal smile.

  The Commander came after her with confident steps. He wore the same style of black and red garments, making him appear as a lord of an aristocratic manor. He sat on the large chair at the head of the table.

  "Don't be shy. Please, help yourselves."

  Everyone sat. At that moment, another girl appeared from a door behind the chair next to the Commander.

  One word summed her up: Beautiful. But not with Elena's radiant, regal beauty. It was a different beauty. Her hair was black, long and straight, flowing like a silk veil. Her skin was white, but not Elena's snowy, brilliant white; it was a warmer white. Her facial features were calm, harmonious, "easy on the eyes" as San noted. She wore no obvious makeup, and her clothes were relatively simple, a light grey dress. But there was something in her posture, in the calm of her eyes, and she was tall, very close to San's own height.

  She sat quietly beside the Commander. Then he gestured towards her.

  "You have met, I believe, my daughter."

  San thought quickly. Met her? Impossible. I wouldn't have forgotten a girl with this height and beauty.

  The girl stood.

  "I wish you a pleasant evening. I am Clarissa. Thank you... for your help at the academy. This is the least we can offer you." Her voice was soft, clear, filled with a quiet confidence. It was not a high-pitched or melodiously feminine voice; it held a slight firmness, a rhythm that inspired reassurance. Then she sat.

  And it was in that moment, as her voice echoed in his ears, he thought:

  This voice. This calm, confident tone. He had heard it before. Not often, but he had heard it. Amidst the chaos, the sounds of orders, the screams of monsters.

  The guard. The guard, who had fought with deadly coldness. Whose movements were economical and lethal.

  It was her. Clarissa. The silent, subduing guard. The Commander's daughter.

  Everyone began to eat. Conversation was sparse, mostly light pleasantries, or brief answers from the guests. The focus was on the lavish food, on the comfort that felt strange after hours of hell.

  After finishing, Shin was the first to stand. He bowed a light but respectful bow.

  "Thank you for your generous hospitality, Commander. It was a great relief."

  Elena followed, with a beautiful but polite smile.

  "Yes, thank you very much. It was... precious."

  The Commander smiled, but there was a coldness behind his eyes, the coldness of a commander weighing every word.

  "No need for thanks. It is the least duty." Then he added, as if after thought. "And my name is Baelor. You may address me as Mr. Baelor, or... something similar."

  Shin smiled in agreement, displaying natural ease. But when he turned to San, he found San had not stood up. He was relaxed, his hands on the table, his eyes fixed on the Commander. There was a calmness in his demeanor, a calm like the still surface of a deep sea.

  San said in his quiet, clear voice, which cut through the sudden silence of the hall:

  "So, Mr. Baelor... now that we have rested and eaten your lavish meal, will you tell us what will happen from now on? Or rather... what truly happened?"

  A heavy silence fell. Even the servant who was creeping to collect a plate froze. Elena stopped smiling. Shin froze in place. Clarissa raised her calm eyes from her plate to stare at San.

  The Commander placed his elbows on the table, clasping his hands. Then he raised his index and middle fingers and placed them on his temple, his head tilting slightly to the side, in a gesture of thoughtful consideration, or perhaps assessment. His gaze was like claws, gripping San and weighing every atom of him.

  The Commander smiled.

  "Clever," the Commander whispered in a low voice. "Or arrogant. Or both."

  Then he raised his eyes directly to San, and every shadow of courtesy vanished.

  "But you are right. At least in this." He let out a long sigh, but it was not a sigh of weariness, but a sigh of readiness to explain a complex matter.

  And he said, his voice now carrying an official weight, like a voice reading a verdict:

  "Alright. Let's begin... from the beginning. Let's start from the moment you decided to kill the academy supervisor..."