The two disembarked from the monorail near the mountain's base, joining a stream of students ascending the steps toward the academy. The sun had fully risen, bathing the mountain in warm, golden rays that filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the path.

"Hey, you know what I realized while riding on the train?" Zeke asked.

"Enlighten me," Fredric replied, casting a sidelong glance.

"I barely know anything about you," Zeke remarked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"What is there to know?" Fredric responded, his gaze drifting ahead.

"I don't know—your past? Where you come from? Your story?" Zeke continued, a cascade of questions spilling out.

"My story, huh?" Fredric smirked, a subtle tension flickering in his smile.

"How about we do this... question for a question," Zeke suggested. "I'll answer one, and you answer one. Deal?"

"Sounds like fun," Fredric agreed, briefly shutting his eyes. "Shoot, what do you want to know?"

"Alright," Zeke cleared his throat. "Back when we were talking to Mitch, you seemed a little sensitive when the topic of his sister came up. So I'm guessing you have one?" His face was devoid of emotion.

"I see you got right to the point," Fredric sighed. "Fine, I'll play along. Yeah, I had a sister."

"Was she older or younger?" Zeke wondered.

"Slow down, my turn to ask," Fredric paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Alright, what the fuck was with your mom's corpse being stuck in the closet?"

Zeke's expression changed. His face turned pale, the life in his eyes vanishing almost completely.

"Are you for real?" he asked with a slight growl.

"For real, for real," Fredric smirked.

"I didn't know what else to do with the corpse, so I preserved it in lime and wrapped it in duct tape," Zeke explained, his shameful gaze fixed on the ground.

"Amateur," Fredric mockingly remarked.

"My turn," Zeke clenched his fist. "Was your sister younger or older?"

"Younger," Fredric blurted out. "How did your mother die?"

"She was dying, and we didn't have money for medicine. I couldn't help her, but I couldn't bear to watch her suffer either. So I killed her out of mercy," Zeke replied softly. "Is your sister still alive?"

"No," Fredric answered, seemingly unfazed. "What exactly happened to your father?"

"He tried becoming a contractor, using all our funds for enhancements and training. Then one day he took everything and disappeared into thin air," Zeke explained. "What about your sister? What happened to her?"

"She was eaten by a demon," Fredric sighed. "Your father—do you hate him?" he asked.

"If he's dead—no. Things like that happen all the time. But if he's alive, I hate him with a burning passion." Zeke's face contorted into a frown, veins pulsing at his temple.

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"How old were you when your sister died?" he asked, regaining his composure.

"Seventeen," Fredric replied hastily. "Do you think he's alive?"

"If you'd asked half a year ago, I would have said no. But now, after spending time in the Undercity, I'm almost certain he is," Zeke said stoically, eyes fixed ahead. "So how old are you now?"

"Not answering that," Fredric turned away.

"Oh, come on," Zeke leaned in closer.

"Not doing it. Pick a different question," Fredric remarked sternly.

"Fine. Do you have any other siblings?" Zeke asked, slightly annoyed.

"I have a brother," Fredric's face grew a shade more somber. "What will you do if you ever meet your father?"

"I think... I might kill him," Zeke growled.

"I see," Fredric remarked. "So much for you not killing anyone again—hypocritical, don't you think?"

"This is different," Zeke squinted.

"Different how? Because it satisfies your personal sense of justice? Grow the fuck up already!" Fredric sighed. "Either kill or don't; it's entirely up to you. But don't romanticize death like it's something special. Death is everywhere; it happens every day. Everything born into this world will one day die; life wouldn't exist without it."

"Hmmm," Zeke paused, lost in thought. "What about your brother—is he alive?"

"Yeah," Fredric muttered.

"A brother who's alive, huh?" Zeke murmured. "Man, this game sucks!" he shouted in frustration.

"For someone this smart, you really suck at answering and asking questions," Fredric smiled. "But I guess that's just part of your mojo. When things come naturally, you don't need to ask many questions." He laughed, placing his hands behind his head. "Well, that was fun!"

"For you," Zeke replied, sulking.

"Yeah, for me..." Fredric whispered. "It is for me—all of it is!" he shouted, spreading his arms in a smooth pirouette.

Eventually, they reached a flattened area before the main campus. The ground was paved with bricks and gravel, adorned with ornamental trees and bushes lining the outskirts. The aroma from the flowers was overwhelmingly sweet, almost artificially so, as if sprayed to make an impression.

Ahead stood a massive, ancient red-brick cathedral façade with glass doors leading into the main campus. A towering clock tower loomed above, its LED display showing the time.

Immediately, Zeke noticed a peculiar girl near the main entrance. She was tall and slender, with midnight-black hair half-tied with a red bow, wearing the standard academy uniform—a jacket and skirt—with a bud emblem shining brightly on her left shoulder. She sat in a wheelchair, eyes closed, escorted by her caretaker—a woman in her mid-thirties with braided red hair interwoven with silver pins for highlights, wearing a sharp suit and tie. On her right wrist was a gem-encrusted golden watch, a sign of luxury in a dangerous city. Her hands were covered by black leather gloves.

As Zeke and Fredric approached the entrance, so did the girl and her caretaker, quietly conversing in hushed tones. For a moment, Zeke's eyes met the caretaker's. A sharp jolt ran down his spine, like an electric current forcing him to look away.

"That woman—she's tough," Zeke remarked.

"A mercenary. Whoever hired her to take care of that girl must be loaded," Fredric sighed.

"You know her?" Zeke wondered.

"I know of her. Blood-Red Nia, they call her. Need I say why?" Fredric glanced at the mercenary.

"A brawler?" Zeke speculated.

"Yes, very perceptive of you to notice," Fredric remarked.

"It's in the way she walks. For some reason, I don't like that stride," Zeke smiled with a strange, sadistic curiosity.

"Let's try to avoid running into her as much as possible," Fredric advised.

"I guess that would be the smartest idea," Zeke exhaled.

They continued toward the building until a sudden noise erupted behind them.

Zeke looked back to see the wheelchair stuck in the automated doors. The caretaker pushed and maneuvered, but it didn't help. The girl groaned, her face tightening as her hand became trapped between the wheel and one of the doors.

Without hesitation, Zeke turned around.

"Where are you going?" Fredric wondered but received no answer.

Zeke rushed forward, slamming his shoulder against the door to hold it in place while kicking the other door open. The electronics scrambled before shutting off, freeing the girl.

"Thank you so much for helping me!" the girl exclaimed in a high-pitched, melodic tone.

"Don't worry about it," Zeke smiled warmly.

His eyes met the bodyguard's again. This time, he sensed a subtle animosity as her face tightened into a barely perceptible frown.

"Thank you," she said stiffly, bowing her head slightly.

"Oh, so you were trying to hurt her," Zeke thought to himself, smirking inwardly.

"Excuse me, what's your name?" the girl asked in the same melodic manner.

"Me? I'm Zeke," he replied.

"I'm Violet. Nice to meet you, Zeke," the girl smiled, gently rubbing her bruised hand.

"Well, so much for trying to avoid her," Fredric laughed, watching from a distance.

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