Alexander stood firm, unwavering. Thomas's stance was stubborn. Alexander's was calm, calculated, confident. Hawthorne recognized the difference.
The guards turned their swords toward Alexander — but he didn't even flinch. Six tips hovered inches from his skin. Yet he stared straight at Hawthorne.
And for the first time, Hawthorne's cold face faded, he looked afraid, more than afraid, he was shocked.
After a long, tense silence, Hawthorne yielded to the menacing diamond sword, he stepped back… and tripped. He hit the ground, breathing hard.
"Why are you here?" he whispered with quivering voice, so soft that Thomas, Wilhelm and the young woman didn't catch it.
"Leave us," Alexander said coolly. Hawthorne, still on the ground, panted. Then slowly got up, brushing dust from his pants.
His cold, composed persona returned. "Return your swords," he ordered the guards — eyes locked on Alexander.
The guards obeyed. Only then did Alexander lower his blade.
"What are you doing?"
"Get in the house," Alexander said to the others, never breaking eye contact with Hawthorne. The woman stood frozen. Thomas still glared at Hawthorne with Alexander. Wilhelm rushed to open the door.
Both Wilhelm and the young woman scrambled into the house hurriedly as soon as the door was open.
"Tommy, go in."
"We could just fuckin' kill him."
"Go. In." Alexander said again, more firmly.
"Tsk." Thomas gave Hawthorne one last scowl, then slipped inside.
Alexander backed into the house, step by step, never turning his back — staring until the very last moment when the door shut.
The door shut, but the guards outside lingered. Hawthorne adjusted his attire and smoothed his hair. "Watch them," he said simply.
———
Inside the house, Alexander kept his eyes on the door for a long moment before turning around.
"Why didn't we just fuckin' kill them?" Thomas demanded, furious.
"There were like twenty of them. What were we supposed to do?"
"What are we supposed to do now?" Thomas raised his voice, clearly disapproving of Alexander's decision.
"Aren't we here to help her?" Alexander replied, turning his gaze to the young woman behind them. Thomas followed.
"Uh… hi."
"We're FUCKED!" Wilhelm broke into a full-blown panic, he was completely losing it. "WE'RE FUUUUUUUUUCKED~"
"Shut the fuck up, Will!"
"Ahhh, we're so fucked… so fucked…" He dropped onto the floor.
"Do you want some water?" the young woman asked gently, hurrying over to fill a glass. Wilhelm accepted it with trembling hands, spilling some of the water as he took a big gulp.
"Thanks... ...We're fucked."
Suddenly, a wolf appeared in Wilhelm's peripheral vision.
"ARGHHHH!!" He jumped in fear, flinging the water into the air—just as an eagle landed squarely on his head.
"NO NO NO NO! GET OFF!"
"What the fuck?" Thomas blinked as a parrot landed on his shoulder, squawking like it was speaking directly to him.
"GET OFF!" Wilhelm finally shook the eagle off—only to back into something soft and furry. He paused.
"AHHHHHHHHHHH! THAT'S A FUCKIN' BEAR!" He bounced up again in terror, slipped, and collapsed—his head landing directly under the young woman, who burst out laughing.
"Hahaha—calm down, guys." She raised her hand. At once, every animal in the house pulled back obediently. The parrot flew off Thomas's shoulder. A horse that had been sniffing Alexander finally stepped away.
"Sorry," she said with a sheepish smile. "I had an ability book—it gave me the power of an animal whisperer."
"Shit…"
"What the fuck, man…" Wilhelm sat up, rubbing his face. "Tell us sooner…"
"What are we still doing here then?" Thomas pointed toward a tiger sprawled lazily on the couch. "We've got a bear and a frickin' tiger! Let's fuck those thieves up!"
Alexander remained by the door, stopping him.
"What?" Thomas asked.
"Didn't you come here to help her?" Alexander gestured to the young woman again. "Then help her."
Thomas sighed loudly.
"...pussy..."
"What?"
"Nothing." He then turned toward the young woman.
"What's your name?"
"Sinclair. Natalie Sinclair."
"You got shit those thieves want? 'Cause I sure did."
"I… I think I do."
Thomas raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
———
Tyler shoved through the bickering crowd.
"Tyler! Wait up!" his parents called out behind him.
He headed toward the backstage, hoping to find Schwartz, but two guards stopped him.
"I'd like to see the President."
The guards said nothing. They stood firm, blocking his way.
Tyler tried to squeeze past but was shoved back.
"Hrgh." He frowned—then heard two sharp and crispy claps.
"How's that any way to treat a guest? Step aside," said a voice radiating unmistakable charisma.
James Schwartz had arrived.
"Mr. Schwartz—"
"Mr. President now," he corrected with a smile.
"Mr. President, please look at the state of New Angeles right now," Tyler said, briefly gesturing at the chaos behind. "First of all, I think you should clarify the prohibited items. People deserve to know what they are and why you're confiscating them—otherwise, it's a serious violation of privacy. And—"
Schwartz raised a hand to stop him, still wearing that charming, impossible-to-hate smile. "Kid, some things must remain unknown to protect the beautiful lives of people. Innocence is worth more than solid gold."
"But Mr. President, the crowd's on fire."
"Hm." Schwartz glanced behind Tyler at the mess of guards, supporters, and protesters. "You're right. What a mess."
"Tyler!" his parents finally caught up.
"Mr. President." Tyler's father bowed with respect, but Schwartz waved him off.
"Ah, Mr. Window. Your son—such a bright, brilliant candidate with unfathomable potential as the Wearer of Wind—just argued with my policies. And I... totally agree."
Tyler blinked. "Huh?"
"Peace and harmony are paramount. I firmly believe my actions serve that purpose. But of course, the night is always darkest before dawn. Just look at this chaos."
"Please, Mr. President, what are you confiscating?"
"Tyler Window, I'd like to offer you the position once held by Caleb Rhys Hawthorne."
"…Huh?" Tyler took a step back, stunned.
"As my Vice President. You will help me keep the peace."
"Wha—what?"
Schwartz flashed his perfect, pearl-white teeth. "Let's talk inside, shall we?" He gestured to a building behind the stage.
Tyler hesitated, skeptical—but he nodded. He was willing to hear Schwartz out.