Walking alone through the quiet streets of New Angeles, dim torches flickered against the buildings beneath a brilliant night sky.
Hawthorne gazed up and smiled faintly. But the smile faded quickly. He had a feeling—an unmistakable sense that several shadows lurked behind him.
Behind that house. Behind that fountain. Just a few more steps, right behind him.
Still, Hawthorne wasn't concerned. He kept walking with confident steps, hands tucked calmly into the pockets of his coat.
A voice called from directly behind him. "I know who you are."
Kenzaki Ijichi had appeared, walking casually behind him. He didn't look like a stalker; more like a familiar friend strolling alongside Hawthorne.
Hawthorne said nothing, allowing Kenzaki to continue. "And I think I have a pretty good idea what you're here to do."
Still no response. Hawthorne walked on, undisturbed.
Two towering bodyguards caught up behind Kenzaki.
"I won't let this happen. The people here aren't stupid—they'll realize soon enough."
"You won't let this happen?" Hawthorne finally spoke, still not turning his head. "What exactly are you going to do? There's nothing you can do."
"I can open the people's eyes. A dictator without the trust of his people won't stay a dictator for long."
Abruptly, Hawthorne stopped. He turned to face Kenzaki and stepped in close, pulling his left hand from his pocket, their coats touched,
**Click.**
The bodyguards flinched. Kenzaki froze, body tense, face trembling.
"Do you remember what this is?" Hawthorne asked, eyes not even meeting Kenzaki's.
A bead of sweat slid down Kenzaki's face. He didn't answer. That's a yes.
With a cold and emotionless voice, Hawthorne continued, "It's all the same. It's reality. Inescapable reality."
Then he stepped back and walked off, leaving Kenzaki frozen in place.
"Send another letter to my son." Kenzaki ordered his bodyguards after Hawthorne left.
———
Hawthorne lived humbly—in an austere wooden shack beside the great Lake Valentina. But tonight, he had a guest.
Waiting at the door, leaning lazily against the wall, was the non-existent Forger of Fire.
"Payment."
"The job was incomplete."
"Paaaaaayment," Nick insisted, standing up. "Fifteen books, please. And the position of the Minister of Swords and Shields or whatever it's called." He extended a hand.
"The job was incomplete," Hawthorne repeated, more firmly.
"Listen, man. I moved in, I did my job. I want my pay. Sure, they're still roaming out there, but the threat's been thinned. No more animals. Hmm?" Nick shrugged.
"You get the position," Hawthorne said, handing Nick a letter. "But not the books. You'll get those when Thomas Soon is dead."
Nick snatched the letter. "I guess that's fair enough."
"Leave my house."
Waving the letter between his fingers, Nick raised an eyebrow and smiled before walking off.
The lanterns in Hawthorne's house flickered and died behind him, extinguished by the power of the Forger of Fire.
Hawthorne lingered outside, gazing up at the glittering night sky. Even the galaxies were visible to the naked eye.
He smiled again.
———
It was midnight. Schwartz had just finished his first day of work as President, which amounted to copying down whatever Hawthorne had told him earlier.
Outside his office stood Tyler. "I'm literally the Vice President. Don't I have access to this office?" he asked the two guards in black stationed at the door. No response.
"Tsk."
The door opened. Schwartz emerged from the office, heading toward his bedroom.
"Mr. President. May I ask who the former—"
"Hawthorne. I understand," Schwartz interrupted, anticipating the question.
"Yeah. Witnesses are claiming he was on the scene of the house fire earlier. Acting suspicious."
"Yes. He was the one who started the fire," Schwartz replied flatly.
"What?"
"I believe it's because I... abolished his position as Vice President and chose you instead. This is his rebellion."
"But if that's the case, I should've been the victim—not Tommy or Will—"
"Thomas Soon and Wilhelm Grimmer are outlaws."
Tyler flinched. "Huh?"
"They committed assault. Knocked out my men to eavesdrop on me."
Tyler paused. "No, no. No way. You must be mistaken. They're not like that."
Schwartz raised a hand. "I don't want to accuse my beloved citizens of such crimes either. I didn't intend a heavy punishment. Hawthorne disagreed with me on that regard. That's one of the reasons I chose you—he's too... radical."
Tyler's eyes were watering now, face tense and jaw trembling.
"Don't worry," Schwartz said with a warm smile. "Your friends survived Hawthorne's attack. But since they are now outlaws, they're banned from political affairs moving forward."
"What does that mean?"
"They can't enter New Angeles, vote, run, or protest. That's the punishment I've decided."
Tyler felt a brief relief. He smiled—then quickly composed himself.
"Thank you." He bowed. "And I'm sorry for their behavior. I'll speak with them about the assault."
"Please, don't bow," Schwartz gestured. "As for Hawthorne, justice will be served when he's found. Okay?"
Tyler nodded. "Yes, sir."
"One favor," Schwartz added. "Since they're your friends, I assume you know where they are. Thomas Soon and Wilhelm Grimmer are banned. But their pink-haired friend... he's invited to the festival next week. I'd like you to deliver that message."
"Festival?" Tyler asked.
"Yes, I'm celebrating the new era of Eucadia with a festival next Saturday here in New Angeles. The pink-haired warrior is a man I respect. I'd love to see him there."
But... Alexander was supposed to be a ghost.
"How do you know Alexander?" Tyler asked, subtly taking a step back.
"Alexander. So that's his name." Schwartz smiled. "He fought valiantly against Hawthorne's forces. Protected his friends. His bravery and... mastery in combative arts are admirable. I'd be honored to host him."
Tyler hesitated. Then said, "Sure, uh... I will."
Schwartz rested a hand on Tyler's shoulder. "I knew you had potential. Good work today." He patted Tyler's back and left.
———
Tyler was staying at his father's friend's house with his parents. That night, he couldn't sleep.
Lying awake, he pulled out the piece of paper Philip had given him:
Follow the Xs on the ground.
– Phil
"They're hiding then," Tyler muttered. "From Hawthorne?"
He couldn't wait till morning. He got out of bed and snuck out of the house.
Visiting the ruins of Natalie's home—the ashes—Tyler studied the direction of the underground tunnel the others had used to escape.
"That's far..." he murmured.
The streets were empty. Tyler ran back to fetch his horse.
After some time searching on horseback, he found it—the tunnel exit near the town's edge. And there it was: the first X, carved into the wooden frame.
Tyler's eyes brightened. He scanned the surroundings, found the second X... then the third... then the fourth, though it was more distorted.
Step by step, X by X, Tyler was getting closer to Thomas, Natalie, and Alexander.