"Ah, Herr Forehead. I see I've missed you. Hopefully not overworking again, ja?"
A hollow laugh. It only lasted for a second or two.
"Either way…" Throat clearing. Shuffling in the background. "Once you can see past your paperwork, let me—ach, no. Verdammt."
The shuffling stopped, replaced by a string of barely audible German curses. Then…a long sigh.
"Look, Herr Justice…we are all worried for you. I wanted to make sure you were fine. Or at least, hear you announce it." Another short laugh. This time, it sounded genuine. "Please, call me when you have time."
Distant conversation grew closer, followed by a few faint knocks.
"Ach! My client is here." Fast, frantic footsteps. A few sharp breaths. "I'll be waiting, Forehead. Auf Wiedersehen!"
A single click.
Apollo groaned, burying his face into the seat cushion. Despite the fact that Kristoph had only played the voicemail once, he'd seared every last detail of the crackling audio into his brain…and thrown it on loop. This was probably the ninth or tenth time that he'd repeated the message in his mind.
It's pointless. Just forget it.
But he couldn't. And every few moments, he ran through it again.
What else could he do, anyway?
Apollo closed his eyes, once again failing to fall into a tranquil sleep. He'd been curled up on this armchair for a millennium. For god's sake, he'd even shifted around a thousand times until he finally found the perfect position—laying on his side, arms outstretched in front of him, back turned to the rest of the living room.
And still, nothing.
I can't keep doing this.
"Ah, Herr Forehead—"
No! Damn it, stop obsessing!
Apollo tapped his fingers, trying to release some of his nervous energy. It wasn't working.
Maybe he just wasn't doing it right. When was the last time he'd gotten proper rest? What had he done? That could help.
He furrowed his brow. Oh, so now his brain was able to draw a blank. Not before, when he was just begging for a second of peace—
Whatever. Just think.
Okay, so the last few times he'd woken up…had been after passing out. Did it really count if he'd collapsed? Well…probably not.
Apollo pinched the bridge of his nose. This was stupid. Honestly, he didn't even remember the last time he'd fallen asleep from just exhaustion.
Wait. Didn't I sleep on the couch? At the Agency?
That was right. After drifting to sleep over some old records, he'd been carried to the couch and covered with blankets. Phoenix had let him rest for hours and hours, no doubt being the real reason why Apollo had slept so soundly.
And then they'd fought. And Phoenix had forgotten about him, just like that.
Apollo's fingers curled into fists. If he stayed awake any longer, he was going to end up bashing his own head in.
Besides, sleeping would help clear his head. He might wake up feeling fresh, instead of remaining absolutely miserable. And there were health benefits, too!
Apollo scoffed.
Health benefits. Yeah, right.
Who was he kidding? It's not as if this was his choice. Living with Kristoph wasn't going to magically make him care about preventing dark circles or getting his 8 hours in.
I just want to escape.
If he was asleep, he wouldn't have to look at Kristoph. Interact with Kristoph. Think about Kristoph. He could wrap himself up in the dream-induced haze, pretending like everything was fine.
He took a deep breath.
Come on. Please, just sleep. I'm sleeping now. I'm asleep. See?
His eyes fluttered open, fixing on the cushion in front of him.
He slammed his fist against it, invigorated by frustration.
Fine. Screw it.
Apollo turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. If this was how it was going to be, he might as well cherish Klavier's last message to him, right? It was definitely more comforting than tossing and turning for eternity.
"Ah, Herr Forehead."
Apollo rolled his eyes. That dumb nickname was never going to go away.
"I see I've missed you."
He missed me, Apollo thought.
Of course, he knew what Klavier really meant. But it felt better to think of it the other way.
"Hopefully not overworking again, ja?"
Apollo's mouth curved into a soft smile. As much as he hated to admit it, Klavier knew him pretty well.
"Either way…once you can see past your paperwork, let me—ach, no. Verdammt."
Even when he lost composure, Klavier still managed to be strangely endearing. Apollo wondered how the man did it. Every time he got flustered, he sounded like a mess. Klavier, on the other hand, gained a charming quality.
Wish I could ask for advice.
"Look, Herr Justice…we are all worried for you."
Apollo's smile faded.
Who's "we"?
Apollo sat up, feeling his muscles strain with the sudden movement. He'd been so fixated on the fact that Klavier had shown concern that he'd nearly missed the deeper implication.
"We" meant it wasn't just Klavier who was worried. "We" meant someone else.
Trucy, maybe?
Trucy didn't know what had happened. It seemed to make the most sense that she'd wonder where he'd gone. She was pretty open about her feelings, too…
But Trucy didn't have Klavier's number. The last time they'd spoken, she had to use Apollo's phone to call the man.
He grew uneasy. It was fairly obvious at this point, but he didn't want to admit it.
Who else did Klavier know, besides "him"?
Ema Skye?
No, she'd throw a billion snackoos at Klavier before even considering a serious conversation.
Klavier's band?
No, they'd broken apart…plus, Apollo didn't even know most of them.
Prosecutor Edgeworth?
Definitely not. A chill ran down Apollo's spine just by imagining that man's stern glare.
There was no use denying it. It had to be "him."
Phoenix.
Phoenix had coordinated with Klavier like this before. The man had asked Klavier to speak with Apollo. To give a warning about Kristoph.
And if Phoenix was really worried, like Klavier mentioned…
He's probably tried to contact me.
Phoenix might not have abandoned him.
He punched the chair cushion again, cringing at his own idiocy. All this time, he'd assumed that Kristoph would have told him about Phoenix's calls. Amidst the waves of suffering he'd been clawing himself through, he'd forgotten.
I lost the game.
So he was the one who had cut off Mr. Wright.
Apollo's heart sank. Of course, that'd only ring true if Phoenix had indeed reached out to him after the argument they'd had. If not…
Apollo slid off the armchair, forcing himself to his feet. He had to know what had happened.
He had to call Klavier.
He spat out his gag, tossing it to the side. He wasn't bleeding as much anymore, and besides…he couldn't live another moment being mute. Two days was too long to recover. He needed his voice, now.
"Kristoph…" he began, facing the rest of the room. He'd expected the man to be slinking in the kitchen or staring out the window, just waiting to pull another nefarious scheme.
The room was empty.
Apollo paused.
Is this…a dream?
He bit the inside of his cheek and winced. Nope, he was awake. Pain was never a part of his dreams.
"Now, settle down. Shh."
Apollo whipped towards the source of the voice, finding himself looking towards his bedroom. The door was cracked open, a sliver of light streaming out. He strode towards it and peered inside, still wary.
Kristoph was there.
A spike dug itself into Apollo's stomach, paralyzing him in place.
What's he doing?
Kristoph was kneeling by Calico's crate, holding a tin can in his hand. The door to the cage had been opened. Apollo could see Calico backed all the way in the corner, hair-raised and green eyes wide.
Kristoph reached towards the cat. Panic flooded Apollo's system. He started thinking of the best way to take the criminal to the ground, one step away from jumping in and tackling the murderer.
"Come, come. There you are." Kristoph's fingers slipped behind Calico's head, rubbing the back of her ears. Gradually, her muscles began relaxing. "Quite a pretty kitty, aren't you? An elegant beauty."
Apollo froze.
Never in his life did he imagine Kristoph saying the words "pretty kitty" in any context whatsoever.
Calico whipped her tail back and forth, still stressed. Kristoph placed the tin inside the crate, touching the cat's nose and drawing his finger to the can.
"Go on." Calico sniffed the contents of the can. Within seconds, she was nibbling at it, her tongue darting in and out to pick up bits of tuna. "Very good. Eat well."
Only one thought echoed through Apollo's mind.
A murderer's feeding my cat.
Somehow, saying it to himself made it harder to process.
Kristoph closed the crate, brushing his hands on his blazer. Apollo considered turning right back around and sinking into his armchair forever…or at least, until the world started making sense again.
"Justice. What do you want?"
Apollo jumped when Kristoph's gaze whipped towards him, stern and steely and undeniably intimidating.
He came to a decision. For his next life, he was going to come back as a cat.
"Come in." Kristoph commanded. Apollo opened the door and paced inside, ultimately resolving to stand over an arm's length away from the man. "Now. Explain."
Apollo crossed his arms, hoping to hide his shaking hands.
"I need to talk to Klavier."
A strange look flashed in Kristoph's eyes. The murderer tilted his head, moving closer.
"Your tongue. Where is the cloth?" Kristoph asked. Apollo shrank backwards, trying to maintain distance. "You're going to bleed yourself dry. Let it heal, Justice."
"Wait! Wait." Apollo said, holding out a hand. Kristoph stopped his advance. "Look, just…just stay right there. On the other side of that mirror."
Apollo gestured to the side of the room. Kristoph's eyes followed to catch the aforementioned vertical mirror mounted on the wall, along with both their reflections trapped within it. The criminal reached out and traced part of the ebony frame with a single finger, a curious expression on his face.
"Very well." Kristoph conceded, drawing his hand away. "If only to humor you."
In a way, Kristoph was right. Three steps from either side and they'd both be close enough to be back at each other's' throats. Still, the mirror provided some sort of boundary—no matter how small.
"As I was saying," Kristoph continued, "Do you really believe your tongue is alright? You're only exacerbating the wound."
Apollo planted his feet firmly to the ground, standing up straight.
"I don't care if it is. I need to talk to Klavier."
Kristoph sighed. Apollo tried not to think about backing away.
"Fine."
Apollo blinked.
"Fine?" he repeated, unsure if he heard right. Kristoph pulled out the phone and unlocked it, pulling up Klavier's contact in an instant.
"Are you ready?" Kristoph said. The man cast a pointed look towards Apollo, one finger hovering over the "call" button. "You will be on speaker, of course. I would hand it to you, but you told me you'd prefer this…separation."
Kristoph waved the phone at him. Apollo hesitated.
Um…what?
It wasn't supposed to be this easy. He was supposed to act defiant and get beaten down for it, not rewarded. Kristoph was supposed to insult him and demean him and destroy him with insults and physical abuse, before relenting to Apollo's stubbornness…not give in on the first request.
"Is this a trick?" Apollo blurted out. His fingers grazed his bracelet.
Kristoph cast him a flat look. "You asked me for this, Justice."
"I know, but…" Apollo rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling uncomfortable. "Just tell me. Yes or no. Are you trying to trick me?"
"No, I am not. Does that satisfy you?" Kristoph said, clearly unamused.
Apollo's bracelet didn't react. For some inexplicable reason, that it remained still was incredibly irritating.
Why is he always telling the truth?
"Take it. Here."
Kristoph held up the phone, tapping it against the wall.
Apollo finally caved.
"Alright."
He moved closer to Kristoph, reaching towards the device. Instead of handing it straight to him, though, Kristoph grasped his hand and placed it in his palm.
Apollo's fingers wrapped around the phone. He did it. He actually did it. Sure, it wasn't as difficult as he'd imagined, but—
Kristoph wasn't letting go.
Apollo tried pulling away. Kristoph's grip remained steadfast, leaving his arm outstretched.
"Do you remember the rules?" Kristoph pressed.
Apollo nodded, his skin crawling under Kristoph's touch.
The murderer didn't let him go. Instead, Apollo watched in horror as Kristoph reached inside his pocket and pulled out the kitchen knife, pressing it against the young attorney's wrist.
"One last reminder, boy." Kristoph stated, his calm tone deeply contrasting his aggressive hold. Apollo's head spun as he noticed his veins bending against the knife's edge. "If you tell my brother anything related to what is happening here, I will not hesitate to slit you open."
Apollo lost all sensation to his limbs. He fell to his knees as soon as the murderer let him go, pale and numb and covered in cold sweat.
Kristoph pocketed the knife once more, maintaining his relaxed aura. The man stepped in front of the mirror and idly examined his golden hair, weaving in stray strands and tightening the twist.
The phone remained clutched in Apollo's hands.
He almost ended me.
A little pressure, and it would've been over. One fluid movement. One clean cut.
A reminder that Kristoph was allowing him to do whatever he was doing—not giving in.
"Don't waste time, Justice. Call him." Kristoph said.
Apollo pressed "call" with a trembling finger, turning on speaker as soon as it began ringing.
A cheery voice cut through the harrowing stillness.
"Herr Forehead! Good to hear you're still alive, mein Freund."
Apollo cracked a false smile.
"Hey, Klavier."