Ann.: Originally, I wanted to include two more scenes for 8.3, but I'll just write an 8.4 instead because you have waited long enough (sorry.)

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Asougi and Klimt walked in direction of the dorms without much of a word, both men occupied with their own thoughts, the nature of their worries as opposite as sun and moon or day and night. Asougi had given one scrutinizing look at Klimt's profile, the stark furrow of his brows, the tense line dominating his lips, and decided to let talking be for now.

Klimt, meanwhile, had passively fallen into a slower pace than his companion despite having the longer legs, and only subconsciously registered how the cold that had crept unasked beneath his coat and had settled along his skin was replaced by the comforting warmth that followed Asougi like his shadow.

His mind was occupied with the following:

From all people in Klimt's social environment, only a handful weren't going to suffer because of the blackmail Klimt found himself under, namely Lord Learmonth, Sir Gibb, and interestingly enough, Genshin Asougi. If Klimt thought about it elaborately, Genshin was one of the few people in his life Klimt couldn't put in harm's direct way through his actions and their consequences because while it was true that losing this man's respect was a terrifying prospect for Klimt, Genshin's status as exchange student would protect him from bodily harm and in the best case remove him from England if the situation required it.

This thought process had a certain reassuring quality to Klimt.

He knew that to the outside eye, his discomfort was as easily seen as a pool of blood forming around a bullet wound, and had no doubts that Genshin was able to even name some reasons behind it, though the detective didn't know the background story to its full extent. Fuck, not even Klimt himself – the perpetrator of this very crime – knew the story of what had happened in the Temple Gardens after he'd left his victim, Doctor Irvin Taylor, dead behind.

Going by the facts, Klimt could piece together some initial, rough assumptions of what must have transpired because Klimt now knew for a fact that Sir Haskell Taylor had followed Klimt's invitation to the Temple Gardens where he had planned to find out how the Taylor brothers had been involved with the attack on Barok on the day of the celebration in Taylor's Club by the means of two telegrams, both carrying Klimt's name at the bottom of the page. If however Lord Learmonth hadn't immediately called for Klimt's arrest for him to be investigated in this murder case as prime suspect, that had to mean that the incriminating evidence left at the crime scene had to have either not been with the victims and thus at the crime scene, meaning that it still existed somewhere in either a residence, Taylor's, or some other place completely – or must've been removed by the third party.

That a third party was present, Klimt didn't doubt: Haskell Taylor had to have been overtaken and murdered by this mysterious unknown third party after Klimt had left because a suicide was completely unlikely. The question as to why or what the circumstances of the murder past Klimt's escape from the crime scene were was an unanswered one in Klimt's mind, as well as whether Vortex was behind this as well or not. And if he was, what could the prosecutor be trying to achieve with his schemes?

If Klimt couldn't answer any of these questions, how could he expect anyone else to come to a satisfactory conclusion? And how was he supposed to find an answer to any of this?

Klimt heavily suspected Vortex's involvement somewhere, seeing as the unread letter delivered by Asougi was burning holes against Klimt's chest where he'd hidden it, and because of the case of still not investigated blackmail prior to the crime executed by Klimt. Unimaginable what Vortex could possibly want to achieve through his actions. Klimt dreaded to find out.

Asougi was an amiable companion, not insisting on formal platitudes or small talk or pesky questions despite what he had witnessed between the brothers, instead leaving Klimt to deal with his inner turmoil for most way to the university dorms spent in silence apart from the occasional loud glances Klimt always seemed to catch. But at some point, Klimt knew that he couldn't keep up the silence with good conscience, so he prepared himself for what might come and said stiffly: "Ask away, detective."

He would've expected questions about the murder case or the reason for his absence these past two days in one way or the other, possibly looking for Klimt's alibi because Asougi was a smart detective and could be investigating Klimt's odd behaviour, but what Asougi instead asked was: "Would you like to join us for lunch?"

Klimt turned his head to look at Asougi, barely giving any reaction the usual way he would because his spark was dimmed by growing worry, yet after a while of deliberating, he pulled the corners of his mouth into the corpse of a smile and answered slowly: "I don't think I'll be able to eat anything."

The sweets he'd eaten at Lord Learmonth's place after having gone with no breakfast to speak of were lying as heavy as bricks around his guts, weighing down his heart and soul, so he'd consider himself happy if he was able to keep them there and not return the food to see the light of day soon again.

"You didn't decline the invitation", Asougi observed, prompting a less dead smile from Klimt's lips.

"I didn't", he agreed. "I haven't said yes either."

"I know." Asougi joined his hands behind his back and turned his attention back to where they were going, gaze wandering up to the sky. "I will not insist", he added.

To be honest, Asougi didn't need to do much convincing when he asked Klimt to stay around him some longer due to the most simple reason that being around Genshin relaxed Klimt to a degree he hadn't got to feel often lately, not with his worries about Vortex's blackmail reaching its dark hand over anyone dear to Klimt. Not that Klimt could discard any caveats he had when he had others duties to fulfill – must urgent ones especially –, nor say that Asougi was not dear to him either.

"Who is 'us'?", Klimt asked when the dorms came into view some time later, picking up a conversation which had been finished and surprising not only the detective but also himself. Briefly, Klimt had wondered whether the exchange students ate together as a group or if each nationality kept to itself because come to think of it when asking the question, Klimt wasn't sure if he was able to stomach the company of the Russian exchange students, as well-mannered and likable as they were. And if all exchange students were indeed eating together, was everyone cooking their own national dishes, did they exchange taste and customs? Despite being the one in charge of the exchange program, Klimt knew surprisingly little about their life in the Great British Empire, he realized.

"Pardon?" Asougi said.

"You asked whether I wanted to join you for lunch earlier, but you used the plural form. Who is 'us'?"

"Ah. Jigoku and me, my lord. Mikotoba should still be at Holmes' flat. He usually is."

"Why, isn't Mister Holmes a celebrity of his own kind", Klimt mused, but his voice didn't show any of the sarcasm one might expect with this choice of words, and neither did his face. Little did Genshin suspect that the mention of my name from his mouth had reminded Klimt of how the partners had been the ones to discover Temple Gardens as the scene of the original crime, making him wonder about my involvement in all of this. Little did Klimt then know how very involved I already was and would still become, especially with you, Barok, on the way to my flat at that very moment. "Recently, I've heard his name mentioned regularly to me by different people in quite a short period of time. He certainly has a reputation with Scotland Yard too despite being a mere university student. The good kind of reputation, may I point out."

"Certainly." They stopped in front of the entrance to the dorms and Klimt turned to Genshin with the intention of putting a definite end to their conversation and leaving. Before he could say anything, Genshin spoke up.

"You can accompany me to the market if you don't want to eat with us. I mean, I will go there anyway. For grocery shopping. I should've gone earlier but got distracted at work and … Do you want to go with me?", Genshin asked, seemingly nervous for some reason. One of his hands was closed tightly around Karuma, clinging to the hilt like to a saving line. "I just need to tell Jigoku first."

"I'll wait."

Genshin looked like he wanted to add something for a moment but closed his mouth without another word, inclined his head quickly, and hurried inside instead. Klimt crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the wall next to the entrance door, angling one leg against the bricks, prepared to wait. With a heavy breath through his nose, he put his head back and looked up to the sky. Watching the clouds high above quickly grew depressing, so he turned his head away with a heavy sigh, not noticing how clearly evident his distress was – and spotted the face of a young kid peeking out from behind the next building's corner.

His face – it was a boy judging by the way he was dressed – was as black with grease as the bricks he was hiding behind, but not as inconspicuous as the child probably believed to be. Klimt cocked his head, staring directly back at the child, waiting for a reaction, anything.

But said reaction was absent.

Just as Klimt wanted to push off the wall and stalk over to where he was being watched from with two big eyes to engage in a conversation, clearly remembering the first Professor letter having been delivered by a child as well, the door next to him flew open again and Genshin practically jumped out onto the street, startling Klimt.

They established eye contact, both wide-eyed and taken aback. Then, Genshin put his hands onto his knees and laughed breathlessly.

"I was too late," he said flatly, shoulders shaking. "I was afraid I'd be too late again. I'm sorry."

"Too late?", Klimt echoed, the peeking child momentarily forgotten. "Too late for what, Asōgi?"

"Jigoku left to have lunch on his own. He left an unhappy note because I made him wait." Genshin straightened up and turned to face Klimt completely. His smile, which was caught between awkwardness and relief, was still playing softly around his lips, a captivating sight that gave the good detective an air of wild adventure. "I was afraid you might have left too. You are in a hurry after all."

"Ah." Troubled, Klimt had to tear his eyes away and averted his head in hope to find a moment to collect his erratic thoughts. The blush that crept on his cheeks could've come from biting cold just as well as because of Genshin. Klimt didn't have the mental capacity to ponder this deeply next to everything else going on in his brain right now.

"Well", Klimt said with a shrug and clasped his chin thoughtfully, refocusing. "I'll gladly keep you company then. For lunch. Instead of Mister Jigoku. I don't think I'll eat anything though. I hope you don't mind. … Say, the boy is staring at me."

Staring to the side in order to collect his thoughts, Klimt had once again spotted and remembered the child whose head was still sticking out from behind the next house's corner, motionless as if made of stone. What a curious little fellow indeed.

"That one?" Genshin followed Klimt's line of sight, gave another laughter that rang pleasantly in Klimt's ears. "He has been following us almost since Castle Street. Did you just now notice?"

Klimt bumped his shoulder against Genshin's with a deepening frown but could have just as well tried to push a mountain. Genshin took the shove with grace and dignity and most importantly, without moving an inch, but instead he lifted both eyebrows enough to hint at his amusement.

"And you didn't consider telling me?", Klimt asked flatly with a challenging stare at Genshin, who shrugged.

"I didn't think much of it. What danger is there in a child? I assumed that people recognize you on the street and stare, maybe less conspicuous than this little fellow. You're one of a kind, handsome, and you're somewhat of a celebrity here in London. You know, noble Lord van Zieks, Chief Prosecutor, and Paragon of Justice. London's light and pride and -"

"Asōgi."

"What? Am I not right?"

"You are, but ..." Klimt gave a court wave, brushing over the compliments. He could hardly imagine that Genshin's reasoning was right, especially because his last encounter with a child was too fresh on his mind. "You know what? Let's see."

Klimt set into motion and approached the house's corner, fully expecting that the child would either duck away or run out of sight as it was approached this rashly, or maybe deliver a message in one way or the other, from whoever it might be. All of those were in the range of possibility.

However, the boy did neither of those. He made no move to come out from behind where he was lurking, he didn't look away from Klimt or show any signs of embarrassment and if he did, they were covered by the dirt in his face; he simply kept staring with big round eyes until the two men were standing directly in front of him.
"Is something the matter, boy?", Klimt asked not unkindly, and the boy's mouth fell open into an asymmetrical O. From up this close, the boy had to put his head back to meet Klimt's eyes and held his bonnet with one hand so that it didn't fall off his head, but he still didn't utter a single word despite having been addressed. He kept staring, and Klimt kept reciprocating the stare until the whole situation made Klimt feel uncomfortable and he turned to look at Genshin.

"Maybe I was never cut out for dealing with children," he said dryly. "With the exception of Barok, he was an angel on earth. Still is."

"If you ask me, that's a look of admiration," Genshin laughed.

"You'd know."

"I most definitely would", Genshin agreed and raised an eyebrow at Klimt's facial expression. "What, you mean to say you don't notice?"

"Other people's fancy of me? It's hard not to", Klimt said in a tone he used for court, all in a matter to stay professional. "The real question is what kind of fancy we're talking about. You know that most people who admire me have ulterior motives. There's not much merit to their fancy, not much genuine intention. Not one that would flatter me."

"Some don't", Genshin answered sincerely and challenge entered his eyes that made Klimt do another double-take on their conversation. Had he missed something in their words, a second meaning, the deeper understanding?

No, I can't start over-analyzing this too, Klimt thought with a shake of his head even though Genshin's smug expression woke an itch in the back of his mind.

A timid voice reminded him that they had been talking with the child, and he broke off the staring contest.
"Ma moam loiks yoo", the boy said with a broad Scottish accent that sounded too deep for such a small body, transfixing two pairs of eyes on him with reawakened interest. Instead of shrinking back, the young fellow clung to his boldness and talked on. "Klim van Sieks. Pussum nastee folk behine bars. Hear inna pabs abou y'alla time. Goad fella, y' is."

While talking, the boy took off his bonnet and pressed it to his chest, kneading the sides out of shape, watery eyes darting between Klimt and Genshin. "M'lor."
"I had", Klimt agreed in a loss what else to say, ignoring the triumphant gaze that poked his cheek.

"Ma'i shake yaer hand?" The kid extended a small, trembling hand that was covered with blisters, and when Klimt took it and shook the offered hand lightly as he was asked for, the kid's eyes widened comically, the white of his eyes a contrast to the dirt of his face. Even after Klimt had let go, the boy kept staring at his hand in silent wonder and would've probably continued to do so if Genshin hadn't crouched next to him and asked with a nice smile: "Lord van Zieks is a great man, isn't he?"

At this, the boy's face broke apart into a smile that couldn't be described otherwise than from ear to ear, and he nodded so hard Klimt feared for his neck.

"He is! He absolootely is!"

"Right?"

They exchanged some more words and then the boy said he had to go home and excused himself. As he ran down the street, he kept stopping every ten steps, looked over his shoulder, and waved with both arms above his head, shouting "THANK YOOO" at the top of his lungs. Every time, both Genshin and Klimt lifted a hand to wave back.

"I told you," Genshin said with a glance at the man by his side. He noticed his thoughtful expression and felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. If anything, this experience must've restored some positivity in Klimt.

"You did." Klimt only lowered his hand when the boy – whose name he hadn't asked, come to think of it – was finally out of sight, definitely feeling a new sort of resolve blooming in him. That's right: the reason why he was upholding justice in London was to make the city a safer place for its people. In all the anger he had felt because of the attack on Barok and the anxiety growing within because of Vortex's blackmail, Klimt had almost forgotten this crucial detail.