To all my readers, thank you and I wish you all happy holidays!

Chapter XXII

Invitation

Inside a skyscraper,

Tenth floor

Zane walks down the left corridor of the apartment at a slow pace, a crooked brow, the white and grey walls flashing by his peripheral vision, his reflection moving along on the grey, polished tiled floor, his whole attention dedicated to his inner mind.

It's been a couple days since his last talk with Syrus, the tale about Ancients and what happened to Jaden. He can't swallow it.

Right now the Empire is strengthening the vigilance on the borders. Is it possible they knew that Neos was escaping and wanted to contain him within the capital? But why didn't they lift it yet? The martial law may have more meaning than he initially attributed to it.

Neos' trail leads outside the capital, and Jaden has managed to smuggle himself out with the help of Aqua Dolphin. His feet mechanically stop by the door of his room, opening it without a second thought, forgetting an important detail.

A soft plop to the hard ceramic ground alarms his senses, he blinks awake at the sight of what just fell: a cotton sleeping gown, his eyes inadvertently lifting up, his hand clutching the doorknob in reflex.

Rie is standing in the middle of the room, wearing only her black undies, he can see every line of her naked back from his position, the intricate filigree, the transparent gem interrupting the delicate, curvy line of her lower spine.

Zane just stands at the entrance gawking, eyes wide-open, his blood set aflame, a slight shiver delineating his spine, it felt like he was having the high school jitters again.

She glances over her shoulder, fussing while shriveling, banging her head down abruptly, her hair sliding to the front, making her nape visible, he could almost hear a scream there when her figure shrank.

He clears his throat to mask his astonishment, saying firmly. "My apologies."

Switching his gaze to the floor in respect, he closes his gaping mouth and hopes he can find a good excuse for this blunder. She's already awake? And has she recovered enough to stand? He's relieved, but concerned at the same time. Reeling a step back, bringing the door along, he stops when something dawns on him. Did he see it right? Her gem was…

"Stay still!" beating the door open, he darts into the room, going straight to her.

Her shoulders hunch up while hearing his strong, clacking steps, embracing herself with both arms to cover her bare chest in a hurry. His cold hands land on her shoulders, he stays apart by an arm's length, a frown to his face as he looks down, to his point of interest that could be easily misunderstood, given the situation. Her heart pounds hectically against her ribs, what is he doing?

A memory blurs her sight: a dark bedroom, the white door with golden details closed behind them, a half light coming from dimmed out lamps all over the four directions on the top of the walls garnished in wallpaper patterned with flowers and human figure paintings.

She's lined up by the side of other slaves, the way they came to the world, their clothes littered onto the plain red-carpeted floor, a clean white bed behind them, their sight bleakly cast ahead as Bonaparte walks in front of them, his face covered in shadows.

They await his judgement. She can only so see his devious smirk as he stops by the person on the side, pointing at both a man and a woman, he wobbles his hand to shoo away all the others, she staggers a step, hesitating to leave the room, his insults as he sends her away echo in her mind:

"You ugly thing, get out of my sight."

As they walk out, she can only see the slave master dragging the two people to the bed, she closes the door in a dim mood. It wasn't her this time, it's never her. Why does he call her there just to humiliate her? Is it because she's a catalyst unlike the others?

"Rie," Zane's voice awakens her, but he's lost speech right after.

His eyebrows twist addled, the filigree adorning her back is the same, but the gemstone is translucent, sunlight from outside drizzles all over it as if a thousand layers were carved inside, iridescent specks forming a mosaic of light that sparkles faintly. It's stunning. His finger unwittingly sliding on it, a polished external texture, she jolts, warned by the closeness of his hand, but he seems too absorbed into his thoughts to notice the improperness of what he has done.

She was seen even less clothed than this by Bonaparte, countless times during his "inspections", it shouldn't fluster her anymore, yet her cheeks prickle, this giddiness spreading when Zane is so close.

Fumes come out of his mind. Bowing over her shoulder, he looks into her face, her pores bristling as his chest almost grazes on her back. If this continues, her heart will end up imploding.

"Your gem used to be a blue opal, right?"

She can but nod slowly, her eyes wide open in utter shock, her shoulders stiffened up under his grip, it takes him a second to realize why as she clutches herself under her arms even more, strands of hair adding to the makeshift cover for her exposed skin as she turns her sight to the ground.

Gaping amusedly with a bland "oh", he lets go of her, whirling around, walking a few steps away. Even if he had knocked before entering, it's not like she could answer him back. He feels stupid for this.

Way to go, Zane.

"I didn't mean to-" he hitches that grumble under his breath, grimacing while mentally berating himself for the awkwardness of his actions, shaking off his head. "Ugh, forget it. There's something off about your gem. You should check it in the mirror."

There's a meek rustling sound as she grabs her clothes, running to the bathroom, enclosing herself in there. A tense silence installs in the room, his hand capping his mouth and jaw, he can feel his heart almost climbing up there. Is it his fault? He's never heard of a gemstone changing color overnight. Is it because he used her powers in the underground? Did he "break" her? Was it the fact he overwrote her old contract? This is unnerving.

He walks ahead aimlessly, the anxiety growing until he kicks a soft matter. Rie's sleeping gown is still tossed to the ground. Grabbing it, he slithers his finger on the cotton cloth.

Why didn't she lock the door? Or shove him away as a defensive reaction? His eyes narrow bemused. In hindsight, was Bonaparte entering her room while she changed? Did he force her to keep it open? Considering the hedonistic lifestyle of that asshole, he can totally imagine him peeking at her and any slaves he owned. Did he do more than just grope and look? This is infuriating. Letting out a heavy sigh, he neatly folds the dress, depositing it at the edge of the bed.

The click to the side drags his attention, Rie comes out of her hideout clothed in a composed, long-sleeved white dress with frilly brims, it reaches down to her knees, light-yellow stockings covering her legs.

"Did you see it?"

Confirming it worriedly, she approaches him, her gaze cast down, as confused as he is.

"Do you feel any pain?" with a quick shake of her head, she denies it. "Miss Fonda will come later today, perhaps she knows something," his green orbs drift off before rounding back to her. "By the way, Rie… There's a latch you can only use from inside the room to lock the door while you're changing."

Her hands fidget nervously as she tries to explain herself mumbling something, her head lowering conflicted, her fingers gripping the edges of her dress.

"I don't want to know what Bonaparte was telling you…"

Bending onwards, to match her face's height, his fingers feebly stroke her chin, her eyes lifting up uneasily to look into his.

"But I'm sure you're able to tell that you don't need to carry those old habits here. Just set boundaries if you feel uncomfortable."

A vague nod is all he gets in return, maybe he should leave her be, as he turns around, her hand instinctively grabbing a few of his fingers, squeezing it, he staggers a step back. She's quite strong for someone without many muscles, a sign that she's recovered.

"Do you need something?"

Asking for a minute, she runs to the bed, fetching the pouch of gems he'd given to her before, offering it to him. He rummages his fingers through it, ascertaining if everything is painted alive again.

"You've recharged all of those in the last few days?"

A bead of sweat rolls down his face, she speedily agrees with her head. Did she have that much duel energy stuck in her even after his summon? Could it be that her gem changed because she's overexerted herself? No, this doesn't seem like a mere change of color, her gem became entirely different.

"I'll be frank here, I'm a seasoned summoner, but I've never seen this phenomenon. Do you have any idea about what happened to your gemstone, Rie?"

Disappointing him once more with a negative shake of head, her brows curl up in worry, watching the lines of expression crease more as he thinks hard.

He has this refined posture that exudes confidence, it reminded her how he's called a king in the underground. She can see the fading marks of the shock collars on his uncovered neck and arms, where his T-shirt can't reach. A bitter remark, she put the collars there after all. He's sturdier than she thought, not an ounce of tiredness in his semblance after that whole summoning fight. But is he really fine or is that again, a façade of his?

Sensing her distant stare, he replies with a short smile, gliding his finger on her cheek. "Don't worry, we'll find someone that understands about catalysts better."

Of course Rie wouldn't know anything, he doubts the researchers or whoever made those human catalysts would explain to them in detail how they work. They were probably just shoved somewhere to be trained for practical use. He feels a short pull on the brim of his shirt, the screen of a PDA coming into his sight.

"Are you still hurt?"

"Look at who's asking."

He snorts, caressing her hair tenderly, his hand stopping as the strands of her hair ply over his fingers, snuggling her head close to his chest, giving her a brief hug.

"I'm glad you're fine now, Rie."

As he steps back, she stares doubtfully at him, her brows arched up, dissatisfied for not having her question answered. His arm comes around her shoulder, nudging his thumb on her skin, a rueful smile on his lips.

"I'm fine, my condition wasn't as bad as yours. I just got a few scratches."

Pausing a moment, considering something for a millisecond, he asks, casting a side glance, an earnest tone as if that's an important question:

"Do you want to eat some cake with me?"

Tilting her head, she blinks confused. Why is he offering this now?

International University of Domino,

Inside an office, the noise of papers rustling spreads at intervals of a second, sheets being thrown into the air, floating gracefully before falling, amounting to a pile covering the ground as if it were part of the dusty floorboard.

The shelves filled in books block most of the sunlight along with the closed blinders on the windows. A led wand emitting a bright white light illuminates his surroundings, the mounds of papers reflected on his glass' lenses. He's startled as the sound of footsteps draws close.

"Professor Banner, I've brought the other documents you asked for," Bastion hands it to the teacher sitting on the ground.

"Ah, thanks! I'm a bit busy now."

"I see that…"

His eyes gloss over the room analytically, the papers on the ground are unimportant documents, but Banner reads those carefully. His office table is cleaner than expected, only a box full of files clumsily put over the edge, a stack of papers held in place by a quill, pen and a bottle of ink used as a paperweight. What captures his sight is the opened letter, a small knife beside it proving it was recent, a medallion sticks out and a fancy sheet of paper is placed beside it.

Bastion takes the medal, playing as the light irradiates from certain angles, it's silvery and has a "GX" carved into it, making a beam of light reflect to call the attention of the professor.

"An invitation? I thought you disliked it there at the Academy."

"It's a formality because I'm a former teacher of the institution. You know the drill."

"Is this what sparked your investigative spree?"

"That too," he sniggers, pushing his glasses up. "But after Truesdale's last visit, I got interested in catalysts."

"Didn't we already dab on the topic during our research for that article a few months ago?"

"Yes, we concluded that many imperial facilities in the south labelled as training camps were actually labs in disguise. The media doesn't give coverage to those topics, that's why they're in the dark."

"Quite the tricksters, huh? Unfortunately, professor, isn't the main issue there's only conjectures but no actual evidence of it? That's why we couldn't elaborate it besides suspicions in the article too…"

"You're correct and wrong. The Empire got rid of all possible registers of the said labs, encrypted all the info into data that would take a whole lifetime to be decrypted and made sure that everyone inside those mass production labs has no identity. When you were all kids or even before that, the Empire was already invading orphanages and burning them down, kidnapping the kids for experiments. Some kids like Aster lucked out that rebels and summoners protected them from such fate. Things were so awful, but since the Empire hired ruffians and mercenaries to do those jobs, all connections are but a supposition. The perpetrators of the invasions were easily assassinated and gotten rid of, the Empire has many assassins at their disposal after all. They've literally burned all documents that could prove the identity of those said 'catalysts', if they have no registration, they technically don't exist in our country by law, which means they're indigents. So it's inaccurate to say they don't have any evidence, but more proper to say we can't get to the evidence."

"It isn't our field of expertise to understand systems, so we can't decrypt the data."

"It isn't, but I'm sure there are other registers or clues I can find if I read those documents."

"It's unusual to see you impatient, professor. Isn't the issue here the 'how' to prove that people who do not 'exist' are being retained in those imperial labs? That's why we have cases like Zane's in which he's stuck with a catalyst and our hands are tied."

"It's unbelievable, Bastion. Even when people tried to 'steal' the data as proof, it wasn't hard for them to dismiss it as 'rebels' attacking and destroying the lab along with all the 'proof', which made it impossible to put the Empire under a bad light. Not to say that no one who went to investigate came back alive. We couldn't even go further than conjecturing in our article thanks to the strictness of the university."

"I can empathize with your discontentment, but I do not understand why you're fixated on catalysts."

"Catalysts remind me of my late wife, Layla."

"T-they remind you of your wife?" he gasps. "But… how? Was she a catalyst too?"

"No, that was too many years ago. Of course, catalysts were only widely spread during the war, but of course it was impossible to create them without having previous research. She wasn't one, though."

"You do make a reasonable argument about it taking time to research," he bobs his head, switching the subject. "But how did you meet your wife?"

"Long ago, the Empire put up some stupid rule that dictated all research must go through their approval before being liberated to the public."

"Sounds suspicious."

"Yes, because it was. At that time, the Empire was still in the developing stages of the idea of catalysts."

"Developing stages? You don't mean that twenty or so years ago they already were…"

"They were," he affirms, a tad annoyed. "My wife was a scientist at one of those labs, after researching them for years along with other scholars, she was fed up with their distorted ideals, so she ran away from the lab and wound up in a certain excavation site I was in at the time."

"That's quite the tale. Did she tell you what they were doing in those labs?"

"In detail, but only later in life. I can't even repeat what they've done to people's bodies in the name of their so-called 'science', it's unbelievable."

"I didn't expect they had it planned the whole time. I mean, naturally a science outbreak takes time, but…"

"Truth is, they weren't researching catalysts. That project only took shape later, what they were really researching there was: Ancients. From what my wife told me, there was some coincidental accident that gave them the idea for catalysts, and only then they'd devise a more complex project, but their main goal was related to harnessing the powers of an Ancient into soldiers."

"This can't have ended up well…"

"It didn't, for the people involved in the project, at least. Many subjects died and that's why Layla ran away…"

"She must've been scared. If she escaped alive, they'd try to kill her so she doesn't leak info, right?"

"When we first found her, she was terrified. Everyone from the excavation crew knew something was wrong, so we helped her pretending she was part of the group and from then on, she started living and working with us, even after we heard from her about her background and what she's been doing, we've decided to give her the chance to redeem herself since she did run from the Empire, it was dangerous, but everyone had the chills back then," he chuckles, swaying his head at the memory. "She was very grateful that everyone overlooked her past."

"It's a good story, at least, up to this point."

"It is, she was happier researching those old ruins than ever. Eventually, I fell in love with her and we married, Adriel was born soon after. We were together for about a decade, then she died in an accident during one of the excavations. After that, I dropped the archeology work and accepted an invitation from the duel academy to be a history teacher."

"My condolences."

He closes his eyes briefly, in reverence, the catalyst topic must have shaken Banner deeply if he's in this sudden need to look more into it.

"Her situation as a person constantly on the run reminds me of those poor catalysts and all the scientists that died when they tried to go against the Empire. Layla found peace at some point, but the same can't be said for others and it's even harder for catalysts exactly because of what and who they are."

"That's true, professor…"

"Unlike my wife who could easily slip into our group with a brand new identity, there aren't many choices for catalysts, without a name or surname and no documents, they're forced into illegal slave labor. They are either overworked to death or captured again by the Empire or bandits and sold. In rare cases, if they're lucky to get help from the rebels, they can lead a relatively normal life, that's why the rebels decided to take action and raid those labs."

"Won't you be in trouble if they snoop on you digging this dirt on old documents?"

"Bastion," his tone becomes grave as he stands up convicted, dusting off his pants. "Even if they were to arrest an old man like me, I have nothing to offer besides my intellect and as long as I'm a free man with a sane mind, I'll do my job as a historian. From history's perspective the Empire may come off as a glorious reign, full of prosperity, but as someone living and witnessing the truth, it's my duty to write it, raw and unbiased as it is, so next generations may learn."

A smile flashes on Bastion's face as he agrees to that statement. "Analyzing our past mistakes and rebuilding the present to overcome the previous failures, isn't that what you taught back in the duel academy?"

"Yes, and I still follow it to this day, that's why I think I can do a better job here researching and registering facts than I could teaching the younger generation now."

"Are you going to participate, professor?"

He lifts the GX emblem. Banner diverts his gaze, his hand shaking slightly as he supports it on the table, denying with a scoff, an unnatural curve on his lips, forcing a smile.

"You know I won't step into the academy unless it's extremely necessary," he gulps dryly, a few words hampered in his throat, containing his emotions. "And depending on me, this will never happen."

Bastion's eyes squint cunningly. So he still harbors grudges because of what happened to Adriel. No matter how many years pass, there's no man who would forget the loss of a son.

"I'm sorry, it was insensible of me to ask."

He encloses the medallion onto his palm, pocketing it without being caught by his senior, a perfectly standoff expression like he's a professional thief.

"Those were all the documents I've found, I hope you can find some answers in your research. See you another time, professor."

Beckoning politely, he takes his leaves. Banner lets out a deep sigh after he's gone, proceeding with his study of old documents, taking a quill, dipping it in ink and making notes on blank pages of a notebook on the side.

Late afternoon,

Rie sits at the grey couch, her curious blue marbles slowly zigzagging between miss Fontaine and Zane that stand across from the center table of his apartment. Plucking the small fork out of her mouth, she cuts another bite of the plain strawberry cake slice placed in front of her.

"Well, I can assure our girl is very healthy! Giving her the gems was the best choice after all!"

"What about the color of her gem?" Zane asks, arms crossed and an obtuse angle formed between his brows.

"Hm, I'm pretty sure it looked different in the hospital. It's true it has changed, but I can't explain why. Just in case, you could have her still recharge some gems."

"Are there no other ways to do this? I mean, besides summoning and charging gems."

"This is a complex matter."

"Why?" he raises a brow, distrustful. "You mentioned there are other ways before, so you know it."

"It's only a rumor, there's no scientific evidence."

"Okay, tell me this 'rumor', then."

His calm voice exerted a pressure that made the woman sweat cold, knowing that she wouldn't be able to avoid the topic this time.

Noticing Rie's attentive gaze, Fonda walks closer to Zane, putting a hand to cover the side of her face as she whispers into his ears. With a flinch, he uncrosses his arms, stumbling a step back astounded, scrutinizing her expression to see if it was a prank.

"You're joking, right?"

Lightly pushing his back forward, she guides him further away from the couch, bending lower and keeping her tone at minimum for only him to hear, but Rie was too busy with her cake to bother that they excluded her from the conversation.

"I'm not. Many soldiers believed this to be true during the war and even nowadays people still think like that."

"I don't see how screwing a catalyst can-" his mouth is gape open as he hampers his breath, casting a quick glance over at Rie, shifting the sentence and toning it down while scowling. "This is stupid!"

"Stupid or not, it happens. Zane, this isn't the only myth about catalysts, there are many others like them being good luck charms, that gender influences how good a catalyst can be, all sorts of strange theories."

He exhales deeply. "It's just unbelievable."

"I know you were fifteen at the time, but surely you weren't this naive and oblivious to what the soldiers were doing bringing catalysts to their tents for 'protection' against enemy assaults."

"No, I…" his trembling fingers pinch his temples as he takes a moment to recollect himself. "This is sick…"

"I know. I was the one treating the patients there," she sighs in dismay. "Makes you question what you're doing at a place like that, doesn't it?"

"We knew that what the soldiers said was an excuse," he admits with a click of his tongue.

"Zane, don't tell me you all…"

"Atticus, Yusuke, Adriel and me," he grimaces at the reminiscence. "We got into trouble after denouncing it to the general, he reprimanded us."

"I didn't know you took it to the higher ups. And he scolded you all for that?"

"Yes, some bullshit about leaders having to ignore certain rules and men needing some 'relief' from the war fields for more morale, even he had a couple catalysts himself, they never let us young soldiers get close to them, they said we were too young to know what to do with them."

"This is horrible, you were just children," her hand comes to her chest, compassionate about his story.

"Worse than this, the older soldiers heard about it from the general himself and laughed off, telling us we were a bunch of kids who couldn't understand war, they also picked on us often, we became the black sheep among them."

"I can't believe it… None of you kids should have been participating and seeing any of that."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Just more numbers to add to the category of people whose lives were ruined by the war. But back to the topic, how come people even thought of such a method?"

"The Imperial summoners believed there was a transfer of duel energy when they… Well. People mostly don't understand how catalysts bodies work, and scientists do not release info about it either, even in the medical field, so you can understand why such myths end up swelling to this point, right? I know it's a despicable theory, but as long as people take it as the truth, it'll keep happening."

"No wonder there's a market of sexual slavery for catalysts… I just can't…"

"You're already having enough nightmares as it is, so how about not dwell on it too much?" she rummages on her medic bag again, slamming a bottle of pills onto his chest.

"What are those?" his hand perfectly cups the bottle single-handedly before it falls.

"Sleeping pills, you'll have a full night of sleep without nightmares."

"I don't-"

A beeping noise repeats, Fonda takes her phone out of her pocket, clasping her hands together apologetically.

"I have to get going, Zane. You should keep an eye on her and tell me if anything changes. And take your pills!"

Nodding demotivated he accompanies her to the door again, closing it as the furrow on his brows accentuates, he comes back to the couch, sitting down with a plop, letting out a heavy sigh as if he'd collapse and sleep right there now. A light tug on his sleeve surprises him for a second, he's getting more used to it. The screen of her device is at his eye-level.

"What were you two talking about?"

"She wants you to tell us if you have any strange symptoms, that's all."

Averting his gaze fast, he tucks the bottle in his pocket, crossing his arms, lost in thought again. He definitely shouldn't mention any of that conversation to her.

"Rie, did Bonaparte really find you on the streets?"

"That was a barefaced lie," she holds the fork with her mouth, typing another message. "He bought me from the lab I was in. He told me many times that I was a 'special product' he paid a hefty sum for."

"He also did mention this about sending you as a gift to the imperial princess. Do you remember anything else? Did he tell you why he wanted that?"

The voice of Bonaparte reverberates in her head. "You useless slut! You better learn how to use your powers fast."

"No, but he threatened to sell me to a brothel many times if I didn't learn how to use my abilities as a catalyst. He said if I can't do my job, then I'm good for nothing but that."

"The nerve!" Zane growls. "He's a damn liar. He had you close at all times, Rie, he wanted to make sure no one would get their hands on you, he wasn't even putting you up for sale! On the contrary, he was afraid of losing you, I know his type well, believe me."

"You think so?" her eyes squint, berating herself mentally for not realizing it sooner.

"He was the biggest slave trader in the East, if he wanted to dispose of you he'd have done it with a snap of his fingers, yet he kept you in his line of sight and went through the trouble of training you too. He may have trapped you in his psychological warfare, but the truth is he didn't want to get rid of you, or maybe he couldn't," he trails off, putting a hand to his chin. "He knew something about you that we don't."

Think, Zane, Think. Rie was being sent both as a maid and a catalyst, supposedly to be a torture toy for the princess, but is that all?

"Rie, did he do more than just harass you?"

"You saw it yourself, that happened on a daily basis, but that's all there is to it. He was wicked, but not dumb to play with the goods he's handing to someone else."

"Sounds like a crappy life either way."

"It was."

"What about the other slaves?"

"They had it worse," her eyes oscillate sorrowfully. "For some reason, he was more focused on turning me into a maid to serve this princess than anything else."

Zane's in a trance after reading the message, considering the myriad of theories his head cooks up.

Why did he want her to be sent to the princess so badly? He could've sent any good slave, and the market isn't short on catalysts. Why did it have to be Rie? Did Bonaparte know something about her that even she wasn't aware of?

Before he can conclude that train of thoughts, his face winces back by reflex as an object comes into his peripheral vision, her PDA.

"You should eat some cake too," she slides the plate to his side, worming herself a few inches closer to him.

"I'm not hungry right now," his statement is as apathetic as his expression, a husky tone as he asks. "Do you remember anything from when you became a catalyst? The laboratory or where you were?"

A clink soars as she puts down the fork on the porcelain plate, her eyes narrowing subtly. He glares straight into her face, gulping down those words, regretting the inquiry immediately.

"Sorry, I overstepped my limits."

"No, I'll tell you," the unexpected reply left him in awe for a moment. "My memories are foggy on some parts."

"I see…"

His head topples down partially, frustration written all over his face, his expression attenuating as a hand reaches out to his shoulder, it lasts only a second, to call his attention. Rie slowly types more.

"Some people raided the village I lived in, piling and taking everyone in sight. There weren't many people living there, but it was after the war, so most of us were women, elderly or children. They killed the elderly, kidnapped the children, then had their fun with the women before taking them too. Probably it also happened to me, but I was knocked out cold when I tried to help the other girls, so I can't say for sure. I don't remember anything from then on."

There's a pause as she hears a deep exhale coming from him as he shuffles on the couch, squishing the seat under his grip, as if he's trying to leash his anger.

"By the time I woke up, I was in a medical facility, a lab of sorts. I don't remember how long I was there before waking up, but they made it clear from the beginning: 'you'll either die or become a catalyst'. And that's how it was. They performed many tests and we went through dozens of painful exams day after day, until I was 'ready'. Then one day when I woke up, I had this gem in my body, like the others who survived."

"Experiments? So they…"

His stomach churns just by listening to it, his eyes flickering in angst. It's exactly like in the war, albeit the war should be over at the time. Her gaze is still on the table ahead a glint of distress abiding them before he distracts her with another query:

"Were there many people with you before?"

"There were."

She faces him again, a blank stare as if the sole mention of the subject worn her out, she clearly couldn't put up with talking about it, but made an effort to.

"Most of them are gone now, but some of them were still in the lab when I was bought by Bonaparte. I don't know what became of them."

"How long were you in that place?"

"Some years, I think. I lost the notion of time, it just felt like a never-ending loop, until it wasn't. I don't know exactly when I arrived at the mansion, but I wasn't there for too long. I don't know where this lab was either. We were never told anything or let out, they were constantly performing tests and bringing in new faces while older ones disappeared. I'm lucky I came out alive."

Lucky? This is a positive vision of hers, but he sees no luck in whoever survived as a catalyst. Most of the ones he saw when helping the rebels said they preferred death, and in fact, many of them met that end even after they were saved.

"Do you know who the intruders who ravaged your home were?"

"Armed soldiers."

"So it was the Empire," he huffs, vexed, swallowing down a few cursing words. "I'm sorry to hear that, Rie," he sits sideways, a curl of pity on his brows as he gazes at her. "We're all working so this hell won't repeat."

"I know," she nods once. "That is over now. Thanks to your help and all the others, everyone that lived in the mansion is safe and they have a chance to lead a better life."

"Rie… I know you have a valiant heart, but don't you feel like crying? No one will fault you if you do."

He could say from experience how terrible it was after the war was over, he doesn't want it to be the same way for her.

"I did, for a long time, but I've cried enough already, there's no point in wallowing in self-pity," with a firm shake of her head, she reassures him. "We're not the only ones who had troubles. I'll be fine from now on because I have people helping and taking care of me, so I'll do my best to help other people and repay twice more this time."

A tiny smile sprouts on her lips, she holds out a forkful of the cake to him, is that an attempt to comfort him? Shouldn't he be the one saying soothing words?

He was unwilling to admit, but Shroud's words weighed on his mind. Yet, seeing Rie smile after all that's happened to her brought serendipity to his heart. If she can dream with hope for what's to come despite all that has happened to her, then this utopia he's been trying to build with the rebels isn't vain, he's accomplished something here, little as it may seem. Rather than be shackled to the past, they must shape the future.

"You're absolutely right."

Leaning on, he chomps down the food, the wrinkles between his brows softening a tad. For an old cake piece, it tasted surprisingly good. He taps her shoulder, she turns around halfway with a forkful of the cake still into her mouth.

"Rie, if there's anything you need-" he cuts off his own speech, rewording himself, his warm fingers slowly making a way to her cheek, resting there. "No. If there's anything you want, just let me know, I'll get it for you."

Her face turns the same tint as the strawberries on the cake when he smiles gently at her, such a dazzling sight she forgot how to swallow properly. Almost choking with the food, she coughs, slapping her own chest with the other until her throat is unstuck.

"I can buy you as much cake as you wish," he titters, patting her back a couple times and rubbing it softly to help her get over all the coughing. "Don't be afraid to ask."

That's right. When you find someone you like, someone precious to you, hold them tight.

Wiggling her hands around in shame, she tries to dismiss the offer, but his mind was far gone in a trip of his own, his gaze stranded on the horizon outside.

Wasn't that your advice, Atticus?