This is a short chapter, so I'll be brief.

I think you have been waiting to see this particular side of the coin; so let's get it started.

And don't worry, I'll be putting up another chapter soon. I won't leave you hanging too long.

Promise.


"He won't come out."

Seto closed his eyes and counted slowly, agonizingly, to ten. It did no good. His blood still simmered, barely held back from boiling over. He clenched his teeth. In the eleven years he had lived with his brother, he had only seen Mokuba look legitimately frightened a handful of times. Certainly, when he'd been younger—three or four—any number of things had scared the boy out of his wits, but after six or so, he'd gained a Kaiba's courage.

"Has he said anything?"

Vincent Zika shrugged. "Nothing we can make any sense of. The only thing we can even hear is, 'Not true, not true,' and, 'He's crazy.' We're not sure who he's talking about. Sir…perhaps you could calm him down?"

Seto didn't feel like he was in a position to calm anyone, and most certainly did not want to show this side of himself to his brother. He was shaking, his thoughts raced so fast that he couldn't keep track of them, and he felt a nearly irresistible urge to strangle someone.

"Where was he this afternoon?"

"Ah…Mutou's place, sir."

Somehow, he wasn't surprised.

"Where is Roland?"

"Still outside Mokuba's room, sir. Should I get him?"

"Yes. Immedia—"

"I'm here, Master Kaiba."

Roland Ackerman stepped into the room, looking as deadly serious as Seto had ever seen him. His ever-present glasses were gone, and his coal-black eyes gleamed. His mouth was set in a frown like fixed granite.

Seto's eyes narrowed to slits. "…What is it?"

"He said something else, sir," Roland said. "It makes no sense; he would have been bleeding." Seto's entire body snapped to attention. "However…I think we have a very serious situation on our hands. And I think you should deal with it personally."

Seto tried to think of the last time Roland had recommended that his employer handle a matter. Usually, he was trying to convince Seto to let someone else take over for once. Every fiber of his being was on fire, and suddenly the idea that human combustion was a myth didn't seem true anymore.

Roland's jaw cracked.

"…He said, 'He stabbed me.'"

In that moment, common sense was incinerated.

All sense of logic came to a screeching halt, and Seto's arm flew out to the side, threw open the drawer of his desk. The semi-automatic pistol that had killed Siegfried von Schroeder snapped into its holster even as the elder Kaiba was stalking toward the door.

Neither Vincent nor Roland had the courage—or inclination—to stop him.