AN: I would have gotten this chapter done sooner, but I kept moving forward in the novel and writing future scenes XD Like "no, Rose, you have to keep things linear for them to make sense!" The troubles of being a writer. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading~

Chapter 16:

Due to the cold weather outside, it was unsurprising that the bar was packed to the rafters with patrons. Bustling with explorers and locals alike. And that meant a lot of faces, of lot of people that Flavio did not know nor recognise.

Coming to such a busy place after what he had endured, what he had been enduring for the past week was undoubtedly not a good idea. There were a lot of people. Any one of them could be his stalker. Stalkers, rather.

But he had to visit. There was something he needed to do. To ease his own mind. He also hoped that Cass could help him with something. The bar-keep practically knew every single explorer and adventurer in town, not to mention half of the locals. He was the go-to man for information.

And now that he had a description of at least one of his stalkers, he finally had something to work with.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" Fafnir asked him, his face creased into a frown.

Flavio motioned toward the wall of photographs near the back of the tavern. "I want to see if I can recognise the guy by looking at the photos. If he's here, Cass might know him."

Fafnir looked over at the wall as well and his expression smoothed out into that of acceptance. Pretty obvious that he, too, would just love to know the guy's name and whereabouts.

"Mr Flavio, we're so sorry about what happened to the restaurant! You worked so hard!"

Flavio turned in the direction of the voice, of which was mildly familiar, and managed a half-hearted smile and waved. There was not much else he could offer them. The mere mentioning of the restaurant brought a wave of nausea, and he pressed a hand against his stomach.

He had a light breakfast, at Fafnir's insistence, but he wished he hadn't. The words of that single note still made him feel sick to his stomach.

A feeling that only increased when other bars patrons caught onto his presence, thanks to that earlier proclamation. They, thankfully, simply offered their own condolences. No mockery, no taunting. Just words of sincere sympathies as he and Fafnir moved through the bar.

It was endearing.

After a few moments, Flavio and Fafnir finally reached the infamous wall of photos. Cass himself was a notorious cameraman, having taken many of the photos himself. But there were also photos he had found or were given to place somewhere within his tavern.

Somewhere, within the possible hundred photos or more, laid one particular photo with Mandelson in it.

Flavio might be searching for quite some time.

Well, it was not like he had anything better to do. While he was searching, he may as well search for that mysterious silver-eyed stranger that accosted him earlier. Mr Conspiracy Theorist. He was definitely another oddity.

"Ah, Fafnir, there yer are! Can I borrow yer strength for a bit? I need someone to help move these barrels for me!"

Fafnir immediately frowned at both Cass' booming voice and at his request. "I'm not in the mood for work today," he muttered under his breath.

"Aww, come on! I'll throw a meal or two in for yer!" Cass bargained, somehow able to hear Fafnir's complaining over the bustling noise of the bar.

Fafnir's face twisted into a torn expression, defiant because he did not want to do anything he did not want to do, but interested because getting anything free from Cass was like getting blood out of a stone. But he was also Cass, so there had to be a catch in there somewhere.

It drew a true, genuine laugh from Flavio, and he gently touched Fafnir's arm to gain his attention. "It's ok. I'm just going to be here looking at photos. Keep yourself busy and give Cass hell for me."

"Fine," Fafnir relented with a sigh. "But don't leave this spot."

"I won't, I promise."

Reluctantly, Fafnir agreed to Cass' request and left to do some manual labour. Flavio idly tugged his coat tightly around himself as he turned back to the wall of photographs. Some were in colour, while others were in black and white. He decided to focus on the coloured photos first, as they would be the easiest to rule out.

As he inspected the photos, Flavio noted that there were a lot of portraits of guilds. And a lot of what he would describe as 'action shots' of the bar. One involving a redhead using a table to disarm a guy with a sword. Literally. Just swinging a table like it weighed next to nothing and just bashing the guy over the head with it.

He supposed those kinds of things happened all the time to a tavern that catered to explorers.

A brief flash of green had Flavio pausing at the next picture.

Ah, there he was! He found the photo Mr Conspiracy Theorist mentioned.

It appeared to be an opening of some kind of building. A school, perhaps. For War Magis? Mandelson stood with a group of men to the side, his bright green eyes as vivid as ever, even through the photograph. They truly were his most striking feature.

Leaning forward to focus upon the photo, Flavio ignored those almost supernatural green eyes to study the features of Mandelson's face and his lips parted in a silent gasp.

He…did have a mole under his right eye in the photo.

Did he have one in person? Flavio could not remember. He just remembered those vivid green eyes of his.

What did it mean? Mr Conspiracy Theorist was right about something. So far. About two things. About the photo and the mole. If he was right about the Mandelson Flavio knew not having one, what did that mean?

It…did not necessarily mean anything. Mandelson could have had the mole removed. Then there should be a scar, right?

But…if he didn't, and if Mandelson did not have the mole, did that mean…the Mandelson he knew was not the same man as in the photo? Then who was he?

Argh, Flavio just did not know what to think!

"You alright there, kid?" Cass suddenly asked him, genuine concern in his voice.

"Y-yeah," Flavio murmured in replied. "Could I have a glass of water, though?"

"Yeah, sure."

Flavio made his way over to the bar and sat down, rather shakily, upon a barstool. Thankfully, in the area where he sat it was not at all crowded, so he had some space to breath. And to think to himself.

"Thanks," he murmured with a small smile as Cass handed him a glass of water.

Flavio could not, should not take the ramblings of a knife wielding man seriously. But what he said about Mandelson having a mole under his eye was true. Again, that could be debunked the next time Flavio met the man. And, whether he liked it or not, Flavio would meet him again. He just needed to concentrate and tear his attention away from those unnerving emerald green eyes.

What else did the guy say…?

He knew why Mandelson appeared interested in him. It was because he looked like his deceased wife. And he said that he was not the first. And…the others had gone missing? That could not be true, could it? Surely, something like that would have been noticed.

Although, High Lagaard was a city that catered to explorers and adventurers. People could and would disappear all the time. And if he only targeted explorers, no one would bat an eye.

"Hey Cass, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Do you know anything about someone called Mandelson?"

An unrestrained look of annoyance appeared on Cass' face. "Eh? What's to know about that pompous know-it-all? Talks out of his ass. He disappeared for a few months after his wife died, though I'm not sure from what, but returned to the dating scene recently. A viscount or something. Has a good reputation with those elite folk, though. From what I know." He ended his mild rant with a forced nonchalant shrug. "Why?"

Flavio folded his arms atop of the bar. "Apparently, I look like his deceased wife."

Cass stared at him silently for a moment, before he burst out laughing, slapping his hand upon the bar. "Bwahahaha! Yer do look like the lass!"

Flavio sighed and his shoulders drooped forward. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

So, it was true. He truly did look like her. He wondered if there was a photo of her somewhere up there on that wall, too.

"Yer only share appearances, though," Cass revealed. "That gal, Wioleta Sidero, was as bitter and pompous as the night is dark. A typical lady of the elite, yer know? Me, myself, and I. How she ensnared a man, I'd never know."

Flavio tilted his head to the side in curiosity. "Oh?"

That certainly was not what Mandelson said when they first met. In fact, it was the total opposite. But then again, he was married to her. Of course he would paint her in a different light.

Wait…Sidero? That was something else Mr Conspiracy Theorist mentioned. A name. Something about them…being too powerful? What did that mean? They were Wioleta's family?

"Of course, I wouldn't know what the lass was like," Cass sniffed, indignant. "I'm a simple commoner. A dirty tavern owner, mixing with even dirtier explorers. Such a peasant."

Ah, sounded like Cass had a run in or two with Wioleta.

"Not a pleasant family, I assume?"

Cass' expression unexpectedly shifted in a reserved, stoic one. His gaze fixed on Flavio as he reached for a glass and began to idly clean it with a cloth. "You met the man?"

Flavio was taken aback by the change in demure of the usually jovial man. "Accidentally. Like I said, I apparently look like his deceased wife."

"It might be best if you avoid the guy," Cass said, structured as a suggestion, but clearly not one. "He's a strange one."

Flavio's curiosity was piqued. He wanted to press for more information, wanted to know why Cass was cautious, perhaps even suspicious about the man. Yet, something told him that Cass was being that way for a reason. Perhaps he had no concrete proof. He was open about his distain about him and his wife previously. Cass was never the type to spread or indulge in idle gossip.

But, clearly, something about that man unnerved him. He just did not know why. Or did not have the evidence to explain why.

When Cass was called away by another patron, Flavio slumped against the bar and rested his forehead against his folded arms.

What was going on? Who was that man, that conspiracy theorist? And who was Mandelson really?

More importantly, who was the one sending the flowers, the one who had burnt down the restaurant? And what would they do next? If they were willing to burn down a building, uncaring of who was inside, what would they do next? Rather, who would they target next?

He needed to have a conversation with Fafnir. He needed to tell him everything. And soon. But…where to start? Fafnir was the first of his concerns, but the least of his worries. Still, he would not be the slightest bit happy when Flavio finally explained to him everything that had happened. Not that he could blame him.

He…had to tell him. He could not handle it on his own anymore.

An arm wounding around his back caused Flavio to jolt his head upright and he quickly looked to his right. For some inexplicable reason his vision was blurry and his head hurt from a mild headache. But he immediately recognised the figure next to him, and he instantly relaxed, leaning against Fafnir.

"There's something else," Fafnir unexpectedly said. "I thought it was Regina overworking you at the restaurant, but I see it's something else."

Flavio stilled; his breath caught in his throat. It was time to make his decision. He could say no, everything was fine. Pretend that he could continue to endure his fears on his own. Or tell him. Tell Fafnir everything. And burden him with his fears.

"I'm sorry."

Fafnir sighed and pulled him closer. "So, there is something you've been keeping from me."

Flavio winced. That…that held such negative connotations. But…he supposed it was true. He was keeping things from Fafnir. Withholding information. Keeping secrets.

He just…

Flavio slipped off the barstool and hugged Fafnir tightly, pressing his face into the nook of his shoulder. "After…after what happened at Ginnungagap, I didn't want to bother you. You have so much going on. So much more to worry about. I didn't want to add to your stress."

Fafnir immediately folded his arms around him. "You've always been like this. But…I really scared you back at Ginnungagap, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you really did."

More than mere words could say.

Flavio lifted his head from Fafnir's shoulder, but kept his gaze downwards, gazing at nothing in particular. "This…this is a little different. I…have a lot to tell you. And to show you. Back at the inn. Not here."

"Alright."

Fafnir took Flavio's hand in his and the two of them quickly made their way out of the bar, the walk silent and uneventful to the inn. From what Flavio understood at least. He was too busy panicking in his head. He knew that at some point he would have to tell Fafnir everything. He knew it. But that did not mean he wanted to or knew how to.

How did one even begin such a conversation?

Flavio barely registered entering the inn. He only realised that they had in fact returned when they stood outside of his room, and he had instinctively dug around in his pockets for his keys.

His hands shook slightly as he slid the key into the lock and opened the door. He unconsciously looked down at the floor, searching for another possible letter or note. Thankfully, there was none. For the time being.

He may get one later tonight, however.

"Flavio, what's going on?" Fafnir asked as he locked the door.

Flavio did not immediately respond. He walked over to his desk and knelt down. He decided to simply tug out the bottom drawer from the desk entirely instead of picking everything out one by one. He picked up the drawer and sat it atop of his desk, fishing out the folded pieces of cardboard first.

"What's all this?" Fafnir questioned as he picked up one of the notes. His expression twisted into confusion when he realised that it was the card from the first vase of flowers Flavio received.

"It started about a week ago," Flavio began. "You saw the first flowers. Do you remember? We thought they were sent to the wrong room. Because it mentioned beloved wife."

"Yeah, I remember that."

"I received more after that."

Fafnir picked up the other cards and began to read each of them. His confusion soon shifted into horrified realisation. Each card told a story. And it was not a happy, romantic one.

But there was one card that Flavio had not shown him yet. The latest card. The one from last night. He would…show him that card later. After he explained everything else. He had a lot to throw at him.

"You've been getting threatening notes?" Fafnir asked him, his tone tight with protectiveness. "For how long?"

Flavio hesitated. "A week."

"A week?!" Fafnir was already seething. "You should have told me the moment you got that threatening note!"

And Flavio had not told him everything or shown him the worst of it yet.

Flavio threw his hands up in front of him, apologetic and conceding to Fafnir's concern, to his anger. "I know. I know. You're right."

"Wait, so those flowers that were destroyed out the front of the inn that night?"

"Y-yeah, they were meant for me."

"Is there more?" Fafnir asked him.

And Flavio meekly nodded his head. He reached into the drawer and picked up the single item wrapped in the white handkerchief. He placed on the desk next to the notes, signifying that it was a 'gift' from the same sender.

Fafnir automatically reached for it and picked it up. But as he wrapped his hand around the object, he stilled. Although it was wrapped up in material, his instinctively knew what it was. The way his hand had folded around the hidden handle, the weight in his hand; he knew.

And his eyes widened.

He quickly peeled back the handkerchief to reveal the sliver knife. And, inexplicably, the way he had unfurled it, the blade ended up in the position that showed off Flavio's name meticulous etched into the steel.

"When did this…?"

Flavio honestly was not entirely sure. "A few days ago."

Fafnir pressed his lips together into a thin line as he set the knife down onto the desk. His movements were slow, restrained. Revealing his barely controlled anger. "It's the guy from the tearoom, isn't it?"

Flavio shook his head. "No. He's not the one sending the flowers."

"How can you-?"

"He's the one sending the letters."

Fafnir furrowed his brow before his eyes widened and he whipped around to face him. "Letters? There's more?"

Flavio turned back to the drawer and fished out the letters. There were only a couple, but he knew that revealing them would lead to him having to explain who Mandelson was.

Predictably, as Fafnir read the notes, his face creased into a deep scowl. "Mandelson…?"

"He's a Viscount," Flavio began. "A man of the gentry. Apparently, I look like his deceased wife."

"You what?"

Flavio nodded his head skittishly. "Y-yeah, his dead wife. He's been popping up everywhere since then. In the street, at the restaurant."

Fafnir threw his hand up in front of him, a scowl still marring his features. "Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight; three. You have three stalkers? And you've been dealing with this, by yourself, this entire time?!"

Flavio winced at Fafnir's raised voice. And his choice of phrasing.

"God damn it, Flavio." Fafnir dragged a hand over his face as he began to pace the room. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Flavio swallowed thickly as tears began to pool along his lashes. Fafnir was mad. Furious. And he had every right to be. Unleashing all of that on him at once made Flavio himself realise just how much he had been keeping to himself. It was ridiculous the number of secrets he had been keeping. And it was unfair of him to throw it upon Fafnir all at once.

How could he be so stupid!

"I just wanted to make happy memories with you," he whispered. "I didn't want to be a burden."

"I should have noticed something sooner," Fafnir unexpectedly stated. "The locked door, the closed curtains, the loss of weight. It's so obvious now."

N-no, Fafnir should not blame himself. The fault laid entirely with Flavio. Everything was his fault. It was all because of him.

"There's one more thing," Flavio barely managed to choke out. "Th-the restaurant. It's my fault."

Fafnir paused mid step to look at him, complete confusion on his face. "What do you mean?"

Flavio turned and picked up the last remaining note in the drawer and shakily handed it to Fafnir. He backed away slowly to stand by his bed as Fafnir read it the words.

An unexpected growl simmered from Fafnir's throat as his hands tightened around the note. "That bastard…"

"It's my fault," Flavio said.

Fafnir snapped his head up to look at him. "Flavio…"

Flavio tried to blink back the tears, to clear his vision. Instead, the tears fell from his lashes and rolled down his cheeks. And continued to do so, even as he hastily rubbed them away with the heels of his palms. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea any of this would happen. They were just minor inconveniences at first. They were just notes and letters. How was I to know that someone would go from leaving flowers to burning down a building? That's one hell of a leap to make!"

Who would do that? Who would make that leap in logic?

"But things have escalated so quickly. The guy with the knife, the restaurant…those things happened in the last twenty-four hours. Before that, it was just notes. Letters. Flowers. Something I could ignore. Something that could have been ignored. Forgotten. But I can't ignore this. I can't brush this off."

He wished he could. God, he wished he could. He wished he could just sweep it all under the rug and pretend that nothing was wrong. That he could just go about his life as normal. Go back to exploring the labyrinth, back to working in the restaurant. Back to being normal.

"I…I don't know what to do. I can't deal with this. We shouldn't have to deal with this. I don't know what I did to deserve-"

"That's enough!"

Flavio found himself brought into Fafnir's arms, folded into a tight, desperate embrace. With one strong arm around his waist and another around his shoulders, he fell against Fafnir willingly, welcoming the hug as he needed his touch, his support more than ever.

He rested his chin on Fafnir's shoulder, blearily looking up at the ceiling through tear-laden eyes as his arms slipped around to clutch at Fafnir's back, his fingers desperately curling around the material of his clothing.

"I'm sorry," Flavio whispered.

"It's not your fault," Fafnir insisted as he nuzzled his head against Flavio's. "You've done nothing wrong."

"The week of celebrations, the dinner party, after what happened in Ginnungagap," Flavio murmured. "I didn't want to bother anyone."

Fafnir sighed. "We really need to do something about your selflessness."

"Are you mad?"

"Very."

"At me?"

"A little," Fafnir confessed, which was honestly understandable. "But mostly at myself, but definitely at those bastards responsible."

The tightness of Fafnir's arms around him promised that he would go to any length necessary to find them and make them pay for all the pain and suffering they had inflicted upon Flavio. But, more importantly, his arms, his embrace promised that he would do whatever it took, come hell or high water, to keep Flavio safe.

That latter promise was all that Flavio wanted. He did not care whether they found the three responsible. They could disappear into the ether to never be seen or heard of again as far as he was concerned. He could live with not knowing what happened to them. As long as everyone was safe.

Flavio turned to lay his cheek upon Fafnir's shoulder, allowing his forehead to rest against Fafnir's chin. "You're going to tell the others, aren't you?"

Fafnir drew idle circles on Flavio's shoulder with his thumb. "They need to know."

"Do you think they'll blame me for what happened at the restaurant?" That was his greatest fear, honestly.

"That wasn't your fault," Fafnir stressed.

"I was the reason."

"That was out of your control."

Flavio supposed so. Still, he could not be there when the truth was revealed. He did not want to see their faces, their shocked expressions. He would not be able to bear it. He would rather be oblivious to their resentment and anger than witness it firsthand.

"I can't be there when you tell them."

Somehow, in some way, Fafnir hugged him closer. "It's alright. I'll gather everyone into my room. Just next door. Later. But, for now. I'm staying here. With you. We'll get through this, Flavio. Everything will be ok."

Flavio closed his eyes and nodded.