The sincerity in the half-elf's voice was infectious, and it chipped away at the woman's firm exterior. It helped that Lynn's comments resonated with Diana, who'd known Garreth so long that she was aware of that side of him. Slumped against her chair, she mulled over the decision to use her as the sacrificial lamb to save the branch's ace. Although initially sold on the idea, the woman was now indisposed to take such drastic measures.

  Regardless of her personal feelings on the issue, though, she knew it had to be done.

  Undeterred, she cleared her throat and wore a solemn countenance. "Sounds like you really respect your partner."

  "I-I didn't mean to get ahead of myself. But... yes, I respect him very much..."

  "In that case, I'll be frank with you, agent: Garreth is about to be thrown to the wolves. It's been a month since the factory incident, and the Ministry of Magickal Affairs still hasn't gotten a proper explanation for it. So... to appease the populace, they're planning on assigning the blame to your partner."

  "E... eh?"

  "Right now, the evidence at hand supports it, especially following your daring escapade tonight."

  "W-w-wait a minute, but he's innocent!"

  "It doesn't appear that way to the top dogs. And they're the ones who call the shots, not me. So unless you have definitive proof that your partner wasn't responsible, he's on the fast track to being locked up—or worse, executed. It's guilty until proven innocent."

  "That's just... cruel..."

  "There is one way to save him, though."

  Ears perked up, the half-elf's face lit up. "T-there is?!"

  "Yes, but it comes at a steep price."

  "What is it?!"

  And Diana looked her square in the eyes. "You need to claim sole responsibility for the explosion."

  "H... huh?" Shocked, Lynn lowered her head and squeezed her thighs.

  "If you want to protect your partner, you need to take the fall, Lynn. It's the only way."

  "W-why... me..?"

  "Because not only were you present in every incident involving Garreth thus far, but—"

  "—I'm a half-elf..."

  "Exactly. Glad you're quick on the uptake. The ministry will see it as a satisfactory elucidation of the otherwise vague string of events that took place that faithful day in the steel plant."

  Swallowing hard, the half-elf lifted her gaze. "What did Garreth say about it?"

  "He refused to give you up, which is why I want you to pull the trigger on yourself."

  "I... I..."

  "Well, I'll give you two some time to discuss it. Remember, though, Garreth's life hangs in the balance here. A war veteran of the Daemonic Wars, one of the Bureau of Magickal Affair's best, the Direwolf of Blackmoor, and, as you said, an all-around good person. You're dismissed, agent."

  As Lynn left the office, the chief's parting words played over and over again in the back of her mind like a broken record. Spotting her partner standing in the corner, she trotted over to him. Much like herself, he appeared deep in thought. Wordlessly, Garreth buried his hands in his pockets and beckoned the half-elf with a swing of his shoulder. Together, they descended the stairs of the mostly vacant building, with the man at the forefront.

  At the lobby, a few uniformed personnel who'd turned up before the crack of dawn to deal with the aftermath of their chase glanced over at Garreth and Lynn. Sheila, the catlady receptionist who was also among the early workers, peeked at the two agents from behind her desk, her puffed-up tail curled around her waist. As the man was about to leave with his partner, he turned to her and waved. "Good morning, Sheila. Keep up the good work."

  And the feline girl blinked, stunned by the uncharacteristically kind greeting. "Y-you too, Garreth..! And Lynn, as well!"

  Outside, the air was frigid. Holding onto her scarf, the half-elf was blindsided by the near-freezing gusts of wind, her and her partner's puffs visible in the chill. Although it was the middle of autumn, temperatures were virtually winter-level cold. Even in their mufflers, Garreth and Lynn felt underdressed for the weather. Shifting their attention toward the damaged car they had driven back here, the two agents exchanged glances and took refuge in the vehicle.

  Leather seats squeaked inside, and the pair shut their doors simultaneously.

  "Surely Diana will forgive us for operating the automobile in this state," the man reasoned while trying to avoid the subject that hung over their heads. "It's a weather emergency, after all."

  "Mm..."

  With a twist of the ignition key, the vehicle sped away into the transient night. Along the drive, the world outside seemed distant, muffled by the pounding of the engine and the swirling thoughts that crowded both agents' minds. Electric streetlights cast fleeting shadows across the streets, but neither Garreth nor Lynn paid them any notice. Between them was a grave silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the automobile's suspension as it rumbled over the roads of granite.

  "Where are we headed?" Subtly, the half-elf's hands trembled as she gripped her scarf tightly, yet it wasn't the nip in the air that made her shiver.

  Fingers flexing around the steering wheel, the man glanced at his partner. "I know this park nearby. Not a lot of people go to it. It's the perfect place to smoke... and talk."

  "You sure like smoking a lot."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "You know, after a talk like that, I could go through an entire pack." He shifted his gaze back to the route, the headlights illuminating the gravel path ahead. By the time they reached the park entrance, the sky had brightened considerably. Daybreak was approaching. Skidding to a halt nearby beneath a grove of trees, Garreth cut the engine. "Alright, we're here, kid. Just give me a minute; I need to find the fresh box of cigars I got. Should be in the glove compartment somewhere."

  "Mm, I'll wait outside." Lynn gave him a small nod and disembarked, her boots crunching against the grassy path and breath rising in soft clouds.

  As the man rummaged through his glove box for his pack of smokes as he always tended to do, his knuckle brushed against a familiar shape. Fishing it out, he was surprised to find an old handgun of his.

  "So that's where I put this," he thought to himself, appraising the weapon.

  It was a standard issue single-action service revolver, the same model the half-elf used in the steel plant incident. Garreth remembered receiving it two years ago. He'd never used it once, given its volatility in zones. In open areas, it was exceptionally useful, but crooked magi rarely tended to avoid such locations. Upon further inspection, all six chambers were still loaded with mithril rounds. Wrapping his fingers around the grip, he took aim with his glass eye shut.

  "Hard to imagine this small thing was what escalated the incident."

  And that was when the man recalled what Isaac Holstein said on the bridge. It was at that moment everything clicked into place; the dots finally connected for Garreth. Every abnormality, every complication, every detail that irked him, it all made sense. Sweat dewed his forehead as his mind raced through the soul-crushing possibility that the answer was standing right there in front of him this whole time—currently by the wrought-iron gates that opened into the park.

  Furtively, he pocketed the six-shooter and searched for his box of cigars so as not to arouse suspicion. And minutes later, he strolled up to Lynn, whose freckled nose and cheeks had taken on a rosy complexion. "Sorry to keep you waiting, kid. Got caught up trying to find my cigar cutter."

  "A... a cigar cutter? You bought another smoking tool?"

  "Well, yeah. Pocket knives don't exactly produce a clean cut."

  "I-is that so?"

  "Setting that aside, I think it's about time we discuss what Diana talked about, don't you think?"

  "Y-yeah..."

  Beyond the weathered gates bearing a sign that read 'Ontherio Park' and up winding cobbled roads, they sauntered abreast.

  Here and there, a few stubborn lamps blinked weakly, their gaslit glare flickering across the skeletal branches of the oaks and elms lining the leaf-carpeted, stone-laden walkways wet with the dew of the retreating autumn night and glistening in the nascent light. To their right was the River Themris, another side of the waterway—its surface was markedly less polluted in this remote part of the city.

  Gaze heavy with purpose, the man stared straight ahead. Clutching the edges of her coat, the half-elf shuffled beside him.

  Eventually, Garreth sparked the conversation, still facing the path ahead. "So. What did Diana say?"

  Lynn wavered, her breath misting in the cold. She glanced at her partner out of the corner of her eye, searching for something—comfort, perhaps, or reassurance—but found only his steely profile. "She... she told me to give myself up to save you."

  "And your answer?"

  "I... I don't know..."

  "Not willing to give up your life for mine?"

  "T-that's not it... it's just..."

  "No hard feelings, kid. I didn't expect you to go that far for me."

  "If... if I did turn myself in, then... innocent elves and half-elves would suffer in the long run. I'd be another reason for the public to turn against my people."

  "I see. You're not wrong there."

  "I also have people waiting for me back home. I... I can't let them down."

  "You thought this through, haven't you, kid?"

  "I-it's just plain wrong. All of this is wrong. This shouldn't even be happening to begin with. You saved countless lives, and this is how they treat you?"

  "No good deed goes unpunished," the man uttered, shrugging. "That's the price we pay as government agents. Remember when I said playing hero isn't in the cards for us? This is what I meant."

  "It still isn't fair..."

  Catching a glimpse of her pursed lips, Garreth scratched his head. "Say, kid, far be it from me to say this, but why'd you even join the Bureau? I feel like your old job back at the police force is more your style. If you're in it for the pay, I don't know how to tell you this, but it's just not worth it."

  "T-the pay is good, sure... but... that's not why I joined."

  "It's not?"

  "I joined because I had the opportunity to be the change I wanted to see."

  "Meaning?"

  "I... I'm the only one of elven descent in this department, aren't I? To a lot of folks, that means something. As long as I'm here, I figured I could show people that there exist elves who are willing to protect the people from the magicks they cultivated. I thought... maybe if I worked hard enough and joined, I could make a difference. O-obviously, it hasn't been going well, but, well, it could be worse..."

  "You say that, but didn't someone in the ministry specially choose you?"

  "Isn't that how all agents are picked, though?"

  "This is an elite government agency, kid. Do you seriously think they let anybody join? There are months of rigorous training and examinations potential candidates have to undergo. You pretty much cut straight to the finish line."

  "Huh..? T-that's weird. The official letter I received stated my work in the force was enough for me to join..."

  And that was what set the man off.

  Stopping dead in his tracks, Garreth left Lynn to aimlessly wander forward.

  From where he stood, he whipped out the revolver from his pocket. In a cruel twist of irony, it was the same model that kicked things into motion. Gandering at it one last time, the man raised the firearm and drew a bead on the half-elf in front of him. With his thumb, he pulled down the hammer and cocked the gun, the mechanical click echoing through the quietude of the park—a sound that snapped Lynn out of her daze and caused her ears to twitch.

  And she swung around to face the man and flinched, staring down a barrel pointed directly at her.

  "G-Garreth?" Bewildered, she froze where she stood, her voice tinged with confusion and growing fear. "What are you..?"

  "You know, I've been thinking. About a lot of things, really. For instance, who exactly transferred you to our division and why? Why is it that you, with no training, were specifically sent to be my partner? How is it that you were dispatched to the one case that was guaranteed to fail? And most damning of all..." His chin jutted, Garreth tightened his grip around the hand cannon. "How did Isaac Holstein know your real name?"

  Initially, there was only stillness, an almost imperceptible pause in the air, as if the world itself had stopped to hold its breath.

  Then, unexpectedly, came small, illusive flakes drifting down from the leaden skies.

  It was an early snowfall—a spectacle brought forth by the heavens as though the ether had parted to drape Wenton in ephemeral opulence. Sunbeams broke through the dead treetops, igniting the wintry precipitation into a dazzling flurry of light. And morning had unceremoniously arrived.

  Bathed in the glow of dawn, Lynn and Garreth locked gazes.

  Though only a few paces separated them, the space between them felt impossibly vast,

  And the first snow of autumn paled in comparison to the frigid winds that swept between them, carried not by the weather but by the icy glare in the man's unyielding eyes.