The drive back through Windsor's evening streets left Acacia conflicted about Sirius Trafalgar. Here was a technological titan of the Tachyon Empire, the innovative genius behind half their military's weapons and mechanics, a man whose past and present achievements bordered on legendary—yet he carried himself with such…eccentricity.

  No, eccentricity understated the matter entirely.

  The sheer number of bewildering interactions had increased exponentially, leaving the Irregular thoroughly unsettled. In the mere hours he'd known his self-proclaimed "father-in-law" (as Sirius insisted on reminding him), it became clear that the man operated entirely outside conventional social boundaries. His boisterous personality and unrestrained displays of affection felt alien to someone accustomed to ostracism and isolation. The saying "never meet your heroes" had never rung quite so true.

  Yet Acacia couldn't bring himself to truly dislike the man. His achievements spoke for themselves, and beneath his zealous exterior lay an unmistakable wisdom and reliability. Before their meeting, Acacia had viewed him as the pinnacle of what an inventor should be. That image hadn't entirely shattered, but he certainly didn't adore the man when those crushing hugs and endless head pats seemed to materialize from nowhere.

  At least Leila and Eleanor provided some grace to balance the chaos. They were, as he'd noted earlier, quite the sight for sore eyes.

  Such ruminations occupied Acacia's mind as the white limousine glided through Windsor's sunset. The chauffeur maintained his professional silence, which suited him perfectly. The quiet offered necessary space to meditate on the week's extraordinary developments.

  But something felt wrong.

  Isn't this traffic excessive? We've barely moved in almost an hour…

  While he had limited experience with urban congestion, having spent most of his life in the shady ghettos of Ocarina, even this level of gridlock seemed unusual. He leaned toward the window to investigate, but the chauffeur immediately urged him back, a request he followed after some resistance.

  "What's going on out there? Why aren’t we moving?"

  The chauffeur cleared his throat.

  "Just typical rush hour congestion, sir. Most workers are returning home around this time. My apologies, Mr. Belmont, but I'm uncertain when we'll break free of this gridlock. We appear to be thoroughly trapped."

  A glance at his watch confirmed it: 6:30 PM. It seemed plausible enough, Acacia considered.

  "I think I’ll just take it from here. Based on our location, it should take no more than ten minutes to walk home."

  "How can you be so certain of that estimation, Mr. Belmont?"

  "I just visualized the city in my head. It took only about a few seconds." Acacia replied offhandedly as he scanned the roadside. Indeed, it would only take a simple sprint up the road and then take a turn for him to return home according to his calculations.

  The chauffeur studied him for a long moment before speaking. "I see. No—wait. The darkness presents considerable danger! Thieves often prey upon solitary travelers in this area. It would be unconscionable of me to allow Lord Trafalgar's guest to risk such peril. Please, at least wait until traffic clears!"

  "One of the Empire's safest cities harbors an abundance of thieves during rush hour?" Acacia's brow furrowed as he settled back into his seat. "Look, I can handle myself. It's a mere ten-minute walk. What's the worst that could happen? And if my safety concerns you so deeply, I've already transferred twenty Stella Domina to your account." A small smirk played at his lips as he noted how Eleanor's business acumen had begun to influence him. "Return home and report that you've escorted me this far. No sense in you waiting another hour in this goofy traffic."

  The chauffeur seemed poised to object but finally nodded, his white-gloved hands tightening on the steering wheel until knuckles showed through the fabric.

  "Well, I'm off. Thanks for the ride," Acacia lazily spoke, jumping out of the limousine and dashing through the sidewalk as only the street and car lights illuminated his pathway. He recalled Sirius and Leila teaching him to transfer funds between accounts, though permission was required before accessing their seemingly bottomless reserves. Given their excessive spare capital, Leila had insisted it would help with incidental expenses.

  This truly is a family of eccentrics, he mused. All that money would be better invested than wasted on a chauffeur who'll burn fuel waiting for nothing.

  It took little time to reach the intersection where four paths diverged. But from the rightmost route, an unexpected voice called out.

  "Excuse me... mister?"

  The feminine voice was young, especially childlike. Acacia turned toward its source and felt his blood run cold. A girl sat beneath a dim lamp post, her small hands clasped in her lap with unnatural stillness. His breath caught when he realized she was staring directly at him, though at least five meters of darkness separated them. Something about her fixed gaze sent ice crawling down his spine.

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  Yet her appearance made his heart stop entirely.

  Blood. So much blood.

  It painted her in grotesque patterns—matting her hair, staining her clothes, transforming what must have been a pristine dress into a canvas of horror. She shifted slightly, demonstrating she could still move, suggesting none of her visible wounds were immediately fatal. But the way she held herself, the terrible symmetry of her pose... it spoke of something deliberate. Something wrong.

  Acacia took an involuntary step forward, his body moving before his mind could process the warning signals screaming through his nerves.

  Pure panic flooded the girl's small frame. There was nothing tangible about the feeling she emanated, yet it struck Acacia like a physical blow. His throat constricted as he forced himself to take another step, finally able to see her clearly in the sickly lamplight.

  Her sundress—once pristine white, a symbol of childhood innocence—now told a story of violence in shades of crimson and dirt. The fabric hung in strategic tatters, revealing carefully placed injuries that seemed almost artfully arranged. Both her legs and arms bore precise patterns of blood spatter, as if each drop had been deliberately placed.

  "...Ah?"

  The sound escaped him without permission—a pitiful response to the nightmare before him. The girl began stumbling toward him with the jerky movements of a broken marionette with each step forcing Acacia deeper into his growing sense of unreality.

  "Hey! Can you hear me?!" he called out, desperate to pierce the surreal horror of the moment. "What happened to you?! Are you alright?!" The last question felt absurd even as he asked it, but watching her continue her unnatural approach, gaze locked onto him with a terrible intensity, gave him the courage—or perhaps the madness—to persist.

  "Can...can you move?!"

  "Y-yes. I-I-I'm okay."

  No, you're not! Nobody I've ever seen who's remotely okay is drenched in their own blood!

  The coppery scent finally reached his nostrils, confirming the horrific reality before him. "I have a cellphone—I'll call the police... or an ambulance! Y-yes! You need an ambulance!" His fingers fumbled with his pocket as “panic” began to override reason.

  "Nononononono!" The girl's frantic cry shattered the night. Her arms flailed in desperate patterns as she fixed Acacia with the most haunted expression he'd ever witnessed on a human face. "P-please no! Not the ambulance, not the police. Please... I-I-I need your help... No one else... my daddy told me that he didn't want anybody else to know..."

  "...Did he do this to you? Did he?" Acacia gestured toward her wounds. "That's why you won't let me call for help?"

  The girl's silence spoke volumes. Pain etched itself across her features in exquisite detail as tears cut clean trails through the blood on her cheeks. "Please... help me." She forced a smile that looked more like a wound. "If you don't, I'll have to do this alone... But that's pretty scary."

  "I'll help you. But first—" Acacia raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture, "we need to stop the bleeding, or at least what remains of it."

  "Daddy left home for business in the city. I have supplies inside my house," she answered with unnatural quickness, as if she'd anticipated his exact words. "This is embarrassing, mister, but um... I'm scared. Walk with me, please."

  Her fingers latched onto his arm, and so, he summoned what he hoped was a reassuring smile and gently took her hand.

  "Are you sure you can walk? Maybe you should lean on me."

  "I-It'll be fine." She groaned with each step, face contorting in apparent agony. Acacia frowned at her stubborn independence but understood the need to maintain dignity even in such a broken state. So he let her lead, matching her halting pace.

  She directed their path through the city's growing shadows, indicating turns and alleyways with precise gestures that seemed oddly practiced. According to her, she lived in an apartment complex on Windsor's far side. At best, reaching it would take an hour, but given her condition, the journey stretched endlessly before them. Still, he didn't complain. They walked in silence, broken only by her gradually steadying breaths.

  After thirty minutes, darkness had fully claimed the city. Streetlights provided islands of sickly illumination, but something felt increasingly wrong. According to Acacia's mental map, they were nowhere near where they should be.

  "What's wrong? I gave you the directions, didn't I?" The girl suddenly asked, noticing his growing unease. "Did I make a mistake?"

  "...No, it's probably just the darkness affecting my sense of direction, but something feels off..." Acacia's frustration bled through as his arms crossed pensively. They'd reached what appeared to be a dead end. Only the distant sound of windmills broke the unnatural silence.

  "Well, then in that case," the girl paused, drawing a deep breath as she squared her shoulders. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but it can't be helped."

  "It's okay, we'll just find another route. Don't worry—I'll make sure you get the care you need." He replied, turning his head away.

  "...Thank you. Seriously, thank you, mister. I have to know your name. No, I want to know."

  "Acacia. Acacia Belmont. And yours?"

  Silence descended like a blade. For one terrible moment, even Windsor's ever-present windmills seemed to hold their breath.

  And then—

  Heat.

  Unbearable heat.

  Scalding, burning, horrific heat concentrated into a point just behind Acacia's temple. A pinprick of thermal energy that could barely warm a fingertip on a normal night focused onto a single deadly point. The alley erupted in crimson light, painting the world in shades of blood and shadow.

  His head swiveled.

  The girl was gone.

  In her place stood something out of nightmare—auburn hair catching hellfire light, apricot eyes devoid of mercy or reason. This wasn't a victim seeking help but a predator who had cornered her prey. His fatal flaw had been falling for the succubus's trap.

  A mistake that would end his life in mere moments.

  “Malleus, Claw of the Bloodhounds.”

  A demented grin split the night.

  "You were just unlucky. Bye."

  The flame burst.