The local government center dominated the street, a three-story monument to bureaucratic power. Its white facade gleamed in the morning sun, housing a first-floor bank where subjects collected their money, while the second and third floors contained government offices for taxes, income reporting, and legal matters. The second floor also maintained records of past cases and housed an information desk for subjects seeking guidance. The building represented Windsor's administrative heart, a modern marvel of architecture befitting the City of Windmills.

  "It’s like everywhere we go, we see crazier and crazier buildings." Acacia marveled in awe, somewhat shell-shocked at the number of wonders he had witnessed in the past few days.

  "This is Windsor's city hall. The town hall isn't far, but we should hurry. Registration is on the second floor." Pandora strode toward the entrance, her pace brooking no argument.

  The Irregular followed, entranced by the vast lobby. It was like stepping into one of the museums he'd read about in Ocarina's public library. Sunlight poured through the glass ceiling, painting everything in crisp morning light. He watched a subject enter to withdraw cash, wondering how many others had stood here, awestruck by this architectural testament to Windsor's prosperity. The contrast with Ocarina's utilitarian structures—all stone, brick, and practical concrete—couldn't have been starker. Here, expensive metals and materials weren't luxuries but standard building blocks.

  "Stop spacing out. We don't have time for sightseeing," Pandora called, waiting by the escalators.

  The boy snapped out of his stupor. "Oh, sorry! Let's go, then!"

  "Seriously…shouldn’t you be more concerned about this than me?" She muttered, brow furrowing with familiar exasperation.

  The duo ascended to the second floor, where a receptionist awaited them. Professional and poised, she greeted Pandora with clear recognition—their visit had been anticipated.

  "Greetings, High Inquisitor Kircheisen. The room is prepared. First door on your right after turning left. Please bring the subject with."

  So it seems she has turned off the disguise spell now. Acacia remarked internally.

  Pandora acknowledged the receptionist with a curt nod before leading them to the designated room. Inside, an elderly man rose immediately to greet them, his movements carrying the weight of bureaucratic authority.

  "High Inquisitor Pandora Kircheisen; what an honor to meet someone of such prestige. I am Christoff Maximus." He extended his hand to which Pandora accepted with professional courtesy. "And this must be our guest of honor?"

  "Good morning, Mr. Maximus." Her handshake was decorous, though Acacia caught its insincerity. "This is my client, Acacia Belmont. He seeks subjecthood in the Tachyon Empire."

  "Well, well, well, what a wonderful development." Christoff's naturally stern expression bore into Acacia's eyes. "Acacia Belmont, was it?" His hand remained extended. "An unusual name, yet beautiful nonetheless. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young man."

  Acacia paused, searching for any malice in the administrator's demeanor but finding none. Quickly, before his hesitation became noticeable, he returned the handshake with matching firmness.

  "Likewise, Mr. Maximus."

  "Please, be seated." Christoff settled behind his desk as they took their places opposite him. "Now then, tell me about Acacia's origins. What brings him to Windsor? Any notable lineage or guardians we might contact? What necessitates this subjecthood application?" He produced a notebook and pen, ready to document their responses.

  Pandora launched into their prepared narrative devoid of hesitation. Acacia mentally rehearsed the story they'd constructed, each detail crystallizing in his mind.

  "Acacia comes from the Wallachian Empire. He’s distant cousin of mine, in fact. I only learned of his existence weeks ago when my adoptive father’s cousins mentioned him in passing. They spoke of how his entire family—the Belmonts, distant relatives of the Kircheisens—perished in a recent atrocity in central Wallachia."

  Christoff's eyes widened at the mention of the Wallachian Empire. Despite centuries of rivalry between the Four Great Hegemonies, Wallachia and Tachyon had forged a full alliance in the aftermath of World War III. Their shared bloodlines had finally overcome ancient enmities, though this détente was barely two decades old. Wallachian foreigners remained rare enough in the Empire to draw notice, yet Christoff maintained his professional composure.

  "What was the event?" Christoff's pen hovered over his notepad.

  Pandora's expression remained perfectly controlled, while Acacia maintained the same careful composure he'd shown during their initial rehearsal. "As he is my relative, I'll spare his dignity by keeping details minimal." She paused, crafting the perfect semblance of restrained grief. "The Annerose Incident in Eichenstadt, the Empire capital."

  The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Christoff's pen clattered against his desk.

  "Is that... truly?"

  "Unfortunately so." Pandora maintained her performance as Acacia internally released a carefully held breath. "I confirmed it myself during my recent visit to Eichenstadt. Among the twenty noble families slaughtered, the Belmonts—despite their modest standing—were not spared. Acacia survived only by chance, away from home with friends when it happened. He's just fifteen, with no one else to turn to. I couldn't bear to leave him alone in Wallachia haunted by those memories. I brought him to Windsor, initially just for respite, but it seems he wishes to build a new life here. Having imperial subjecthood would ease that transition considerably."

  "How terrible... unconscionable..." Christoff set aside his writing implements as he shook his head

  The Annerose Incident had become infamous for being one of the most meticulously documented series of murders in recent memory. Though the initial toll of 68 victims across twenty noble families seemed almost modest by the standards of mass violence, the details defied logic. Every death occurred simultaneously at 8 PM, a fact that confounded local authorities until its central government recognized the implications… that only high-level Thaumaturgy could orchestrate such precise synchronization.

  The methodology was equally as haunting. Each victim's heart was extracted. Every male patriarch bore identical skull trauma as eight had their heads were carved with letters in Greek. Most disturbing were the roses, single blooms placed within the cardiac cavities, a signature that transformed random violence into a calculated message. The perpetrator left no trace, no evident motive beyond the theatrical display of power.

  If one were to rearrange the letters they wrote on the eight seemingly random chosen patriachs, only one coherent word would form.

  ????????????????, or, “Annerose.”

  As the incident's notoriety spread through both Empires, authorities could only conclude that this entity—dubbed "Annerose" by the masses—made a statement written in noble blood.

  "This is just horrible... absolutely horrible," Christoff muttered again, sweat beading on his brow as he studied Acacia. "How are you managing, young man?"

  “As fine as I can be,” The Irregular impassively replied, expertly selling the facade of a disillusioned child.

  Upon this rose, I swear that you shall not die.

  I’m just imagining it. It couldn’t have been him. Acacia fought to suppress the voice, even as certainty settled like lead in his stomach.

  "Given the circumstances, subjecthood seems the only humane option," Christoff said after a steadying breath. "However, we'll need to process the necessary documentation." He reached beneath his desk, producing a formidable stack of papers that tightened Acacia's throat. The administrator extended the folder and pen to Pandora, who accepted them gracefully.

  "I assume you're prepared to serve as Acacia Belmont's legal guardian?" Christoff asked, circling the desk to better facilitate the exchange.

  Pandora scanned the documents briefly before nodding. "Correct. I have no reservations about accepting such a responsibility."

  Relief visibly washed over the elderly man's features.

  "Thank goodness." He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief before redirecting his attention. "Young man, I'd like your thoughts on this arrangement. If you need more time in Windsor before committing to such a decision, we can certainly accommodate that."

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  "No, that won't be necessary." Acacia shook his head, careful to maintain the perfect balance between politeness and certainty. "This is clearly the better option, and I wouldn't want to waste your time with a provisional registration." A slight smile touched his lips. "Besides, I'd already accepted this path when I came here. I trust Pandora as my guardian. She's a good person." The words escaped before he could filter them.

  Pandora's eyes widened in genuine surprise.

  "Excellent to hear. You've clearly made the right choice." Christoff handed over the thick folder for processing. "Please complete these subjecthood application forms, and I'll prepare my official seal."

  The boy got up to grab the pen that was extended out by the man, then he took a seat in front of Pandora to fill out the document. He decided to go with the simplest and most truthful answers he could come up with. The questionnaire asked for a name, birthday, subjecthood status, origin, and his parents' names.

  Acacia accepted the offered pen, settling before Pandora to tackle the documentation. He opted for the simplest, most verifiable answers possible within their fabricated narrative. The questionnaire demanded basic details: name, birthday, subjecthood status, origin, parental information.

  Pandora handled the sections about her own information while Acacia focused on his portion:

  Acacia Belmont. Born: October 23rd, 402 E.V. Age: 15. Sex: Male.

  Status: Commoner. Birthplace: Eichenstadt, Wallachia.

  The remaining questions about occupation and relations seemed almost trivial in comparison to those fundamental declarations of identity.

  "This should conclude today's business, Lady Kircheisen. Thank you for your visit and please keep me informed of any developments." Christoff's smile had regained its professional warmth. "And Acacia Belmont," he turned, expression softening further, "I must apologize for my initial reservations. I'm ashamed to admit I judged you by appearance alone. I feared you might be one of those inbred monkeys from the Sugoroku Empire. Learning of your Wallachian heritage changes everything—it makes perfect sense now. May the Convergence in the Lord's essence guide your path forward."

  Acacia wanted to point out how idiotic the man’s bigotry was, but he decided against it. Not only was he offering him the benefit of the doubt, but he seemed to genuinely believe the fabricated story that the two created. He couldn’t risk disbelief. Not now. Not ever. Even if it meant sucking up to the established order, he needed to stay on their good side.

  "I try to stay away from politics," he shrugged. "Though I've had plenty of people question my features, wondering where I'm 'actually' from. I usually attribute it to recessive genes or something similar." The fabrication left a sour taste, but his expression betrayed nothing.

  Christoff chuckled as he was oblivious to the deception. "Quite the genetic curiosity indeed. Now then, here's the document ready for my seal. Please have it stamped and validated at the front office."

  "Thank you very much, Mr. Maximus." They exchanged final handshakes, the bureaucratic dance complete.

  "The pleasure was all mine. I trust Windsor will prove welcoming."

  Christoff held the door as they exited, leaving them to navigate back toward the government office's front desk.

  Pandora cast him a sideways glance, nodding almost imperceptibly, a gesture that spoke volumes about his performance. Yet she maintained her silence. Were her hands bound? The employee at Seven Shades Technology had mentioned invisible security systems—[Bounded Fields]—protecting important buildings. If a mere tech store warranted such protection, surely the City Hall would be even more heavily guarded.

  Essentially, Pandora couldn’t talk freely, and not only that, they couldn’t do anything even the slightest bit deceptive as long as they were in the building. The nod was also to signal him to remain vigilant and keep his breathing and movements normal. He could understand at least that much.

  The duo made their way to the now-empty lobby, discreetly submitting the paperwork for processing in both Imperial and Provincial Systems.

  "He's not the smartest cookie in the jar, but he's got good intuition." She commented as soon as they left the building and Bounded Field. "You need to be careful about him. Don't tell him or anyone anything about your true past, or god forbid, inability to use Thaumaturgy. Just stick to the story and you should be fine."

  Acacia glanced up at the woman before the duo continued on their way, his body feeling the residual effects from all of the running they did this morning.

  "The problem is, I can't even comprehend how to fake having powers. It's nonsensical. Being an Irregular means my body physically can't control Prana—like some genetic defect. You all talk about Thaumaturgy like it's as simple as tying shoes, but my laces are literally burnt away."

  Pandora rolled her eyes.

  "Oh yes, what an impossible burden. Why don't you take a nice nap? Or perhaps enjoy some tea at a local café? I'll even offer my lap as a pillow." Sarcasm dripped from her words.

  Acacia sighed, releasing the issue with a measured breath. He knew it wasn't Pandora's fault he was born defective, and arguing about it was like asking a blind person to describe colors. It was an exercise in futility.

  "Well, if you don't want me to talk about it, then I won't."

  "You're approaching this from entirely the wrong angle. Perhaps in Ocarina, where violence lurked around every corner, you needed to fight to prove yourself. Windsor operates differently. More refinement, less brutality. You must avoid situations that could compromise you. No matter how prepared you are for conflict, avoiding it entirely is always the superior strategy. It's precisely because you're an Irregular that you must master avoidance. I'm surprised you haven't learned this already in that cesspool you escaped from."

  Acacia's sharp glare met hers. Was she patronizing him? He'd always been strategic about his confrontations, and now she was painting him as some mindless brawler?!

  “I know how to handle myself, thank you very much.”

  "You're remarkably defensive," Pandora observed coolly. "You're sharp, I'll grant you that. But you have an unfortunate tendency to act without thinking at the worst possible moments. When that happens, it's like watching someone release a bear from its cage—the results are never pretty."

  She raised her hands frustratingly.

  "This isn't a lecture. It's preservation. We still don't know Cagliostro's next move. If you become Windsor's latest sensation, this entire identity-erasure plan becomes worthless. Frankly, I'm not certain I can counter whatever absurdity he might attempt if he tracks us here."

  Was she actually trying to give him a pep talk? He wasn't exactly expecting the response, but it was certainly a surprise.

  "Keep your head down. Stay invisible. Don't attempt anything heroic or selfless that might draw attention." She paused, face hardening. "Not that I particularly care. Your survival is no longer my responsibility if your actions lead him to you." She stopped walking, turning to face him directly as the intensity of her gaze made him step back. "But you'd be doing me an enormous favor by avoiding unnecessary attention. I'd prefer not to see all my effort in saving your sorry existence go to waste."

  She was right. This had transcended his personal struggle. His actions now affected them both.

  He'd endangered her life and career the moment he'd begged for help with the execution.

  Because he continued to live, people around him would suffer.

  "I understand," he whispered, voice small.

  "Good." She resumed walking.

  After a few moments of weighted silence, Acacia spoke barely above a whisper. "Do you think... Gio's dad knows I'm here?"

  "It's difficult to determine," Pandora replied. "As patriarch of a San Corona Noble Family, he wields considerable wealth and connections. As I mentioned, our escape effectively broke the Ocarina IPA's resolve to pursue the case. With justice for Giovanni now falling under his personal jurisdiction, he can direct his resources toward less savory channels. Hitmen and assassins—though banned by federal law—are certainly within his reach now."

  Acacia audibly gulped, unable to get rid of the shaky feeling of waking up from his slumber to see an assassin slit his throat with Wind Thaumaturgy.

  “We’ve managed to misdirect him, but he can surely get back on track if he hires experienced criminal syndicates like Laughing Crown, the Bloodhounds, or—worst-case scenario—Trident. Groups like these are forces that even elude us Inquisitors. While it's documented that Pandora Kircheisen resides in Windsor, Mercutio vanished after World War III. Everything depends on whether he can connect those identities. If not, which seems likely, you're relatively safe. But if he makes that connection…”

  "We'd be in serious trouble," Acacia concluded.

  "Indeed." Pandora sighed. "But we'll discuss this further tonight." She stopped before an imposing department building across from City Hall, the Tachyon Coat of Arms prominently displayed above "Windsor Investigation Department." Through the windows, Acacia glimpsed professionals and detectives at work.

  So this was the domain of the famed High Inquisitor.

  "Time for work," she said, glancing down at him. "My office is here. Given my recent absence for your case, I'm uncertain when I'll finish today. You have the spare key I gave you this morning."

  "Should I head home then?" Acacia asked, uncertain about spending hours alone in an empty house.

  "If you wish. Though I had something else in mind." She pressed a handful of Stella Domina coins into his palm.

  "Oh?" His face remained blank for a moment before enthusiasm sparked in his eyes. "Is it something I can participate in? It doesn’t have to be exciting…I'm just not one for sitting idle in an empty house for hours."

  A faint smile touched Pandora's lips, carrying wisdom and mystery in equal measure. Acacia found himself suddenly, sharply aware that he stood before one of World War III's legendary heroes. This wasn't simply a young woman with an unexpectedly generous heart. This was Mercutio, Lord of Mercury, whose command of quicksilver had decimated entire enemy squadrons in the Eastern Theater.

  "Explore Windsor," she said simply. "Memorize every store, passage, building, and corner. It will prove useful sooner than you might think."

  "I can't memorize everything!" Acacia gawked.

  Pandora shrugged. "That's fine, it's not the most important thing. I'm sure you'll know the important details well enough, anyway. Just be careful where you wander, and make sure to be back before 8PM, when the sun starts to set. You're free to do anything that doesn't draw much attention to you nor exposes your identity as an Irregular."

  "Alright," Acacia sighed. He struggled to find the right words. Pandora had shifted from cold calculator to protective guardian, and the transformation left him unbalanced. It was strange to see her cycle through so many roles: Inquisitor, veteran Thaumaturge, and now this guardian figure. But life, he was learning, rarely followed predictable patterns.

  She sighed once more, offering a farewell wave tinged with knowing concern. "Have fun. Try not to die."

  "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He waved back casually, moving past the Investigation Department.

  A memory map. She's right about its utility if Gio's dad and his associates come hunting. But is it truly safe to wander Windsor alone?

  He wondered for a moment—insignificant in juncture—before dismissing the idea and heading out onto the streets.