Gambino Russo has had far better days.

  Tension sullied the air inside the grand living room of the Narma estate. Cagliostro Narma, the formidable patriarch of the family, sat upon an ornate throne-like chair. His piercing gaze surveyed the room. Marcella Narma, adorned in elegant attire, stood by his side, her countenance reflecting rancorous rage.

  Servants scurried about, their faces once placid, etched with trepidation, carrying trays of untouched refreshments. The atmosphere was palpable, charged with anticipation for the news that would soon reach them. The House of Narma had pulled strings, orchestrated bribes, and manipulated the system to ensure that justice would be served swiftly for their fallen son, Giovanni Narma. But the escape of Acacia had shattered their carefully crafted illusion of control.

  As the city teetered on the edge of pandemonium, Gambino found himself in the crosshairs of the Narma family’s wrath. His failure to execute Acacia, the escapee, threatened to expose the cracks in the carefully constructed facade of Ocarina's justice system. The Narma family’s influence had been temporarily compromised, and their thirst for retribution only intensified.

  In the living room, the clenching of Cagliostro's fist shattered the silence, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his fury. Marcella's eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of determination and vindictiveness as she exchanged a knowing glance with her husband. The time for leniency had passed. The Narma Family would not rest until their vengeance was exacted, and the city quivered in submission.

  “Lord Cagliostro and Madam Marcella, I have come to your behest as soon as I heard your summons!” Gambino hastily spoke as he entered the living room along with his subordinate Jonas, both bearing labored breaths.

  The two stood at the edge of the living room, a few feet away from Cagliostro and Marcella, who stood before their throne-like chairs. The former stared at them with an unsettling smile, while the latter’s expression burned with ire.

  “Why so anxious, Gambino? Sit down. You too Jonas. Please sit down as well. I have come to deliver good news.”

  “...Good news?” The IPA’s Head Chief uttered in confusion. “Wait, no! I have come for repentance! Please find it in your gracious and magnanimous hearts to forgive me and my incompetence! I wasn’t able to capture the Irregular! I failed in front of the whole city!”

  “I know.”

  “Then, how can this possibly be good news? You said that if I failed, you would blackmail and strip me of my position! So once again, I beg for your forgiveness! I beg you to spare me! Please, this is the only thing I have!”

  “Gambino Russo, you are not letting me finish.”

  Gambino looked up. Marcella gazed at him with utter disgust, but Cagliostro’s countenance remained the same.

  Unchanging. Unfeeling. Resolute.

  Yes, it was most accurate to say that his smile remained resolute.

  “The circumstances have changed. I never expected that Mercutio would aid an Irregular brat in escaping his rightful death. It is foolish to expect the IPA to deal with an opposition such as her.”

  “Wait—”

  “I am talking about High Inquisitor Pandora Kircheisen. She is Mercutio.”

  Gambino, stunned, sat down next to Jonas, whose face also displayed pure shock. Everything connected if that was the case. Pandora’s preservation of the truth, her disrespect for everything the IPA stood for, her insistence on wanting to see Acacia… everything made sense now. Her appearance even somewhat matched with what Mercutio was described as: silver hair and an exotic complexion.

  "Then High Inquisitor Kircheisen… is one of the most powerful Thaumaturges in the Empire." Gambino could barely contain his surprise.

  "Indeed. Mercutio is a powerful Thaumaturge and one of the most elite soldiers the Empire has ever crafted. As a major factor in helping us stalemate the Sugoroku Empire, it seems as though she pivoted careers to become a High Inquisitor of the Divine Court. She has never failed a case, which is typically unheard of even for the most experienced of them. To put it simply: this is a person who is too powerful for the IPA to deal with."

  Gambino’s blood ran cold.

  How does he know all of this? Did he plan for me to fail? No! That doesn’t make any sense! He wouldn’t have paid me all of that money and threatened to blackmail me if he already knew about how strong the woman was! This whole situation doesn’t make any sense!

  “You’re making such a scary face, Gambino. Are you dissatisfied, confused, perhaps angry, hmm?” Marcella goaded the man, seeing through his discombobulated thoughts with a devilish smirk.

  "My sincerest apologies, Lord Cagliostro and Madam Marcella. I did not mean to display such disrespect towards you all or the name of the House of Narma. I am simply confused by your words and actions. If I were in your position, I would be furious as well. But I cannot help but feel that your calmness is a facade of sorts, for this news of Pandora Kircheisen is too much for me to believe."

  Gambino tried to keep his voice calm. He tried to look at it from every angle possible, but he still could not see through Cagliostro Narma's intentions.

  “Ah, I suppose I cannot hide it anymore. If only you were this observant earlier this morning.” Cagliostro paused and exhaled slowly. He cast a piercing gaze at the two subordinates seated before him.

  “As soon as the Irregular escaped with Mercutio, I had already hired someone else to deal with the situation. He has quite the talent for information gathering, not to mention that he is also familiar with Mercutio. He informed me of his findings just an hour ago. According to him, the two left Ocarina, most likely via Elysium headed north toward a city by the name of Windsor. Say, Gambino, let’s use the Bloodhounds as an examp—”

  “One of the most notorious criminal syndicates in Desperado?!”

  Cagliostro's face contorted unsightly, clearly not liking being interrupted. Gambino was about to take another breath before the patriarch spoke once more, silencing him immediately.

  “They are efficient, ruthless, and powerful assassins. This is the perfect job for them.”

  The blood drained from Gambino's face. A wave a nausea washed over him.

  "If this is true, then what you are saying is that..."

  "Indeed. I hired the Bloodhounds to deal with the escaped Irregular."

  "But that means..."

  "I hope you have a good night's rest, for tomorrow will be the day that you will watch your career go up in flames."

  "W-What do you mean? I don't understand what you are saying, my lord!”

  Cagliostro lost his patience.

  “I offered you a contract. You accepted it. Why are you so surprised that when you failed, I performed the other part of the contract we agreed to?”

  “But this is just wrong! I can’t let you consult with evil! Even if it’s to avenge the late Young Lord, you can’t hire people like those—especially like the Bloodhounds!”

  "Are you implying that the Narma Family has done something wrong?" Marcella spat as her eyes furiously blazed. "Have we done anything wrong? No. We have not. We are the righteous ones, the ones that have the right to avenge our son's death. What did we do wrong? We simply hired people to do their jobs. Why is that a problem? What are you implying, that we are evil?"

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “No, but, the Bloodhounds can’t be trusted, even with their—”

  “Oi, oi, oi! I know I was supposed to appear earlier to have my super special appearance, but I reaallllyyy don’t like it when people talk shit about us.”

  The whole room fell silent.

  Everyone's attention focused on the voice that boomed from the corner of the room. A shadow loomed over Gambino, followed by a bright white light and a piercing glare. Gambino tried to look up, but the light was blinding. He felt a hand grab his throat and a knee just inches away from digging into his chest.

  The figure stood over Gambino like a demon.

  "I'm not as patient as Cagliostro. I prefer to beat people to a bloody pulp rather than talk it out. So, if you don't want me to beat the shit out of you, then keep your mouth shut. I'm only gonna tell you once, and you better listen up.”

  A shiver ran through Gambino as he saw the man's face for the first time.

  A hound.

  The man wore an impassive expression, his blood-red eyes glimmering with cold cruelty as his choppy jet-white hair followed suit. A devilishly handsome man, his body was a tapestry of countless years of subterfuge and war. His countenance was etched with a sense of intimidation and bloodlust that oozed from his pores. The hound stood with a posture of utter ease, as if he was about to go for a stroll around the park. He was clad in a dark gray cloak, adorned with a myriad of intricate sigils, complex gadgets, and sharp weaponry.

  "First of all, I'll tell you why you are such a failure. Your men couldn't even move fast enough to take out that boy. I would've told you my name, but then you'll get cocky and think that you can do a better job at tracking down the Irregular and be better than my Bloodhounds. We won't have that, will we?"

  Gambino couldn't find his voice.

  "That's right. I'll tell you my killing name. The name used in the Tachyon Empire? The name that strikes fear in men, that made the Sugorokus jump ship the moment they saw my shadow? I'll tell you. I’m Nemesis.” The white hound smiled, his crimson eyes glittering with anticipation as he saw the look of utter horror on Gambino's face. "If you want to say something, say it now. Because if I hear your voice talking shit about my Bloodhounds again, I'm going to pound that face into a pulp until it resembles the aftermath of a nuke.”

  Releasing him from his ironclad grip, the hound returned to the corner.

  Cagliostro cleared his throat, slightly displeased at the turn of these events.

  “I was going to formally introduce him, but this will suffice. This is Siegfried Eisenberg, leader of the Bloodhounds who are tasked with capturing the Irregular—preferably alive so we can have a formal execution—but bringing his head will also do. Since you have failed to meet your end of the bargain, Gambino, the only thing that awaits you is shame and unemployment. Farewell, former Head Chief of the IPA.”

  Cagliostro paused, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

  "If you do happen to find out anything else about Mercutio or her companion, make sure that you inform me immediately. Otherwise, you may leave. I have no further use for you."

  “...No.”

  “Hm?”

  Gambino looked up. His eyes burned, something akin to resolve reflecting in those sharp optics.

  "I said no. I will not abandon my duty. I am a member of the Imperial Police Association, and I will continue to uphold our justice system to the best of my ability. You may think that you hired a capable assassin to take care of the problem, but the Bloodhounds are known to be incredibly inhumane and morally bankrupt. You're simply putting your pride on the line by hiring them!"

  "Do you think that you have the right to challenge me and my decisions?"

  "I do not, Lord Cagliostro. But I have to stand up for what is right."

  "So you want to defy me? Where was all of this bravado and false confidence when I paid you money to go against your code? You were so quick to accept then. Truly, your ideology has no business being a factor in this.”

  "That's because the money was far too large. Now, I feel that my sense of justice is the most important factor here." Gambino did not flinch under the pressure of Cagliostro's glare. He knew that he had no choice but to stick to his principles.

  But unfortunately, Cagliostro Narma had enough.

  “Oh my god. Shut up already, you incompetent fodder. All you do is talk, cower, scream, cry, stand in fear, make excuses, and whine about the easiest of tasks, yet you still have the gall to talk about your sense of justice in my estate? Do you really think you are worth anything? You are just a common, weak pipsqueak who talks big when you are nothing more than a wretched cur that the universe decided to birth out of pity, and here you are trying to dissuade me from taking vengeance on my son’s death? I didn't realize that people like you existed in the Empire, but you've made me realize that there are indeed some. First Irregulars, and now incompetent law enforcement? Heavens, my city needs some culling. How did you manage to hold a job? Wait, did you have one? No. You couldn't have done anything worthwhile. I must say, the Centrum Supremum made a grave mistake in hiring you to be an officer. But perhaps it's all thanks to the system, or perhaps they didn't bother to do their due diligence before hiring you."

  Gambino was about to protest when Cagliostro slammed his fist into the arm of his throne. The resounding blow echoed throughout the room, making everyone flinch except for his wife.

  "Marcella, how long has it been since I have punished my civilians for insubordination? I believe it is time for us to change that. Gambino, you will not move from this spot, nor will you attempt to flee. Or else, I will personally gut you like a fish and hang your corpse out of the window to let all of the city see.” He paused, allowing Gambino to tremble in fear. “Now then. Take off your badge, and stomp on it with all of the power you can muster. I do not care whether it takes one, one hundred, or one million times. You will stomp on it until it becomes nothing more than fine dust.”

  The scarred man stared mouth agape at the Narma patriarch. His eyes were ablaze with fury, his expression filled with rage, and his clenched fist trembling with wrath.

  Gambino's hand crept toward his badge. His fingers brushed the metal, then jerked away as if burned. "I—I can't—"

  “Ah,” all the anger etched on Cagliostro’s countenance seemingly vanished, almost as if he was testing Gambino.

  Except he wasn’t.

  “Then perish."

  A metal specter with a dazzling ruby jewel on the top materialized in a brilliant flash of light, held in Cagliostro’s outstretched left hand.

  “Incendio.”

  Suddenly, Gambino was set on fire.

  The flames scorched the floor and the walls. The smell of charred flesh and blood filled the air with a disgusting scent. Gambino tried to scream, but he could barely breathe. His heart began to hammer, his thoughts muddled as his entire body felt like it was about to be roasted alive. The flames seared his skin, eyes, bones, and everything he could think of. All he could see was the sight of death.

  Death, the ultimate respite from suffering.

  The flames raged within his body, consuming him from the inside out.

  No.

  There was no escape from death.

  No.

  There was no escape from suffering.

  No.

  Death was the only option.

  Yes, death was the only way.

  No.

  Death would come soon.

  Death.

  Death.

  Death.

  Gambino Russo was nothing more than a pile of ash.

  Silence settled over the room as everyone looked at Cagliostro, who sat back on his throne, examining his regalia with an amused expression.

  Marcella glanced at Cagliostro. She then glanced at the pile of ash, once of man.

  “Back in your prime, you would have let the flames slowly cook him alive. Have you gone soft, dear?”

  The patriarch merely chuckled.

  “Shall I kill the other one?” Interrupting their lovely banter was the brutal inquiry of Siegfried Eisenberg, staring deep into the irises of the broken Jonas. The hound’s bloodlust was palpable, his Prana violating Jonas' mind. His body trembled. His mind raged. Jonas didn't want to die. But his body would not obey. He tried to stand up, but his knees buckled underneath him. His limbs shook violently. His throat closed, and his mouth opened and closed without any words. He could barely breathe. The flame’s heat held dominion over his mind.

  “No, let him live, Nemesis.”

  “See! I knew you were getting soft,” Marcella giggled.

  “That’s not it. If I kill this one now, then he won't be able to help me with anything, including his final words." Cagliostro grinned. “And I want him to die slowly, so slowly that the memories of the past few hours haunt him for the rest of his life."

  “I do mean it, Nemesis, when I say to bring the brat dead or alive.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Siegfried lazily groaned as he stuck a finger in his ear.

  With that settled, Cagliostro turned to the cowering Jonas who was in a near catatonic state.

  "You were correct to not take your eyes off of me, Jonas Lucius. I knew that you wouldn't try to run. Even now, you are thinking of ways to avenge your foolish superior, no? You should know that all of your attempts to become an avenger will amount to nothing. You are merely a pawn that can En Passant the next turn, and I do not want to waste that opportunity at this moment. However, if you start moving without my commands, I will not hesitate to remove you from the board."

  His sneer only intensified.

  “Now, run. Run, run, and cling to life like a moth to a light. Remember the ashes of your superior when you think of slitting my throat, and promptly kill such fantasies. Etch this into your heart, Jonas Lucius.”

  Screaming, sobbing, running, and clinging to life, Jonas scurried away to the starry night.

  Swan Song!