Summer vacation had claimed Windsor at last.

  Sunlight spilled through uncovered windows, rousing Acacia from sleep alongside the chorus of morning birds. The curtains…he'd forgotten to draw them again. Such habits would take time; his tenement in Ocarina had never possessed such luxuries. Rolling onto his side, he surveyed the unfamiliar room, relief washing over him as memories of recent days crystallized.

  "Finally free of Ocarina." A faint smile crossed his features, dispelling the last wisps of familiar nightmares.

  The Irregular rose, following the rhythms of a new morning routine. Cold water shocked life back into his face before he methodically brushed his teeth, the mundane ritual grounding him in this strange reality. His hand paused over the bathroom cabinet, noting with bemused curiosity the masculine scents of cologne and deodorant. An odd choice for someone like Pandora to keep stocked.

  Was she planning on this to happ—

  Acacia discarded the haphazard thought immediately.

  Once finished in the bathroom, he slung on the red baseball jacket, white shirt, and designer jeans bought from Adalind. Hopping back to check his appearance in the mirror, he sighed. The Irregular didn’t think highly of his looks, but he didn’t seem homeless like yesterday.

  Pandora still slept, her door firmly closed. Acacia knew better than to disturb her. He’d consumed enough fiction to know the folly of barging into a lady's chambers, doubly so when said lady was literally Mercutio. He descended the stairs instead, footsteps echoing through the modern but somewhat sterile living space. The house needed work, personality—something to make it more than just walls and furniture.

  But that would come with time.

  The analog clock on the wall read 8:00 AM sharp. With nothing else to occupy him, Acacia decided to prepare breakfast, a small gesture of appreciation for his unexpected savior. As if summoned by the thought of food, Pandora appeared at the foot of the stairs, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

  She cut a different disposition from her usual Inquisitor presence—silver hair bound in a practical bun, darker complexion enhanced by subtle makeup, eyes framed by glasses rather than steel. If Acacia didn't know better, he might have mistaken her for just another office worker rather than one of the most feared figures in the Empire.

  "Morning." She greeted sleepily, stifling a yawn.

  "Good morning." Acacia waited for her to settle at the dining room table, watching as she poured tea into a waiting mug.

  "Have you eaten yet?" She studied him over the rim of her cup.

  "I'll cook for you," he offered. "You don't have to worry about that."

  "...You can cook?" Skepticism dripped from every syllable.

  "I had to learn if I didn't want to live off instant noodles forever." A serene smile touched his lips, memories flickering behind his eyes. "Hated it at first, kept burning myself. But now it's one of my favorite things to do. What's the word...ah, salubrious. Least I can do after you saved me from execution."

  Pandora's expression remained unreadable as she shrugged. "Do what you want." She abandoned the kitchen for the living room, the television's drone soon filling the morning quiet.

  Acacia watched her go before turning to the kitchen, determination settling over his features. This was his chance to prove himself and to make her take him seriously! He checked the refrigerator, scanning to see if it had all of the ingredients he needed to make his signature breakfast plan.

  "Holy crap, I didn't know fridges could be this loaded."

  “What? Got cold feet? Can’t think of something to cook?” Pandora smoothly challenged.

  Oh, it’s on, woman.

  "Actually, no." He reached for garlic and parsley with practiced ease. "You've got everything I need. Though I can't guarantee it'll suit your tastes."

  "Are you insulting my tastebuds?"

  "Nope. I'm saying you have none. That's what happens when your diet is solely tea and coffee. They probably burnt off or something."

  Pandora's silence spoke volumes as she lifted her mug for another sip.

  "You should really invest in better cutlery. These knives aren't nearly sharp enough." Acacia remarked, smirking as he diced garlic and parsley with fluid motions despite the dull blade.

  "You sound like my father," Pandora remarked sarcastically.

  "That's good then. He sounds like a smart man." His smile refused to waver as he sliced sourdough bread, cracking eggs over a heated skillet where butter and oil already danced together.

  "He was.”

  "Was?"

  "Well, he was my adoptive father," she corrected herself, voice distant. "He passed away eight years ago."

  "Oh...I shouldn't have asked."

  "Well, you did. I was a refugee from a terrible earthquake in Thalassia, a Tachyon colony down south. My biological family didn't survive, but I did, somehow. I was three. A knight stationed in the region during the earthquake saw me, decided to adopt me. Without him..." She recounted the tragedy with clinical detachment, as if reading from someone else's biography. "Who knows what I'd be doing now."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "I'm sorry. I made you remember something painful... I really am an idiot sometimes." Shame colored his words as he ducked his head.

  “I’ll forgive you only if the breakfast is adequate.” Pandora curtly challenged.

  "You damn slavedriver," he muttered under his breath, but his hands never stopped moving as he assembled the meal. "Breakfast is served, madam." Acacia presented the plate with exaggerated formality, mimicking her signature sarcasm.

  "Thank you,” she replied, unfazed.

  "My greatest pleasure to serve you," he continued the charade. "A fried egg with toasted sourdough, sliced tomatoes, and garlic butter spread. I hope it meets your exacting standards." He planted his hands on his hips with mock pride, as if he'd just solved one of the Empire's great mysteries.

  Pandora lifted her fork without comment. She took a bite, then another, then another—each measured motion betraying nothing of her thoughts. Only when half the plate lay empty did she speak.

  "Why does this have to taste so..." She struggled for words, frustration creeping into her voice. "It's just eggs and bread with tomatoes and paste. I don't understand." Something like defeat crossed her features as she took another bite. "This is restaurant quality. Where did you learn this?"

  Acacia took this as a cue to sit down in front of her.

  "I just read a lot of cookbooks in the library. It mostly came down to trial and error," he nonchalantly explained with a shrug of his shoulders, watching as Pandora took another bite, her face turning into one of genuine shock.

  "There's no way you just read cookbooks. You must've been taught by an actual master. Did you make this for anyone before?" Pandora asked, completely confused by Acacia's expertise.

  "Nope, it's not like there was anyone who'd ever let me cook for them." He dryly chuckled. “It’s just trial and error, I tell you.”

  Recognizing defeat, Pandora finished her meal in silence. She rose, deposited her plate in the sink, and headed for the living room without another word. Acacia settled in to eat his own creation, his mind already cataloging improvements.

  Too much salt. Need something acidic next time. Could reduce the salt in the eggs...

  "Hey, Pandora! You can't escape without telling me how it was! Don't think you're getting off that easy!"

  Pandora stopped dead in her tracks before sighing.

  "It tasted...very good." The words emerged reluctantly, touched with an unfamiliar shyness. "Thank you. I was wrong to doubt your abilities."

  "I knew you had some manners after all." Acacia snickered. "I was worried I was going to make you a critic instead of a customer. But I suppose this is okay."

  "Enjoy the satisfaction while it lasts." Ice crystallized once more in her tone.

  Her expression hardened as she continued, "Now, we have something important to handle before I head to work. We need to register your identity in the Imperial System. The only records of you exist in Ocarina's local government. They likely deemed an Irregular with no family ties too irrelevant for the Imperial registry. They also assumed you'd never leave the area. Their mistake in filing works to our advantage. Unless they specifically request your information and false accusation be transferred to the Imperial System, you effectively have a blank slate."

  "Question." Acacia raised his hand like a student, prompting an annoyed nod from Pandora. "How can you be so certain about this blank slate? By now, Ocarina's authorities must have filed a missing report about my failed execution. If the central government catches wind of this, I'll have a bounty on my head. Wouldn't it be safer to stay unregistered until the IPA stops looking?"

  "That won't be necessary."

  “What?”

  "You told me Giovanni's parents bribed Head Chief Gambino Russo and his subordinate, Jonas Lucius, to expedite your execution date. Consider what that means."

  Acacia's mind turned the pieces over, but the full picture remained just out of reach.

  "They committed an illegal action to force the IPA's hand and test Gambino's capabilities," Pandora continued, fully excising the matter. "But you escaped. Now, typically, anyone who paid such a bribe would pressure their commissioner to track down the fugitive, but the IPA has already proven their incompetence. That would be a waste of time, and time is what Cagliostro values most."

  She paused, golden eyes studying him. "Indulge yourself in Cagliostro’s mind and emotional state. When the prime suspect in your son's murder publicly escapes from the local police you've privately bribed, what's your next move?"

  "...He'd handle it himself," Acacia breathed, understanding dawning. "Since he can't rely on the IPA anymore, he'll take matters into his own hands."

  "Precisely." Pandora sipped her tea. "Out of frustration or pragmatism, he's likely ordered Gambino and the IPA to back off. They're incentivized to comply—if they brought this case to the Centrum Supremum against Cagliostro's wishes, they'd have to admit an Irregular escape in broad daylight which is incredibly shameful. Even if they claimed the legendary Mercutio or some powerful Thaumaturge aided your escape, they'd look like fools without evidence."

  Her lips curved in a cold smile.

  "Either way, Ocarina's IPA would be left demoralized and leaderless. Gambino would resign in shame, or Cagliostro would orchestrate his removal. This frees Cagliostro to pursue you through whatever means necessary—legal or otherwise." She set down her cup. "Haven't you wondered why no one on the Elysium stopped us if the information was supposedly being transferred up central?"

  "That makes sense..." Acacia's voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I can't imagine being in his position." The weight of Cagliostro's grief and rage pressed down on him. Even though he despised Gio, he never wished death on him.

  "Don't waste sympathy on that man." Pandora's tone could have frozen flame. "His prejudice against Irregulars has blinded him so completely that he can't fathom any other suspect. I hate agreeing with the IPA, but the best way to find a culprit is through a deductive process, not pointing fingers at the most convenient target."

  Acacia let that last comment pass without response. The fact that local authorities were so biased they couldn't properly investigate before rushing to execution felt like a slap across the face. They'd had a real chance to find the true culprit, but they'd squandered it pursuing him instead.

  "So because we haven't been stopped by authorities, that means my information hasn't been disclosed by the IPA, and Cagliostro told them to back off? But won't they find it suspicious that I'm not registered in the Imperial System?" Acacia was working through the logic.

  Pandora nodded, finishing the rest of her tea.

  "While unusual, it's easily explained. Most subjects are registered in the Imperial System by age thirteen. However, there are exceptions due to extraordinary circumstances—particularly for foreigners. At fifteen, you're still within the acceptable age range for late registration. There may be some raised eyebrows, but they won't question it deeply since you're technically still underage. You're fortunate though. At sixteen, when legal adulthood begins, this would be far more complicated. With official registration in both local and Imperial systems, your status as an Irregular becomes less scrutinized. Even Cagliostro will find it harder to exploit you in any potential trial."

  "I see..." Acacia mumbled in deep thought. He had to admit, he was fortunate for Pandora to be the one that saved him. It would be far more difficult if he had only himself to rely on.

  "Let's get going before we're late for the appointment. It starts at 9:15. I'll tell you the story we're going to follow later."

  Pandora checked her pocket watch. It was almost 9:00 AM, meaning they had to rush if they didn't want to be late.

  Well, "rushing" for her was running at a rate far surpassing the speed of sound, but she doubted whether Acacia could even run a kilometer in under 15 minutes.

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