Even though unease churned in Arin’s chest, his steps remained steady. He kept seeing the last place where he’d seen Kael—that filthy tunnel. Kael’s breathless, silent, exhausted body. He had saved his life, but now Arin didn’t even know where he was. When the evacuation team had rushed to take Kael away, one of them had briefly checked to see if Arin himself had any injuries. But the questions had been left hanging in the air, unanswered: Would Kael recover? Where are you taking him?

A day had passed, yet Arin's mind remained tethered to that moment. The insistent pull of his debt to Kael wouldn't let him rest. Perhaps it was a foolish thought. Partners watched each other's backs; saving one another was part of the job... wasn't it? Yet, a sharp edge of self-reproach cut through him at how swiftly he'd grown accustomed to Kael. And still... he couldn't forget the hurried, strangely formal way Kael had been carried away. It hadn't felt like a standard injury; it felt hushed, too efficient, too secretive.

So that morning, Arin’s first destination had been the Magical Oversight Council. He’d bypassed the armored guards with his temporary permit and explained to a clerk the information he sought.

“All I want to know is his medical condition,” he’d said.

The clerk had vanished into a closed-off section where files were kept. About fifteen minutes later, he returned with a small slip of paper.

Only one sentence was written on it.

“This information is classified. You do not have clearance.”

He handed the paper to Arin. “Sorry. That’s the directive.”

“You can’t even tell me if he’s alright?”

The man shrugged. “If his status were public, you’d be the first to know.”

Arin left the building still clutching the crumpled note in his pocket.

The door had slammed shut on explanations. They wouldn't tell him anything. Only one path remained: The Central Enforcement Bureau.

Under normal circumstances, walking into such a place just to ask a question, especially about someone’s health, was nearly impossible. Even more so for someone like Arin, an outsider. The Central was one of the Aethelgard Empire’s most closed-off and fortified institutions. Arin didn’t know the specifics of what went on inside or how things functioned. But you didn’t need to be part of the system to understand how Imperial institutions worked.

Their bureaucratic walls were high.

Their doors were thick.

Their answers were usually cold and consisted of a single word: No.

But this time, he had a card to play: Lieutenant Dean Chapman.

When Arin stepped through the heavy doors of the Central Enforcement Bureau, the atmosphere inside was just as cold as the doors themselves. The waiting area hushed all sound, its meticulous order chilling the air with a palpable sterility. Like all Imperial offices, it made one feel smaller, more invisible.

He approached the reception desk. Behind the glass sat a clerk whose face seemed to have never known surprise.

After identifying himself as working under the Magical Oversight Council, Arin got straight to the point. “I’d like to speak with Lieutenant Dean Chapman.”

The clerk’s eyes gave him a slow, assessing glance from head to toe.

“Do you have an appointment?”

Arin shook his head. “No. It’s a personal matter.”

“Regarding what, exactly?”

Arin hesitated briefly, then said it plainly:

“Kael Corwin.”

Did the name provoke any reaction? Perhaps the clerk blinked. Or merely shrugged.

“What kind of matter?”

“Personal.”

The clerk stared at him for a moment. Then typed something into the terminal. “Wait.”

Arin didn’t sit. He stood, still and impatient, until roughly five minutes later when another official approached and asked his name. Then they said,

“Lieutenant Chapman will see you. Follow me.”

***

Chapman’s office was cold and orderly; no different from the soulless spaces assigned to any officer of rank.

The woman gave Arin a slow, scrutinizing look.

At the corners of her lips sat a smile tinged with impatience and mild condescension.

“Coming all this way over Kael Corwin… I suppose young men still like to make bold gestures when they care about someone?” Her eyes flicked over Arin’s worn jacket with faint amusement. “Don’t take it personally. We don’t usually entertain admirers.”

Arin’s jaw tightened. His words emerged with a controlled, even cadence. “I’m not his admirer.”

Chapman tilted her head as if losing interest, leaning back in her chair. “Of course you’re not. Then what are you?”

Azimushan rumbled in the back of Arin’s mind, feeding on his rising anger. “This fool does not understand whom he’s speaking to. Let me show her, master.”

Arin drew in a breath and continued. “I was with him during yesterday’s operation. I’m a jinn hunter, partially. I had a temporary permit from the Magical Oversight Council. Kael Corwin was my assigned supervisor.”

Chapman leaned forward with a flicker of curiosity.

Ignoring the gesture, Arin pressed on. “I was there when you spoke to him in the shelter yesterday. He saved my life, and I want to know how he is.”

Chapman's amusement gnawed at Arin. What was so funny? “You know he saved my life. I want to know his medical condition. Is he recovering? Is he alive? I have a right to know.”

Chapman studied him for a while, then shrugged.

“Magical Oversight… Ah yes, your kind. Your name’s in the paperwork, but in practice, you’re irrelevant. Officially, I can’t tell you anything. The Central’s protocols don’t grant you access.”

Arin's gaze held steady, even as Chapman's condescension coiled in his gut.

Chapman leaned over her desk, twirling a pen between her fingers.

“The good news is: Kael Corwin is alive. The bad news? He’s not on active duty right now. He’s resting.”

Arin didn’t take his eyes off Chapman. “Can I see him?”

Chapman smiled faintly. “Of course.”

Arin narrowed his gaze. “Then… are you going to stop me from seeing him?”

Chapman raised her brows. “Why would that concern me? Go knock on his door. The rest is up to him.”

Trying to spot the catch, Arin asked, “Will you give me his address?”

Chapman pulled a small scrap of paper from her drawer and scribbled a few lines on it. “Here. I’m feeling unusually generous today. Don’t make a habit of it. And don't tell Kael I gave you the address.”

Arin snatched the paper quickly, and as Chapman leaned back in her chair, she murmured, “But let me tell you this… even I don’t know what you’ll find when you get there. Don't expect too much from him.”

***

Arin checked again at the address scribbled on the paper.

“Corwin Tower.”

His eyes ascended from the note, landing on the giant, gleaming sign above.

It was the right place.

But… really?

He tilted his head back, taking in the building's massive facade, its seemingly endless floors stretching skyward, cold blue lights gleaming from its windows. The broad, dark glass panels at the entrance slid open with a hiss.

Inside… inside was another world entirely.

His steps clicked against the pale marble floor, each tap echoing beneath his feet. The marble veined with gold and copper gleamed faintly beneath crystal chandeliers that scattered light in cool, even patterns across the space.

The lobby shimmered with the gleam of tailored suits, sparkling jewels, and intricate watches. An unmistakable scent of old money hung heavy in the air, cloying and pervasive.

And Arin, with his worn boots, grey jacket, and crumpled piece of paper in his pocket, was unmistakably the only one who didn’t belong.

Making sure no one was staring, he took a deep breath and moved forward.

At the far end of the lobby, behind a shining pane of glass sat a woman whose hair was sculpted into flawless perfection, her smile a professional, unnervingly frozen mask.

Before Arin could even speak, the woman smiled and asked, “Looking for someone, little sir?”

Little sir? Arin fought the urge to scowl.

“I’m here for Kael Corwin.”

The woman’s smile faltered for a brief heartbeat.

Then it returned, polite but artificial.

“I understand.” She typed delicately on the terminal behind the glass. “Do you have a scheduled visit?”

“No.”

That answer sent another polite little ripple of shock across the woman’s face.

“As a rule, the Corwins do not see anyone without a prior arrangement.”

Arin narrowed his eyes and said the only thing that might sway her. “The address was given to me by the Central Enforcement Bureau. I came with Lieutenant Chapman’s authorization.” He quietly prayed that titles and ranks still held weight here.

The woman inclined her head, not as if she disbelieved Arin, but rather as if the detail made her uncomfortable because it exceeded her authority.

“Let me check.”

The wait was short. When the woman lifted her head again, her expression was colder.

“They've been informed. Someone will be down for you shortly.”