Chapter 7

Even Villains Have Standards

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Adrian found himself drifting off more than once.

Two days after calling Ivan Ross, Adrian still couldn't shake off the worry of whether or not he would go to their arranged dinner at Noble Seas.

And today's the day of their arranged dinner, which was more like a shotgun date rather than anything else.

He attempted messaging Ivan several times, and he always started it by typing a message to Ivan to say he couldn't make it, only to erase it in the end before hitting send. He even considered calling him again to set things straight and tell him they didn't need to meet. But every time he tried to make all those efforts, the same wave of panic stopped him.

What would Mr. Ross—well, Ivan, possibly say? The man had already reserved a dinner for two at an expensive restaurant. He seemed so serious about his plan to meet him in person.

And Adrian? He isn't sure if he dares to face him. Despite what happened to them that night at the bar, Ivan was still a stranger. That uncertainty gnawed at him so severely that he could hardly focus even in the middle of his briefing with Mr. Harley about his new assignment.

His mind kept wandering back to his thoughts about meeting Ivan Ross.

"Arondight!" Adrian blinked hard when he heard Mr. Harley's fingers click sharply before him. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Oh! I—I'm so sorry..." Adrian was stunned and quickly straightened himself in his chair as he fumbled to arrange the mission folder neatly. After that, he drew a shallow breath and forced himself to meet Mr. Harley's eyes. "Y-yes, I'm listening."

Mr. Harley's expression hardened as he looked into Arondight with suspicion.

"Then repeat what I just said."

Adrian froze. He tried desperately to find anything in the room that he could use to cheat his boss while praying that he didn't look as lost as he felt. Thankfully, one of the analysts in the room had been taking notes. Adrian saw those notes just enough using his heightened visual ability.

"W-Well..." he started as he tried to regulate his voice into a more confident tone. "You said I need to investigate the case involving the illegal trading of unregistered and underdeveloped Variants being moved through the black market."

Mr. Harley frowned slightly. He knew Arondight had only managed to answer him thanks to one of his many abilities (spotting fine details from a distance) rather than because he was truly focused on their agenda. Still, Mr. Harley chose not to press the issue. He continued to explain Arondight's new assignment using the laser pointer in his hand, which was pointed at the large screen in front of them.

"We received intelligence from our agents suggesting that some members of the Tyrants are tied to this Black Market operation," Harley explained. He handed Arondight a separate folder containing the list of underdeveloped Variants that had gone missing for the past six months. "We've verified that most of the missing Variants over the past six months were trafficked through this black market scheme. And recently, one of the victims escaped his buyer and exposed the entire operation."

Adrian accepted the folder and flipped it open. As he read the names of those on the list, he couldn't help but recall some of the most painful memories of his past. He tried to draw in a deep breath and push the images away, but the names on the page blurred together in his vision like a fog, and each one reminded him of pain that mirrors his own.

Most of it was...inhumane.

His body could still recall how the cold sting of needles was forced into his veins to pump those chemicals meant to unlock the Variant gene inside him. Each trial was paired with relentless punishments meant to condition him to endure more pain, to break his resistance until he no longer fought back. Even as a child, he hadn't been treated as human, but as a lab rat that needed to be broken down and remade until something "useful" emerged from his wounded, fragile body.

That's why people like him had superpowers and abilities that don't occur naturally compared to the Variants, who developed their gifts independently.

Adrian's hand unconsciously drifted to his wrist and pressed his fingers slightly against the spot where the needles used to bite. There were faint, old cuts still marred in that area, too, that served as an ugly reminder of his past when he, several times, attempted to end his suffering. But it was also a testament that he hadn't given up despite everything he had experienced as a child. Eventually, he found a reason to keep going, and those marks proved how far he'd come.

He hated being dragged into cases like this because he knew he could do nothing to avoid it. After all, it was part of his duty as a hero. This could also be a way for Adrian to face his past. For years, he had buried those memories in oblivion and locked them away in the deepest part of his mind, where he never needed to look for them as he tried to move on with life.

But now, as he gazes into this list, the names of the victims are screaming for justice.

And as a hero, he couldn't just turn his back on that call.

"Alright," Adrian said quietly as he closed the folder firmly with his hand. "I'll take this assignment."

"Okay, good." The lights in the room automatically turned on, and the screen in front of them powered down. "For this assignment, I want you to bring Harbinger to help with the mission."

But instead of responding, Arondight rose from his chair, gathering the folder under his arm as if the meeting was already over.

"No need," he said flatly. "I can handle this on my own."

"Are you sure?" Mr. Harley's tone was more cautious than that of a command. It wasn't that he doubted Arondight's capacity to handle the mission. He knew better than anyone how capable the young hero was. But he was worried that he might become impulsive with his actions and decisions because the mission was too personal.

Despite that, Arondight didn't respond immediately. His fists tightened at his sides, where the leather of his gloves creaked faintly under the strain of his strength. After a long pause, he finally looked back at Mr. Harley with a practiced smile curving at his lips and said, "Of course, I'll take care of it."

Arondight left the room completely, with Mr. Harley still hearing his footsteps in the hallway before the hero completely disappeared.

"I can't read what's happening in that kid's head sometimes." Along with those words was a deep and heavy sigh, the kind that seemed to settle into his bones. He was already a little regretful that he had given the mission to Arondight. That boy had been through enough before he found him and recruited him to become a hero, and Harley knew it.

But he knew that it would also help the young hero. Arondight couldn't run from his past forever. If they were going to topple the villains who wanted to take over the city, the young hero should have to face first the scars that hold him back.

"... It's for his own good," Harley muttered, clinging to that justification even as a doubt gnawed him quietly at the edges of his resolve.

Soon, Arondight's supposed partner in the mission, Harbinger, whose ability was to disappear and drag anything he touched into that void, which made his presence feel less like a hero's entrance and more like a ghost passing through the room.

"Do you want me to follow him for you?" Harbinger asked in his usual flat tone. However, in reality, his question carried a genuine concern.

"Yes, please." He then plopped into the conference table and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it with a flick of his finger and let its smoke slowly curl towards the ceiling as he sighed and continued, "I need to make sure he doesn't do anything reckless, especially with this mission that's tied to the Tyrants, more so to the villain he's after—"

"—Red Hilt, of course." Harbinger finished the sentence for him. "Alright. I'll follow him."

And with no further word, Harbinger dissolved into the dark, vanishing as if the darkness had devoured him whole.

Now alone in the conference room, Harley took another sip of smoke from the cigarette before exhaling it towards the wide, glass window where he could see the peaceful image of Galahad City like a perfect canvas in a glass portrait.

"I wonder, how long can we keep this city at peace...?" he muttered.

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