Vance moved, smooth but decisive and Askai winced, expecting some kind of physical retribution but Vance moved past him. He stepped into Steve's space and without a word, clamped a hand around the back of his neck. Not hard. But tight enough to make Steve flinch and stiffen, his fake ease evaporating like mist in the sun.

"You made this mess," Vance said, voice quiet and composed in a way that made every syllable worse. "So you're going to clean it up. Understand?" Steve tried to nod, but Vance's grip tightened. "You don't know how to keep people in their place. Can't even handle some college kids. That's your real problem, Steve."

He released Steve abruptly, and the blond stumbled back half a step, blinking fast like he wasn't sure if he should apologize or grovel.

Vance didn't wait. He turned slightly, reached behind his own bodyguard—who stood stiff as stone—and pulled a sleek black aluminum baseball bat from the man's back holster. It wasn't ornamental. Not here.

He held it out to Steve with a bland smile, like he was offering a bouquet.

"Fix it." Steve took the bat with trembling hands, the polished weight of it making him visibly swallow. "Or I'll fix you. Just like good'ol times. Or did you forget?"

Askai had never seen Steve trembling like a leaf before - the big, old jock who pummeled kids around just for fun. The smile that Vance gave him was almost cruel and for a moment, Askai wondered what had he done to Steve in the past to make him so afraid. The boy hadn't muttered more than a few words in his presence.

Steve quietly shook his head and Vance stepped aside, gaze sweeping over the kneeling boys behind Askai. His tone remained dispassionate, but the anger underneath it was crystalline—cold, lethal.

"So many people came last night. To celebrate," he said, eyes narrowing just slightly. "And they left sick, half-blind, convulsing in the stairwell. I can't let that pass."

He leaned in just slightly, addressing Steve but loud enough for the others to hear:

"Make sure they feel the same pain."

Then—an almost casual pat on Steve's cheek. Not affectionate but dismissive and disdainful. Like swatting a loyal but stupid pet.

Askai saw it clearly now—this was their justice. But not the kind sung about in stories. No mercy. No empathy. Just balance. Brutal, precise balance. Vance didn't mete out punishment from anger; he did it to restore order, cold and exacting.

Askai had known people who liked power. Who basked in it. Vance was something else entirely.

That made him think Who was Vance again?

He had never heard his name in all those years when he was on the streets. Not even while serving the East End. How could someone like him never snatch his attention before? In his cold, dark attire, carrying such aloof and unbothered countenance, he stood apart from all of them. Another strange thing were the men in black, crawling in his vicinity.

The University of Nolan was the legacy of East End Elites, their precious child. It was a land so pious that even the nastiest in the West never dared to defile it by stepping on it. If Askai's origins were ever revealed, he would be executed for merely polluting this land by his presence. A secret that would forever swing over his head like a sword - by design, not coincidence, - he bitterly recalled.

But Vance's men still followed him like guards. Who could he be to even need protection within these Walls? 

It somehow didn't even matter now because Askai had realized something far more unsettling when Vance's gaze finally leveled on him, probably deciding his fate.

He didn't want to be on either side of this man. Not the one receiving his cruelty, and definitely not the one receiving his protection. Because even their affection, their favor—could gut you just as deep. Their version of care for one could be a disaster for another.

Askai didn't wither under his gaze. He did not tremble like Steve, nor did he move. He didn't need to look at the boys behind him to know they were already starting to shake. But he had taken worse.

Vance suddenly turned back toward the path, boots whispering against the grass. But just before he left the circle, he paused—looked over his shoulder, right at Askai.

"This one," he said, and his voice dipped an octave lower. "I'll take care of him personally."

A promise.

Then he was gone, cutting through the stunned silence like a blade.

Askai stood there, the air behind Vance colder than it should've been. He let out a slow breath, reminding himself why he was here. He had done this before. This storm would pass too. He would be alright. Like always.