"That was… harsh," Clare commented, making Malvin pause in his storytelling.
"But not out of place for the Captain," Aeron added, recalling how Malvin had nearly broken his left arm earlier that day.
"It really isn't," Tores echoed, remembering how Malvin had even ordered him to help twist Aeron's right arm. The other two specialists, Jos and Loreen, nodded along in agreement.
"Yeah, he really isn't kind," Loreen said.
"Not at all," Jos chimed in.
Malvin looked between them all, his gaze sharpening. "Are you little bastards in a competition to piss me off or something?!"
In response, Aeron turned to Jos and, in his usual monotone manner, said, "Looks like you won. We'll give you the coin after this is over."
Jos pumped his fist in victory. "Yes! I just got richer!"
A vein throbbed in Malvin's forehead as he spluttered, "You actually were having a competition trying to piss me off?!"
The specialists quickly turned away from him, whistling innocently to avoid their Captain's wrath. Clare chuckled quietly at the exchange before regaining her composure. Clearing her throat, she asked, "But Captain, don't you feel bad?"
Malvin glanced at her, surprised. "Huh?"
"From the way you described it, he seemed really hurt by what you said," Clare explained. The specialists quieted down, listening with interest again. Malvin paused, his gaze shifting downward. "If he were alive, maybe I would be," he admitted, leaning back in his chair and covering his eyes with one sleeve. "But dwelling on the dead—thinking about what you could've done or said differently—it just burdens you. Clouds your mind, saps your strength. So, no, I don't—not anymore."
Silence fell over the group and Clare's expression softened as she absorbed his words. Then, Malvin lowered his arm, leaning forward as he broke the quiet. "But putting that aside…" He straightened in his chair. "Let me tell you what happened after that."
---
Malvin had followed the injured man for about ten minutes, and in those ten minutes, he'd begun to notice a few things that didn't add up. The man was clutching his side, hobbling as if every step was painful, yet his breathing remained steady—not labored or strained, as one would expect if he were in serious pain.
Then there was his appearance. While his clothes were tattered and dirty, he didn't show any visible bruises on his face, and where his clothing was torn, his skin was suspiciously free of injuries. Malvin's eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing with every step. Something about this man just didn't sit right.
"Right over here," the man beckoned, snapping Malvin out of his scrutinizing thoughts.
Malvin took a quick glance around, realizing that the man had led him to the mouth of a narrow alley, one that angled sharply into the slums. His eyes narrowed. "Is this where they robbed you?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
The man shook his head quickly. "No, they got me inside the slums," he replied, prompting Malvin to narrow his eyes.
"Why were you in the slums?" Malvin asked, voice tightening. "Earlier, you told me you weren't familiar with Steamhaven, yet you know your way around the slums?"
The man's hands flew up in a defensive gesture, his expression laced with apparent panic. "No, no, I'm not familiar with the slums either. I swear I told you the truth," he insisted, the pitch of his voice rising. "I was just trying to take a shortcut, that's all! I really needed to get to where I was going, and I thought I could save time cutting through the slums," he said quickly, his voice sounding just a little too measured.
Malvin crossed his arms, glancing down with a doubtful expression. "If that's the case, then shouldn't you be more concerned about getting to your destination, rather than chasing after some stolen belongings?" he asked, his gaze hardening. "Especially if getting there was so urgent that you risked entering the slums?"
The man hesitated, taking a step back under Malvin's scrutiny. "What they stole is what I need to get there," he explained, looking away as though trying to avoid Malvin's piercing stare.
Malvin studied him for a moment, his red eyes drilling into the man's amber ones, before letting out a low sigh and taking a step back. "Alright, makes sense, I suppose," he muttered, dropping his arms with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. I've just been on edge lately."
The man let out a shaky chuckle, waving it off with an air of forced relief. "Oh, no problem, happens to the best of us. I'm just glad you believe me," he said, glancing toward the alley.
Malvin nodded. "Then by all means, lead the way."
"Of course," the man replied, turning and stepping into the alley with Malvin following close behind.
But did Malvin actually trust the man? Not in the slightest. In fact, every word had only deepened his suspicion. He could sense a trap was coming, and he was already prepared to spring it.
The holes in the man's story were impossible to ignore. If he was unfamiliar with Steamhaven, how would he have known how to navigate the slums as a shortcut? And if his stolen property was truly so important, why hadn't he mentioned that detail right away? Moreover, it was just too convenient that he had neither seen his attackers nor recognized the district, yet he somehow knew exactly where they had gone.
As far as Malvin was concerned, the man was clearly leading him into an ambush. But that didn't bother him; in his mind, he wasn't walking into a trap so much as bringing the trap along with him. If his hunch was right, this would be his best shot at rounding up a decent number of criminals in one go, and he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip away.