"Holy shit, that's not what I expected you to say, Captain," said Jos, his tone laced with genuine surprise. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms as if trying to process the weight of what he'd just heard. "I mean… really? That's what pulled you out of it?"
"It kind of feels like we just overheard something scandalous," Loreen chimed in with a sly grin, waggling her eyebrows at Clare, who immediately nodded in mock seriousness. "Like, some forbidden tale we were never meant to know about." (Filling in that stereotype I suppose.)
"Ha, ha. Very funny," Malvin replied, his tone dry as he glanced between the two, clearly unimpressed by their teasing. "Anyway, I agree with Jos. Help did come from an unexpected source. Who knew Danial was so… emotionally wise?"
"But wow…" Tores spoke up, his voice more subdued than usual. "You were in such a dark place, Captain. You were really going to just… throw your life away?" There was no judgment in his words, only quiet disbelief.
Malvin shrugged, his posture deliberately casual, but his tone was weighed down by self-recrimination. "I was an idiot. Too much emotion, not enough sense. What can you do? Again I would go back in time to beat the shit out of myself if I could."
"I don't think beating someone out of depression is a good idea," Aeron interjected, his expression impassive as usual. But then, he paused, tilting his head slightly, the faint hum of his mechanical arm audible as he raised a hand to rub his chin thoughtfully. "Then again, Officer Danial did beat you out of it. So maybe it does work?"
"Please don't go around beating people to fix their problems!" Jos cut in, his tone sharp with exasperation. He gestured wildly, trying to hammer his point home. "I can guarantee that doesn't work most of the time."
Aeron didn't reply, his silence almost ominous. Jos sighed, clearly realizing he now had to explain why beating people wasn't a universally applicable solution. While the two debated—or, more accurately, while Jos tried to talk sense into Aeron—the rest of the group continued the conversation.
"What's Officer Danial up to these days, Captain?" Tores asked, his curiosity genuine. "Do you still keep in touch?"
Malvin nodded. "He's doing what he always did—patrolling and working as a Guard. Nothing's really changed. He's partnered with ST-24 now. You'll hear more about him? Them? The sentinel soon enough when it come up in the story. We talk when we can, but it's not as exciting as you're probably imagining."
He turned his gaze toward Loreen and Clare, who had been whispering to each other the entire time. Malvin narrowed his eyes. "Especially you two. I can see what you're thinking, and no, it's absolutely not the case."
Their disappointment was palpable as they slumped back, muttering something under their breath. Malvin ignored it, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off their teasing before his tone shifted.
"Alright," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the room and bringing everyone's attention back to him. "I want all of you to stay quiet for the next part. No speaking up, no questions, no interruptions. Got it?"
He didn't wait for confirmation, his expression brooking no argument. The group fell silent, their curiosity now a simmering tension in the air.
"Good," Malvin continued, his voice taking on a heavier tone. "It's time to tell you all the end of the story… and the death of Philip Crude..."
---
The day had finally come—the last day of the year. Malvin stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his Guard uniform with slow, deliberate movements. His reflection stared back at him, and he couldn't help but feel it looked different. It wasn't the hollow, lifeless face he'd grown used to seeing, but it wasn't the man he'd been before Silas's death either. Something in between, perhaps. Something that couldn't be defined. "Probably just seeing things," he muttered, brushing the thought aside.
His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall: 10 o'clock. One hour remained before his 'duel' with Philip Crude. He had taken the day off from the Guard to prepare for this moment, working alongside his partner, Danial, to ensure everything was ready. Malvin let out a steadying breath, turning away from the mirror. "Just one more thing," he said under his breath, his voice almost lost in the quiet of the house.
Walking down the hall, he stopped in front of his little sister's door. He paused, staring at the worn wood as if it held the weight of years of unspoken words. Drawing in a deep breath, he reached for the handle, but as expected, it was locked. "Figures," he murmured, resting his hand against the wooden frame. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he had to say.
"I know you can hear me, Noemi," he murmured, his hand dropping to his side. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke just loud enough for her to hear without disturbing their parents. "So I'll just say this through the door."
The silence stretched, but he pressed on. "I'm not going to make excuses. I know I've been a terrible brother to you, a terrible son to Mom and Dad, and just… a bad person in general. And what you said in the hospital… you were right. Why is someone like me is your big brother? I don't know. You deserve better—so much better than me. All of you do."
The words caught in his throat, but he forced them out. "I'm saying this because… this might be the last chance I have to talk to you. The last chance to say I'm sorry. I should've tried harder. I should've been better, instead of just… giving up and accepting being the way I am."
He paused, pressing his hand against the door as if it could carry the weight of his words. "That's all I wanted to say. I'm heading out now. If I don't come back, well… that's just one more thing I'll have to apologize for. Goodbye, Noemi."
He turned to leave, feeling an unexpected lightness in his chest, as if a great weight had been lifted off it. But before he could take another step, a muffled voice came from behind the door.
"You're annoying, you know that?"
Malvin spun around to see Noemi standing in her doorway, in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes, her hair tousled from sleep, glaring up at him with a mix of irritation and something softer he couldn't place. "I'm trying to sleep, and you come to my door spouting all that sappy nonsense. It's creepy." She gave a mock shiver for effect before her expression turned serious. "But are you really going to fight that prick who kidnapped me? Alone?"
Her sudden shift in tone threw him off. He raised an eyebrow. "How'd you—"
"I took a guess," she interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "Now answer."
Malvin sighed, exhaling deeply before responding. "No, not alone. I've got a partner helping me."
Noemi crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, if that's the case, go right ahead."
Her nonchalance caught him off guard. "You're not going to try and stop me?"
She scoffed, clicking her tongue. "What's the point? Talking you out of it would be harder than convincing a brick wall to move. So why bother?"
She turned back toward her room but stopped, glancing over her shoulder. Her tone softened, just barely enough to be noticeable. "But you'd better come back alive, Malvin. Or else I'll spit on your grave."
Malvin stared after her, at a loss for words. "That's… reassuring," he muttered to himself as she disappeared into her room, the door clicking shut behind her.
With that, he made his way to the front door. The cold winter air rushed in as he stepped outside, the snow crunching under his boots. Adjusting his cap, he glanced up at the dark, snow-filled sky. "Well," he said to no one in particular, his breath visible in the freezing air, "time to put an end to this nightmare."
And with that, he headed off into the snowy night.