Kiel shifted awkwardly.
"Then… I'll get going too, boss."
"Stay," Shane said.
Simple and flat.
Kiel paused, "…Why?"
Shane set the cup down with a soft click. "The visitors are here."
Kiel frowned, "Visitors—?"
Before he could finish—
A sharp sound split the air.
Shrrrk—
It was thin, violent, like cloth being torn open by something unseen.
Right in front of the gazebo, space itself twisted. A narrow line appeared, glowing faintly, then widened into a jagged tear. The air around it shimmered, bending light in strange angles.
Kiel stumbled back, "…What the—"
A hand reached out from the tear.
Old, but steady.
It gripped the edge of the rift like it was nothing more than a doorframe.
Then the man stepped through.
An old man, dressed neatly and elegantly, a cane in one hand, posture relaxed yet firm. His beard was well-kept, his eyes sharp despite his age.
It was Eason Leonhart.
Shane stood up at once.
"Old Eason Leonhart," he said. "A pleasure to meet you."
Eason didn't answer right away.
He looked around first—the gazebo, the garden, the mansion beyond. His gaze was slow, deliberate, measuring.
Then—
Bootsteps.
Several armed personnel rushed toward them from different directions, alerted by the disturbance.
Eason clicked his tongue softly.
"This estate," he said in a smooth, composed tone, "is charming, but quite insufficient in terms of security. You may very well be dead before your guards even arrive."
Shane raised a hand slightly.
The guards stopped.
"Stand down," he said.
They hesitated, then obeyed.
Shane turned back to Eason.
"Or," he replied calmly, "you could walk through the front gate like a normal guest."
A small pause.
"Also, no one would dare harm me in Pe'cha."
Eason gave a faint smile and sat down without invitation. He reached for the teapot and poured himself a cup as if he owned the place.
"You may be correct," he said, lifting the cup. "But certainty is a luxury often enjoyed shortly before disaster."
He took a sip.
His eyes lit slightly.
"Oh… delightful. Thryndor tea."
He glanced at Shane.
"You possess refined taste."
Shane sat down across from him.
"I'm planning to expand trade with Thryndor," he said. "If you need anything from there, feel free to ask."
Eason studied him for a moment.
"Are you quite certain you wish to pursue such a venture, Shaney?"
Shane's expression didn't change.
"I intend to grow my business," he said. "My main markets are Solrien, Crowvale, and Peddleton. Thryndor is simply… an extension."
Eason chuckled softly.
"Be careful when you poke a bear," he said. "It rarely ends well for the one doing the poking."
Kiel stood awkwardly to the side, eyes moving between them.
He didn't understand half of it.
"…What bear?" he whispered.
No one answered him.
Shane nodded slightly.
"I'll keep that in mind."
He lifted his cup.
"So, you're here for confirmation?"
Eason nodded once, "Yes."
He rubbed his chin slowly.
"And to correct a small deception."
His eyes shifted slightly.
"You misled me the last time we met. You claimed that red-haired man was your boss."
A faint smile formed.
"It appears he is merely your… convenient scapegoat."
Kiel blinked.
"…Scape—what?"
Shane didn't react.
"He's my partner."
Eason hummed.
"Partner or not," he said, "I would advise caution when dealing with him."
Kiel raised a hand slightly, "…Did he do something illegal?"
Shane shot him a glance.
"Better to stay quiet, Kiel."
Kiel stiffened, "…Sorry, boss."
Eason chuckled.
"No, no," he said lightly. "The boy is harmless."
He paused, then added,
"For now."
Eason leaned back slightly.
"But I wish to confirm certain… details about him."
He turned to Shane.
"Would you happen to know his residence?"
Shane didn't hesitate.
"I don't sell out my partners," he said. "But he's not hiding. Ask around. Subjugators know him well."
Kiel leaned in slightly.
"Boss—"
"Silence, Kiel."
"…Right."
Eason waved a hand lightly.
"Do not worry, boy. He is not in trouble."
A small pause.
"Yet."
Kiel swallowed.
"…That word again."
Eason set his cup down.
"Now, to business."
His tone shifted—lighter, but sharper underneath.
"I require two to three dozen subjugators for support."
He looked directly at Shane.
"The terms remain unchanged."
Shane nodded.
"The alliance has already approved it," he said. "Recruitment will be easier."
Eason smiled faintly.
"Excellent."
He tapped his cane once.
"And do not concern yourself with the incident involving the Wullocks."
A brief pause.
"The Keepers… know nothing."
He began to rise—
"Wait."
Shane's voice stopped him.
Eason raised a brow.
"Oh?"
"That's new," he said. "I never expected you to ask something of me."
Shane reached into his storage ring and pulled out the memory crystal.
"I need your insight," he said. "You were a Duke. You might see what I can't."
Kiel's eyes widened slightly.
"…A Duke?"
He looked at the old man again, more carefully this time.
Eason frowned slightly.
"And what, exactly, am I looking at?"
"I'd rather you see it yourself."
Shane handed him the crystal.
Eason took it, then poured mana into it without hesitation.
His eyes glowed.
Bright and still.
The garden fell quiet.
Kiel didn't move nor speak.
Even his breathing slowed.
Shane simply sipped his tea.
Minutes passed.
Then—
The glow faded.
Eason exhaled slowly.
"This…" he murmured, "is troublesome."
He leaned back, expression more serious now.
"Amadee is dead."
"His father will not take this well," Eason continued. "And worse—Varkesh merchants are tied to Sebas Warhog."
He looked at Shane.
"Halosbell and the Imperial Guard will be dragged into this."
A brief pause.
"War will be imminent."
Kiel shifted uncomfortably.
"…That sounds bad."
Eason glanced at Shane again.
"Never thought the boy would grow into a man this quickly."
Shane said nothing.
But his fingers tightened slightly around his cup.
Eason stood up.
"I will take this crystal," he said.
His tone left little room for argument.
"And no one speaks of what you saw."
His eyes moved briefly to Kiel.
"Understood?"
Kiel nodded quickly.
"Yes, sir."
Shane's jaw tightened for a moment.
A flicker of regret crossed his face—but only for a second.
"…Understood, Old Eason."
Eason tapped his cane once.
Shrrrk—
The air tore open again.
Without another word, he stepped through—
And vanished.
The rift closed behind him like it was never there.
Kiel let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"…That was… intense."
Shane didn't look at him.
"You can go now," he said. "Be here tomorrow morning. Training starts early."
Kiel nodded quickly.
"Got it, boss. Goodbye."
He left in a hurry.
—
Shane remained alone in the gazebo.
Still.
Quiet.
Then—
His lips tightened.
Too tight.
A thin line of red appeared where he had bitten down.
"…Damn it."
He stood abruptly.
In one sharp motion—
His arm moved.
Clang!
The kettle flew off the table, crashing against the wooden floor and rolling to the side, hot tea spilling across the planks.
The cups followed—
Clatter! Crack!
One shattered.
Another spun and tipped over, spilling the last of its contents.
The table rattled from the force.
Shane stood there, breathing steady—but heavier now.
His hand remained slightly raised for a moment, fingers tense.
Then slowly—
He lowered it.
The anger didn't explode again.
It settled.
Pressed down.
Forced back under control.
But it didn't disappear.
Shane looked at the mess on the floor—the spilled tea, the broken porcelain.
His reflection wavered faintly in the liquid.
"Why…why didn't I know it earlier," he muttered.
His voice was quiet again.
Calm.
But tighter than before.
He wiped the blood from his lip with his thumb, then exhaled slowly and straightened his posture.
Closed his eyes.
And forced himself still.