The tension in the bakery thickens to an almost palpable degree as Irene is in motion to kick Flaminia, who’s fallen to the ground. Irene’s eyes, swollen from tears, flash with unrestrained rage.

Irene’s furious accusations hang heavily in the air, “You wanted him gone! You murdered him!”

Bright reflections and shadows dance across the scene as I swiftly activate [Light Shield], surrounding my pink-haired [Chef] in a protective, luminescent bubble that holds back the fury of my usually gentle girlfriend.

“You killed him! How could you? You damn slut, you took his life!” Irene's voice quivers, half-choked with tears.

“Stop!” I yell, finally reaching Irene’s back and rapidly hugging her arms, yanking her off the ground, and walking away from Flaminia.

“Joey! Let go of me!” Irene thrashes in my arms, her eyes wild. “Why are you doing this?! Release me!”

“You are not thinking straight,” I tell Irene, trying to keep my voice even as my heart threatens to burst out of my chest.

Can you cast a [Silence] spell? I desperately ask Magister Mulligan in my head.

The disdain in the old man’s mental voice is evident as he retorts: You could have solved all this mess with your magic, young Luciani. The same way you could have placated that mob with real power instead of empty words. You are a [Mage], not a [Sitter].

Jesus Christ, really?!

To add to the chaos, Flaminia, defying all odds, manages to drag herself to her feet. With fierce determination, she begins to stomp her way across the boundary of the [Light Shield] to confront us. "What in the cursed branches of the World's Tree?!" Flaminia's voice drips with disbelief and anger. She rubs the rapidly swelling side of her face, her eyes flashing like a storm. “Have you gone mad?!”

“Let me go! That slut deserves a beating!” Irene roars.

“Irene, stop!” I try to reason, my grip unwavering. “Flam, let her—”

“Let her what?! She struck me, Joey! Right across my face!” Flaminia interrupts, her eyes watery.

“Her brother just died, Flaminia!” I shout back.

Flaminia seems to finally realize what's going on. The pink-haired [Chef] pauses, her eyes widening briefly before she grinds her teeth in frustration and heads to the office. But just as she’s about to descend the stairs, Irene, in her emotional frenzy, manages to shout once more.

“You killed him! You were jealous of him!”

Fuck me.

That’s when Flaminia turns her head over her shoulder terminator-style and spins around, stomping back to us.

“Your brother and I,” Flaminia begins, her voice tight but forceful, “we were talking! I wanted him to be happy!”

Her voice gains a touch of softness and a hint of regret, “I've said sorry to him more times than I can remember. I still don’t know what went so horribly wrong today, but whatever it was, I swear it wasn’t me.”

Confusion clouds Irene’s face, her eyebrows furrowing as she processes Flaminia's words. I can physically sense the change in Irene – her muscles ease up, and her rigid stance begins to relax. “You... spoke to him?” Irene's voice is barely more than a whisper – a blend of disbelief and sadness.

“Your brother and I spoke several times after Joey came out of prison. I told him that it was wrong for me to treat him like that. I told him that we can’t be a thing but that I still wish him the best—he wanted nothing more than this promotion, and he even got it before it was his time.”

“He... talked to you?”

“Yes.”

“But I...”

...

I brought Irene to my office and closed the door behind us. Gently, I guided her towards the couch; she sank into it, her gaze lost, eyes fixed on the wall ahead as if searching for answers in its blank expanse.

“I didn’t…” her voice trembles, cracking with raw emotion.

I can't help but wince at those words. The weight of regret and what-ifs hanging between us.

“I never got the chance to speak to him again,” she continues, her voice barely a whisper. “Plinius and I... after that heated argument... after I told him to leave...” She trails off, lost in the depths of her memories, her face etched with pain and regret.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

She just stares ahead.

Irene’s strong—I’ve come to know just how strong this woman is in the past two months. I’ve met the rest of her family briefly, getting to know that her oldest brother has a disease that—

That you might figure out as well if you focused on magic.

Fuck! Shut up!

Keep playing [Baker], then.

Christ, Magister Mulligan, is this the right moment?!

Yes, young Luciani. It is. Neither bankruptcy nor your adventuring duties are enough to justify your employing your time on anything other than magic. Now, your involvement has degenerated into this.

I know what I’m doing!

You don’t. What are the chances that this [Captain] was killed because of you? Do you think this was just a case? You still don’t know who killed that [Corporal] that was supposed to duel you.

But deep down, a part of me fears he might be right. What if Plinius's death was related to my previous actions? And what about the mysterious death of Appius, who was supposed to challenge me? All these unanswered questions weigh heavily on my mind.

“The last time I’ve ever spoken to him was me telling him that he’s worthless,” the sentence comes out of her mouth with none of the previous hesitation.

I find myself unable to say anything comforting to my woman, so I simply sit on the couch beside her, sighing, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Irene puts her face between her hands. She smells of freshly roasted chocolate and sugar as I hug her back and put my face on her shoulder. “He always chased after you just because you’re a Human. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry your brother died, Irene. No matter what he did or thought, he was still your brother. Did you receive any word on the matter? Is there an investigation going on?”

But Irene doesn’t reply. She gently pushes me away and looks me straight in the eye, “Was it really a cake from your bakery?”

Fuck.

“Yes,” I nod, “Flaminia told me moments ago. She didn’t poison it.”

Irene nods back.

“He was talking to her but not to me.”

“He—” I try coming up with something to comfort her, but she immediately cuts me off.

“He needed someone to talk to. And I took his family away from him. I told him he couldn’t see Fidatus nor bother Anatholia, that we didn’t need him to survive, and that he would end up just like our parents.”

“You said things you didn’t mean,” I grimace.

“I meant them,” Irene says, a solitary tear streaming down her face. “I meant every single one of them. And he did. He couldn’t just have a normal life with us—he wanted to be an Adventurer, but he got into the military because he thought it would be easier for him. He never... he never fully believed he could do it, you know?”

“He seemed confident.”

Irene shakes her head.

“He never was. It was all a front. He was good with a weapon, but he was denser than an old tree. I had to teach him to read and write because his teachers gave up on him. When he made [Sergeant], I thought that was going to be the peak of his career. I have no idea how he even made it to [Captain].”

“Well, maybe you underestimated him,” I say, finding myself defending the man. “Listen, do you need any help with the funeral? I can—”

“Joey,” Irene turns her body toward me, “I don’t. I need to take care of this by myself. I... I have to go and talk to the military. I received word from them. After the investigation ends, they will send his body here. It’s going to take a few weeks.”

I flinch at the amount of time this will require. It’s not ideal for someone to grieve for so long without being able to say their goodbyes.

“I understand if you need space,” I say, moving slightly away to punctuate my words.

But Irene’s hand shoots out and grabs my arm, pulling me in for an unexpected hug and a soft kiss, depositing her tears on my cheeks. She shakes her head at the end of the kiss.

“No, please. I need you.”

“I will be there the same way you were there for me in prison,” I say, smiling kindly at the woman.

I relish her sad smile, but I feel a pang of guilt suddenly eating me up.

Is Plinius dead because of me? No. It couldn’t be, right?

Thankfully, Magister Mulligan doesn’t say anything since I’m not sure I could keep my jaw unclenched and not flinch at his words.

“Is the bakery going to be okay? You told me you were struggling before, but now, people will think twice before buying from you, at least until this chaos dies down.

“It’s going to be tough,” I say, “but I’ll take care of it. We might tap into the chocolate market, though.”

“It’s ok.”

“Is it? Heh, I don’t know. I have ideas, but we don’t have the right manpower or resources. This... it’s a bit of a mess. However, you worry about your brother’s funeral, please. I’ll take care of this.”

Irene nods, and then her eyes light up.

“Right, I saw [Soldiers] marching in the Pratus.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure if they plan on harassing your friends, but [Soldiers] don’t take to this kindly, Joey. You’ll have to be careful.”

“I—”

“I know you are strong. You showed me. But your friends are not.”

I scratch my head and bite my lower lip, “you are right. I’ll go check on them and bring Stan along for backup.”

“Stan? Take Antoninus and half the Watch, Joey. It’s dangerous out there for you, too.”

“It’s going to be okay, beautiful,” I say, hugging her again and placing a kiss on her forehead.

Is it? I ask myself mentally when I hear a knock on the door.

I get up and open, finding Anatholia, Irene’s sister, on the other side.

She has red eyes and a disheveled head of hair, but she immediately barges into the office, breathing in relief as soon as she sees her sister.

Irene gets up, and they hug, with Anatholia sobbing on Irene’s shoulder.

“I sent her a message,” I say, nodding at Irene.

“Thanks,” she replies and looks at the door. “I think we should go now.”

“Sure, I’ll come by later if you don’t mind.”

“Never,” Irene smiles.

“Cool, cool, cool,” I say awkwardly as they leave and close the door behind.

Yo, old man, can you clarify what you meant when you said Plinius’s death might have had something to do with me?

However, before I can hear his reply, there’s another knock on the door.

Huh, has Irene forgotten something?

I open it to find a [Runner] with the characteristic mailbag.

“A letter for Joey Luciani,” he says, holding an envelope in his hand. “Confirmation, please,” he adds, holding a truth-stone in his other hand.

“I’m Joey Luciani,” I nod, confused.

He leaves the letter to me, and I check the sender.

To: Joey Luciani, the Human

Location: Amorium

From: Plinius Longinus