The vibe in that creaky old wooden living room was thick with tension, sharper than a chef's knife. Finally, Alle and Five faced off, each at opposite ends, surrounded by the unspoken weight of secrets. Alle's stare drilled into him, demanding the long-overdue explanations.

Five, on the edge of revelation, lifted his gaze to meet Alle's, determined to give her an explanation. The room felt like it was closing in, intensifying the impending bombshell. He finally broke the silence announcing, "I don’t have a name, not in the usual sense. They just called me five, as long as I can remember," each word dripping with the weight of his past.

Alle, exhaling a puff of smoke that matched the suspense, seized her turn to dig into Five's mystery. "Who called you that? Your folks?" Her words cut through the air, getting to the core of his guarded secrets.

"I don’t have parents. I was kept in a cell my whole life. Even if I had them, never met 'em," Five spilled, the raw reality of his existence laid bare.

The room tightened as Alle probed further, her questions chipping away at the walls around his past. "A cell, you say? Where was this place?"

"It was an island... I don’t know where though. Tried finding it on your maps, no luck. It's unmarked. The only info I have is the interior of my room. A tiny cell with just rats for company... and barely enough food from the guards to survive another day with the occasional insults."

Silence hung heavy, the weight of a past too wild to grasp. The gravity of Five's truth sank in, leaving its mark in that dimly lit, worn-out wooden house.

“Do you have any idea who these people were ? Any names, signs, anything?”

"There was this one person… The only soul who extended kindness or so I thought in these desolate years.'Master' the guards called him, a name that echoed through the cold walls of our refuge. He taught me to read, gifted me the sacred book about Irolos. In the midst of rising tension, he stood as the sole voice in my desolate existence."

"Did he ever show any signs or clues about his identity? Anything the guards said? What does he look like?"

"The master appeared to be a harmless-looking old man for the majority of my time with him. He possessed kind green eyes, adorned with a pair of glasses hanging off them. He was tall and moved with a gentle demeanor. However, everything changed towards the end."

After hearing Five’s description, Alle paused for a moment, her expression shifting to that of concerned realization. She then regained her stern expression and continued, "Changed, how so?"

Five was getting visually stressed retelling this story, but he continued to recall through the pain he owed that much to the woman who saved him and gave him back his life.

"I was oblivious to the passage of time, and it was the Master’s visits who made me aware of it. Not too long ago, right before my escape, he visited my cell to... celebrate my birthday, he claimed. He spoke of potential and promised a brighter future beyond the confines of my cell. Taking me out for a test, it was the first time in memory that I felt hope. To finally witness the beauty of the crescent sun and the sea, as described in the books, was a dream. Yet, my optimism was shattered when I failed his test, and that's when his true nature emerged. The eyes that once held kindness and hope lost their color. I was of no use to him anymore."

Five couldn't contain a tear, struggling to hold back the emotions that ran deeper than the pain of his twisted, broken arm.

"He ordered his men to dispose of me... but somehow, I managed to escape.” The shock and trauma, both mental and physical, lingered within him.

“I wandered aimlessly around the forest surrounding the castle, but the harsh reality struck again; it was an island. To escape the nightmare fully, I had to return to it. Sneaking onto his ship among the cargo, I passed out. I can't be sure how much time passed while I was unconscious, but when I awoke to the ship's rocking, we were in the middle of the sea. They soon discovered me, and the master looked at me with genuine emotion once again. It confirmed that all those times he seemed to show kindness were nothing but a façade. He never pitied me or cared for me..."

His countenance was overtaken by an overwhelming hatred, the betrayal etching itself into his heart more intensely than any physical pain. Every thought of the master fueled a burning desire for revenge that lingered persistently in his mind.

"I jumped from the deck, and that's when you found me washed ashore."

Alle nodded, seemingly affirming the truth she had perceived, a subtle look of sympathy towards the boy betraying the sternness of her expression. "Were there others?". She asked after giving a moment of respite.

Five regained his composure, showing a mastery over his emotions as he continued with his story. He had grown more accustomed to not letting his feelings overpower him.

"I encountered a few of the others, but either due to cell relocations or when it was their turn to undergo the test, they would simply walk past my cell, we weren't allowed to speak or make noises even to the guards."

Alle sat in thoughtful silence, carefully assessing the situation. She hesitated, not wanting to carry any additional burdens, yet an unexpected connection seemed to form. It wasn't a connection to Five's circumstances, but rather to the undercurrent of hatred he harbored. She… related to it.

"It seems you don’t have anywhere to stay. Say, would you like to stay here? I’ll have you help me around in exchange, of course." The weight of those words lifted the emotional burden within him, and a genuine sense of kindness enveloped him for the first time.

“If it's no trouble… I’ll accept,” Five replied, a hint of gratitude in his voice.

“Five… That won’t work; we’ll have to find you a proper name, but that’s for later. What I’m more interested in is…” She paused, considering the questions about his situation, but recognizing the weight it carried for him. Deciding to change the subject, she added, "This specific mixture of herbs! The taste is delightful with each puff. I have a spare pipe if you want!" Alle acknowledged the need to prioritize the momentary pleasure over delving into the heavy matters, allowing a temporary escape for both of them.

Five settled into a seat, and Alle handed him an old, worn wooden pipe with a mischievous smile, inviting him to indulge in the momentary escape that the fragrant smoke offered.

—

Five days later,

in the village plaza where a crowd had gathered, the platform's aged wooden base creaked beneath the weight as the Glare ascended its weathered stairs, his loyal beast perched on his shoulder, guiding his every step. The executioner, stationed behind the imposing guillotine, observed as the Glare passed by, his focus fixed on the prisoner whose head awaited the unyielding descent of the heavy blade. The prisoner's eyes were tightly bound, a common practice to deny them the embrace of the sun, yet a mischievous grin played on his exposed face, visible to the eager crowd that had gathered to witness the spectacle.

The beast whispered into The Glare's ear, guiding him toward the edge of the platform, where he turned to face the expectant crowd. The Glare, a man well beyond his sixties, was clad in weathered white robes, yet despite his humble appearance, an undeniable aura of authority emanated from him. His exposed skin revealed the lasting marks of burn scars. He bore the title bestowed upon those who subjected themselves to prolonged exposure to the sun under the church's teachings. It was believed to "purify" their inner world. His sightless eyes, devoid of their lids after years of practicing the sun's rites, bore witness to a darkness only he could comprehend.

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Despite his blindness, the Glare stood proudly before the crowd, his sightless gaze turned away from them. In stark contrast to the other officials from the church, who adorned their ranks with clothes and medals, the Glare's rank was etched into the very lines of his face—a visible testament to the sacrifices he had made in the name of purification. The absence of his eyelids symbolized a dedication that surpassed the superficial trappings of rank and status.

“Esteemed members of our community, I implore your solemn attention as we gather here today to witness the grim conclusion of justice's relentless pursuit. With hearts heavy and spirits burdened, we confront the abhorrent actions of an individual who, in his sinister machinations, poisoned the lifeblood of the once-vibrant town of Mannek. He condemned our dear old neighbors to a desolate existence of unending torment, guiding them mercilessly towards a premature and agonizing demise.” He spoke in the soothing timbre of an old man, yet beneath its comforting tones lay an eerie undercurrent, sending shivers down the spine.

The faint glimmer in his blind eyes dimmed, overtaken by a mixture of anger and sadness that clouded his expression. With a heavy heart, he spoke his next sentence, the weight of his emotions palpable in the air.

“Not only that, but… in his depravity, he dared commit an act most vile and unforgivable. When apprehended in the capital, this… Heathen! Brazenly laid hands upon a cherished member of our beloved church, snuffing out the tender flame of a young devotee's life in a moment of unspeakable violence. As we stand on the precipice of witnessing the final reckoning of justice, let us reforge our resolve to uphold the sacred tenets of our church, thereby safeguarding the precious sanctity and enduring well-being of our beloved community.”

As The Glare's brows relax, their furrowed intensity loosens slightly, but instead of softening, a subtle coldness creeps into his expression. The tension that once gripped his countenance now takes on a chilling edge, sending a shiver through the crowd. With a voice devoid of warmth, he proceeds to reveal the punishment

“Henceforth, in light of the egregious crimes committed, the accused Eleo Madj is hereby sentenced to the ultimate penalty—death. May this solemn decree serve as a testament to the unwavering commitment of our community to uphold justice and preserve the sanctity of our shared values.”

He raised his hand towards the executioner, signaling him to commence the execution without even turning towards him. The man clad in all black, his flesh untouched by the sun's embrace, nodded and obeyed the signal. His gloved hands grasped the lever that would release the sharp edge of the blade, pulling it down with strength...

Yet the machine remained motionless, not budging even an inch. It was a malfunction they had encountered before, which is why they had summoned its creator to assist them. Rick stood among the crowd, watching the failed execution unfold like any other spectator. His eyes met those of the executioner, and without hesitation, he rushed towards the platform. No one dared to impede his progress; in Ironfalls village, Rick was known as the man who could fix anything. He passed by the guards and staff, climbing the creaky stairs of the platform to inspect his creation up close.

“I pulled it hard, like you told me, Rick!” The executioner's voice reached him, though Rick remained focused on his task.

“Yes, yes, you did,” Rick replied calmly. He knelt down and removed the plank covering the contraption beneath the lever, examining the issue firsthand. The rope carrying the guillotine was knotted, likely due to interference or negligence. Rick didn't dwell on the cause; his priority was to resolve the problem.

Since the tension on the rope was immense while it carried the blade, untying it was out of the question. Rick knew he had only one option. He retrieved a thick knife from his back pocket and began cutting the rope where it was tied. The crowd watched anxiously as he worked, but so did the accused.

“To be expected from the church's craftsmanship! They can't even produce a machine that works when needed! HAHAHA! Even the sun is getting bored watching this!” the accused taunted.

With one final effort, the rope gave way, and the blade swiftly descended, silencing the taunts as the accused's head fell into the basket. In that fleeting moment, his expression held a strange sense of fulfillment…

The crowd fell into a stunned silence as they witnessed the sudden resolution of the failed execution. For an official execution, especially in Ironfalls, it was a rare occurrence, and the spectators were not accustomed to such events. However, as the guillotine finally performed its grim task, severing the accused's head, a wave of relief swept over the onlookers.

Then, almost as if a switch had been flipped, the silence gave way to jubilation. Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, echoing through the village square.

After the crowd had calmed down, The Glare's carried his decree out with meticulous precision.

“The condemned is left exposed to the unwavering gaze of the sun for three days, a stark symbol of the gravity of his crimes. As his lifeless form lies beneath the watchful eye of the heavens, the sun stands as both arbiter and witness to his final reckoning.

Upon the completion of this penance, the condemned is laid to rest in a burial site sheltered from the sun's rays. This final act ensures that the sun may never lay eyes on him again, for he no longer bears the mark of humanity.

And in accordance with my solemn decree, the condemned is neither cremated nor scattered under any circumstances. His earthly remains find refuge in the embrace of the earth, serving as a lasting reminder of our species' misdeeds and the enduring power of the church’s justice.”

His gaze turned toward the lifeless form of the accused, as if witnessing the departure of a soul with his sightless eyes. The beast perched upon his shoulder began to whisper into his ear, filling the air with sinister murmurs. He turned away, guided by the haunting whispers, and began to depart from the scene. And with him the crowd dispersed, a sense of contentment permeated the air they found satisfaction in the free entertainment they had received that day.

"Hey, what's the deal with the machine now? At this rate, you'll be doling out the death sentences!" the executioner quipped to Rick, a smirk playing on his lips.

"As I've said before, you've got to treat your tools right, or they'll come back to bite you. Clearly, you haven't been keeping up with the maintenance on this thing, and the blade? Forget about it! That uneven cut? It's practically a work of abstract art. The poor guy ended up with a broken neck before the blade even got to him! And as for why the machine jammed up this time? You didn't reset it properly after the last use. The rope got all knotted up."

"I mean, I followed your instructions. If anything, I blame the guy who made this contraption in the first place."

Rick let out a sigh as he continued to inspect the machine. "I'll take care of fixing it. Want me to bring it over right now?"

"Nah, not yet. The Glare said to give it three days, and that includes the tool used for the execution. But I'll drop it off at your place. I've been meaning to pay Alle a visit anyway. How's she doing, by the way? Haven't had the opportunity to visit in the past month or so. I've been very busy preparing for the execution. It's not very often we have a high ranking church official come over. Had to do my best to prepare for the event."

"Yamagi, Visiting her more often isn't going to improve your chances, you know. Besides, she's been swamped with that kid lately."

"Kid? What kid?! Is she pregnant?!" Yamagi burst out towards him, his voice laced with shock and concern, earning a distasteful expression from Rick.

Rick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because that's how it works, right?" he retorted sarcastically, a hint of annoyance coloring his tone.

Yamagi's brow furrowed. "You're amusing, Rick, but I need answers. What kid?" His tone was insistent, a touch of impatience creeping in.

Rick fell into a contemplative silence, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the events since removing the cast.

"Come on, Rick! I've been working my tail off here. The thought of her—her raven-black hair, her laughter—it's what keeps me going every day!" Yamagi's frustration spilled over, his voice tinged with desperation.

"And what an amazing job you've done, clearly," Rick retorted with a playful smirk, earning a dry chuckle from the executioner.

“Anyway, don't change the subject. What kid are you talking about?" Yamagi questioned, his voice tinged with jealousy as he couldn't hide the emotion seeping from his words.

"Forget about it. Ask her yourself when you come over to bring the guillotine, so I can clean, fix, and maintain it, I’m done talking over this rotting corpse. And Yamagi, make sure the machine is maintained, because I really hope this is the last time I have to fix it myself," Rick replied with frustration, eager to move on from the topic, and a hint of regret for having brought it up in the first place.

Rick sheathed his knife with practiced ease and brushed off the dust that had gathered on his trousers, preparing to leave town immediately. Despite the completion of his task, Yamagi continued stealing glances at him, signaling that their conversation was far from over.

Annoyed, Rick confronted Yamagi, "What do you want? I fixed the machine, done your job for you, even informed you about your oh-so-beloved. What else could you possibly want from me?"

Yamagi stammered, a nervous energy emanating from him, "W-Would you mind if I came with you and popped at Alle's to say hello and see the situation for myself?"

Rick's eyes rolled at the request, his annoyance palpable. Yamagi was proving impossible to shake off.

"It's Alle you need to ask, not me," Rick replied curtly. "She doesn't owe you an explanation, and I'm certain she won't be exactly pleased when you randomly pop in to see for yourself. But if you REALLY MUST, you are free to follow me home. I won't meddle with what you do."