"Oi, Sheila!"

"Eek!" She jumped, tail puffed up and stiffened. "O-oh, Garreth, it's you..."

"Who else would it be, you scaredy cat?" He angled his head toward the group of people. "What's going on over there? It's not trouble, is it? Heavens know I've had enough of that as of late..."

"I-I... I... they... your partner," Sheila sputtered, stretching out an unsteady finger at them.

"My partner?"

"Go on, admit it!" A loud, raucous voice echoed through the foyer, sending tremors through the glass chandelier overhead. The source of the racket was a blond-permed, horse-faced man sporting the Bureau's uniform, and the target of his aggressive tirade was none other than Lynn, who lowered her head, avoiding eye contact. A few of the younger agents had her surrounded. "Admit it was your damn fault!"

"I... it was my fault..." Meekly, the half-elf girl gave in to his demand. Still on the mend, she wore a dark choker to conceal the scar on her neck and her right hand was swathed in bandages.

"No shit! You're telling us the Direwolf of Blackmoor's invincible streak just so happened to end as soon as an elf is involved? We know you're the reason that steel plant was blown to bits!"

"Say, Melvin, think she's a spy working with the bluebloods?" Another agent sneered.

"I wouldn't put it past her. She looks like a spellcaster, what with that scrawny body of hers."

"Perform a trick for us, bitch!" A halfling agent popped up from behind and scoffed at her.

And the band of bullies erupted into laughter. Spotting an opening, Lynn tried to slip past, only to be halted by the men. "Woah, woah, where do you think you're going?" Melvin blocked her path; his buck teeth peeked out from between his lips as he grinned wryly. "Building's reserved for Bureau agents only. Turn back and go home to whatever forest you came from, Miss Fae..."

"P-please move," courage mustered, the half-elf asserted through derisive cackles.

"Hah?" Very quickly, the man dropped his smile. "Fuck did you say?"

"I need to see my partner, so would you please move out of the way..."

A tense silence fell over the hall.

No one moved a muscle.

And balling his gloved hand into a fist, Melvin lost his patience.

"You think you can give me lip and get away with it... you knife-eared fuck? Don't get uppity with me, you little shit!" Sheila let out a scream as the man moved in to strike Lynn. The half-elf could only clench her eyes shut and brace herself for the pain. When she opened them again, however, she was shocked to see Garreth behind Melvin, seizing his wrist. Colour drained from the bullies' faces as the reality of the situation dawned on them. "G-Garreth? When did you—?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't send my partner to hospital again when she's just recovered." Coolly, Garreth released the cowering blond agent's hand and walked past his quaking lackeys, beckoning his partner. "Let's go, kid. You caught me on my break."

"R-right..." Lynn trod on his heels and dragged her feet as he made his exit.

Body taut, Melvin stepped forth and gave a salute. "You're a damn hero to us, Garreth! The Direwolf of Blackmoor! If that elf has been giving you a hard time, we'll deal with her for you!"

And the man stopped by the door and raised his voice. "If you have an issue with my recent performance, take it up with me. Don't use it as an excuse to harass my colleague, got that?"

With egos deflated like punctured balloons, the young agents relented and gandered as the legendary figure they revered stormed out of the building alongside his half-elf partner.

Outside, roads paved with tiles of granite lay cloaked in a thick veil of rolling mist, and light from the midday sun lanced through the haze. There was a nip in the air—which mingled with the stench of damp stone and exhaust. High-rise offices and banks were commonplace in this part of Wenton as it was a drab, grey district reserved for the city's elite. As he drifted by powerlines, streetlamps, and sleazy businessmen in bowler hats, Garreth espied a recognisable vehicle parked on the curb.

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And abreast of the jet-black automobile assigned to them, the pair came to a standstill. Together, they settled in the car, away from the bustle of the city, sitting quietly on polished and freshly-scented leather seats as the man searched his glove compartment for cigars and a matchbox. While he rummaged through old documents and empty cartridges, Lynn glanced at him. "Are we headed somewhere?"

"Nah, just wanted to get away from the attention. I had a vague impression you did too—ah, that's where it was." Fishing out an open pack of cigars, Garreth took his last remaining stogie and used his switchblade to cut off its cap. He then brought the rolled bundle of dried and fermented gloamweed to his mouth and lit a match beneath it. His partner observed him as he wound down the window and drew in his first puff.

"You smoke?"

Languidly, he exhaled, smoke unfurling from his lips in sinuous, ephemeral tendrils, which swirled lazily before dissipating into nought. "I do now, kid. I'd held it off for a year straight, but with everything that's been going on, it's hard not to slip back into old habits."

Lynn's ears drooped, and her eyes were downcast. "S-sorry..."

"You don't ever stop apologising, do you? Look, none of this is your fault. Don't let those green recruits back there tell you otherwise."

"They were right, though... I'm the reason you're in this mess. You kept a flawless track record until you teamed up with me... All I did for you was lose my temper and disobey your orders."

"Circumstances were already dire when we arrived. Henning shouldn't have busted in with his men, guns blazing. Had they not intervened, the bluebloods wouldn't have been so on edge. Heck, you're a former cop like them; I bet the training you all underwent was what pushed you to draw your revolver to begin with. Then, there was that orc who provoked the blueblood and the boy who ran up to stab him. Essentially, your mess-up was a mere fraction of what went wrong that day. If anyone is to blame, it's the higher-ups for allowing you to go on this mission."

"But it was me firing my pistol that worsened that meltdown or whatever it's called, wasn't it?" Lynn positted, squeezing her knees. "My refusal to back down nearly got us all killed and—"

"That's where you're wrong, kid. Guess I haven't really explained it to you." Savouring his next drag, the man decided to run his partner through the fundamentals of the phenomenon. "Zone failure happens when entropy in a space—a zone—gets too high. Only active spells increase entropy, powerful ones by a lot. Machines that involve steam, combustion, your six-shooter for example, don't increase entropy. Basically, your hand cannon was blown up by the instability that arises from a high-entropy zone. It had no effect on the zone itself."

"If that's true, then why did the flames of the smelters flare up and change their hue the exact moment I pulled the trigger? What active spell could've possibly coincided with that?"

"Well... wait, you're right..." Her point hit Garreth like a ton of bricks. Thinking back to the incident, the man did find it unusual that the heat continued rising even after Kaz died. "Now that you mention it, it is strange that that happened. It couldn't have been Naomi... her healing spell was far too weak to make a difference. It couldn't have been Edmund either... his final attack wasn't that strong. Kaz just about recovered to stop the flames, so he's definitely out...'"

"I-is something the matter?"

"The only other possibility was that a fifth blueblood was present at the location," Garreth muttered to himself under his breath. "But where could one have hidden?"

Lynn froze up. "A fifth... magus?"

"You could hear me, kid?"

"O-oh... um... my long ears aren't just for show. I can hear a lot more than the average person."

Turning to look at her, Garreth noticed her pointy ears had perked up. "Is that so? Well, forget what I said. That was purely conjecture. A bit of speculation on my part. Even if there was a blueblood that brought the factory to its end, we have no leads, so it isn't worth fretting over."

"If you say so..." And the half-elf slipped back into despair. "Still, I should've heeded your warning back there... escalating the crisis like that was thoughtless of me..."

"I won't disagree with you there, but now you know. There's no point beating yourself up over it. If you're still bothered by the ordeal, let me remind you that the reason you went off on the blueblood was to save a boy's life. Do you regret rescuing him from the clutches of death?"

"N-no... of course I don't..."

"Good. Hold on to that feeling. It helps to cope with the pangs of conscience. This line of work has a way of carving you down to your core. We're but tools of the empire—cogs in the machine of bureaucracy. It's not a job just anyone can handle. People will die; you got a taste of that. My advice? Cling to the possibility that more lives would've been lost had you not acted. I'm not saying what you did was the best course of action, but if you let every mistake eat away at you, you won't last long in this profession."

"I see... I'll keep that in mind..."

"Plus, it's not like I'm pissed at you, kid, so lighten up. Consider the fact we almost died a learning experience. Next time you're forced to choose between a life and our mission, remember—a magus' spells have the potential to end countless more. You witnessed it firsthand, didn't you?"

"Yes... I did, sir."

"You're never going to stop calling me sir, are you?"

"Ah... sorry..."