“If you let me smoke a cigarette, I’ll talk.”
Flynn and the Northern Branch investigator, who had been listening intently, both let out a deflated sigh the moment Leonardo spoke. Unlike them, however, Investigator Eckison took the words as a direct challenge. His expression twisted with clear displeasure.
“...This bastard—”
Muttering under his breath, Eckison glared at Leonardo with even sharper eyes.
Leonardo, however, returned the gaze without flinching—his usual arrogant composure fully intact. Eckison’s tone grew more forceful.
“Leonardo Blaine. You clearly don’t grasp the situation you’re in. You’re already facing charges of aggravated destruction for inciting a disturbance in the Imperial Square. And you think a criminal like you has the right # Nоvеlight # to make demands?”
“Oh, right. That battalion commander who tried to catch me earlier—the one with wood magic? His cigarettes smelled just like the ones I smoke. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like his—”
“Blaine!”
Eckison slammed the desk and rose from his chair when Leonardo casually brushed him off and kept talking. The sound echoed, and a brief silence swept through the interrogation room.
“How long are you planning to act this arrogant? Know your place.”
Leonardo met Eckison’s furious glare and quietly pieced together what had been bothering him since the start.
The same way Leonardo had been provoking him, Eckison had been clearly disturbed by Leonardo’s behavior—particularly the arrogance. Leonardo now recognized the simmering contempt that had been in Eckison’s eyes all along.
The man who should have remained objective was instead hiding behind a self-righteous mask, twisting justice for personal satisfaction. In that moment, the whole interrogation began to feel like a farce.
The investigator’s eyes, looking down at him as if he were some stain to be scrubbed out, erased the faint smile from Leonardo’s face.
“...My place?”
For a long time now, Leonardo had ignored the judgment of strangers.
Too many already knew of his brilliant yet bleak past. He was weighed down by the resentment and curses carried over from countless missions and bloodstained fields.
He’d long since learned that if he didn’t tune it all out, he’d lose his mind.
Leonardo had never met this investigator before. And yet the man had greeted him with hostility and bias from the start. Leonardo saw no reason to excuse his emotions—or to tolerate them.
Eckison had already written him off as a criminal. With that, Leonardo found no reason to cooperate, and he made no effort to hide the hostility now rising inside him.
His eyes narrowed. His golden pupils burned with fierce light, and the sharpness of his stare turned lethal. In an instant, the atmosphere in the interrogation room froze.
Then, Leonardo stood up.
The sudden movement startled everyone. As he made to lunge, the door burst open and armed personnel stormed in, aiming their capture guns directly at him.
Leonardo’s body was still bound to the metal chair bolted to the floor, so he couldn’t fully rise. But even in that position, he radiated a threatening presence. He completely ignored the guns and the guards, fixing his gaze on Eckison alone. His voice, when it came, was cold and deadly.
“Investigator Luke Eckison. Listen carefully. You call it aggravated destruction, but from where I stood, it was self-defense.”
“...”
“If you want to accuse me of a crime and lecture me on rights, take me to trial first. I’m not interested in your petty hatred.”
At those words, Eckison’s face twisted further. Leonardo scoffed, then continued with icy momentum.
“You suspect I helped the grand master escape. Fine. But that’s all it is—a suspicion. Do you really think that gives you the right to charge me with unrelated crimes, brand me a criminal, and coerce my cooperation?”
Silence fell again. The air grew dense with tension as Leonardo and Eckison locked eyes in a bitter standoff.
At that moment, a familiar mana signature slipped into the room through the open door and between the armed agents. Its cool edge reached Leonardo, and a low, commanding voice followed.
“That’s enough, Leonardo.”
At the grave voice, the investigators and clerks—Flynn included—immediately turned their heads. Only the armed members held their positions.
“Commander. Loyalty.”
“Loyalty.”
“Loyalty.”
As Hugo entered the interrogation room, Eckison stood and saluted with a startled expression. The others quickly followed suit. But Hugo didn’t return the gesture. His gaze remained fixed on Leonardo.
Leonardo gave Eckison a cold glance, then turned to Hugo. The commander was watching him without expression. Leonardo let out a derisive snort and looked away.
Just as he’d expected—Hugo had been watching the entire time.
To be surveilled like this—his expression, tone, every little movement dissected under observation while they pretended otherwise—was infuriating. Leonardo sat back down in the cold chair with a scowl, his jaw clenched in frustration.
“That damn Commander.”
The words were muttered, but loud enough to be heard. Hugo’s brows twitched subtly.
Still, he said nothing. It was Eckison whose face flushed crimson, as though personally insulted. He leaned forward, seething.
“This bastard—how dare you insult the Commander—!”
“It’s fine, Investigator Eckison.”
Hugo’s calm voice cut him off. Eckison went silent, though his glare didn’t waver.
Leonardo, meanwhile, leaned lazily back against the metal chair, completely unfazed. Hugo let out a quiet sigh and spoke again, calmly:
“I’ll allow you one cigarette.”
As Eckison began to protest, Hugo raised a hand to silence him. His cold gaze shut the man down immediately.
Under that silent pressure, Eckison bowed his head without another word. Hugo turned back to Leonardo and continued.
“Also, as you said, until the disposition is decided, we will treat you as a person of interest limited to the Frost territory incident.”
“...”
“In return, promise that you’ll cooperate fully with the interrogation again after the cigarette.”
Leonardo didn’t reply, keeping his gaze averted. But Hugo didn’t press him, quietly waiting.
Leonardo stared down at the files spread across the table with vacant, clouded eyes, as if lost in thought.
Ever since he’d returned to the Imperial Capital, he had been bombarded by all kinds of emotions directed at him. Drained both physically and mentally, he’d grown more sensitive. Still, no one understood better than he did that this situation was far from favorable.
He shut his eyes briefly, as if in pain, then bowed his head and rubbed his face with his bound hands. His fingers ran over his sharp eyebrows; he blinked a few times to ease the tension in his eyes and tried to calm the agitation in his chest. The throbbing in his head seemed to ease, just slightly.
At last, he lifted his head again. Looking toward Agrizendro, who was still patiently waiting, he spoke with a weary and conflicted expression.
“...I promise.”
****
Hugo personally led Leonardo out of the interrogation room and up to the terrace on the top floor of the Council annex’s western wing. Leonardo had insisted on smoking there.
But anticipating any possible incident, more than a dozen armed guards accompanied them—along with 3rd Battalion Commander Meterion.
When they reached the terrace railing, Hugo briefly released the bindings on Leonardo’s restraints. Leonardo, whose arms had been locked in the same position for quite some time, stretched slightly and rubbed his left arm with his right as if it had gone numb.
Seeing this, Hugo gave a slight nod, and one of the armed Council members stepped forward and offered Leonardo a cigarette. Leonardo took it, examined it, and frowned with disappointment.
“This isn’t what I smoke.”
Hugo looked down at him and replied coldly:
“Be grateful I brought you out here at all.”
Leonardo’s face twitched with faint displeasure, but compared to the investigator’s behavior earlier, Agrizendro was at least treating him with relative decency—so he let it slide.
He placed the filter between his lips, ignited a small flame at his fingertips, and lit the cigarette.
At that, Meterion—holding the chain connected to the shackles on Leonardo’s right wrist and ankle—tried to keep his expression neutral, but was clearly surprised. Even with thick mana-restricting shackles on, Leonardo could still manifest mana.
But Hugo didn’t react. He had likely expected Leonardo to be able to use some mana, even now. Without a word, he stepped aside and took hold of the chains connected to Leonardo’s left wrist and ankle, leaning against a pillar.
With Leonardo positioned between them, Hugo and Meterion stood guard on either side, gripping the chains. Behind them, the armed members formed a single line, silently awaiting orders.
Leaning against the railing, Leonardo rested his elbows on it, took a drag from the cigarette, and exhaled a long plume of smoke.
The sky above the Imperial Capital had already turned a deep shade of red and orange. The smoke he breathed out drifted over the city, veiled in the colors of the sunset. The dying light brushed across his face, tinting him in hues of crimson.
He stared out at the sky for a moment, then slowly lowered his gaze, taking in the sprawling Imperial Capital before him.
The reason he had insisted on coming here was that—unlike the area near the main building, which was cut off by a vast courtyard—this terrace offered the best close-up view of the city streets.
As if nothing had ever happened, the commotion from earlier had completely vanished, and the Imperial Capital once again looked peaceful.
People bustled between buildings. Their long shadows stretched along the streets. The setting sun caught in the windows, scattering reflections of warm light. Even as he squinted against the glare, Leonardo didn’t look away.
His lips were chapped and stung faintly from exhaustion. With the cigarette still in his mouth, he exhaled again, smoke thick with tangled emotion drifting toward the city.
Fluttering flags. Towering spires. The bell tolling from the massive clock above. The sound of tram wheels and the rhythmic clatter of carriage hooves echoed through the air. And then, from deep in his chest, a bittersweet smile rose to his lips.
“Really... nothing’s changed at all.”
The sunset cast striped shadows over his long lashes. Smoke unfurled from between his red-stained lips. His mouth curled slightly upward in a smile, yet his brows remained knit as he squinted into the glare—a contradiction in every line of his expression.
Watching that strange, unreadable smile, Hugo thought: this scene before him—with Leonardo’s eyes dyed in twilight red—was cruel... and heartbreakingly beautiful.
Even amid the idyllic view, Leonardo, now the perfect centerpiece to this quiet moment, looked deeply sorrowful to him.
His lips were unmistakably smiling, yet beneath those elegantly furrowed brows, his sunset-dyed eyes looked as though they were about to cry.
