People are in odd positions, either leaning against the furniture that hasn’t been overturned or balancing against the wall, as if afraid the ground will collapse under them. One of my walls has a hole burned into it, the charred spot slightly smoking. I can hear people in the house rushing over, along with a more sedate set of footsteps coming down the stairs.

But none of that is important. My gaze locks onto Orphelia and Alana. Orphelia, crouched over my friend, blade in hand. Alana, staring her down, trying to hold back the fear I can smell coming off her.

In that moment, I’m taken back to my wedding. Instead of Alana, I see Kierra sprawled on the ground, grimacing in pain while her magic fought to keep her alive despite the hole in her chest and her mangled heart. Her attacker that fled after he thought he destroyed my life.

I remember the fear of losing her and, just as before, hot anger overrides it, directed at the thing attempting to take something precious from me.

In the blink of an eye, I grab Orphelia by the throat and lift her off Alana. She croaks. Does she want to explain? Tell me it’s not what I think it is? Apologize?

Too late.

With scary ease, I snap her neck and drop her limp body. I stare at it unflinchingly. It’s a shame I had to do it but between her and Alana, there’s no choice. I’m a little angry at myself that I didn’t notice anything was wrong until it was almost too late. I heard noises that could have indicated something was wrong but ignored them while focusing on Miss Talia. At least I didn’t compound on my mistake with hesitation. I certainly won’t let the unthinkable happen because I balked at the thought of taking someone’s life.

The rest of the room does not share my uncaring attitude to the act of murder. There is a beat of stunned silence, all eyes on Orphelia. Then Cecile screams and the room devolves into panic.

She tumbles in her haste to put distance between her and her dead friend. Well, dying. Her heart is still stubbornly pumping but it won’t last long. No one seeing the bend in her neck would think she’s still alive.

Despite that, Lanston still throws himself at her side, hands hovering over her. I almost feel bad for him seeing his eyes water and his lips quiver. It’s a bit much for someone to lose two friends in a day.

“You!”

I casually deflect Robert as he runs at me with a roar, shoving him toward the wall. He yells in pain as he trips and slams into it, but I ignore him, eyes on Geneva. Why in the nine hells did you let anyone get that close to her with a weapon?

[She had no intention to kill or severely injure her, my summoner,] Geneva’s voice replies demurely. [Also, your sun initiated the conflict. I thought I would let her see it through to the end.]

She cannot lie to me but I can’t help but feel she is hiding something. Normally, she would have intervened and told me about it to garner goodwill. If she forsook the opportunity, that means that she gained something else by letting events play out. But what? Amusement? Did she know how I would react? Why would she want Orphelia to die?

[I only act in your best interests, Lou. That is our agreement.]

Mm. You better pray to whatever higher power you believe in that your games never injure someone I care about. Look into my mind. You know what I would do.

She flashes me a smile. [Yes. Perhaps more thoroughly than you yourself.]

“Fuck!” I turn to Miss Alyssa. Her gaze bounces between me and Orphelia, her lips pressed together in a tense frown. Her gaze finally settles on me. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” she shouts.

“I wasn’t thinking. I saw a threat and I acted.”

“You acted?! Stop playing games! Do you think that kind of excuse is going to fly?” A hand angrily pushes through her hair before a ball of fire appears in her palm. “You know I have to take you in.”

“Throw that spell at my wife and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

The room turns to the stairs as Kierra descends the last one. Her gaze is narrowed, focused on the immediate threat that is Miss Alyssa as she stalks across the room to stand at my side.

“Fuck! Kierra, I don’t want to fight you but I just watched that stupid brat murder someone!.”

Kierra looks down at Orphelia and the despondent Lanston beside her, hands balled in his lap as he cries. Then she huffs. “If she is dead, I am sure there is good reason.”

“What?!” Miss Alyssa shouts incredulously.

“My Lou is rather soft-hearted. She isn’t the type to kill someone without cause.”

“You’re calling someone who just snapped a girl’s neck soft-hearted?”

“She had a blade on Alana,” I explain.

“Ah, see. Perfectly understandable. Really, kicking up such a fuss for a natural sequence of events. I don’t know what the foolish girl thought would happen, attacking one of us in our own home. Lou, you’re a saint for killing her as quickly as you did.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. My instinct was to eliminate the threat.”

“Mm, you’ve grown so much~”

Miss Alyssa stares at the elf helplessly, realizing that if she wants to detain me for my recent bout of murder, she’s going to have to through a very protective elf capable of fighting the Grandmaster himself. She turns to Miss Talia in desperation, the dorm mother silently standing in the doorway of the study. “Oi, say something!”

“…Lourianne Tome took reasonable action in defense of another.”

“What?!”

“Upon concluding the interview, I saw Orphelia Yemen holding a blade while pinning Alana James to the floor. I can attest that Lourianne Tome feared for her friend’s safety truly, having no context of the situation. She acted on the information she had, that Orphelia Yemen was an immediate threat to Alana James’ life, and neutralized her.” She turned to Miss Alyssa, who gaped at the dorm mother while she defended my actions. “A tragic misunderstanding.”

“…fuck.” Miss Alyssa dismisses the spell in her hand, recognizing the futility of a fight. She glares at me before shaking her head. “Forget a vacation,” she mutters under her breath. “I fucking quit. I did not sign up for this shit.”

“You’re just going to let her go?!”

Mr. Talented doesn’t look good, his bloodshot eyes opened wide and nostrils flaring. He wildly gestures toward Orphelia. “She just killed someone in front of you and you’re not going to do anything about it?! Is this what the Hall considers justice?!”

Yeah, I suppose. Orphelia didn’t expect consequences for killing the people who assaulted her teammates. Why would I be punished for doing the exact same thing? Sure, I may have another ‘punishment’ like my time at the Sanctuary but I don’t mind a little labor. They could kick me out the Hall and I wouldn’t care. I would make the same decision, every time. Nothing is worth watching Alana get hurt.

“You! All of you!” The poor hero-to-be can’t get a proper sentence out through his frustration. Somehow, he decides attacking me again is a good idea and takes a heavy step forward, eyes aglow.

“If they won’t stop you, I—”

He doesn’t get to finish his declaration because Earl is suddenly behind him. A quick kick to the back of his knee makes Mr. Talented stumble and then my steward has an arm around his neck and a small knife at his jugular.

“Kindly do not threaten the lady of the house, sir guest,” he says calmly, as if he’s reprimanding him for putting his dirty shoes on the couch rather than threatening to kill him.

Luckily, the poor hero still has some survival instincts working as he shuts up and his eyes lose their glow. He slumps as much as he is able with Earl holding him up, completely defeated. Exhaustion covers him like a heavy cloak. No more righteous fury, no more frustration, no more sadness. Nothing.

…I think we may have broken him.

“Lou.”

I turn to Alana as she gets to her feet. She winces, one hand hovering over a wound on her shoulder, but never takes her eyes off Orphelia. After several heavy moments, she turns to face me, swallowing. “Please…save her.”

I look at her incredulously. “Alana, she wanted to hurt you.” I will do a lot of things for you but knowingly put you in danger, even if it’s simply healing someone who wishes her harm, is not one of them.

“No. It wasn’t…” She swallows again. “I…I started it.”

“Why?” If Alana felt the need to throw the first punch, I am even more reassured in my decision. The future saint does not attack good people or people with good intentions.

She bites her lower lip, clearly reticent. Then she takes two steps forward and lowers her head, burying her face in my chest. A definite surprise but a welcome one. “I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to pay. Seeing her casually throw away people’s lives…it reminded me of my father.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “The way he uses people. Knights giving their lives for the prosperity of his land are just numbers. I was, am, nothing but a number, my worth determined how much value I can bring to the family.”

“Alana…” I whisper, carefully laying a hand on her head.

“I saw him in her. She looked at me like she was better than me. Like I was nothing, the same way the others used to look at me. I swore, no one would get away with treating me like garbage again.” Her strained voice is on the verge of cracking with tears. “She reminded me of him, she reminded me of them, and then she threatened you. I…”

“Saints damn it, Alana,” I grumble, feeling a hand squeeze my heart.

“She wasn’t going to kill me. She was gloating. And…maybe I deserved it for—”

“No.”

She raises her head a fraction to meet my gaze.

“I don’t care if you marched into the palace, slapped the king himself, called the queen a whore, and robbed the place blind. I don’t care if you murdered every criminal in the kingdom, down to the thieving orphans. I don’t care if you set fire to the whole of Fort Victory and hung your entire family from the walls. No one hurts you and gets away with it.”

She swallows and hides her face again. Her good arm wraps around my waist and squeezes me gently. “I…believe you, Lou. Okay? I believe you. So…save her. For me?”

I grumble in discontent.

“Please…honey.”

Damn it, Alana.

“Kii.”

My wife chuckles, no doubt having heard every word of our whispered conversation. With a nonchalance that belies the tension in the room, she crouches next to Orphelia’s corpse and places a hand on her chest.

With a crack that is made louder by the heavy silence hanging over the room, Orphelia’s neck straightens. A spark returns to her eyes as she sits up, inhaling sharply. Her chest heaves as her eyes frantically bounce around the room. This is the first time I’ve seen such raw emotion from her. I can almost choke on the smell of her fear, it’s so overpowering. “Oi.”

Her eyes snap to me and she flinches.

“Don’t touch my wife. Ever.”

She nods sharply. Then she does something I could have never imagined. The snake in the guise of a woman, the cold-hearted killer who didn’t so much as blink in the face of death while she was doling it out to her enemies, lies on her side, curls into a small ball, and silently cries. Her whimpers are so quiet, I’m sure only the people with improved hearing can hear it. It’s…a little disturbing.

I think I might have broken another one.

Geneva kindly takes a seat next to the crying killer and places a gentle hand on her head. A shudder runs through Orphelia’s body but then she settles down, her whimpers slowly dying. What a beautiful scene.

I’m going to ignore the sinister undercurrent I can feel from it.

Much better to focus on Alana, who still hasn’t let go of me or raised her head from my chest. Kierra straightens up and places a hand on her shoulder. I don’t have to see the pale green glow on her fingertips to know she’s healing Alana’s wounds. She leans forward and whispers against Alana’s ear, “I’ve been waiting, little light.” Her voice is practically a purr and it has its intended effect as I see the ear redden. I flash my wife a grin that she returns. Heh.

“…are you kidding me?” I turn my head to look at Miss Alyssa, who is staring at Orphelia, dumbstruck. “She…she brought her back from the dead.”

“Not true death,” Geneva says, drawing the instructor’s attention. “Two minutes and thirty-four seconds elapsed from the moment Orphelia’s heart stopped beating to the time she received healing. It takes double that for the brain to die and as long as the brain remains, all can be restored. The rest of the body is simply parts made of flesh and blood.”

“It is good that the situation is resolved,” Miss Talia says.

“Haha, yeah. Resolved. I don’t have to report another dead initiate to the Grandmaster or a dead asset to the crown, I got answers to my actual investigation, I got to witness fucking resurrection, and I don’t have to fight the abyss-damned elf capable of it, along with whatever the fuck the brat is that she can move across the room and snap someone’s neck in an instant. Haha, completely resolved! Great result!”

She pauses, wearing a twitching smile. Then she launches a fireball at the ceiling. Cecile screams again but that’s just nerves. No one is any danger from the assault on my property. I think she’s one more major event from turning into a gibbering mess though. Saints, with the still sobbing Lanston, I think I may be four for four in ruining their team.

The instructor, on the other hand, is purging all her emotions on our poor house, scorching the ceiling and the upper halves of the walls. She finishes while taking heaving breaths, glares at each of us, and stomps from the room. “All of you are insane!” she shouts before marching out the front door, slamming it behind her.

…really, is that something she should say after vandalizing our home for no reason?

“I will make sure she is well and give my report,” Miss Talia says, also heading for the door. “Until next time, Lou.”

“Bye~”

Her exit is much quieter. I turn to the stragglers. All of them are shocked to their cores, including my teammates. Ah, they probably need a soothing touch right now, a balm to their fragile minds that have been battered by both terrible and terrific sights.

“What are all of you still doing here? Don’t you have homes of your own? Investigation’s over, get out.”