Shaun knew the message had reached exactly where it needed to—precisely as he intended, without a hitch. He'd only just woken up, half-lidded eyes catching whispers drifting in from every corner of the city. From gutter rats to minor nobles, everyone was talking.
Carrying a loaf of bread he'd just purchased, Shaun stepped inside his place with the look of someone who believed, perhaps for once, he deserved a decent meal. He gave himself the time to prepare something more than scraps—something satisfying.
Soren, on the other hand, simply tore off a piece of bread, drank a glass of milk, and disappeared without a word. Not that Shaun had any intention of sharing.
Taking in the aroma, Shaun muttered to himself, "Smells good. Been a while since I've eaten my own cooking. Let's get to it."
He bit into a slice of toasted bread slathered in butter, dipped it into kidney beans topped with chopped onions and strips of omelet. On the side, he'd placed a grilled chicken breast and poured himself a glass of ginger ale.
After a few bites, he nodded to himself. "Not bad. I'm a good cook. If I had better equipment, I could've done even more."
Just as he settled into the rhythm of eating, a thunderous knock shattered the peace.
Bang. Bang.
"Come outside! Now! We warned you—next time, we break the door!"
Shaun sighed. "What now…"
He stood up and walked over, unlatching the gate.
To his mild surprise, five or six guards stood before him.
He arched an eyebrow, tone dry. "Hah. I'd love to say you've got the wrong guy, but first—why are you here?"
The lead guard stepped forward. "Kid, are you Shaun?"
"Shaun? You mean that nosy, annoying brat? He left right before you got here. If you're quick, you might catch him—he went that way, I think." He pointed lazily down the road.
One of the guards laughed without humor. "You really think we're that stupid?"
Shaun shrugged. "Why would I think something that obvious?"
Another guard scowled. "Got quite the tongue, don't you? Just what we'd expect from someone who assaulted a noble."
Shaun raised his brow higher. "Would you care to elaborate?"
The guard stepped in closer. "Don't play innocent. We've got reports—from a high-standing noble—that you mistreated a noble lady and attacked the man who stepped in to defend her."
Shaun tilted his head, eyes narrowed in mock thought. "Hmm. Sounds a bit dramatic, if you ask me. I don't exactly recall any of that."
The guard sneered. "You will. Don't worry."
The group began to close in. "Shaun, you're under arrest."
"Oh no," Shaun said flatly. "How terrifying. Hope this doesn't stay on my permanent record."
He allowed them to cuff him without resistance.
As they marched him toward the carriage, Shaun's mind drifted. What a ridiculous world. I'm going to jail for laying hands on some noble I don't even remember. I've done far worse, and no one batted an eye. Guess this kingdom values its bloodlines more than justice. Fools. Still… if I play this right, maybe I'll gain access to places I wouldn't normally see. A fair trade—except for the meal I had to abandon.
He was shoved into the carriage bound for the regional headquarters.
Shaun leaned back and asked casually, "Just out of curiosity—who exactly did I 'attack'?"
One of the guards eyed him suspiciously. "You seriously don't know?"
Another guard snorted. "More like—how are you this calm? You're going to jail. Anything could happen to you in there, kid."
Shaun gave a faint nod. "Oh."
The first guard softened slightly. "You're young. If you admit your mistake and apologize sincerely, we might be able to work something out. Lucky for you, our division caught this case. The others would've gutted you before you could say a word."
"I suppose… thanks for that," Shaun replied, his tone unreadable. "Anyway, who was it?"
"A noble," said the guard. "Son of a high-ranking royal guard."
Shaun rested his head back, eyes toward the ceiling. "Interesting," he murmured.
Soon after, they arrived at the headquarters.
They brought Shaun in as though he were some infamous criminal. Heavy boots echoed off stone as he was marched through the central office hall, eyes following him from every corner. He was told to sit on a bench by the wall while two of the guards leaned in, their tone stiff with warning.
"Best just apologize," one muttered.
"Don't run your mouth when she arrives. Don't be clever. Just bow your head and get through it," the other added.
Not long after, a woman entered. Her uniform was polished, ornate with gold trim, an emblem on her chest denoting rank. She carried herself like someone used to obedience, someone not used to being questioned.
"So, you're the fool who dared raise a hand against aristocracy," she said, voice sharp and theatrical, like the opening act of a show she'd performed many times.
Shaun replied, flat and unbothered, "More like broke him."
A breath of laughter escaped her, bitter and mocking. "Ha. Aren't you just full of jokes."
She raised her hand and struck him across the face. He didn't flinch. She paused, surprised. Shaun simply stared at her, the side of his face reddened, but his eyes unreadable.
Strange, she thought. That slap had more than enough behind it to make a grown man reel. Even trained soldiers flinch. But him... nothing. No twitch. No anger. No fear.
She sighed inwardly. Even if I hate it, I have no choice. Sorry, kid. But this is the only way you're walking out of this alive.
"What's your statement?" she asked. "Now. Give your reason. What were you thinking? And say you're sorry. Immediately."
Shaun looked around lazily, then said, "Nice weather, isn't it? How about a coffee? I had to skip my meal to be here, you know."
Crack. A second slap landed, this time across his right cheek. Still, he took it without so much as raising his voice.
"So... do I take that as a yes?" he asked with a tilt of the head.
Her expression darkened. "You think this is a joke?" she snapped. "Confess properly before I lose my patience."
She picked up her staff, slamming its base against the stone floor.
Shaun let out a small laugh, dry and tired. "Alright, alright. I'll talk, I'll talk. What did you ask again?"
"Explain your side. Why did you attack the young master?"
Shaun shrugged. "He started it. I was in a foul mood. I lashed out. That's all."
"So you admit guilt, then? You're ready to apologize and receive punishment?"
"Guilty? Sure. Apologize? Not necessarily. As for punishment, I don't think you have the authority. You're an enforcer in this matter, not judge or executioner."
Her fingers tightened around the staff. "You do realize we can do anything to you if you don't cooperate. You could be executed."
Shaun's voice remained calm, almost casual. "Oh, I'm aware. You wouldn't believe how many times I was told that just getting here."
"Boy."
A second figure entered the room—another boy, dragged in just as Shaun had been.
Shaun glanced sideways, eyes narrowing slightly, but said nothing. He leaned back against the cold bench, waiting to see what game was about to be played next.
Isaac stepped into the room, his eyes landing on Shaun seated at the far end. For a brief moment, his composure wavered. There was a flicker of confusion in his gaze—shock, even—but it vanished just as quickly as it came. His face returned to its usual calm, collected mask. One of the guards gestured for him to sit beside Shaun. He did so without hesitation, avoiding eye contact, betraying none of the turmoil beneath his skin.
The woman turned her attention to him, her voice sharp and practiced.
"Boy. Do you know why you're here?"
Isaac replied flatly, "No."
"You're here because of the authority under which you arrested someone. Not just anyone, but a noble."
Isaac met her gaze. "I'm a member of my father's division. He gave me partial authority to conduct arrests when necessary."
"Authority over known criminals and degenerates. Not nobles. And certainly not someone like James."
Isaac's jaw tightened. "What kind of logic is that?"
"You acted without a warrant. You gave no written explanation. You used threats against him and his companion. How do you plan to justify that? Let's not forget—you're just a child. What do you even know of the law?"
Isaac snapped, "What kind of rubbish logic is that?"
"Watch your tone."
"I don't have to."
Her eyes narrowed. "If you weren't frank's son, I would've had you crippled right here."
Isaac's response came cold and unshaken. "Don't worry. I have no intention of hiding behind his name. Do what you want. He won't stop you."
Shaun let out a low whistle at that. "Cool. That's a hell of a line. Did you practiced it in the mirror all night? Not bad."
The woman raised her hand again, fury rising, ready to strike Shaun once more. He didn't flinch, didn't move. He was ready to take it just like before, laughing in the face of it.
But this time, someone else moved.
Isaac's hand shot up and caught her wrist mid-swing. His grip tightened, slowly, deliberately, until her hand began to tremble. His knuckles were white, tendons tense, his strength unmistakable.
There was silence in the room. No one expected it.
Not her. Not the guards.
Shaun, just kept smiling at the show.
But Isaac didn't say a word. His eyes remained locked on hers, calm but unyielding.
He let go. She took a step back, clutching her wrist, but said nothing.
A new balance had just shifted in the room—and everyone felt it.