Surviving the Death Hunt

"Hm... I thought Amber was a nun. Why isn’t she in the proper priestess attire? Doesn’t that go against their rules?"

"Ah, I’ve been wondering that too. Guess she’s just a bit shy about wearing them."

Amber was puzzled for a moment.

"Oh... if it matters, I’ll wear them. I usually stick to Heaven’s Garment because it keeps me prepared for combat. I can start wearing the priestess robes tomorrow if that’s what you prefer."

Huh?

Scar sat in a daze for a moment. This was a complete misunderstanding; he’d been talking about the nun code, not the priestess dress.

But the correction never made it out because Marvel had already seized on the image of Scar’s perverted thoughts and was running with it, and Purple, true to form, wasn’t going to let it pass quietly.

"I thought you only had eyes for Haven. And now I find out you’re ogling Amber too? Polygamy, huh? Do you actually love your cousin that much?"

What was she talking about?

Scar gave Purple a lazy look and let out a slow exhale. The teasing had a simple solution: give them what they wanted to hear, and it would run its course.

He’d been on the receiving end of perverted remarks for nearly half his life. He knew exactly how to play it.

"Honestly, I don’t know much about Amber. We didn’t really spend time together when we were younger, but I love her. She’s more than a cousin, she’s the sister I never had, and she’s proven that over the past few weeks."

He sighed.

He knew exactly how Amber was feeling right now, probably blushing, and he had no interest in seeing it.

"Alright, enough of your perverted jokes. Let’s get back to why we’re actually here."

Slightly annoyed, Scar relaxed back in his seat, watching Marvel and Purple tease him with sharp, careful glances.

He was already on the verge of asking Purple something personal. He wanted to know why her mother had looked so exhausted when he saw her that morning.

But that wasn’t his space, and he knew it. The state he’d found Margaret in that morning didn’t give him license to go digging into their personal lives. Caring wasn’t the same as having the right.

He clicked his tongue.

"I need your help with an ancient tablet I’m after: the Chosen One. Have you ever heard of it?"

Marvel was the first to respond.

"Nope, haven’t heard of it. I own this place, sure, but I don’t know much about the underground market. We only started recently anyway."

Hmph.

Marvel’s presence here came down to Purple. The Vey family’s finances needed expanding, and Purple couldn’t do it alone, so Marvel came in.

What Scar hadn’t forgotten was that before Purple became someone worth standing next to, Marvel hadn’t been particularly interested in standing next to her.

Purple locked eyes with Scar.

"Is this regarding your Inheritance? I’ll assist as much as possible, but I’m currently supervising the reconstruction of the residential area damaged by you and Adisa. My focus is divided at present."

Scar frowned. What was she saying?

"So you handpicked the residential area for our fight... just so you could oversee its reconstruction? How far ahead did you think?"

Purple shrugged her shoulders.

"Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get that opportunity. I simply chose the spot because it was convenient and had future use. It certainly helped, didn’t it?"

Scar shook his head. Purple claimed that she hadn’t accounted for any of it: not the outcome and not Theo’s blade of purity landing in her hands.

Could be true. But nobody who knew Purple could take her words at full value. She was the kind of person whose accidents had contingencies.

It didn’t matter, though. As long as Purple was going to help, that was a good thing. Now he just had to get her to dig up reliable information on the Chosen One tablet.

The conversation didn’t make it much further. Amber excused herself and crossed to the entrance, where Crook — one of Scar’s subordinates — was waiting. He had information.

Crook had delivered. The journalist was a drunk and a gambling addict, and he’d given up reliable information on the Chosen One tablet without Crook having to work particularly hard for it.

The man had spent everything and was back to causing trouble. He was consistent, if nothing else. Scar had only kept him in circulation for one reason, and that reason had just been delivered. With the information in hand, he let them remove the man from the premises without any hesitation at all.

’What a shame. He was making me a fortune. Instead, he should be in therapy, not gambling.’

Scar shook his head. The man had lost almost everything in recent days, almost. Both his wife and child. Work was the one thing still standing, and he’d been miserable ever since.

He pitied him. Briefly. Then Amber’s words pulled him back.

"According to Crook, the man said the tablet hadn’t been mentioned in ages. It was once prominent, but after Lionel acquired it, all information about the Chosen One tablet disappeared."

He ran Amber’s words through his head for a moment or two, giving them their due, but what actually pulled his focus was Purple. The daze she was in.

"Wait... Lionel? He’s the one your father has been searching for, isn’t he?"

Scar’s expression darkened. He couldn’t read Marvel’s intention, genuine concern, or another angle of teasing, it was impossible to tell with her.

What he could read was Purple. And whoever Lionel was, that name had taken her somewhere she hadn’t wanted to go. That was certain.

She sat frozen, eyes fixed on the table like her soul had left her body. Scar hadn’t seen her like this before. Not even when Lovis sent them to die. Not this dazed. Not this close to something that looked like horror or hatred wearing her face.

After a moment, Purple took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

A soft smile settled on her lips, and just like that, whoever had been sitting there moments ago was gone. Purple was back. The other one hadn’t left a trace.

"Yes. He was the one responsible for destroying my father’s family."

The smile grew until it was genuinely bright, the kind that should have been reassuring and wasn’t. Everyone around her felt the discomfort settle in without quite knowing why.

"I think I can help. But first, you need to know who Lionel really is."