Margrave remained as peaceful and quiet as ever.
Several months had passed, and that horrifying massacre that had once shaken everything had left almost no visible impact on the town's residents.
The incident had been suppressed by several parties working together, leaving many of the townspeople entirely unaware of the news.
The sky was heavy with dark clouds today. In January, Margrave was quite cold, and the drizzling rain drove the temperature down even further.
An old Ford pulled up by the roadside.
The door opened, and Chief Detective Finlay stepped out, wearing a thick sweater beneath a black overcoat. Looking energetic as always, he carried a large bag and walked toward the front door.
He pressed the doorbell.
After a while, the door finally opened, revealing Roscoe.
Her short blonde hair frad her face neatly, and dressed in casual ho clothes—a warm sweater and simple pants—she looked relaxed and comfortable.
Seeing Roscoe at Matthew's house, Finlay wasn't surprised in the slightest.
Over the past few months, whenever Matthew wasn't ho, Roscoe was the one who often ca by to help clean the place.
"You're pretty late."
Roscoe glanced at him, stepping aside to let him in while casually throwing in a small complaint.
"I had no choice. Those eggs, vegetables, and at you asked to buy all required standing in line. They're not exactly unpopular."
Finlay lifted the bag full of ingredients with a perfectly justified expression.
He certainly hadn't been delayed by anything else.
That accusation, he absolutely refused to accept.
Roscoe didn't bother arguing. She took the bag from him and headed straight back into the kitchen—there was plenty waiting to be done.
Finlay didn't mind being brushed off. After stepping into the entryway, he casually changed into slippers, removed his coat, and hung it on the rack in the living room.
After looking around and failing to find the person he was actually here for, he walked to the kitchen doorway and watched Roscoe preparing ingredients.
"Matthew went to Carrie Mountain again?"
Half a month ago, Matthew had returned to Margrave, and it was Roscoe who had told him the news.
Back when Daniel had been murdered—and later, when Matthew had taken revenge by slaughtering those involved in the conspiracy—Finlay's actions had earned Roscoe's trust.
Because of that, when Matthew returned to town, she hadn't hidden it from him.
There had never really been a reason to hide it anyway.
That whole matter had already been completely settled. No one would co looking for trouble over it again.
In fact, Finlay had heard a few things about Matthew recently.
For example, Matthew often disappeared alone into the mountains whenever he had free ti.
As for what he was doing there, Finlay didn't know.
At the very least, he certainly didn't believe Matthew was simply bored enough to go hunting for fun.
Still, he was smart enough not to pry.
"Mm-hmm. He should be back in a little while." Roscoe replied while skillfully handling the ingredients.
As they were talking, movent ca from outside the front door.
Finlay turned and looked toward the entrance.
Matthew had returned.
"Hey, Detective Finlay."
Matthew's voice was still as clear and clean as ever, but now there was sothing more in it—steadiness, confidence.
Even his features seed to have matured, becoming sharper, more handso, and far more striking.
Between his brows, there was also a kind of quiet authority that was difficult to describe.
If the Matthew from before had still carried traces of youth and immaturity, then the Matthew standing before him now—after more than half a year apart—had truly grown into soone mature.
Matthew changed into his slippers, casually hung his coat on the rack, and walked inside.
"You've gotten taller." Finlay looked him up and down and smiled.
He was usually a calm and steady man, but seeing this boy again, for so reason, he felt an inexplicable sense of unease deep in his chest.
It was a strange feeling—like an ordinary person standing before a sleeping lion, instinctively aware of the danger hidden beneath the stillness.
Subtle, but impossible to ignore.
"You know, I'm still growing."
Matthew smiled as he casually patted Finlay on the shoulder, a gesture that clearly surprised him.
Matthew, however, paid no attention to Finlay's reaction.
He walked into the kitchen, greeted Roscoe, then opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of beer, tossing one to Finlay while keeping another for himself.
Without hesitation, he cracked it open and took a long drink.
"Uh… the temperature outside is minus eight degrees." Finlay fumbled to catch the ice-cold beer, looking at him with helpless resignation as he pointed it out.
"Didn't notice. Sorry. There's a case at room temperature over there," Matthew said it casually, taking another fierce gulp from the cold beer and gesturing toward the corner.
In the kitchen, Roscoe had finished sorting the ingredients. Hearing the sound of the beer can opening, she imdiately walked out and pulled a can from the room-temperature case. She handed one to Finley while shooting her "younger brother" a look. "You think Finlay's body is as monstrous as yours?"
Of all the people in Matthew's life now, Roscoe was the one closest to him.
As Daniel's apprentice, raised under his guidance, she had always been close to Matthew—more like an older sister than anything else.
And because Roscoe herself had no family left, she had long since considered both Daniel and Matthew her family as well.
So if there was anyone left in this world Matthew still felt attached to, Roscoe would definitely be one of them.
In fact, now, she was probably the only one.
That was why the way they spoke to each other carried no politeness at all. There was no need for it.
Seeing the easy, familial exchange between the two, Finlay couldn't help but smile.
Truthfully, his feelings toward Matthew were complicated. He sympathized with what the boy had gone through, but he couldn't fully agree with the bloody violence Matthew had unleashed.
Finlay was a man who believed in the law. If possible, he would always prefer justice to be carried out through legal ans.
And yet, he also understood that what had festered within Kliner and the police departnt was far beyond what the law alone could resolve.
It had been a festering wound—sothing that needed to be cut out entirely. And sotis, that required thods outside the bounds of the law.
Matthew had simply been the one capable of doing it.
Finlay himself was no stranger to contradiction. After all, many things in this world had two sides.
...
The dinner that followed was warm and harmonious. Finlay was far from a withdrawn man; in fact, he carried a certain dry humor, the kind that ca naturally to him, never crude or overbearing. It made him easy to get along with, and Roscoe found his company agreeable.
As for Matthew, he played more of the role of the listener.
Even with two lifetis of experience, when it ca to life itself, he still couldn't compare to Finlay. So of the stories from Finlay's past were genuinely interesting to hear.
After they had eaten and drunk their fill—
Sitting on the sofa in the living room, Matthew looked at Finlay and asked,
"Have you ever thought about leaving this place?"
"No." Finlay shook his head, catching the implication behind the question. "I'm used to it here. I like it here. I'm not young anymore—I've already lost that drive I once had."
"Is that so?" Matthew smiled faintly, leaning back against the sofa. "And yet, I can still sense your unwillingness."
Finlay fell silent.
"You're unwilling because you've seen the decay of this country's system," Matthew continued calmly. "You've seen too much darkness, but you don't have the power to change it."
Still, Finlay said nothing.
"Maybe it's ti you tried living a different way."
Matthew's tone carried a deeper aning. Finlay looked at him, his reflection faintly visible behind the lenses of his glasses, as if weighing sothing in his mind.
After a long silence, he finally took his leave.
The house grew quiet, leaving only Matthew and Roscoe behind.
"So," Roscoe said as she walked over with two cups of freshly brewed coffee, handing one to him, her brow slightly raised, "what exactly are you planning?"
"He's a man with ideals," Matthew replied, taking a sip. "But this country isn't suited for soone like him."
"Wow. You sound like so kind of scholar," Roscoe teased.
Matthew ignored the remark and instead looked at her seriously.
"So—have you made your decision?"
Hearing that, Roscoe's expression turned just as serious. "I won't hesitate, Matthew."
"Then welco to my team, Roscoe."
...
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