Claus’s jaw clenched, his breath fogging in the chilled air of the chamber. The flickering lights above made shadows dance across his face as he stared at Aiku, who looked far too smug for a man bound in suppressive restraints.
Claus exhaled slowly. "Are you helping or not?"
Aiku tilted his head, the grin never leaving his face. "Depends," he said smoothly, golden eyes gleaming. "What’s in it for ?"
Claus’s fingers twitched in restrained irritation. "Isn’t it obvious? Your freedom."
Aiku laughed—loud, full-bodied, and maddening. It echoed in the chamber like the chi of a twisted bell. "Oh, detective... I’ve played this ga countless tis to know that isn’t sothing you even have to offer."
He leaned forward slightly, the restraints creaking under the tension. "Think about it. Of all the monsters you could’ve released, you chose . We have no personal history, yet you risked your life to co get . Which ans you need . Whether you admit it or not, you will release soon. I an, how could you walk out of here empty-handed after all the hoops you had to jump through..."
He grinned wickedly.
"So, that little card—my ’freedom’—is an inevitability. That makes it worthless in this negotiation."
His voice dropped. "That’s not a gift—that’s leverage."
Claus stayed quiet, watching him.
Aiku’s grin sharpened. "Now, let ask again, detective. What is in it for ? Why should this unbeatable gambler ddle in your little Union affairs? What real stake am I being offered in this ga?"
He tugged slightly at the chains for effect, as though daring Claus to propose sothing genuine.
Claus’s fingers twitched slightly, but he held his composure. He looked Aiku dead in the eye, voice calm but edged like a scalpel.
"You want sothing? Fine. Let’s talk business."
He stepped closer to the pod, stopping just at the edge of the residual suppression field, his breath misting in the cold air.
"You want relevance again, don’t you? Purpose, aning... for your na to carry the weight it once did? You’ve been down here for over a century..."
"...Chained, buried, the world forgot your na. The Union erased your legacy, buried you like a cursed artifact. While the world moved on. But I’m offering you the chance to carve it back into history—on your terms. The Union is currently collapsing from the inside, the abyss is bleeding into our reality, and the only people who could stop it have either sold their souls or aren’t even aware of the threat."
Aiku’s brows arched, intrigued but silent.
"You help stop Aethel," Claus continued, "and I’ll make sure the world rembers you. No shackles. No handler. You’ll be a legend again. You’ll be free to do what you do best—tip the scales and re-define the rules."
Claus stretched his hand toward him, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously.
"The world’s changing again, and I’m giving you a front-row seat to the chaos. You want a ga? I’m offering you the biggest one."
Aiku chuckled again, softer this ti, more thoughtful. "Purpose, relevance, chaos..." he mused aloud. "You tempt with poetry, detective."
He leaned his head back and exhaled, golden hair falling across his face.
"Still..." he said after a beat, "you’re not wrong. The idea of rewriting the story... my story... with holding the pen again? That’s worth considering."
He slowly tilted his head toward Claus, a sly glint in his eye.
"Alright then. Let’s make it interesting."
Aiku’s voice dropped to a near whisper.
"I’ll help you... on one condition."
Claus raised an eyebrow, already bracing himself.
"I want a new title," Aiku said, grinning. "Not just any title. The Fate Gambler is a bit old. I want sothing that’ll stick on the people’s minds the mont they hear it. Let choose it, and you’ll have this king co to your rescue."
He laughed again, as though it were all a grand ga.
"You give my legend... and in return, I’ll save your world, detective. But understand this: I’m not your soldier. I’m not your tool. If I play this ga, I do so on my terms. I walk the edge of fate, not because I must... but because I like the view."
He chuckled softly, then added:
"Just don’t cry when you realize what this salvation actually costs."
Claus didn’t hesitate. "If it ans saving my sister, then yes. Even my soul, if I have to."
Aiku chuckled, low and dangerous. "Careful, detective. I’ve made n sell their souls for less... and most of them never realized the deal was done until it was far too late."
Claus stepped closer, the temperature around the pod dropping slightly. The runes along the edges of Aiku’s restraints flared faintly in warning.
"You don’t scare ."
"You should be terrified," Aiku replied, his smile faltering into sothing colder, older. "Because once you let out, there’s no putting back."
A silence stretched between them.
Then Claus exhaled. "So be it. I’m authorizing your release. Conditional. You will follow my directives until the mission is complete."
"Oh, I do love the sound of shackles masquerading as diplomacy." Aiku rolled his shoulders as much as the restraints would allow. "Very well. Let’s sign this invisible contract of yours, detective. But I’ll require one thing first."
Claus raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Aiku leaned forward slightly, the chains groaning. "A deck of cards. Mine were confiscated. And if I’m to play this ga of fate again... I’d prefer to shuffle with style."
Claus gave a curt nod. "Consider it done. But first, we need to get out of here in one piece." His eyes flicked to the chamber’s entrance, where the sharp clamor of Union officers’ boots and shouts grew louder, closing in fast.
"Intruder detected!" a voice barked. "Secure the containnt pod!"
"Move, move!" another yelled. "Lethal force authorized!"
Claus’s jaw tightened as he punched a code into the pod’s console.
The suppressive restraints hissed, unlocking with a tallic clank. Aiku stepped free, twisting his shoulders and stretching with a theatrical sigh.
"I see your friends finally ca in to play. Guess it’s ti for so action," he said, golden eyes glinting with mischief.
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