The darkness took them by surprise.
It wasn't dramatic or strange. The lights simply flickered once… and went out.
The constant hum of the spotlights died instantly. The mirror in front of them reflected only dull glimmers. The dripping of a leaky faucet suddenly became the clearest sound in the place.
Nero slowly raised his head.
"…Great," he murmured. "Tell me they haven't closed yet."
Sunday went to the door and tried the handle. He turned it carefully.
Locked.
Not locked from the inside. Locked from the outside.
"Yeah," he said, without making a big deal of it. "They're closed."
Kōri sighed, leaning against the sink.
"We stayed too long."
Lux calmly surveyed the restroom. Open stalls, papers on the floor, a smudged mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary for a bar that had closed for the day.
"There's no rush," he said. "It happens. The staff assumed everyone was gone."
Merlin approached the door and placed his hand on the wood, listening.
There were no footsteps, no voices, no movement on the other side.
"They're cleaning, or they've already left," he commented. "Either way, we're not going to shout."
Nero chuckled softly.
"I'd rather not announce to half the neighborhood that we just came out of a closed bar's bathroom."
Sunday pushed the door open carefully. It gave way with a soft creak. The hallway outside was dark, illuminated only by the dim light filtering in from the street through a high window.
They left one by one.
The bar was empty.
Tables were unoccupied. Chairs were stacked on some of them. The bar was clean, with no bottles out of place. Everything indicated that closing time had been a while ago, as a matter of routine.
"They didn't even leave a light on," Kōri murmured.
"You can tell they trust the neighborhood," Lux replied.
Merlin walked toward the main exit, checking that no one was behind the bar or in the kitchen. Nothing. Absolutely no one.
"Let's go," he said. "And let's do it quietly. There's no reason to attract attention."
They carefully opened the bar door.
The street greeted them as usual: streetlights on, fresh air, the occasional illuminated window in distant buildings. There weren't many people nearby, but it didn't feel strange either. It was simply late.
Sunday closed the door gently behind them.
Kōri exhaled, relieved.
"I hate being locked in other people's bathrooms."
Nero smirked.
"It could have been worse."
Lux checked the time and sighed with relief.
"The important thing is that no one saw us leave."
Merlin adjusted his coat and started walking.
"Then the matter is settled. It was just a miscalculation of time."
...
They walked several blocks in silence, the steady sound of their footsteps mingling with the distant murmur of the night city. They weren't in a hurry, but they weren't stopping either. The kind of walk that happens when everyone is thinking the same thing and no one is saying it out loud.
Nero was the first to break the silence.
"So..." He glanced sideways at Merlin. "What's next?"
Merlin didn't slow his pace.
"Tomorrow morning I'll deliver the information to the Filius Dei. Complete. No embellishments."
Sunday frowned slightly.
"Just you?"
"It's the wisest course of action," Merlin replied. "They don't need to see all of us. Me is enough."
Nero let out a short, humorless laugh.
"No."
Merlin looked at him for the first time since they had left the bar.
"It's not a suggestion," Nero continued. "Don't think you're going to keep all the money."
Kōri nodded immediately.
"I don't trust myself to hand that over alone."
Lux chimed in calmly.
"Besides, we have nothing to lose by going with you."
Merlin was silent for a few seconds, assessing them. His gaze shifted from one to the other, gauging something they hadn't said aloud.
Finally, he sighed.
"Fine."
He nodded slightly.
"We'll go together. But talk little and listen more."
Nero smiled slightly.
"We already do that."
They continued walking until the Nongua building appeared before them: an old, unassuming structure, the kind that doesn't attract attention even when you look directly at it. Several windows were dark; others let in a dim light.
Sunday slowed his pace.
"Isn't this the Nongua?"
"Yes," Lux replied. "Our apartment is here."
Merlin kept walking, crossed the building entrance… and didn't stop.
Nero turned slowly.
"Hey."
Merlin took a few more steps before stopping.
"What?"
"You're… following us."
The atmosphere immediately tightened. Not violently, but uncomfortably. Kōri shifted her weight to one leg, alert.
Sunday narrowed his eyes.
"Curious," he said. "Right up to our door."
Merlin watched them silently for a few seconds. Then he sighed, as if realizing something obvious he had overlooked.
"Ah. That."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a key.
"I live here."
There was a brief silence.
"Here?" Nero repeated.
"Apartment Nongua," Merlin clarified. "Room three."
Lux blinked.
"…Since when?"
"Since before I met you."
Sunday let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"Great. I thought we had a stalker. Turns out it's the neighbor."
Kori shook her head.
"You could have mentioned it."
"It didn't seem relevant," Merlin replied, with complete sincerity.
Nero watched him for another second, then smiled slightly.
"Sure. Nothing relevant at all."
Merlin turned toward the hallway.
"See you tomorrow. Get some rest."
He went upstairs without looking back.
The group stood still for a few seconds, listening to his footsteps disappear into the building.
"…This explains too much," Lux murmured.
"And yet nothing," Kori added.
The group climbed the two flights of stairs to reach room 25.
Sunday opened the apartment door.
"Welcome home." He paused. "At least we know that if something happens… the weirdo lives two floors away."
Nero entered last, glancing toward the staircase where Merlin had disappeared.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "That definitely doesn't put my mind at ease."
The door closed behind them.
The apartment fell into a thick stillness as soon as the door closed. They didn't turn on any more lamps than necessary; the dim light in the hallway was enough to find their way. Exhaustion compelled them to part wordlessly, each following habit more than courtesy.
Lux stopped in front of the door to the back room. Sunday went in first, loosening his coat and letting it fall onto a chair. Lux carefully closed the door behind them and leaned his back against the wood for a moment before moving forward.
Neither of them mentioned the bathroom. Exhaustion had won that argument.
In the other room, Kōri crossed the threshold and collapsed onto the bed without a second thought. The mattress creaked under her weight.
She didn't take off her shoes or untie her coat; she simply turned her face toward the wall and closed her eyes, breathing slowly, as if his body had decided to stop on its own.
Nero stood for a few more seconds.
With a precise gesture, he removed his hat. He placed it on the nightstand. Then he took out his monocle and put it back in its case, closing it with a soft click that sounded too clear in the silence.
Only then did he allow himself to sit down. He loosened his shirt collar, lay back on the bed, and turned off the lamp.
The room was plunged into semi-darkness, barely broken by Kōri's quiet breathing.
Sleep came quickly, but it wasn't gentle.
There were no clear images, only a lingering feeling of unfinished wakefulness, as if something had been deliberately left open.
Nero woke with a start.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, motionless. His heart was pounding, even though the room was completely silent.
He didn't know what had woken him.
He only knew that he wasn't tired anymore.