— No Escape from Judgment —
As Dean laid out his crimes, the interrogation room fell into a suffocating silence.
The officials' faces drained of color one by one.
Some clenched their fists in rage; others stared in disbelief, as if listening to a nightmare recited aloud.
The scope of his corruption was beyond obscene.
Bribery, murder by proxy, illicit deals, erased evidence, crushed whistleblowers—
each charge alone was enough to earn a death sentence.
By the time he finished, the atmosphere had turned icy and murderous.
Alarms were raised immediately.
A special task force was assembled on the spot.
Based on Dean's own testimony, evidence was seized at lightning speed—accounts frozen, documents secured, accomplices detained.
There was no need for theatrics, no prolonged trial.
This was an open-and-shut case.
Chains snapped shut around Dean's wrists.
Dragged away under armed escort, he finally jolted back to awareness.
Reality slammed into him like a falling blade.
Terror exploded in his chest. His legs went weak, warmth spreading beneath him as his bladder gave out uncontrollably.
"I—I've been framed!" he shrieked hoarsely, voice cracking.
"I was wronged! You have to believe me!"
No one listened.
Only hours ago, he had been the revered Mayor—untouchable, feared, obeyed.
Now, he was nothing more than a condemned criminal, stripped of title, dignity, and future.
His mind spiraled.
Why... why had he confessed everything?
He had wanted to rise, to dominate, to seize a province with Vale's backing—
so why had he personally walked into hell?
Was he... possessed?
Then, like a blade sliding between his ribs, realization struck.
He should have understood earlier.
How else could a mere death-row inmate command the prison warden like a servant?
How else could a man awaiting execution move freely within prison walls?
Without power beyond comprehension, such obedience was impossible.
Eren.
Not a pawn.
Not prey.
But a being of unfathomable terror.
And by the time Dean understood that truth—
it was already too late.
Shackled, dressed in a standard prisoner's uniform, Dean was dragged down the corridor toward solitary confinement.
That was when he saw them.
Eren and Kane stepped out from one of the cells, unrestrained, calm—almost casual.
Eren's gaze landed on Dean.
A faint, cold smile curved his lips.
No surprise.
No satisfaction.
Only quiet contempt—as if this outcome had been inevitable from the start.
Dean's knees buckled.
He collapsed with a heavy thud, scrambling forward on hands and knees, forehead smashing against the hard floor again and again.
"Mr. Eren—no—Lord Eren!" he wailed, voice breaking completely.
"I was wrong! I was blind! It was Damien Vale—everything was his doing!"
He slammed his head down harder, blood streaking the tiles.
"Please! Spare me! I'll do anything! I'll obey you! I'll be your most loyal servant!"
Dean knew—knew with bone-deep certainty—that Eren was his last hope.
One word. One nod.
And he might live.
Eren looked down at him as one might look at filth clinging to a boot.
"Become my servant?" he said coolly.
"You aren't even worthy of that."
His eyes hardened, final and merciless.
"Judgment is the only fate you deserve."
With that, Eren turned and walked away.
Dean remained kneeling on the cold floor, chains rattling softly, staring blankly at Eren's retreating back—
drowned in regret so bitter it was utterly meaningless.
— A New Game —
Back in his private cell, a cold curve lifted the corner of Eren's lips.
Damien Vale's little scheme was transparent to him—
a clumsy display of dominance, no more than a warning meant for Seraphine.
Did Damien truly believe that locking him up, humiliating him through proxies, would be enough to shake his resolve?
Childish. Almost laughable.
Power that needed to announce itself so loudly was never real power.
Eren was already considering how—and where—to strike back when Arden stepped inside.
The door closed softly behind him.
"Mr. Eren," Arden said carefully, choosing each word as if stepping across thin ice,
"Dean's downfall... that was your doing, wasn't it?"
Eren met his gaze without speaking.
The silence stretched—measured, deliberate.
Then he smiled.
"Of course."
Arden released a slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Even though he'd suspected the truth, hearing it confirmed sent a chill crawling up his spine.
Such methods—silent, surgical, irreversible—were far more terrifying than open violence.
Thank God, he thought grimly, I chose the right side.
"Mr. Eren," Arden said at last, bowing slightly,
"that move was... masterful. I don't even know how to describe it."
Eren waved it off casually. "Commissioner Arden, the mayor's seat is vacant now."
Arden stiffened.
"Do you want it?"
The question struck like a blade wrapped in velvet.
It was everything Arden had ever wanted—
and everything he'd never dared reach for.
"You... would help me?" he asked, voice tight.
"You've helped me," Eren replied evenly. "It's only fair I return the favor."
Arden's eyes lit up, excitement and fear warring within him.
"Then—thank you, Mr. Eren! Truly. But... how? Many powerful figures are already vying for that position. I don't even meet the formal qualifications—"
Eren interrupted him with a faint smile.
"Bring me a strand of hair from one of your competitors."
Arden blinked. "A... strand of hair?"
"I'll handle the rest."
Understanding struck like lightning.
Arden nodded at once. "Understood. I'll have it by tomorrow."
"Good."
Eren's gaze was calm, but the weight behind his next words made Arden's heart pound.
"Then perhaps I should start calling you Mayor Arden."
Arden swallowed hard. "I won't disappoint you."
"I have a few small requests," Eren added.
"Please—say the word."
"First, promote Kane. He's loyal."
"Done."
"Second, I expect the same... conveniences I've enjoyed so far."
"Of course."
"Third—and most important," Eren said, his voice lowering,
"I will quietly deal with your rivals' backing. But the rest is on you."
Arden listened intently.
"The votes. The influence. The alliances. Win those yourself."
Arden clasped his hands firmly. "Agreed. Whatever it takes."
Eren nodded. "That will be all."
Arden turned to leave.
"Wait."
Eren produced a jade talisman, its surface faintly warm to the touch.
"Keep this on you. It may save your life."
Arden accepted it without hesitation. "Thank you, Mr. Eren."
When the door closed again, silence reclaimed the cell.
Eren leaned back against the wall, eyes glinting faintly in the dim light.
Damien Vale...
enjoy your peace while it lasts.
---
A few days later, Eren remained confined within the prison.
In name only.
His influence had never left.
A new male guard now attended him.
Casually, Eren asked,
"By the way, I haven't seen Aveline lately. Where is she?"
"She's rejoined her unit," the guard replied.
"After you helped her trace her father's killer, she went after the syndicate responsible."
Eren inclined his head slightly.
"So... she's back with the Vigil-Wyrm Order."
He turned his gaze toward the pale light filtering through the iron bars.
The storm he had set in motion was far from over.
And somewhere beyond these walls—
another one was already gathering.