The Best of Times 3

Crecyda lived in the small cabin her parents left her, two streets away from the Gemstone Scabbard. On this winter morning, just after she woke up, she noticed a circle of frost on the window slowly clearing, revealing Reynar's face. He smiled and knocked on the window. As soon as she opened the door, he slipped inside, rubbing his hands together.

"It's freezing outside," he said.

"Don't come close," she replied, "You'll freeze me to death."

"I'll light a fire." He headed towards the stove.

She didn't stop him and crossed her arms, addressing his snow-covered back, "What are you doing here?"

"Because this is the only place I can see you," he said as he selected some firewood, "Do you want me to go to the tavern instead?"

"We agreed not to see each other until you finish your exams."

"It's only one more week."

"And one more week is reason enough to break the promise?"

Renner lit the fire, opened his palms, and brought them closer to the stove. "I'm not arguing with you. Let me warm up first, or my tongue will freeze while talking."

"Fine." She sat back on the bed. "I need to go to work later. Don't expect to stay long."

"Almost done," he said, "Just a little while longer."

Perhaps it was Renner's persistence or something more complex, but Durado eventually didn't force Renner to quit school. One thing was certain: it had nothing to do with seeing his son beaten black and blue. This father, who showed no mercy with punishments, wouldn't feel pity over something like that.

Of course, he didn't become a father who fully supported his son's dreams overnight. Every year, the school held a special qualification exam hosted by Stormwind's military department. Students of all grades could participate, and those who passed could immediately take up clerical positions in the military, or choose to continue their studies. Durado's condition was: Renner had one year to prepare and had to place first in the exam. If he did, Durado would no longer interfere with his son's future.

"A child of the Marvin family isn't born to be second," Renner remembered his father saying. "You don't want to take over the family business? Fine, your brother can do that. But you must prove that your choice won't disgrace the family name."

Sometimes Renner thought his father might have cared more about the "clerical position" aspect of it. Durado despised soldiers, especially those who went to the front lines. As one of the largest luxury textile merchants between the Alliance and the Horde, military conflicts posed the greatest threat to the family business. Oddly enough, though, he never blamed the decision-makers on both sides but directed his anger toward the soldiers, who may have been forced to the battlefield. In Renner's memory, his father's loathing started when Renner was four. That summer, the government requisitioned one of his shops to temporarily house injured soldiers who couldn't return home due to poor logistics. For the entire hot season, whether in the living room, study, or dining room, Renner would constantly hear his father spew venom about those "filthy, rude, ugly, indecent, mindless" soldiers. Of course, that was just the beginning of Renner's recollection; he believed his father's disdain ran deep long before that.

Renner's goal, however, was to go to the battlefield. He wanted to be one of those injured soldiers, hear their stories, share their meals, and fight back to back with them. He understood how disgraceful this dream was to his father, and he knew that Durado allowing him to take a clerical role in the military was already a remarkable concession.

But Crecyda offered a different perspective: "I think your father knows how dangerous the battlefield is, and that's why he doesn't want you to go."

Renner refused to accept this possibility. Hearing those words made him a little angry with Crecyda because she didn't fully understand the humiliation he'd suffered from his father.

Three months after making the deal with his father, Renner and Crecyda's relationship began to blossom. At first, Renner deliberately tried to catch her attention by visiting the Gemstone Scabbard nearly every day. It was a forced strategy since after his last encounter with Durado, Crecyda, still shaken, unconsciously started avoiding Renner, which he couldn't tolerate. When he finally found a chance to tell her about the deal he made with his father, her first response was:

"And yet you still have time to hang out in the tavern?"

This put Renner in a difficult position. If he was so worried about the exam, why was he frequenting the tavern alone? But confessing, "I'm here to see you," didn't seem like the right moment either. So, his next move was to rent the room he had used the night he was beaten, and at the same time—swiftly and decisively—he quit drinking. It wasn't hard; alcohol had always been more of a social tool for him, and his school social life was already in ruins. Besides, he moved all the materials he needed for the exam to that room. When Crecyda asked about it, he said, "Those guys are still watching me. They won't give me a quiet chance to prepare for the exam. It's better here."

She half-believed him and nodded. "Just be careful to avoid Aileen when going up and down. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Renner understood that Crecyda's feminine intuition had already allowed her to sense part of his plan, and to some extent, she tolerated and even went along with it. But after they became a couple, whenever he brought it up, she would always stubbornly deny it. "I wouldn't dare ruin the future of a military academy top student," she would say. "Besides, you didn't owe rent. If the boss didn't mind, why should I?"

Naturally, Renner didn't let love cloud his sense of reality. The qualification exam was open to students like him, those without family support or from less affluent backgrounds, eager to prove they could stand on their own. "A child of the Marvin family isn't born to be second," his father's words were a constant mantra in his mind. Though he had always excelled academically, he wasn't entirely confident about taking first place—his only viable option at this point. To that end, he suppressed his desire to meet Crecyda outside. He didn't want to go home, which had become nothing more than a ridiculously large house. In this period, he became a man without a home. The small room above the Gemstone Scabbard was too bare to be called a residence. But when he wasn't at school, every morning he could see Crecyda entering the tavern through the back door, and late at night, he watched her retrace the same steps home, no longer accompanied by the morning mist but by the yellow spots of lamplight. That was enough to let Renner focus on his books and battle strategy diagrams for the entire day—he forced himself to believe that.

As a tenant, Crecyda couldn't avoid bringing Renner tea or meals, and the boss seemed more than happy to let her take care of him, perhaps noticing something between the two. Through scattered conversations, Renner learned that Crecyda had no family around and had been working there for five years since she was sixteen. Five years ago, Renner had lied about his age to enlist, only to be locked up by his father. In a way, they both stood at a crossroads in life at the same time, and this tenuous connection was enough to unsettle Renner. One day in late spring, after her shift, Renner offered to walk Crecyda part of the way home.

"Why?" she asked.

"I need a walk too," he said. "I'm tired of being cooped up in that tiny room."

"The ventilation in your room is actually quite good."

"Alright," Renner realized that if this argument continued, he'd lose his chance. So he simply said, "Let's just go."

They walked through puddles, cracked stone paths, and wagon tracks. Though they finally had time alone together, Renner was distracted, realizing that the church tower of the school was always within view. Crecyda was unusually quiet, and when they were half a street from her home, they parted ways. This walk continued for three days, and on the fourth night, Renner finally realized that her silence was a signal of waiting. At their usual parting spot, he held her hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

She knew this wasn't just a polite gesture. He cradled her right hand in his palm, gently stroking her wrist with his thumb.

"You know what I've been doing these past days."

He kissed her. When the kiss ended, their fingers intertwined.

Their relationship had to remain secret, mainly to keep it hidden from Durado. Renner had heard that his younger brother, under Durado's arrangements, was already engaged to the daughter of a duke. His brother had also been managing the family business successfully, expanding into new ventures. Renner sincerely hoped that his brother would continue to do well, well enough that their father would no longer have time to meddle with him, the former heir. Well enough that even if the elder son were to disappear from sight, Durado wouldn't notice. But Renner knew deep down that his father's terrifying stubbornness would at least hold firm to the agreement between them.

One day, Renner suddenly felt a surge of panic. The agreement stated that once Renner took first place, his father would no longer interfere with his life. But what if he didn't get first place? What would his father do then? It hadn't been mentioned. Rather than thinking that his father had forgotten this point, it seemed more like an implicit allowance for his father to do as he pleased. This fear drove Renner to further reduce the time he spent with Crecyda and focus even more on preparing for the exams.

Crecyda understood his anxiety. She knew that under such pressure, their relationship might not last long. But unlike Renner, she had another concern: If Renner did win first place, would he choose to continue his studies or immediately take up a civil position? If it were the former, he would leave in two years; if the latter, he would leave right away. Although she knew he would likely want to take her with him, some major change was inevitable. And so, after three months of subtle hints and another three months of intimacy, they entered a period of tension. With one month left before the exam, Renner returned to school to face his final challenge. It was a trial he had to go through alone, but its outcome would shape their future, leaving Crecyda feeling guilty for being unable to help him directly. That's why, a week before the exam, when Renner broke his vow and came to her house, she didn't really oppose it. Stripping away all the complications, there was at least one simple reason: she missed him.

At that moment, Renner stood up from beside the stove, turned around, and opened his arms. "Come here."

"I'm freezing," she said, pressing close to his embrace.

"Nonsense." He patted the back of her head. "My clothes are all warmed up."

"You've made quite a few little trinkets again." After a while, Renner let go and walked over to a small shelf on the wall filled with various little carvings.

Though she was a bit unhappy that Renner had so quickly turned his attention to the sculptures, she still walked over and pointed out her latest creation to him. The first time Renner had come to her house, he immediately noticed these items. Crecyda had secretly learned the craft from her artisan father, who had believed that girls shouldn't engage in such work. In some ways, this mirrored Reynar's father's attitude toward his sons.

"I was thinking of bringing one of these with me to the exam. Is that alright?" Renner picked up a wooden paperweight.

"I haven't painted that one yet."

"No worries, it looks fine uncolored. A lucky charm shouldn't be too flashy anyway."

"I have to go to work," she said.

"Wait a little longer." He put down the paperweight and returned to her side. "I've already spoken to your boss for you."

"...You what?"

"When I arrived, I told him you'd be late today. He agreed."

"You're kidding..."

That afternoon, as the snowstorm subsided and the sun began to warm things up a little, Renner left, taking the charm he had chosen. Crecyda wrapped herself tightly in her blanket, feeling dazed. It had been right not to suppress her desires. After all, they hadn't seen each other for a long time, and using the approaching exam as an excuse to avoid intimacy had started to feel somewhat disingenuous. More importantly, by doing this, it made their parting seem like a brief and ordinary one. It was just a week—yet, in reality, a week later, it would be hard to expect that everything would return to normal. Before he left, the last thing she said to him was, "I'll be waiting for your good news." Was that enough? Shouldn't she have said something more important, something more meaningful? Had she put too much pressure on him? As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Crecyda shivered under her blanket.

However, change came even sooner than she had expected. From that afternoon on, everything began to stretch that short week into something that felt endless.

She went to the Jewel Scabbard, only to find the back door closed. After calling out a few times with no response, she walked around to the front. There, she saw three or four officials in uniform and several guards.

"Excuse me...what's going on?" she asked.

One of the officials turned to her. "Who are you?"

"I've seen her before," a guard said. "She's one of the waitresses here."

"Is that true?" the official asked.

"Yes," she replied. "My name is Crecyda."

"Well then, you'll need to be questioned too. Take her inside."

A guard stepped forward, grabbed her by the wrist, and pushed her down by the shoulder. Inside the tavern, she saw the owner standing behind the bar, head bowed, as an official spoke to him while making notes. The cooks and bartenders were gathered in the east corner of the room, while the waitresses stood in a line in the west corner, watched over by several guards. Among them, Eileen gave Crecyda a cold glance. The most striking figure was the woman standing in the center of the room—a noblewoman in her fifties, covering her nose with a handkerchief, accompanied by an official.

Later, Crecyda would learn that this woman was the duchess of a highly respected duke. Her husband was a close friend of the current headmaster of the military academy. Ever since sending her beloved youngest son to the academy, she had been secretly monitoring his whereabouts. When she discovered that her son frequently left the main road at night to sneak into this alley, she sent several spies disguised as customers to investigate what kind of nightlife her son was indulging in. The spies reported the truth: a girl—possibly a waitress or a commoner—had been encouraging a group of students to arm-wrestle, with the winner earning her as a prize for the night. After the duchess's son lost, he grabbed a bottle, smashed it against the edge of a table, and attempted to stab the victor, only to end up being beaten himself and passing out in a pool of liquor. To spare the duchess's feelings, the spies omitted the detail that someone had urinated on her unconscious son.

Crying, the duchess told her husband about the incident, insisting that he pressure the headmaster to "destroy the den corrupting our finest youth." The headmaster, though normally turning a blind eye to the tavern's activities—understanding that without such a cheap outlet, these young aristocrats might use their immature power for greater misdeeds—found himself unable to escape responsibility this time. After all, the duke and he had been friends for over forty years. Reluctantly, he contacted the local authorities, ordering them to issue a search warrant.

"What exactly do you want us to search for?" the head of the local police asked. "Isn't every tavern like this?"

"It doesn't matter. Anything illegal will do—moonshine, 'dinners,' whatever. Just get it done now."

And that was the problem. Both moonshine and "dinners" did exist, though the tavern didn't provide them directly. The owner repeatedly confessed, "We don't regulate what the customers bring in," but with the duchess insisting that "our children would never seek out such depravity on their own," the investigators had no choice but to keep pressing the owner to admit he had hidden those things somewhere. The empty moonshine bottles piled in the corner and the occasional traces of "dinner" ashes under the tables seemed like proof enough. By the time Crecyda arrived on the scene, the owner was nearly in a state of collapse, his bald head glistening with greasy sweat.

Crecyda, however, soon found herself facing another problem.

That day, she wasn't questioned further and was allowed to return home. But the next morning, the guards came to take her away again. This time, the destination wasn't the tavern but the interrogation room at the police station. As she entered the small, dim room, her palms grew cold.

"Miss, do you know why we let you go so easily yesterday?" the interrogator asked.

She shook her head.

"Because we didn't think you were involved. But now things are different. There's a waitress at the Jewel Scabbard named Eileen. What's your relationship with her?"

"The two could only keep their relationship a secret, primarily to keep it from Durado. Renner had heard that his younger brother had already been betrothed to a duke's daughter, thanks to Durado's arrangements, and that his brother had been managing the family business well, even expanding it. He sincerely wished for his brother to do better and better—so well that their father wouldn't have the time or interest to manage Renner, the former heir. So well that even if Renner disappeared from view, their father wouldn't notice. But Renner understood his father's stubbornness too well; Durado would at least hold firm to the agreement between them.

One day, panic suddenly struck him. The agreement said that if Renner achieved first place, their father would no longer interfere with his life's path. But what if he didn't win first place? What then? There was no mention of that. It was less likely that his father had forgotten to address this than that it implied he could act however he pleased. This anxiety drove Renner to shorten his visits with Crecyda and focus more intensely on preparing for the exam.

Crecyda was aware of his fear. She knew that under such pressure, their relationship might not last. But unlike Renner, she had another worry: if Renner did win first place, would he choose to continue his studies or immediately take up a bureaucratic post? If it was the former, he would leave in two years; if the latter, he would leave right away. Though she believed he would likely want to take her with him, change was imminent regardless. So, after three months of mutual hints and three months of close companionship, they entered a period of trial. With one month left until the exam, Renner returned to school to face his final test, a trial he had to face alone, though its outcome would affect both of their futures. Crecyda felt guilty for not being able to help him in any practical way. So, when Renner broke his vow and came to her home a week before the exam, she didn't truly object. Stripping away all the troubles, the simplest reason remained: she missed him.

At this moment, Renner stood up from beside the stove, turned to face her, and opened his arms. 'Come.'

'I'm freezing,' she said as she leaned into his embrace.

'Nonsense,' he patted the back of her head, 'my clothes are already warm.'

'You made quite a few little things again.' After a while, Renner loosened his hold and walked over to a small shelf on the wall, where it was filled with small carvings of various materials.

Though she was a bit unhappy that Renner had so quickly turned his attention to the sculptures, she still walked over and pointed out her latest work to him. The first time Renner had come to her house, he'd immediately noticed these trinkets. Crecyda had secretly learned the craft from her father, an artisan, since he believed girls shouldn't be doing such work. In a way, this was the opposite of Renner's father's attitude toward his sons.

'I was thinking of bringing one of these to the exam. Is that alright?' Renner picked up a wooden paperweight.

'I haven't painted that one yet.'

'No matter. It looks nice in its natural color. A lucky charm shouldn't be too flashy.'

'I need to get to work,' she said.

'Wait a moment.' He put the paperweight down and returned to her side. 'I've already taken care of that.'

'...What?'

'I spoke to your boss when I came by and told him you'd be going in later today. He agreed.'

'You're kidding...'

That afternoon, when the snowstorm had lessened and the sun had warmed things slightly, Renner left, taking the charm he'd chosen with him. Crecyda wrapped herself tightly in her blanket, feeling somewhat lost. Giving in to her desires was the right choice; after all, they hadn't seen each other for quite a while, and using the exam as an excuse to avoid intimacy felt a bit hypocritical. More importantly, this made the separation feel like just a temporary break. It's only a week—though, in truth, it was hard to hope that everything would return to normal after that week. Her final words to Renner before he left had been, 'I'll be waiting for good news from you.' Was that enough? Shouldn't she have said something more important, something more meaningful? Had she placed too much pressure on him? As these thoughts spiraled in her mind, Crecyda began to tremble beneath the blanket.

But change arrived sooner than Crecyda had anticipated. From that afternoon, everything conspired to stretch that short week into an eternity.

When she arrived at the Gem Sheath, she found the back door locked and no one answering her calls. Circling to the front, she saw three or four men dressed like officials, along with several guards.

'Excuse me… what's going on?' she asked.

One of the officials turned his head. 'Who are you?'

'I've seen her before,' a guard said. 'She's one of the waitresses here.'

'Is that true?' asked the official.

'Yes,' she replied. 'My name is Crecyda.'

'Then you'll have to come in for questioning. Take her inside.'

The guard grabbed Crecyda's hand and pushed her shoulder down. Once inside the tavern, she saw the owner standing behind the bar, head lowered, as one of the officials spoke to him, taking notes. The cooks and bartenders were gathered in the east corner of the room, while the waitresses stood in a line in the west corner, watched over by several guards. Among them, Eileen glanced at Crecyda with an indifferent look. Most striking in the room was the central figure: a woman in her fifties, a noblewoman by the look of her dress, holding a handkerchief to her nose, accompanied by an official.

Later, Crecyda learned that the noblewoman was the duchess of a respected duke, whose husband was a close friend of the current headmaster of the military academy. Ever since sending her youngest son to the school, she had been secretly monitoring his movements. After discovering that her son often ventured down the main road and slipped into this alley at night, she had sent several spies, disguised as customers, to investigate what kind of nightlife her son was involved in. The spies reported their findings truthfully: a young woman—possibly a waitress, possibly a commoner—was encouraging a group of students to arm wrestle, with the winner earning her as a prize for the night. When the duchess' son lost, he had grabbed a bottle and smashed it on the table, intending to stab the victor, but instead, he was beaten unconscious, left to sleep in a puddle of alcohol. For the sake of the duchess' emotional well-being, they had omitted the detail of someone urinating on her unconscious son.

The duchess had tearfully recounted the story to her husband, demanding that he pressure the headmaster to 'destroy this den of corruption that is poisoning our finest children.' The headmaster, who had long turned a blind eye to the tavern's activities, understood that giving these young aristocrats a cheap outlet for their vices prevented them from using their immature power to fulfill their desires in far more damaging ways. But this time, with the duchess' husband being a lifelong friend of over forty years, the headmaster could no longer avoid the responsibility and contacted the town's security bureau, ordering them to conduct a raid.

'What exactly do you want us to search for?' the bureau head asked. 'It's the same in every tavern.'

'Anything illegal will do. Bootleg liquor, "dinner services," anything. Just get it done immediately.'

And therein lay the problem. Bootleg liquor and 'dinner services' did exist, though they weren't provided by the tavern. The owner repeatedly confessed, 'We don't regulate what the customers bring in.' However, the duchess insisted, 'Our children would never voluntarily come into contact with such depraved things.' In response, the investigators kept pressuring the owner to admit that he had hidden these items somewhere—the empty bootleg bottles piled in the corner and the faint remnants of "dinner" ash under the tables served as evidence. By the time Crecyda arrived at the scene, the owner was nearly in a state of collapse, his bald head glistening with oily sweat.

Crecyda realized she was facing a different kind of problem herself.

That day, she wasn't questioned and was eventually sent home. But the next morning, guards came and took her away again. This time, the destination wasn't the tavern but the interrogation room at the security bureau. Once inside the small, dark room, she felt her palms turn ice-cold.

'Do you know why we let you go so easily yesterday?' the interrogator asked.

She shook her head.

'Because we didn't see any issue with you then. But now it's different. There's a waitress at the Gem Sheath named Eileen. How well do you know her?'

'What happened to her?'

'Answer my question.'

Crecyda wanted to say, 'We're friends,' but in the end, she settled for, 'We're fairly familiar with each other. We've worked together for three years.'

'I see.' He stroked his beard and looked down at the documents in his hand.

'Officer, can you tell me what happened to Eileen?'

He looked up. 'She's suspected of prostitution.'

'...What?'

'Selling herself. It's as simple as that. Three students have already admitted to having paid her for such services.'

Ever since she started dating Renner, Crecyda had avoided Eileen as much as possible, and they barely interacted. She tried to recall any signs that Eileen might have been involved in such activities but came up with nothing.

'Furthermore,' the interrogator said, 'she's implicated you as well.'

Crecyda's eyes widened.

'According to her confession, you have a regular client: a student named Renner Marvin. Any comments?'

Crecyda's mouth opened slightly, but she closed it again. Just the effort of trying to speak left her feeling utterly drained. A single snowflake drifted through the crack in the window and melted on her fingernail.

'I don't expect you to give me an answer right away,' the interrogator said, leaning back in his chair. 'We'll be questioning that student next.'

'Please don't,' she said hastily. 'He's preparing for...'

She realized too late that she'd spoken out of turn and fell silent.

'Oh? Preparing for what? Go ahead, cooperate. Tell me.'

'...The qualification exam.'

The interrogator nodded, flipping through the documents as if losing interest. 'It seems you're quite familiar with this Renner fellow. It's not uncommon for women to develop inappropriate expectations about their clients... In the end, it'll only hurt you, girl.'

It was clear that he had already made up his mind about her. A strange noise seemed to reverberate through Crecyda's mind, traveling down her spine to her fingertips. Though she was sitting still, the sides of her neck started to ache. Even though she knew this would likely backfire and harm both her and Renner, she still said, 'Please don't tell him about this... at least not until the end of the week...'

The interrogator laughed. 'Since when do you get to bargain with me? Let me tell you, I don't like this job either, and I don't want to ruin the fun for these kids who throw money around like water. But it's out of my hands now. You'll be spending a few nights in detention, Miss Crecyda.'

That night, Crecyda lay in a women's cell with seven others, the only bedding beneath her being a thin layer of straw, leaving her too cold to sleep. In fact, even if she were in a luxurious velvet bed after a hot bath, sleep would still elude her. She sat up, noticing that the other women in the cell were all sound asleep, clearly accustomed to this place. Though she was somewhat afraid of these inmates, it was still preferable to being locked up with Eileen. She didn't want to dwell on why Eileen had accused her and Reynar—though the reason was obvious. She simply tried not to think at all. Yesterday, today, tomorrow—they were all cut off from her mind.

She spent ten days in the detention center without hearing any news. The exam should have been over by now. When the jailer finally released her, he said only one thing: 'You're no longer involved in this.' She didn't understand what he meant.

After being confined in darkness for ten days, returning to the outside world felt disorienting. She couldn't tell if she had lost weight or if the entire world had become lighter. The sensation of her feet on the ground was unfamiliar. Returning to the Gem Sheath, she found the sign missing, broken tables and chairs outside, and the door sealed. She pressed her ear to the door but heard nothing inside. The back door was in the same condition.

She glanced around. A few neighbors caught her eye but quickly looked away. She had no intention of asking them what had happened or where the others from the shop were. A place like this had no cohesion. No one would root themselves here. She worried about the owner, knowing this shop, as disreputable as it was, had been his life's work for over ten years. She also wondered where Eileen was, though she had no intention of questioning or blaming her.

Turning her head, she looked at the ever-present church spire looming beyond the end of the street. The bell atop the tower could be heard throughout the town. Renner had once wanted to take her into the academy grounds, but she had declined, knowing it wasn't a place for her. At this moment, the desire to know where Renner was, what he was doing, and what he was thinking had never been stronger. The ten days spent in the cell, devoid of daylight and human contact, had erased Crecyda from reality, as if she had been blown into a tunnel devoid of sun or people. When fate's hand finally pulled her back into the real world, she felt disconnected from everything she had once been familiar with.

Crecyda wanted to mend this rift quickly, but standing here wouldn't help. She decided to go home. Walking along the cobblestone road, she was about twenty yards from her house when she noticed the door was slightly ajar.

Aside from herself, only Renner had the key. She was about to see him.

Crecyda quickened her pace, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The house was a mess, as if a flood had swept through, though there was no trace of moisture. A slim figure dressed in black stood on the far side of the room, picking up a small wooden carving and tossing it in his hand.

'A peculiar hobby,' Durado said. 'Did you make this?'

Her right hand rested against the doorframe. 'How did you get in here?'

'I didn't do anything, girl. The door was already open. The security officers searched your house but clearly forgot to tidy up afterward.'

He moved closer to her.

'I just came to see what kind of girl had bewitched my son. Now that I think about it, this isn't the first time we've met... Crecyda. I should have noticed your influence on Renner sooner.'

'I want to see Renner.'

'Before that... don't you want to know how you got out of detention?'

Crecyda said nothing, hugging her shoulders and watching him warily.

'Because those idiots at the security bureau thought you were a prostitute, indirectly accusing my son as well. I didn't like the implication. However, my protest seems to have come too late to stop them from trashing your house. Still, you're lucky. That girl Eileen wasn't so fortunate—now she's facing an additional charge for perjury.'

Durado placed his right hand on a strand of her hair resting on her left shoulder. She shuddered.

'Do you love Renner, girl?'

'...That's none of your business.'

'How could it not be? I'm his father, at least for the past twenty years. I know you both have misunderstandings about my ways, but... at least now we can have an honest conversation. Let me ask again...'

'Yes,' she said. 'I love him.'

'I trusted in the love between you young people, which is why I worked to get you released and kept your treatment from him. I think that's the last thing I can do for him as his father. Poor boy, lost in his ways.'

Crecyda pressed her left hand tightly against her shoulder. 'What happened to Renner?'

'Renner tried to cheat in his qualification exam. The academy expelled him. After raising him for twenty years, this is how he repays me.'"