It did not take Chet long to whisk out of the house, bidding goodbye to K.

  K spent twenty minutes by his lonesome, before padding down the apartment stairs. He retrieved his frock coat and bandages from the messy pile he left the night before.

  With the Furukameian royal family soon approaching, the roads were nearly impossible to walk through; with routes being changed for the family’s safety. That meant that K had to take the train.

  The Transit was always crowded during this time of day. K made his way into the massive station, the smell of steam assaulting him as he trekked down to the concourse.

  There were women dolled up in their best heels and starched tea-length skirts. Men were glancing at their wristwatches, in their prim two-piece suits.

  The Finfoot ran along these tracks, which was hailed by many to be the fastest steam locomotive ever built.

  It traveled down the whole of Tianxia, from the endless fields of farmland that made up more than 70% of the country, to their capital city Fei Cui, where K lived— then further down to the rural towns, until it met the border of Northern Baikhan.

  But for now, K boarded it to simply head towards its first stop; the Red Light District. His destination was simple: the Guerdon.

  He didn’t even need to search the crowds to find his brother. Chet was already there, leaning against a lamppost and lazily smoking a cigarette.

  K didn’t know that his brother still smoked.

  He stepped up to the man, “I assume my message was successfully received—”

  His head snapped to face the side, his cheek stinging sharply beneath the bandages. Chet had slapped him.

  “You stabbed my brother, you bastard.” Chet grunted. His hand was still raised from the strike. “I ought to beat you and shove you into a jail cell for what you—”

  “I just wanted to test his abilities,” K droned. “Poor thing was so scared of me.”

  “Shut up,” Chet spat, hounding closer for another attack.

  “You were the one who wanted to form this truce,” K narrowed his eyes up at the Enforcer. “Feel free to call it off, and we can let Tianxia burn under the wrath of the Langs and Guos.”

  “You’re more of a psychopath than I thought.” Chet scowled, his jaw set. “If you touch my brother again, I am going to kill you.”

  Above the pool of anger in Chet’s gaze, K could see the cold confusion reigning across his mind. Right now, the man looked like he wanted to ask—

  “Where’s the boy that cried by Sunren’s side?” Chet spoke softly. K held back a flinch. “Where is the boy that begged and apologized when I pointed the barrel of my gun at him?”

  I was lying, K could’ve said. It was all an act.

  “You looked so young, then.” Chet frowned. “For a moment… you didn’t seem like the Phantom. You just looked like a scared kid.”

  “Is that why you spared me?” K scoffed. “You have a soft spot for kids?”

  Or perhaps, Chet just saw the merit of having the Golden Phantom on his side. In their line of work, nobody cared for children unless they were your own.

  Chet sighed. “No, it’s…”

  K’s breath was caught in his throat. He wanted to know the reason. Nobody paired with the Golden Phantom expecting a kind hand.

  If one’s goal was to keep Tianxia safe— you were better off begging a wild street dog for help. At least it knew how to obey for food.

  But Chet smacked his mouth shut, looking at something far away. The opportunity for truth passed.

  “Fine. I won’t go near your brother.” K felt a maddened sting enter his eyes. “The skinny brat seemed frightened of his own shadow, though. Are you sure he hounds a Blessing of his own? Maybe I should have stabbed him in the neck to see if his Beast would save him—”

  Chet tackled him to the ground, K’s head painfully slamming against the concrete steps. He was sure that he was bleeding somewhere along the back of his scalp.

  “Hey!” A voice boomed across the entrance, rough hands coming down to separate K from his brother. “Please… do not… fight.”

  It was Zhao. His normally docile features twisted harshly. He tugged K away from the Enforcer as the two men stared each other down. “This is… a good establishment… no fighting.”

  Chet scoffed loudly, clearing his throat and dusting off his coat as he turned and left.

  K was a little dazed, and he rubbed his hand up and down across his head to soothe the pain. When he looked down, he saw Chet had dropped his cigarette.

  Zhao instantly turned to K, helping him up. “Are you alright… Mr. Phantom?”

  “It’s Kizuna.” K corrected. He raised a hand to pat down his own frock coat, feeling a new, uneven bulge in one of his pockets. He smirked beneath the gauze. “And yes, I’m perfectly fine.”

  He knew that Chet would feel a similar sheet of paper in his own pocket. Carefully folded and prepared by K ahead of time for their meeting.

  After all, an Enforcer and a Triad rat exchanging words could mean treason for their respective organizations. They needed to fabricate a scene to deliver information to one another.

  K had known his brother long enough to understand the other man must’ve arrived at the same conclusion.

  And they both had the same plan, as well. K grinned, scooping down to grasp Chet’s fallen cigarette, clasping it in between two fingers. He raised it to his own lips and took a long drag.

  Once Chet decided to unfold the scrap of paper K slipped into his coat, he’d find the following from K written down:

  I will develop a plan to save the boy named Isagani. It is likely that I will act on it in three days’ time.

  On that day, I will need you to keep all channels open. Your Lieutenant will most likely make an attempt to stop my troupe and I.

  I trust that you will keep the rest of the Militia from arriving at the scene. At least, until my troupe and I have successfully left the premises.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  If you do not act according to this document, I will terminate our truce.

  I know you’re bristling at the thought of giving Isagani to the Triads. I’m afraid I don’t know why Master Banzai wants to find this brat.

  But if my Master plans to harm him, I’ll give Isagani up to the Militia.

  My word can’t be trusted, but I’ll let myself bleed if I need to protect this boy.

  K let Zhao move back to his post as he entered the Guerdon’s double doors. Already, he began to read the paper that Chet had shoved into his blazer. Within, was written:

  I did some digging on Dae-Jung. Aside from being an avid supporter of the Langs, he has ties with this man: Chin Hae.

  A small, 1x1 inch photograph was attached. K peered down at it, memorizing the man’s face. Middle-aged, mousy, and a pure-blooded Tianxian.

  Chin Hae runs his own transportation company. It's believed that he aids the Saigo gang. We’ve arrested a few of his boats, but the blame was always shifted onto the crew.

  Last week, Chin Hae was spotted with Dae-Jung at Saigo territory, where one of our Enforcers was scouting for any potential leads. The former was given tickets to an exclusive party barge by the ports.

  There was a second photo, clearly cropped from a much larger one. It consisted of Chin Hae and Dae-Jung at a restaurant. In Chin Hae's hand was a single, shiny ticket.

  This is not the first time the Militia has seen these tickets. They are often connected to individuals who were arrested for trafficking.

  However, our precinct has yet to gather substantial evidence as to what their use is.

  Touch my brother again and I will not hesitate to act accordingly.

  K crumpled up the paper and pressed the burning end of Chet’s cigarette to it. He watched as the small flame ate away at the paper.

  He let it burn, dropping it in one of the nearby bins.

  Absently, he felt a fly buzzing by his ear.

  “Hun,” he said in relief.

  'Sire,' Hun called, landing on his shoulder. 'Apart from stopping by his precinct to dig into Chin Hae and Dae-Jung... Your brother did not interact with anyone else on the way to the Guerdon.'

  “And who was on the phone with him?”

  'It was a man,' Hun leveled. 'He called him Sam.'

  K’s brows furrowed. He'd never heard his brother mention a man by that name before.

  Hun continued. 'Your brother told the man to meet with him in ‘the last place they saw each other’. I wanted to follow him, but I was worried that this Sam-fellow would notice my presence.'

  Before K could ponder anything more, Pachi fell into his line of sight.

  He wanted to recoil. The other boy noticed him as well, beaming as K stepped into the main dance hall. Since it was still early in the morning, there were less patrons than usual.

  “Kizuna! You seem more chipper today,” Pachi gladly slung an arm over K’s shoulders. This made Hun buzz off and into the air, hovering by K’s back. “Tell me, what happened to your Beast?”

  K took a deep breath. “Nothing that you need to know, sir.”

  This seemed to be the smartest course of action, for now. K still didn’t know what Pachi’s goals were, and he’d be damned if he trusted the other boy to try anything on him again.

  It was more important for K to get this first mission over with, quickly. That way, he could request an audience with Master Banzai.

  If his hypothesis was correct; then Pachi offering Hun a physical form was beneficial to the boss, somehow.

  After all, it was Pachi’s power that Master Banzai was attracted to.

  But it was K who owned the Beast’s Blessing. He was the one who was tethered to Hun. He just needed to prove that to Master Banzai: that he was more worthy of existence than some nobody like Pachi.

  Finally, K turned to face Pachi. “I want you to rally the rest of our troupe.”

  “Hm?” Pachi seemed to be taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation.

  “It’s about the mission,” K paced ahead with purpose. “I have a plan.”

  “Eight hells, you look just as ugly as always.”

  Chet didn’t jolt, when he heard the familiar voice. Instead, he merely turned to face it head-on. But he found the damn fool hiding behind the thin reeds, across the small pond erected in the middle of the temple.

  The temple had been built here by immigrants from Long Shore. It was to honor the lives lost during Long Shore’s lengthy civil war— the Northern and Southern sides battling for control.

  “And you’re just as much of a prissy bastard, Sam,” Chet called out. The figure stirred behind the reeds. “C’mon, then. You’re the one who called me here. And you know that if I’m seen with you, I’ll probably be found on some type of wanted list— so out with it.”

  “I heard that you found yourself a new accomplice,” Sam replied. There was a slight, haughty quality to his tone, even after all these years. “...The Golden Phantom himself, am I right?”

  Chet shook his head ruefully. He dug into his pockets for a cigarette. “I should’ve known that you’d whine about this, you snake. How’d you hear about it? In the hole you dug and hid in the past four years?”

  Sam sighed, lowly. Until at last, he stepped beyond the scraggly plants that he’d been hiding behind.

  Truly, he didn’t look any different from the last time Chet had seen him.

  Strawberry-blond hair and the fresh periwinkle of his eyes— hidden behind the bright red glasses that framed his face.

  “Xian,” Chet breathed.

  Sam raised a brow at him.

  Chet said, deadpan, “Have you always looked like a bird with its beak smashed in?”

  “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, Chet!” Sam squawked, pinching at the bridge of his nose. Ha, just like a bird. “I know you’ve been poking around in Triad business.”

  Chet’s tone suddenly turned to stone. He forced himself to sound unattached as he passed Sam a cigarette. “What about it? Has the Isran Isles sent you on another mission?"

  Sam looked down at the offered cigarette, and took it. Chet flicked his own lighter, bringing it up to light the roll of dried tobacco in Sam’s grip.

  The bastard always thought he was so special. He never lit his own cigarettes— forced Chet to do it every single damn time.

  “Believe whatever you want. I was always the brains, anyways.” Sam scoffed, the cigarette pursed in his lips. “I only wanted to tell you to keep your nose out of the Triads. You’ll get yourself killed.”

  Chet rolled his eyes. “You don’t give two shits whether I die or not. Be honest with me. You just want me to come crawling to you instead of working with the Golden Phantom.”

  Sam grinned victoriously, a disgusting smirk. “You said it, not me. And if you’re ever looking to change your mind…”

  “Never.”

  “...You know my contact info,” Sam spun away with all the pomp he could afford. “I’m sure you remember how successful we were as partners.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Chet narrowed his eyes. “Before you stabbed me in the back and ran off with our intelligence to hand it over to your own home country.”

  Sam just shrugged— the absolute bastard. “I’m telling you this for your own good. The Golden Phantom… he’s even worse than me.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Chet blew a puff of smoke in Sam’s face. “He stabbed my brother.”

  Sam’s chest trembled, trying not to cough. He was too prideful to ever admit weakness, even with this. “And you’re still working with him? You worship the ground Kaiso walks on.”

  “Well,” Chet frowned in discomfort. “Maybe not anymore.”

  Sam looked at him for a long while, before he sighed. “Chet… listen. You’re a dumbass, so I have to spell it out for you—

  “Oh, shut up—”

  “You trust far too easily. You have a talent for pitying others,” Sam looked Chet straight in the eye. It was his turn to blow smoke into Chet’s eyes. “And that will be your folly. You trusted me, and look where that got you.”

  He gestured vaguely between them. “If you learn to trust the Golden Phantom… it won’t be long until you fall six feet under.”

  Chet’s nostrils flared. “Piss off, Sam.”

  “My offer is always open,” Sam said, and he stepped back into the tall reeds, obscuring himself once again.

  A pair of footsteps echoed farther and farther away.

  “Xian, I hate that bastard,” Chet spat at the ground. “Why’d I light his cigarette? I should’ve shoved it down his skinny throat.”

  Sam’s words repeated across his skull, and that was his answer:

  You trust far too easily. You have a talent for pitying others.

  It sounded like a curse.