Ciel halted by the door, his blue eyes softening at the sight of John.

John stood with his back to them, shirtless, his broad shoulders and muscular frame illuminated by the soft light spilling in from the small window. He was pouring water from a large wooden bowl, scrubbing his arm with deliberate, heavy strokes. His muscles flexed with the motion, his back a tapestry of scars—faint lines from chains, older marks from long-forgotten battles, and the signs of a life spent in gruelling labour

Without turning, John's voice rumbled, low and gruff, his thick Aureum accent adding weight to his words. "Whoever it is, you'd better knock next time. Or I'll knock you out myself."

Ciel couldn't help the faint smile that crossed his lips as he gazed at the familiar figure before him. For all of John's gruffness, he was a man of loyalty and strength—a father figure Ciel had never openly acknowledged but always relied on.

"Please don't. I've already had my ass knocked out a couple of times the past two days" Ciel said, his voice calm but tinged with cheekiness.

John's body went rigid.

He froze mid-motion, his entire body going stiff at the sound of the voice. The room fell silent, the only sound the faint drip of water from his hand back into the bowl and the water in the basin rippling slightly as John's grip tightened around the edge.

For a long moment, he didn't move, as if his entire body had turned to stone. Slowly, he straightened, his hands falling to his sides as he turned around, slowly, almost cautiously, he turned his head, his sharp, tired eyes locking onto the figure standing in the doorway.

When his gaze landed on Ciel, who had just pulled back his hood to reveal his unmistakable orange hair and familiar face, John's expression shifted.

Ciel watched as John's expression shifted, first confusion, then disbelief, then something raw and unreadable. His usual stern face twisted into something almost unrecognisable as he took a slow step forward, his brows furrowed so deeply it looked as if he was in pain.

He didn't speak. He didn't breathe. He just stared.

Like he had seen a ghost.

Ciel swallowed, his smirk fading as he took in John's face properly for the first time. The man looked exhausted, more than exhausted. The faint bags under his eyes, the hollowness in his expression, the weight of grief that clung to him like chains, it was all there, hidden well behind the hardened exterior, but not well enough that Ciel couldn't see it.

This wasn't just about me, Ciel realised. It was about Ralph, too.

John still hadn't spoken. His breathing was slow, measured, but the disbelief in his stare remained. His eyes flickered, as if trying to make sense of what was in front of him, as if waiting for Ciel to vanish like some cruel hallucination born of grief.

Ciel's chest tightened, guilt creeping up his spine.

"Hi, John." Ciel smiled, his voice soft as he spoke.

John took step forward, his boots heavy against the wooden floor. His fingers twitched slightly, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, as if trying to grasp reality itself. Without another second of hesitation, he strode across the room in just a few steps, his heavy boots thudding softly against the floor. Without a word, he pulled Ciel into a tight hug, his large arms enveloping him completely.

Ciel stiffened slightly at first, caught off guard, but then he relaxed immediately, his own arms coming up to return the embrace, hugging him tightly.

John said nothing, holding him tightly as if trying to convince himself that Ciel was real. His grip was firm, almost crushing, but it carried a warmth that made the moment all the more genuine.

Artemis and Jackal stood silently near the door, watching the exchange. Jackal tilted his head, his expression curious but respectful, while Artemis crossed her arms, her icy gaze softening ever so slightly at the sight.

Finally, John pulled back, his large hands resting on Ciel's shoulders as he looked him over. His voice was rough with emotion as he muttered, "You're alive. By the gods, you're alive."

"But you..." John spoke, but the word was barely above a whisper. He shook his head slightly, as though trying to force his mind to make sense of what he was seeing. "You're dead."

Ciel gave a small, lopsided grin, though it lacked his usual teasing spark. "Apparently not."

John didn't laugh. His lips parted, but no words came.

Ciel smiled faintly, his voice quiet. "It's good to see you too, old man."

Artemis strode into the room without so much as a glance at Ciel and John's emotional reunion. Her sharp eyes swept the space, taking in the sparse furnishings, the utilitarian feel of the room, and the faint smell of soap and damp wood. To her it was just like any other medieval room.

She crossed her arms and stood in the midst of the room; her expression unreadable as she kept a watchful eye on the interaction.

Jackal, meanwhile, was wandering around the room, his gaze darting to the shelves, drawers, and even under the table. Though it wasn't the time to think about stealing, the boy's fingers twitched at the sight of anything remotely valuable. His small hands hovered over a brass candlestick but saw the look in Artemis eyes that said I dare you to touch it.

Jackal retreated his hand back with a sheepish smile.

Ciel and John, however, were oblivious to Artemis's aloof stance and Jackal's wandering curiosity. John's calloused hands remained on Ciel's shoulders, his face etched with a mix of disbelief, relief, and lingering concern.

"You're alive," John said again, his gruff voice softer now, his Aureum accent thick as he shook his head in wonder. "By the gods, I thought—" He stopped himself, clearing his throat.

Relief quickly gave way to anger, his grip tightening slightly on Ciel's shoulders and then, without warning, his fist came crashing into Ciel's gut.

Jackal tensed up while Artemis rose an eyebrow in question, her head titling to the side before a little smirk perking up on the corners of her lips.

The breath was knocked clean out of him as pain exploded in his stomach, his body doubling over instinctively. Ciel gasped, his knees nearly buckling from the unexpected force of the punch.

"You reckless, stupid bastard!" John's voice thundered through the room, raw and furious, the kind of rage that only came from deep, unbearable grief. "Do you have any idea what you've done?! What you put me through?!"

Ciel coughed, clutching his stomach as he forced himself upright, his blue eyes wide with shock. But before he could get a word in, John grabbed him by the front of his cloak and yanked him forward, his face twisted with pure, unfiltered anger.

"I buried a bodyless coffin, Ciel," John growled, his voice hoarse. "I mourned you! I had to hear the news that you were dead—dead—while Ralph was thrown into a prison cell, alone!" His grip tightened, his knuckles going white. "I couldn't even grieve properly before I had to fight to keep myself from losing another damn kid!"

Ciel gritted his teeth, guilt slamming into him harder than the punch itself. "John, I—"

"No! You shut up!" John roared, shaking him slightly. His breathing was ragged, his broad chest rising and falling heavily. "You think you can just waltz in here, alive, after I spent weeks thinking I lost another person I cared about while I wait to lose another one?!"

Ciel swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He had expected John to be pissed, but this? This was something else entirely. This was pain.

John let go of Ciel's cloak with a sharp shove, his hands trembling as he took a step back, raking his fingers through his hair. His body was taut, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he was fighting against something far deeper than anger.

"I couldn't grasp it," John muttered, his voice quieter now but still shaking. "First...Aurora. Then—" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose. "And then you. I thought - I thought I had to accept that you were gone too."

Ciel's stomach twisted at the raw pain in his voice.

John clenched his fists, his breathing still uneven. "And now you're just here," he muttered, his voice low. "Like none of it ever happened."

Ciel finally straightened fully, still rubbing his stomach where the punch had landed. He knew John's anger wasn't misplaced. He deserved that hit, deserved far worse, probably. He could only imagine what John had gone through, what losing both him and Ralph must have done to the man.

"I'm sorry," Ciel finally said, his voice quiet but firm. "I never meant to put you through that."

John scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "Yeah? Well, you did."

Artemis side-glanced at the two of them, her expression cool and detached. She said nothing, her gaze lingering briefly on John before returning to the window, watching how the morning light shone into the room.

Jackal just stood their awkwardly, not knowing what to do. He stepped close to Artemis and looked up to see her not even caring about what was going on. She was minding her own business, hands crossed against her chest.

"You think we should be seeing this?" Jackal whispered in a hush.

"No" she whispered bluntly.

"Then should we leave?" He questioned with a whisper again, his hand beside his mouth.

"No" Artemis said.

"You sure?"

"Yes"

Jackal arms flopped by his side and then stared at the scene in front of him, awkwardly and out of place.

John's grip trembled as he shoved Ciel back, his breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling with uneven force. His face twisted, not just with anger, but with something deeper, something raw and unbearable.

"You don't understand Ciel. I thought I lost another kid," he muttered, his voice hoarse and shaking. His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to keep himself from breaking apart. "My unborn child... and then you." He scoffed bitterly, shaking his head as his expression crumbled. "And now I have to watch Ralph be executed."

His voice cracked.

Ciel froze.

John swallowed thickly, but it did nothing to steady him. He looked away for a moment, blinking hard, his jaw clenched so tightly it was as if he was trying to physically keep himself together. But he was failing.

"This time... I have to watch him die," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Right in front of me. And I can't do a damn thing about it."

The words hit Ciel like a hammer to the chest.

John let out a shuddering breath, raking his fingers through his dark brown hair as he tried, and failed, to steady himself.

"I felt so lost," he admitted, his voice raw and unguarded. "So hopeless when I heard they killed you and were going to execute Ralph. I-I didn't know what to do. I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Just kept thinking about how I'd lost two boys to death and was about to lose the other to a damn execution block."

His breath hitched. His hands clenched again.

"I couldn't save you. And now I can't save him."

His voice wavered dangerously, his throat bobbing as he tried to suppress the emotions clawing their way out. He blinked rapidly, but Ciel could see it—the gloss in his usually sharp eyes, the way his vision blurred as he fought against something he didn't want to show.

And then, for the first time in his life, Ciel saw John, the John, the gruff, unshakable man who always had an answer for everything, cry.

Not fully, not completely, but the pain was written all over his face, in the way he clenched his jaw, in the way his breathing was uneven, in the way his hands trembled.

The weight of it crushed Ciel.

His chest ached, and guilt twisted deep inside him, an unbearable coil of regret that made it hard to breathe. He had done this. He had made John feel this way.

His own voice was thick when he finally spoke. "You haven't lost me," Ciel murmured, his throat tight. "And you won't lose Ralph."

John exhaled sharply, as if those words alone nearly broke him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second, running a hand over his face, trying to regain his composure.

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Ciel took a deep breath, his voice steadier now but still heavy with emotion. "I know I messed up," he admitted. "I know what I put you through. And I know I don't deserve forgiveness for it."

John didn't respond, but he didn't look away, either.

Ciel swallowed and continued, his voice resolute. "But I came back because I refuse to let Ralph die." His hands clenched at his sides. "I don't care what I have to do, I don't care if I have to burn this entire city to the ground, but I will get him out. And I won't let you go through this again."

John hesitated. His lips parted slightly as if to say something, but then his jaw clenched, and his expression twisted into something between rage and desperation.

John stood frozen, his entire body rigid, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, his chest rising and falling like a man barely holding himself together.

Then, without warning, he snapped.

John grabbed the young orange haired keeper, yanking him forward by the cloak, so close their foreheads nearly touched.

"No," John growled, his voice shaking with fury. "No, Ciel. You are not doing this."

Ciel saw the pure rage burning in John's eyes. But beneath the anger, beneath the harsh set of his jaw and the tension in his frame, there was something else.

Something raw. Something desperate.

"I won't let you," John snarled. "I won't let you go and get yourself caught again! I won't let you throw yourself into the fire again just because you think you have to!"

Ciel's hands went to John's wrists, gripping them tightly, but John refused to let go.

"You think you're invincible, but you're not!" John shouted, his voice cracking, the grief spilling over into every word. "You died, Ciel! You died in my mind! I buried a bodyless coffin! I mourned you! I thought I lost another damn kid, and now you think I'll just let you go and do something reckless again?!"

His voice was growing more hoarse, thick with emotion.

"I won't," John rasped, his breathing heavy. "I won't let you. You don't get to do this again."

Ciel's throat tightened, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"John—"

"No, shut up!" John roared, his voice shaking with unfiltered grief. "You don't get to tell me it's fine! You don't get to act like I didn't just lose you—like I didn't have to live with that! You don't get to come back just to throw yourself into another damn fight that's gonna get you killed again!"

Ciel froze, his breath hitching.

John clenched his jaw so tightly it looked painful. His hands trembled against Ciel's cloak, gripping onto him as if letting go would make him disappear again.

"I can't go through that again," he muttered, his voice raw, his fingers curling even tighter into the fabric. "I can't—I won't watch you die. If you get caught, if they execute you, if I have to stand there and watch it happen—"

He sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body shaking.

"I can't, Ciel," John whispered. "I won't."

Ciel's chest felt like it was being crushed.

For the first time in his life, he saw John break.

The man who had always been strong, always been unwavering, shattered in front of him. His voice was wrecked, his breaths uneven, his eyes glassy—so full of pain that it physically hurt to look at.

John's grip was tight, too tight, like he was afraid that if he let go, Ciel would disappear again.

Ciel swallowed, his own throat thick with emotion. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hands and gripped John's wrists—not to pull them away, but just to hold on.

"You won't lose me," Ciel whispered, his voice steady despite the weight pressing against his ribs. "I swear it."

John squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his fingers trembling.

Ciel inhaled sharply and continued, firmer now. "I won't do something reckless. I won't throw myself into this blindly. But I will get both Ralph and Rebecca out, and I will come back. I promise you."

John's body was still tense, his hands locked in place, his breath uneven.

Ciel didn't move. He just held onto John's wrists, grounding him.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

John's breathing was still ragged, his hands trembling with barely contained frustration. His teeth clenched so tightly that the muscle in his jaw twitched, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Then, in one swift motion, he turned sharply on Ciel, his eyes blazing with fury. "If you so much as think about stepping foot outside this barracks, I swear I will shackle you to this damn room like some chained-up dog," he growled, his voice deadly.

Ciel's brows shot up, his mouth opening in protest. "John—"

"No! I mean it, Ciel," John cut him off, taking a threatening step forward. "I will lock you up if that's what it takes to keep you from running headfirst into death again!" His voice thundered, raw with rage and desperation, his body practically vibrating with the force of his emotions.

Ciel's eyes flashed with frustration, and he threw his hands up. "I'm not doing this alone!" he snapped back.

John's nostrils flared, but he hesitated.

Ciel seized the moment, his voice firm but steady. "I have help. I need help. That's why I came back here. But I also need you, John. We have to do this right—we plan it carefully, and we all get Ralph out. No reckless moves. No half-baked plans. We do this smart."

John was still tense, his fingers twitching as he processed Ciel's words, but the anger in his face shifted ever so slightly into something wary, something calculating.

Then, just as he was about to speak, Ciel exhaled sharply and added, "And we're getting Demarcus out, too."

John froze.

His eyes widened, his posture stiffening as if Ciel had just spoken the most blasphemous words he had ever heard. His face contorted in sheer disbelief before a humourless, incredulous laugh escaped him.

"You—" He let out another sharp laugh, shaking his head as his expression twisted into something halfway between stunned and enraged. "You want to break a dragon out of the royal prison? A full-grown, battle-scarred, fire-breathing dragon?!"

Ciel lifted his chin, standing his ground. "Yes."

John's eye twitched. "You have clearly lost your mind," he seethed. "You don't just steal a dragon from under the royal family's nose, Ciel! That is suicide! That is worse than suicide! Do you crave death that much? Is that it?!"

Ciel clenched his fists. "John, we don't have a choice—"

"No, you don't have a brain!" John snapped. His face was red with fury, his body coiled like a spring about to snap. "You should've stayed dead if this is what you came back for!"

The tension in the room was thick, suffocating.

Then a cold feminine voice interrupted the two.

"I hate to interrupt," Artemis's voice cut through the thick air like a blade, calm yet sharp, "but if you're both done measuring your stupidity, maybe we can focus on the actual plan?"

Both men turned their heads toward her, their argument momentarily broken by her cold and unimpressed tone.

Artemis stood off to the side, arms crossed over her chest, her icy blue eyes half-lidded in pure exasperation. She had been watching their heated exchange in silence until now, but the sheer level of idiocy unfolding before her had finally pushed her patience too far.

Artemis stood off to the side, arms crossed over her chest, her icy blue eyes half-lidded in pure exasperation. She had been watching their heated exchange in silence until now, but the sheer level of idiocy unfolding before her had finally pushed her patience too far.

The tension in the room reached its boiling point and Artemis exhaled sharply and stepped forward, reaching up to pull back the hood of her cloak.

The moment her face was revealed, John's body went rigid. His eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly as he stared at her, completely stunned.

For the first time in his life, John looked utterly speechless.

His eyes flickered, scanning her features, as if trying to confirm what he was seeing. Diana Glacies. The disgraced noble. The runaway fugitive. The girl whose name was being shouted across the kingdom with orders for execution.

Slowly, his stunned gaze shifted to Ciel.

And then his face twisted into sheer, unfiltered rage.

In a blur of movement, John grabbed Ciel's collar again, yanking him forward so forcefully that their foreheads nearly collided. His grip was iron, his knuckles white with tension.

"You reckless, insane little bastard!" John roared, shaking Ciel violently. "You weren't just trying to get yourself killed—you were trying to get me killed too?! You brought a wanted criminal into the barracks?! Into my barracks?!"

Ciel barely had time to react before John shoved him back again, his chest heaving with every furious breath.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" John bellowed; his voice filled with pure outrage. "You—you absolute fool! You're a damn walking death wish! Do you even understand what would happen if she's caught here? If anyone finds out I so much as let her step inside these walls?!"

His eyes burned with fury, his hand twitching as if he wanted to strangle Ciel on the spot. "The royal family, the Glacies knights, the damn Black Spades—they'll gut us both! You think your last stunt got you killed? This time, they won't just put a blade through you—they'll execute all of us for harbouring her!"

Ciel scowled, his frustration bubbling over. "John—"

"No! I told you to shut up!" John snarled, his rage unrelenting as he pointed his finger at him. "You never think! You never stop to think before throwing yourself into the fire, and now you're dragging me down with you?! Are you trying to get everyone killed? Is that it? Do you crave death that much?"

His breath hitched as his fingers flexed, shaking from the sheer force of his emotions. "You reckless, selfish bastard," John muttered, his voice hoarse with fury.

And yet, beneath all that rage—beneath the shouting, the curses, the sheer frustration—was something else.

Fear.

John was scared.

Not just of what Ciel had done. Not just of what it meant to have Diana in the barracks.

But because John knew what happened to men who got caught protecting fugitives. He knew the kind of punishment that awaited traitors. He knew that if they were discovered, it wouldn't just be Ciel and Diana facing execution.

It would be all of them.

And yet Ciel had still done it. He had still risked everything.

John's hands clenched again as he let out a sharp, bitter laugh, one filled with disbelief and exasperation. "You've lost your damn mind," he muttered. "You really, truly have."

And that was when Artemis stepped in.

"Are you done?" Her voice cut through the thick air like a blade—calm, steady, but filled with cold authority.

John's furious eyes snapped to her, his lips curling in a sneer as if he was about to bite back, but Artemis wasn't fazed in the slightest.

She stepped forward, her icy blue gaze unwavering as she stared him down. "I get it," she said flatly. "You're angry. You're scared. And you have every reason to be."

John's jaw clenched, but he stayed silent.

Artemis tilted her head slightly, unimpressed. "But if you're done screaming, we still have a job to do. So unless you plan on wasting more time throwing tantrums, I suggest we focus."

John's nostrils flared, his breathing still heavy, his entire frame tense with lingering rage.

But Artemis didn't look away. She didn't blink.

And for the first time, John really looked at her.

Not as Diana Glacies. Not as the spoiled noble brat whose name had been spat out like a curse for years.

But as someone else entirely.

There was no fear in her. No hesitation. No arrogance.

Only certainty.

Although, John's glare didn't waver. His jaw was tight, his breathing still uneven as his furious eyes bore into Diana like she was something vile that had crawled into his barracks uninvited. But after a long, tense moment, he turned his gaze back to Ciel.

He jabbed a finger toward Diana, his expression twisted with disbelief and frustration.

"You seriously expect me to believe her?" he growled. "You actually believe that the spoiled, rotten brat of the Glacies estate is suddenly a mastermind who's going to pull off a rescue mission?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You've really lost it this time, Ciel."

Ciel's mouth tightened, but before he could speak, John pressed on, his voice thick with disbelief.

"This is Diana Glacies we're talking about. The same damn noble who spent her whole life making servants' lives hell. The same selfish, arrogant girl who only cared about her status—who threw tantrums when things didn't go her way." He scoffed, shaking his head. "And let's not forget the fact that she tried to kill not just one, but two princes of two different kingdoms."

He turned fully to Ciel now, his eyes filled with something dangerously close to betrayal. "And this is who you brought here? This is who you're trusting with your life?"

Artemis said nothing, her expression cold and unreadable, but the sharp gleam in her icy blue eyes hinted at something dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

Ciel clenched his fists. "She's not—"

But before he could defend her, John's eyes flickered to the side, finally landing on the small boy standing just behind Artemis.

He blinked. Then scowled.

"And what the hell is this?" he barked, pointing at Jackal.

Jackal stiffened instantly, flinching under John's scrutinizing glare. His shoulders tensed, and without thinking, he instinctively stepped behind Artemis, gripping the back of her cloak. His fingers curled tightly into the fabric; his small frame half-hidden behind her like a child seeking shelter.

John's brows shot up. "Oh, for fuck's sake—" He ran a hand down his face in sheer exasperation before leveling a furious look at Ciel. "A kid? You brought a damn kid into this mess, too?"

Ciel sighed heavily, already exhausted. "John—"

"No, shut up," John snapped, pointing at Jackal again. "You expect me to believe this little runt is part of your rescue team? What's he gonna do? Steal bread from the guards? Pickpocket the executioner before he swings the axe?"

Jackal bristled slightly but kept his mouth shut, gripping Artemis's cloak even tighter.

John let out a humourless laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose before leveling Ciel with another furious glare. "You know what? I expected you to pull some reckless shit, Ciel. I really did. But this?" He gestured wildly between Diana and Jackal. "This is a whole new level of stupidity."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head again, as if trying to process the absurdity of the situation. Then, with a look of pure frustration, he muttered, "You're gonna get us all killed."

The room was thick with tension. Jackal stayed frozen behind Artemis, his fingers still clinging to the back of her cloak. Ciel looked exasperated, his hands clenched at his sides as he fought to keep himself from shouting back.

And Artemis?

Artemis finally moved.

She stepped forward, deliberately placing herself between John and Jackal. Her icy blue gaze locked onto John's with a quiet, deadly intensity.

Artemis exhaled sharply through her nose, utterly done with this man's screaming. She tilted her head slightly, her arms still crossed, her expression as cold and indifferent as ever. Then, in a voice as sharp as a blade, she spoke.

Artemis exhaled sharply, completely done with the shouting. She tilted her head slightly, her expression as cold and unimpressed as ever, arms still crossed as she stared at John like he was some particularly annoying insect buzzing in her ear.

"Finish with the insults?" she asked, voice flat.

John's glare deepened, his nostrils flaring. "Excuse me?"

Artemis didn't blink. "You heard me. If you're just going to stand here screaming and throwing insults like some drunk at a tavern, then either take a drink and calm yourself down or leave."

John's expression darkened. "You—"

"No, shut up," Artemis cut him off smoothly, raising a hand to silence him. "I don't have time for this bullshit. If you don't want to help, then go ahead and walk out that door. But if you're in, then quit wasting my time and sit the fuck down."

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Ciel pressed a fist to his mouth, clearly fighting the urge to laugh. Jackal, still half-hidden behind Artemis, looked between them like he was watching a wolf about to attack.

John, meanwhile, looked absolutely furious. His fingers twitched at his sides, his face twitching like he was barely restraining himself from knocking Artemis clean off her feet.

"You have some nerve," he growled, his voice thick with barely contained rage. "Do you really think that because your noble I'm just going to stand by and let you—"

"Oh, I don't expect anything from you," Artemis interrupted, voice still maddeningly calm. "If all you're going to do is yell, then don't bother. I have people to rescue. I have a dragon to free. And I'm not going to waste my time arguing with a grown man who clearly needs a drink before he bursts a vein."

John looked like he wanted to throw something.

Artemis lifted a brow, tilting her head toward the table where a bottle of ale sat untouched. "Go on, then. Take a drink before you completely lose your temper."

The middle-aged dragon keeper glowered at her. His hand fisting beside him. "I don't need a dam drink brat"

"Well then sit the fuck down and listen to what I have to say or leave" she said firmly.

His glare, sharp enough to cut steel, locked onto Artemis.

"I don't take orders from you," he spat. "You think you can waltz in here and start barking commands at me? You're nothing here. You're not a noble anymore. You're not anyone anymore. You're a fugitive—a criminal—and I don't need to listen to a damn thing you say."

His voice dripped with venom, his anger still boiling over as he took a step toward her. "So don't you dare act like you hold any authority over me, because I sure as hell don't answer to you."

The room went deathly still.

Ciel tensed, his body shifting slightly between them, just in case. Jackal stiffened behind Artemis, gripping the back of her cloak tightly.

But Artemis?

Artemis didn't even blink.

She stood there, unmoved, her expression cold and detached, completely unfazed by his rage. If anything, she looked bored.

"You're right," she said simply, shrugging. "You don't answer to me."

John blinked, thrown off for a half-second by her unexpected agreement.

Artemis tilted her head, her eyes sharp and unreadable. "And yet, despite that, you're still standing here. You're still listening."

John's jaw locked.

She took a single step closer, her presence radiating something cold, something commanding despite the fact that she had no rank, no title, no power here.

"But let's get one thing straight," she continued, voice dropping into something quieter—deadlier. "I don't need to give you orders. Because at the end of the day, you care about those people rotting in that prison, just like Ciel does. You want Ralph and Rebecca out. You want Demarcus out. And no matter how much you hate me; we both know you're not going to sit back and do nothing."

John's fingers twitched, his breathing heavier now.

She narrowed her eyes. "So, you can stomp your feet and bark about how I have no authority over you all you want or how your refusing Ciel to go. But I don't need authority. I need results."

She stepped back, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. "So, are you done yet? Or do you need to keep screaming to make yourself feel better?"

The tension in the air was thick.

John stared at her, his jaw tight, his body still stiff with barely restrained anger.

Then, with an exasperated growl, he dragged a hand down his face, spun on his heel, and snatched the ale bottle back up.

"I fucking hate you," he muttered before downing a deep, furious gulp.

"You're not the only in the kingdom I heard say that" she said calmly.

Ciel finally let out a breath, shaking his head in amusement.

Jackal peeked out from behind Artemis, still gripping the back of her cloak. "Does this mean we're good now?"

John shot the kid a look, still swallowing down his rage. Jackal squeaked and returned to hide behind Diana.

"I don't think the man likes us very much" the little thief whispered to Artemis who ignored him.

Instead, he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face, and then turned back to Artemis with a look of sheer disbelief. His sharp eyes flickered between her and Jackal, then back to her, and finally, to Ciel.

Then, with a bitter scoff, he crossed his arms over his broad chest and shook his head.

"How the hell is she supposed to help?" he demanded, jabbing a finger in Artemis's direction. "Explain that to me, Ciel, because I don't see it. I don't get it."

Ciel clenched his jaw, but John pressed on, voice laced with deep scepticism.

"This is Diana Glacies we're talking about. A girl who's done nothing but attend every banquet, drown herself in luxuries, and throw tantrums when things don't go her way. A girl who's never lifted a damn finger in her life—who doesn't know how to do anything other than be a spoiled brat."

His tone grew harsher. "She can't even use her magic because she's hopeless. She's useless. She's nothing."

Jackal visibly cringed at that, his grip on the back of Artemis's cloak tightening slightly. He knew John didn't know the truth, but even he knew how wrong that statement was.

But Artemis?

She remained completely unfazed.

She didn't flinch, didn't react, didn't even so much as blink. She simply stared at John, her expression flat, unbothered—because, after all, he wasn't talking about her. He was talking about Diana Glacies.

And Artemis Ray didn't give a single damn about Diana's reputation.

Ciel, however, took a step forward, his blue eyes hardening. "You're wrong."

John turned his sharp glare on him.

Ciel stood his ground. "She's not useless. She's our only hope."

John let out a humourless laugh. "You expect me to believe that? After everything we know about her?" His eyes flickered toward Artemis again, his lips curling slightly in disbelief. "What, did she suddenly wake up one day and grow a spine?"

Artemis, without missing a beat, replied flatly, "No. I grew some balls."

A pause.

Then, just as John's face twitched in irritation, she added with a blank stare, "Manly balls."

Ciel closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose.

Of course she said that.

John just stared at her.

His eye twitched. Once. Twice. His brows furrowed deeply, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something—but no words came out.

His entire face twisted into a mixture of sheer confusion and annoyance, as if he was actively trying to process whether she was serious or if he had just hit his limit for bullshit today.

Artemis, in contrast, just stared back at him. Blankly.

No smirk. No amusement. Just complete, unwavering, deadpan silence.

The longer she held that stare, the more visibly uncomfortable John became.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers flexed like he was about to strangle the nearest object, and his entire body radiated exasperation.

The tension in the room shifted from heated argument to something almost absurd, and for the first time, Ciel thought John might actually explode from sheer irritation alone.

Jackal, still half-hidden behind Artemis, blinked up at her, confused. He tilted his head slightly, clearly trying to process what she had just said.

Then, slowly, his gaze dropped downward—to her waist—his small brows furrowing, as if trying to physically verify whether she was joking or not.

Artemis hadn't even looked at him. Her arm had moved with perfect precision, as if she had a sixth sense for bullshit, her hand striking the back of his head with practiced ease.

"Ow!" Jackal yelped, clutching the back of his head as he staggered forward.

He clutched his head, wincing. "What was that for?!"

Artemis, still not bothering to look at him, simply adjusted her sleeve. "For looking where you shouldn't."

Jackal grumbled under his breath, rubbing the sore spot. "Sorry I was just checking..."

The young orange haired keeper ignored them and turned his attention to John. His expression didn't waver. "I know what I'm doing, John."

John snorted. "No, you don't. You have no idea what kind of risk you're taking—"

"She's the only one who can pull this off."

John froze.

Ciel's voice was firm, unwavering, completely certain. His posture was rigid, his hands curled into fists, his expression set in stone.

"Trust me," Ciel said, quieter now. "We need her."

John's jaw clenched. His fingers twitched at his sides, his whole body screaming with resistance.

But Diana?

The silver-white haired fugitive finally spoke.

"Ciel's right," she said, her voice calm, controlled. "I'm your only hope."

John turned his burning gaze on her again, but this time, there was something else beneath the anger—something wary.

Artemis met his stare, utterly unmoved. "You don't have to like me," she continued smoothly. "You don't even have to respect me. But if you actually care about getting Ralph out of that cell, if you actually want to save Demarcus—" she tilted her head slightly, her tone dropping into something colder, something sharper— "then you need me."

John's nostrils flared. His jaw locked.

The room fell into thick silence.

Jackal looked nervously between them. Ciel said nothing, simply waiting.

And John?

John stared at Artemis, his mind clearly warring with itself.

He wanted to deny her.

He wanted to tell her she was full of shit.

John didn't respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he regarded her with a hardened gaze. The room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension so thick it felt suffocating.

Finally, he turned back to Ciel, his voice low but heavy with warning. "You better know what you're doing, Ciel," he muttered. "Because if this goes wrong, it's not just your life on the line—it's all of ours."

Ciel nodded solemnly, his expression resolute. "I do," he said simply.

John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he cast a wary glance at Artemis. "Fine," he said gruffly. "But don't expect me to trust her. Not yet."

Artemis's lips twitched slightly, the closest thing to a smirk she allowed herself. "I'm not asking for your trust," she said coolly. "Just your cooperation."

John let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation had taken ten years off his life. Then, after a tense pause, he grumbled, "Fine. I'll gather the others. I'll be back soon."

Without another word, he turned on his heel, striding toward the door. But just before he stepped out, he paused.

His large, calloused hand landed firmly on Ciel's shoulder.

Standing beside him, Artemis could really see just how much taller John was—broad-shouldered, muscular, every inch of him hardened by years of labour. Ciel wasn't small by any means, but next to John, he looked noticeably leaner.

John didn't look at Artemis. Instead, he kept his eyes on Ciel, his grip strong but not forceful. "You better know what you're doing, boy," he muttered, voice low, firm. "And you better know that trusting her is a terrible idea."

Artemis said nothing, watching the interaction with quiet amusement.

John's jaw clenched slightly. "I don't want anything happening to you."

Ciel gave a small, reassuring smile. "I'll be fine."

John scoffed but said nothing more. With a final squeeze of Ciel's shoulder, he turned and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him.

The silence in the room lingered for a moment.

Then Ciel exhaled, rolling his shoulders before turning toward Artemis. "Well," he said with a lopsided smirk. "That went well."

But Artemis wasn't listening.

She was still staring at the door.

Or, more accurately—she was still staring at John.

Ciel blinked, following her gaze, only to realize that John was long gone. "Uh—Artemis?"

Artemis, still focused, tilted her head slightly. "He's really good-looking actually."

Ciel froze.

Jackal, standing nearby, choked on air, his mouth falling agape in utter confusion and horror.

Ciel, meanwhile, looked like someone had just stabbed him in the gut. His silver-blue eyes widened in sheer disbelief as he whipped his head toward Artemis. "I'm sorry—what?"

Artemis, entirely unbothered, continued, "I mean, really good-looking. Especially with that body of his." She nodded to herself, as if just realising it now. "Broad shoulders, built like a damn wall. Not bad for a middle-aged man."

Ciel stared at her, absolutely horrified.

Jackal, still slack-jawed, looked between the two of them. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he finally burst out, looking at Artemis like she had just insulted his entire bloodline.

Ciel, for some damn reason, felt something inside him twist unpleasantly. He didn't like that feeling.

At all.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eye twitched. "John? John?" He gestured wildly toward the door as if she had just broken some unspoken rule of the universe. "That's who you—seriously?"

Artemis finally turned to look at him, her expression blank. "What? He's attractive."

Ciel looked like he was physically in pain. Ciel hated the way that statement made something burn in his chest.

Ciel's face twitched. His jealousy—a completely unwelcome emotion—flared before he could even process it.

"W-Well," he spluttered, crossing his arms, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself, though he wasn't sure why. "I mean— wait why are even staring? Don't tell me you were checking him out?"

Artemis rose an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip. "Can a woman not stare at an attractive man? Men can do it why can't women?"

"That's not- you know what I don't care" he sputtered before mentally shaking the horrid thought away.

Artemis just gave him a judgmental side glance before looking at the empty doorway.

Ciel, still feeling a strange, inexplicable irritation, exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered under his breath, "Unbelievable."

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Character Profile

Name: John

Age: 45

Birthday: 29th September

Height: 195cm

Background: Is a dragon keeper and has been since he was 12. His father and grandfather were dragon keepers before him. Doesn't have any surviving relatives. Like eating warm bread that's freshly baked, and supposedly the cleanest person in the barracks.