Night had fallen, and the corridors were quiet. Julian walked steadily toward his quarters, his mind still lingering on the conversation he had with Glain. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

The plans for the days ahead weighed heavily, and he knew he needed to sharpen himself, bring his three core skills into harmony, so he’d be ready when the time came to face that colossal beast.

As he turned down a dimly lit path, Julian slowed his steps. Someone was there, waiting beneath the glow of a solitary streetlamp.

Beatrix.

She leaned casually against the lamp post, the pale light cascading over her face and tracing the curves of her figure.

The way the shadows played against her features made her beauty almost untouchable, but the indolent tone in her voice grounded it immediately.

"Finally... you came this way," she said, her tone lazy, tinged with impatience. "I’m exhausted from waiting for you."

Julian’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you want?"

"Nothing in particular," Beatrix replied, pushing herself off the pole with an unhurried grace. Her gaze met his, sharp yet unreadable. "I just want to clear something up."

Julian stopped a few paces away, his expression unreadable. The silence between them stretched, heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the streetlamp.

"Clear something up?" His voice was calm, but edged with suspicion.

Beatrix stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the stone path. The lazy demeanor she’d shown earlier shifted into something sharper, more deliberate. "You misunderstand me, Julian. I’m not here to cause chaos, nor to betray the trust you’ve placed in me."

Julian’s eyes narrowed, the weight of his stare pressing on her. "You’ve given me reasons not to trust you before. Don’t expect me to ignore that."

A faint smirk tugged at Beatrix’s lips, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of something else, was it frustration, or vulnerability? "You think you’ve seen through me," she murmured. "But maybe you’ve only seen what you want to see."

Julian didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned his head slightly, as though weighing whether to dismiss her entirely or let her continue. The air between them seemed to thrum with unspoken words.

Beatrix folded her arms, her gaze steady. "I’m not your enemy, Julian. Believe that, or don’t, but at least give me the chance to prove it."

Julian’s jaw tightened, his shadow stretching long under the dim streetlight. He took a step closer, close enough that Beatrix could feel the heat of his presence pressing against her carefully maintained composure.

"Prove it?" His tone cut like steel. "You think words will erase my doubts? You think standing there and sounding clever will change the fact that you’ve been hiding things from me since the beginning?"

Beatrix didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze head-on, her voice rising with sharp defiance. "And what about you, Julian? You think you’re the only one allowed to keep secrets? You act as if your suspicion is a shield, but in truth, it’s a chain. You’re so afraid of betrayal that you’d rather strangle every bond before it can mean something."

The tension snapped between them like sparks from a live wire. Julian’s eyes narrowed further, his tone dropping low, dangerous. "You’re walking on thin ice, Beatrix. Don’t mistake my patience for weakness. If you try to cross me—"

"—You’ll regret it?!" Beatrix cut him off, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and something deeper, almost desperation.

She took a bold step closer until their faces were inches apart, her eyes flashing. "Don’t threaten me, Julian. I’ve survived worse than your suspicion. If you really believe I’m your enemy, then strike me down right here. Do it! End this so-called doubt of yours!"

Julian’s hand twitched at his side, instinctively reaching for the weapon he wasn’t sure he’d draw. But he froze, caught in the fire of her challenge. The night grew heavier around them, the hum of the lamp above buzzing like static as silence pressed in.

For a long, breathless moment, neither moved.

Beatrix let out a long breath, her shoulders rising and falling as if she were holding back the weight of something unsaid. Her voice came softer now, though tinged with weariness. "Tell me, Julian... where did you even get the idea that I’m not a Catalyst?"

Julian’s eyes hardened, his tone cold and unyielding. "Why do you want to know? Planning to silence whoever told me?" He leaned closer, the lamplight cutting across his sharp features. "Besides, your story never sat right with me. How you just happened to survive group after group of survivors... and then, out of nowhere, you conveniently crossed paths with us. Doesn’t that sound just a little too perfect?"

His hand brushed against the hilt of his blade, deliberate, a silent reminder of the threat hanging between them. "So, what’s it going to be, Beatrix? Keep weaving your lies, or come clean right here and now? Because make no mistake..." His voice dropped into a near whisper, lethal in its calm. "I could end you whenever I choose."

Beatrix’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. Instead of shrinking under Julian’s words, she tilted her head, studying him as though he were the one under interrogation.

"End me, huh?" she said quietly, her tone half a scoff, half a challenge. "If you were really certain about me, you wouldn’t still be asking questions. You’d have drawn that blade already."

Julian’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t answer. The silence stretched, heavy and electric.

Beatrix took a step forward, the lamplight brushing across her features, turning her expression into a mixture of allure and defiance. "You think my story doesn’t make sense? Fine. Maybe it doesn’t. But tell me, Julian... are you so sure that your version of me, the little puzzle you’ve put together in your head, is the truth?"

"So go ahead," she whispered, almost daring him. "Kill me if you’re that convinced. But if you’re wrong..." Her eyes locked onto his, unblinking. "You’ll regret it more than you can possibly imagine."

Julian’s eyes hardened as he pressed again, his tone sharp as a blade. "Let me make this perfectly clear, who sent you?"

Beatrix met his gaze, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Her silence stretched into the night, the weight of it making the air feel heavier, and more dangerous.

Julian’s expression darkened. "That was your mistake... coming to me. It’s no different than handing me your own life."

A bead of sweat slid down Beatrix’s temple, her composure cracking just enough to show the strain. She forced a dry laugh, masking fear with bravado. "Well... maybe it’s just my misfortune. Who can say?"

Julian studied her for a long, tense moment, then finally slid his sword back into its sheath with a metallic click. His voice dropped lower, almost dismissive. "Enough. Killing you now would change nothing."

Beatrix exhaled, shoulders loosening the faintest bit. Then, with a wry tilt of her head, she said quietly, "If you must know... I am an alchemist."

Julian narrowed his eyes. "An alchemist?"

Beatrix gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. "That’s right. You were correct about me. I have two objectives here, monitoring the Sky Whale... and keeping an eye on this city, Metldown."

Julian’s voice turned cold. "And why should I trust you?"

Beatrix lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "You don’t have to. Like you said, it would all be meaningless anyway."

Silence settled between them. Julian studied her closely, his gaze sharp as if peeling away her layers. At last, he muttered, "So our meeting wasn’t a coincidence after all."

Beatrix shook her head slowly. "Not exactly. Before reaching this city, my group and I were already tracking the Sky Whale, monitoring its movement. But one by one, they all died. I’m the only one left. Call it luck, or misfortune, that I stumbled into your group and ended up here."

Julian exhaled through his nose, his tone heavy. "Seems Sebas’s suspicion was right."

Beatrix tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Sebas? That four-eyed man? Hah... I didn’t expect him to figure it out so soon."

Julian’s gaze sharpened. "It wasn’t difficult. You’re not exactly good at lying, nor do you have the talent for infiltration. And you call yourself a Catalyst, yet when those dragonflies attacked, you had no real weapon, no contribution, just hiding behind others."

Beatrix sighed, her tone lazy, almost mocking. "What else could I do? I was the only one left alive. If survival meant clinging to your group... then so be it."

Beatrix let out a long breath and added, "And the reason I stopped you tonight was to explain all this, to prevent any more misunderstandings. Like I said, I am not your enemy."

Julian’s expression didn’t soften. His voice cut through the night air like a blade. "Then why lie about being a Catalyst? And that weapon design you proposed to modify, what you really wanted was to create a flare, wasn’t it?"

Beatrix’s lips curved in the faintest smirk. "Seems you’re getting sharper by the day."

Julian didn’t respond. His gaze remained locked on her, cold and unrelenting, waiting for the truth.

At last, Beatrix exhaled softly, as if resigning herself. With deliberate slowness, she raised her hands to her chest, undoing the top buttons of her coat. The lamplight spilled over her skin as she pulled the fabric aside, revealing a mark inked between her collarbones, a tattoo shaped like a set of scales.

"This," she said quietly, her tone stripped of mockery now, "is the symbol of the one who sent me."