Tell me, O Fox

Isaac followed the staff member to Constantine's office with a calm and collected stride, but his mind was mired with myriad thoughts.

Not good ones, as a matter of fact.

'From what I know of Constantine, she's a meticulous politician through and through.' He mumbled. 'For the sake of the Foundation's interests, she will stop at nothing—it's admirable really.'

Although he praised and respected Constantine for her capabilities, he equally knew how dangerous she was as an opposition. And unfortunately, that was currently their situation.

Constantine was smart and cunning, hiding behind that knowing smile of hers. Although she could hide it well, Isaac, as well as many other perceptive people, could easily discern that she wouldn't hesitate to oppress arcanists to achieve the betterment of the Foundation.

He grumbled silently. 'Truly formidable... I just hope I won't become an example by her.'

Although he had means of resisting, the chances of endangering his teammates — which he would never ever consider — would rise. So, as much as possible, he'd like to have a peaceful conversation with her and not overly complicate things.

While Isaac was stuck in his mind, the staff suddenly stopped and gestured toward the nearby door. "We're here. She's waiting inside."

"Thank you."

He nodded at her but didn't receive a reply. He brushed it off and stood in front of the door, and hesitated for a split second, before knocking three times.

"I'm coming in."

He stepped inside.

The office was pristine. Cold marble floor, stark white shelves with aligned books, and at the center of it all — Constantine.

She sat behind a sleek black desk, her hands delicately moved carved chess pieces across a board as if orchestrating a quiet war. Her expression was unreadable save for the curve of her lips — that same, perpetual knowing smile.

"Isaac." She greeted, not looking up. "Do take a seat."

"...okay." He murmured, walking over and carefully lowering himself into the chair opposite her.

The atmosphere was oppressive, as if every molecule of air had been trained to fall silent in her presence.

Still, he forced a smirk. "Well, this is cozy. All that's missing is tea and a less cold atmosphere."

"Hmm." Constantine hummed, eyes still on her chessboard. "Always a wit. I imagine it's easier to mask fear that way."

Isaac chuckled softly, tapping a knuckle against the chair's armrest. "Only when the person is formidable enough to warrant it."

He paused, before continuing. "So what did you want me here for today, Madam Vice President?"

She smiled, just a little. Then, as if pulling a lever in her mind, the tone shifted.

"Let me tell you a story, Isaac."

He raised a brow. "A story...?"

She didn't reply immediately and instead picked up the black queen and turned it between her fingers.

"A fox once found itself in a vast forest it did not know. It was a clever little fox — it laid low at first, explored, and marked its territory. Over time, it made itself comfortable, even bold. It created a hunting ground... right in the middle of a domain owned by wolves."

She placed the queen down with a soft click.

"Isn't it fascinating how ignorance can substitute for bravery? Or has that line always been so blurred that those that dare to step over it do not even know it exists? If so, then case in point."

Isaac sat quietly, his lips pressing together. His fingers steepled in front of him.

"...Charming story." He eventually said. Then paused. "Is that... related to why I'm here?"

Constantine looked up for the first time. Her smile didn't waver. "You've been good at seeing through things, from what I've heard. It seems that it's true. I'll commend that."

Her eyes then sharpened. "You're the fox in the story, Isaac. You've slinked into a forest you barely understand, making moves as if you own it."

Silence hung in the air.

Isaac didn't speak at once. He simply looked at her — calculating, gauging, and planning his next words.

Shortly after, with a familiar lilt in his voice and a glimmer in his eyes, he eventually smiled.

"Well, this fox has grown rather fond of this new forest. I think I'll do just fine."

He then stood slowly, adjusting the hem of his coat.

"Besides..." He added, "The wolves aren't the only predators out there."

For a moment, she didn't speak. Her gaze was piercing — but her smile deepened. Not kindly, nor dangerously.

Isaac continued, feigning lightness. "Of course, if the wolves feel threatened, maybe they should tighten their borders. Or be nicer to the foxes. Who knows?"

A palpable and suffocating silence soon descended between them, with neither talking and merely looking at each other with their smiles — one cold and bureaucratic while the other sly and mischievous.

However, Constantine soon lifted a hand, breaking that silence. "That will be all."

He paused, blinked, then bowed slightly. "Of course."

He turned and was prepared to leave, when suddenly, she called out to him.

"Isaac."

He froze in the doorway.

"It seems..." She said gently, "The fox is following the older one's footsteps quite well."

- Thump.

Upon hearing those words, Isaac seemed to have turned into a statue.

His eyes then sharpened. The expression on his face suddenly changed — subtle, yet unmistakable. Something cold. Something old. Something... Regretful.

He then turned halfway, his voice low. This time, there was no longer the cunning and sly expression on his face — but a cold one.

"...This fox just knows how to use what's best for him, that's all."

And with that, he left.

The sound of the door clicking shut was the only response.

Constantine was left alone in her office, her smile growing deeper — knowing she had gained something over him.

---

Isaac walked down the white and gray marbled hallways of the Foundation, his strides serious, and his face frowning.

What Constantine had just said had just confirmed a speculation that had been lingering in his mind for a long time now, while also simultaneously provoking him.

He wasn't an easily provoked person — but when she mentioned his past directly to his face, he couldn't control his emotions and let his resentment and regrets leak out.

"Me? Following in his steps...?" He mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing. "Don't make me laugh. That person might've taught me everything I know, but I will never be him."

"I... am better."

Truly.

He continued walking until he eventually reached the hallway leading to Laplace.

He didn't have anything to do there right now, and so, he moved in the opposite direction. However, he suddenly found himself passing by a group of people.

The group appeared to be in a rough shape, and their expressions were crestfallen.

Isaac didn't pay them any heed and quietly walked past — that is, until he suddenly felt it.

A gaze.

Sharp, unwavering, and uncomfortably focused.

"...Hm?"

He slowed his steps.

Among the weary group, one figure stood out — a girl, maybe seventeen at most. Bookish, pale, her head almost swallowed by a newsboy cap, and her face smudged with soot. Her stature was a bit small and timid, while her eyes were fixed right on him.

And not just at him — but into him.

There was something off about it. Not malicious, not curious either… more like a strange mix of stunned recognition and deep, unspoken fear.

'I feel like I know her…'

He glanced around. The others beside her looked too busy talking about what seemed like a failed field mission to notice anything. But this girl — she looked at him like he'd just stepped out of a forgotten tale or an old ghost story.

Isaac tilted his head, expression curious. "Do you… need something?"

She didn't answer.

Silence stretched — long enough for it to become awkward — until she finally opened her mouth.

"...Are you going to silence me?"

Isaac blinked. "...Sorry, what?"

He stared at her in disbelief, mouth ajar. The question hadn't been accusatory or panicked — it was eerily flat. As if she'd already resigned herself to the possibility. As if she thought it was inevitable.

He frowned. "Why would I — wait, hold on, what makes you think I'd ever do that? I don't silence people! Especially not kids!"

Her eyes dropped to the floor. She shrank a little, fiddling with her sleeves. Clearly flustered. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally managed to whisper, "I—I'm sorry… I didn't mean to pry, it just sort of happened — I was curious, and I used my arcanum on you. Without permission…"

Isaac exhaled slowly, one hand dragging down his face as he muttered under his breath, "Gods, kids these days…"

He always wanted to say that line.

She glanced up again, guilt carved into her features like lines on old parchment — as if expecting a reprimand or worse.

But Isaac just gave her a glance, then sighed and softened his voice. "Don't go doing that whimsically. Some people are... sensitive about arcanum. You might get into trouble some day if you continue doing that."

"I-I know. I'm sorry…" She bowed stiffly, like someone who'd learned manners but never got to practice them much. "I just… saw something interesting when you passed by."

He arched a brow. "And what exactly did you see?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she straightened a little, wiped some soot off her face with her sleeve, and finally spoke with clarity.

"Well… my name is Marcus."

And the moment Isaac saw her face and heard that name, the realization hit him like a soft but solid slap of wind to the face.

'...Oh.'

Now he understood.

Marcus.

She was a person important later on in the story and was even a main cast for an entire chapter.

As for her arcanum... He knows it well too. No wonder she asked if he'd silence her.

It was because her arcanum... was the ability to "read" people like a book.

Isaac's expression remained neutral, but internally, a bead of cold sweat rolled down his back.

'Perfect. Just what I needed today — someone with a library card to my head.'