Only Questions

Sira, Ashley, and Myth finished eating. They sat in silence for a while. Then Myth spoke, his voice calm.

"So... explain everything?"

"We got information from the thugs lying around," Ashley began. "Rollo had money stashed all over his place. Walker found most of it."

She glanced around the room.

"We know some of his businesses. He sold drugs. We don't know where they're made, but they're not sold in Lowden."

She paused. Then Sira picked up.

"Myth… everyone knows about the attack. They're all talking."

Her voice was soft, but urgent.

"The muskets. The club. The assault on the house—it's all out there."

Sira hesitated before continuing. Her eyes shifted to Ashley.

"Walker, Ashley, and Victor… they killed everyone who was injured. Even the ones who surrendered. They cried and begged."

A heavy silence followed. Then Ashley spoke, voice steady.

"They saw Victor's ability. They saw our faces, our physique. Leaving them alive was a huge liability."

She looked directly at Sira, resolve burning behind her eyes.

"I'm prepared to do anything to get back."

"That doesn't mean you just kill anyone," Sira snapped. "They had lives too. Families. We could've found a better way."

Myth stayed silent.

Myth listened to their conversation. But what stuck with him were only details.

That he had pushed Ashley into his hellhole—and now she was clawing her way out, doing whatever it took.

Or Sira's voice—saying they could've found a better way.

His mind kept revolving around the same things—

Was he incompetent? Was he impatient?

And more importantly... was he in league with people who would kill someone crying and begging just because that was the simplest option?

Because if so, everything—even that—was his failure.

And he killed those people.

Myth crossed his arms, speaking in a low voice.

"Anyone who wants to know Victor's abilities will learn them through Raev. And about the physique thing—only you and Sira needed that caution. Raev already saw mine. Walker's exposed. Victor's not even going to be here. You two could've just hidden.

Then Walker could've cross-questioned everyone and killed only those who knew about you two."

"So calculative, Myth," Ashley snapped, voice raised.

"Even when it comes to killing people, you never fail to strategize."

Myth looked at her. His voice rose slightly too, not angry—just sharp.

"What's that supposed to mean? Ashley, if you've got something to say, I'm listening. Really—get everything off your chest."

Ashley looked at Myth. Her glare was cold. Her voice cut clean.

"Okay… then listen, Myth. You're a complete asshole for shifting the blame on us."

She paused, then stared straight at him.

"You don't get to preach mercy wrapped in calculation. You, out of the five of us, have the least right. You brought us here. You dragged us into this hellhole. You doomed all those people. You started it."

"But that doesn't mean you can kill people left and right," Sira intervened.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the tension like a blade.

She looked directly at Ashley.

"And I have a say in this too."

"Stop it. Both of you," Myth said, his voice calm, polite.

"Sira, we have to kill some people. Even if they beg. Even if they cry. And Ashley, we don't kill people left and right—only when necessary."

He sighed, continuing before either of them could respond.

"We failed. And now we're paying the price. Next time, we'll be more prepared."

He looked at both of them.

"Can we leave it at that?"

Ashley leaned back in her chair and sighed.

"Fine. I'll wash the dishes. Two of you are injured—rest while I work," she muttered, standing up.

Myth tried to shift the mood, even if a little part of him still ached.

Myth chuckled.

"Hey, let me help you."

He got up from his chair and jogged a bit to catch up, ignoring the pain in his side.

"You know... you were kinda hot when you snapped back there," Myth said casually.

"Myth, please don't joke," Ashley replied, her voice quieter now. She stopped and looked at him, her expression softening.

"I'm not in the mood. You could've been seriously hurt. You could've died if I had missed that shot."

Myth didn't respond. He couldn't. Because he didn't knew the right answer to it.

Then Ashley grabbed his hand.

"But I'm glad you're okay."

Myth felt warmth from her words.

---

Myth and Sira went to their usual work at the bar. While they were walking, Sira spoke.

"So... do you remember how we used to tease that neighborhood lady?" Sira chuckled.

"Yes... how would I forget? We made a game out of it after a while," Myth glanced at Sira. "It was a really fun, high-stakes thriller at the time."

Sira smiled a little and said, "Yeah... whenever I think of her, I just picture us ringing her doorbell and sprinting."

Myth smiled too—though his was fake.

"Then she used to come out of her house with a stick and run after us."

Sira walked a little ahead, tilting her head to get a better look at him.

"You know I met her once? I actually asked her about it."

"Oh? What happened?" Myth asked in the same polite tone.

Sira's smile brightened as she replied, "Well, she said she enjoyed chasing us too."

Myth glanced away.

"That's a twist now," he said.

Sensing Sira getting a bit more friendly, he quickly steered the conversation.

"Are you missing that mansion?" Myth asked—deliberately using that mansion to subtly remind her of the conversation they had before.

"Yes. I'm missing my home," Sira replied, completely shaken out of her happy mood.

---

When they arrived at the bar, Myth and Sira slipped into their usual rhythm—cleaning, serving, preparing for the evening. As time passed, more customers began to trickle in.

The usual chatter buzzed in the air—but tonight, it was all about The Raven.

Snippets floated between tables like wildfire:

"Raven and his goons took down Rollo. A direct assault."

"They even had muskets."

"He killed everyone—didn't leave a single person alive."

Just outside the bar, bounty posters fluttered in the breeze—rough sketches of Raven, they were not very recognizable.

Soon, some of Zarin's regular thugs entered and claimed their usual seats. Sira stayed close, subtly eavesdropping as she wiped nearby tables.

Their tone was casual at first, until a comment caught her attention.

"Elliot's sending people to Street 3. I'm telling you—I can feel it. Something's coming."

The others at the table perked up, voices rising with energy.

"Finally. Time to show those bastards," one of them said, grinning.

The excitement died down into a short lull, until one of them leaned in and spoke in a low voice.

Sira discreetly edged closer, careful not to draw attention.

"They say... even Elliot might show up on Street 3."

The entire group fell silent for a beat—then gasps, murmurs, and wide eyes followed. It was clear: whatever this meant, it was big.

Sira kept a calm face as she returned to her side of the bar.

Elliot… could it really be the same person I think it is?

---

On the other side, Myth was busy serving customers—chatting, asking light questions, trying to draw out information.

But nothing useful came out of it.

He could now make almost every drink on the menu with ease, though tonight, even that routine felt dull. He had tried talking with Riff earlier—but as usual, that ended in irritation.

---

At the dinner table, after finishing their meal, the group sat down to discuss what to do next.

Sira began by relaying the information she had gathered.

"So, I think the person above Zarin is Elliot."

She paused.

"Maybe he's the top boss Zarin works for, or at least one of his superiors."

"Yes... it looks like it," Myth said politely.

"I do have a few conjectures."

He looked at Sira and Ashley as he continued.

"We know Raev was secretly connected to Rollo. We also know Lazik's main business is selling drugs. But Rollo? We only know from his thugs that he was involved in the drug trade. He didn't sell in Lowden. Where he sold, no one knows. Where he produced, again—no one knows."

He leaned back slightly.

"So if Rollo isn't producing in Lowden, why stay here in Outer Lowden? He could be anywhere. It would be safer. And if Lazik knows about Rollo's drug business—which he easily could—why hasn't he killed him yet?"

"It might be because of Zarin," Ashley replied.

"Maybe Zarin was the reason Lazik didn't make a move."

"Or Rollo was allied with Lazik out of fear of Zarin's backer," Sira added.

Myth nodded thoughtfully.

"But even that doesn't explain why Rollo stayed in Streets 4 and 5," Myth said, eyes narrowed.

"Unless there's something important there—something that would make Zarin retaliate if Lazik tried to act against him. Something valuable enough that Lazik chose to ally with Rollo instead of wiping him out."

He paused for a beat.

"Or maybe... Rollo wasn't even in the drug business. Maybe he was into something else entirely."

Sira looked at him, something clicking in her mind.

"Maybe that's why Zarin seems more like a protector to the people. He doesn't act like a thug. What if he's actually a counterbalance—put in place to keep Lazik in check?"

Ashley's eyes widened as something surfaced from memory.

"Wait... wasn't there a fight between Rollo's men and Zarin a while back?"

Ashley leaned forward.

"We need to find out everything about that incident. Who started it, what triggered it... all of it."

Myth tapped the table, a radiant smile spreading across his face as he looked at Sira and Ashley.

There was something… unsettling about that smile.

A silence lingered, just long enough to feel heavy.

"Something valuable," Myth said slowly. "And it's right under our nose."

He leaned in slightly, voice smooth.

"Smells like money—an awful lot of it."

He paused, eyes glinting.

"So… finders keep."