Chapter 24 – The Night Always Teaches What Is Left Unsaid

Laterano, in the morning, never truly changes. The sky is always pale blue with a tint of soft yellow. The wind descends from the hills carrying the scent of dry leaves and clean stone. And the chirping of little birds that live atop the church pillars sounds like a song never taught—always the same, yet always new.

Exu sat on her bedroom window ledge, knees pulled to her chest, a notebook in hand, a pen between her lips. The morning air was crisp, but her mind was still lingering on the footsteps from the previous night. Especially on Lemuen's words.

"It's not the city that's dangerous. It's those who live behind it."

What did that mean? Lemuen had always been the older brother who knew too much for someone who looked like just an administrative worker. But he never interfered—and that's what made Exu more suspicious.

She crossed out a line in her notebook, replacing it quickly:

Lemuen knows the structure. But chooses silence. Maybe waiting for something. Or protecting something.

She closed the notebook and slid it back under the wooden floorboard beneath her bed—where there was enough space for five books and an old candy box filled with her small tools.

When she came down for breakfast, Lemuen was already at the table, spooning morning soup with a gaze too neutral to be called relaxed.

"Up early," Lemuen commented without looking up.

"Of course. Model student," Exu replied as she sat across from him.

They ate in silence. But it wasn't a tense silence. It was careful. Like two people who both knew something but were waiting to see who would speak first.

"If you're not going to school today," Lemuen said suddenly, "do you want to come with me around the northern district?"

Exu looked at him, a little suspicious. But she smiled. "Depends. Is there good food involved?"

"There's honey bread at the old bakery in the back alley."

Exu stood up immediately. "Okay. I'm in."

The northern district of Laterano was unlike the central area filled with towers and grand buildings. Here, the paths were narrow, lined with old shops, and children ran around with small wings that couldn't quite carry their weight yet. No armed guards at every corner. No grand churches echoing hymns.

And perhaps because of that, Exu felt freer.

Lemuen walked slightly ahead, carrying a bag filled with documents and small items. Exu followed behind, occasionally stopping to glance at bulletin boards or look toward the laughter of children on the rooftops.

"If you weren't a child of Laterano," Lemuen said suddenly, "you'd love this place."

"I do love it. Why do you say that?"

"Because here, people speak with voices, not with symbols."

Exu tilted her head. "Huh?"

"In the city center, people talk in ranks, structure, their halos. But here, a kid can yell at a postal officer for delivering the wrong letter. And no one gets mad."

Exu smiled. "You sound like an outsider."

Lemuen looked at her. "I'm not an outsider. But I once was."

They stopped at a small alley leading to the bakery. The shop wasn't flashy, but the sweet scent wafting from inside made Exu's stomach react immediately.

"Two honey breads?" Lemuen asked as they walked in.

"Make it three. One for someone at home," Exu said quickly.

"There's only you at home," Lemuen said, chuckling.

"Shhh. Let me look generous."

As they sat on a small bench outside the shop, the bread still warm in their hands, Exu slowly scanned the street. Nothing seemed unusual. No loud noises. But...

"Are we being followed?" she whispered.

Lemuen didn't answer right away. He took a bite of his bread, swallowed slowly, and only then spoke.

"Yes. But they're not an enemy."

Exu turned sharply. "Who?"

"A kid from the southern district. An intern at the council. Sent to watch me."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's watching my shadow, not me."

Exu fell silent. She didn't know how to respond. But she knew one thing: Lemuen didn't just know a lot. He could do a lot—if he chose to.

After a few minutes, Lemuen stood. "Want to come to the last place?"

"What place?"

"I need to pick up documents from the district storage office. Basement level. Boring, but sometimes there's something interesting."

"Sure."

The district storage office in the north looked like a forgotten library. At the entrance was a faded wooden sign that read "ARCHIVES" and "DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT PERMISSION," but no guards in sight.

Lemuen spoke to the old clerk at the front desk—a gray-haired Sankta with thick glasses. He handed them two access passes and pointed to a corridor on the left.

"You're coming with me," Lemuen said, giving Exu one pass.

The corridor was long, damp, and dimly lit. On both sides, shelves were packed with papers, scrolls, and even some inactive electronic devices. The air inside felt like it hadn't moved in decades.

After five minutes of walking, Lemuen stopped at shelf G–144.

"Here."

He opened one of the large drawers. Inside, the files were meticulously arranged but marked with an unfamiliar color code.

Exu stared at a dark green folder. Without realizing it, she pulled it out and opened it.

Inside was a photograph. A young Sankta. Black wings. A cracked halo.

And handwritten in the corner:

"Subject: M. | Third Observation. Status: Unstable."

Exu looked at Lemuen. But he continued scanning other documents, as if unbothered.

"What is this...?"

"Old data. They don't know I know it's still stored here."

"Why are you showing this to me?"

"Because you can't go back to pretending to be clueless."

Exu bit her lip.

"You know this is about Mostima, right?"

Lemuen closed the drawer. "You know more than you think. And now, I need to know what you want to do."

Exu took a deep breath.

"...I want to change how that story ends."

Lemuen looked at her. For a long time. Then nodded.

"Then from now on, we work together."