Isaac stared at the folder he had placed on the bed shortly after their arrival at the Webster clan's headquarters. His encounter with Levi still weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't truly shake off the cold that had seeped into his bones.
More than anything, he wanted to crawl under the covers, make himself invisible until Levi forgot about him—until no one was looking for him anymore. Not that bastard, nor any of the bounty hunters who had been on his trail.
Too much had definitely happened lately.
Too much to simply brush off the bad things and move on.
The events themselves argued against it—especially the people involved.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?" Noctis asked quietly.
Isaac only nodded. His gaze didn't leave the folder.
He had known Levi was looking for him. He had sent Nico and his idiots, but Isaac had spent the whole time hoping he wouldn't run into him. Then again, only about four weeks had passed since then.
In that time, he had been responsible for Nico's death, had been protected by Noctis from the boss. He had taken a gunshot wound to the thigh and had nearly been killed by Benedict. Noah had died while he himself had been fighting for his life, and he had uncovered all the secrets surrounding Noctis.
And just under an hour ago, he had seen the evidence of the boss's dirty dealings, had encountered Levi—and now the thing that was probably worst for him lay on his bedspread: the folder about House Morgenstern, the orphanage where he had been tortured and humiliated until the age of eight.
He still didn't know what information awaited him on all those pages. But his gut told him very clearly that it was nothing good.
For as long as he could remember, his life had been marked by negative events. Rarely had anything good happened to him. He had tried, and yet right now he could feel nothing but emptiness inside. The panic from earlier, with all its side effects, had faded.
If he was honest, there had only ever been one thing that had truly made him happy.
Noctis.
Or rather, what they had once been before everything had shattered—before the lies had come to light.
Noctis's hand brushed gently over his cheek. It was warm—a stark contrast to the cold Isaac still carried within him.
"Maybe you should sleep on it," Noctis murmured. "You can look at the folder tomorrow."
He hesitated for a moment, then added more quietly, "Are you sure I shouldn't stay?"
There was more than just concern in his voice. There was uncertainty—almost as if he feared the answer. Isaac couldn't understand why. After all, Noctis was fine. He wasn't being threatened, nor was everything collapsing around him. Besides, there was nothing in all the documents they had gathered that concerned Noctis personally.
After all, he had never really worked for the boss… or lived for him.
"Isaac," Noctis said seriously, moving a little closer. "You're so quiet it's scaring me."
Slowly, Isaac shook his head.
"As long as I haven't looked at that folder, I won't find any peace," he murmured.
Isaac tore his gaze away from the folder and looked at Noctis, whose golden eyes studied him with concern. There was no way he could look at the contents of that folder while Noctis was with him.
"I have to do this alone, Noctis," Isaac said.
"I understand that, but—"
Isaac pressed a finger to Noctis's lips.
"Please, just this once, listen to me, okay?" he asked quietly. "Whatever is in there… I have to face it on my own."
Noctis fell silent and simply looked at him for a long moment. Finally, he took Isaac's hands in his.
"If you need me, call me, okay?"
"Okay."
"I don't like leaving you here alone." Noctis exhaled deeply, then straightened up. "But I respect it. I'll come check on you later."
Isaac turned his gaze back to the folder.
"I love you, Isaac," Noctis said softly.
Isaac couldn't bring himself to respond. The pounding in his head was too loud, the question of what awaited him inside that folder too present.
The door closed with a click, and he was alone with that damn folder—the one that would turn his entire past upside down.
If Noctis had told the truth, then Isaac's whole life had been manipulated.
But to what end?
He stared at the folder, which, as expected, offered no answers on its own.
He would only find out if he finally opened the damn thing.
He took a deep breath once more, then placed it on his lap with trembling hands and opened it. He found the deed to the orphanage, made out to the boss. Photos of Isaac as a small child. There were pictures of the abuse the other children had inflicted on him, and of all the marks they had left on his skin. Reports from the caregivers—especially from Madame Rose.
Levi.
Levi's name was everywhere. What he had done, and how well he carried out his mission. There were letters from Levi to the boss—about how much effort he was putting into Isaac, and that he would soon have him where he wanted him.
He only realized he was crying when the first drops fell onto the paper, causing the ink to blur slightly.
His hand crumpled the page he was reading. With an angry cry, he tore it out. He felt like he couldn't breathe. So Noctis had been right, and Isaac had been too naïve to believe him. He had branded Noctis a liar, even though he had been telling the truth.
He grabbed the folder again and kept reading.
He didn't even bother wiping away the tears anymore. The more he read, the more numb he felt.
At some point, the folder slipped from his fingers. He just sat there, trying to comprehend everything.
The boss had manipulated him from the very beginning. His early years had served only to isolate him. Levi had been there solely to show him how it felt to be liked by someone—only to be abandoned again.
He had killed his parents and dragged him, as a baby, into that godforsaken orphanage.
Isaac simply couldn't understand it. He could have just as easily raised him as his own son. Why had he done it this way?
Because otherwise you wouldn't have tried so hard…
You loved him and only ever wanted his approval…
If he hadn't done it, what would you have been? Spoiled like Noah? Reluctant? Focused only on your own pleasure?
Isaac sobbed quietly.
He had given so much for that man. All those years, he had been grateful to him—when it had been the boss all along who had done this to him. Isaac let himself fall sideways onto the bed and stayed exactly as he landed.
He felt drained.
So many crimes he had committed in the boss's name. So many wounds and scars he had carried away from it. All that loneliness…
Why had he done it? Because his mother had been able to create portals, and he had hoped Isaac would be able to do the same? Had he had her killed for that reason? Just so he could shape a baby according to his own design? So he could profit from it? Had it been his plan all along to raise Isaac as a thief?
Isaac picked up one of the photos that showed him as a small boy. It was one of him sitting in his favorite tree, reading a book. The tears continued to fall silently. He couldn't make a sound.
How could he, when he felt as if everything inside him was empty?
What kind of person would he have become if he had grown up here, within the Webster clan?
Everything felt so pointless.
He couldn't change his past, and his near future didn't look any better. Was there even anything he could do? Every time he so much as thought of Levi, it felt as though his heart stopped beating.
Wasn't he a dead man either way?
Or a prisoner of Levi, to be tortured at his whim?
How many men had the boss set on him? The ring, Eclis Sun, lay heavy in his breast pocket. In the end, he hadn't left it behind. Originally, Isaac had wanted to place it in the safe. He had wanted to leave it as an apology—for his failure, and for his sudden disappearance.
But after what he had found there…
Isaac pressed his lips together.
…he no longer knew what was right and what was wrong.
Vincent likely wouldn't let him go. Would he hunt him down and kill him too, if he disappeared? And all Isaac wanted was peace.
Did he even have any options left?
Every thought, every possible decision led in the same direction. It was as if there were only paths left that all ended at the same point.
In death.
A bitter, almost humorless smile flickered across his lips.
There was no scenario in which anything even resembling a happy ending existed for him—if such a thing existed at all.
Slowly, his head tilted to the side. His gaze lingered on his wrist.
What if he just ended it?
If he simply fled for good—away from all the pain, the lies, and life itself? It would be the easiest way, instead of continuing to struggle with all these feelings. Just one deep cut, and everything would finally stop.
His fingers twitched slightly.
Hadn't he suffered enough?
Nothing he did worked.
The life he had painstakingly built was over. He couldn't even return to his apartment to retrieve the few things that had become important to him over the years.
And yet, he had loved his apartment and his studio.
He had tried so hard to become a perfect version of himself. All of it just to satisfy the boss, no matter what it cost him. It hadn't mattered whether he was bedridden with the flu, a fever, or a stomach illness. Every injury he had sustained, he had kept hidden.
Not for a single moment in his life had he wanted to show weakness.
Not for a single moment had he allowed himself the rest he needed to recover.
He had forced himself to function. Kept going, no matter how much his body had shown him its limits…
…all for the man who had used him before he had even been capable of forming a single thought of his own.
A cold shiver ran down Isaac's spine.
He had never questioned anything.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright. Every movement felt heavy, as if his body no longer truly belonged to him.
Everything the boss had ordered him to do, Isaac had carried out without batting an eye. No matter what it was, no matter how bad the situations had often been. He had been foolish and naïve.
Isaac pressed his hands against his thighs. His body felt numb.
How had he been able to submit so completely all these years?
He began to tremble.
Not just from the cold.
His thoughts drifted, toward a life that had never existed.
Would he have found friends if he had grown up with his parents? Would they have loved him? Would they have taught him how to use his magic properly?
Would he have experienced his first love as a teenager? What about school? Had the boss had his hand in that too?
Maybe his appearance would never have become an issue. No one would have stared at him or whispered. No one would have made him feel like he was wrong.
His breath hitched slightly.
…what about Noctis? Would they have spent their childhood together? Trained side by side, learned magic, and still shared all their first times with each other?
For a brief moment, he lost himself in the thought of having had a carefree childhood with Noctis—perhaps even with Moz. He wondered if there had been more children their age in the Webster clan.
The mere idea was enough to make his heart feel heavy. The Boss had taken that from him too.
His thoughts spiraled, growing louder, tighter, heavier. They pressed against his chest, against his head, until it felt as though something inside him might break.
Would Noctis perhaps never have lied if Isaac had grown up in the Webster clan from the start?
Isaac let his gaze wander over all the documents spread out across the bed. All these texts and images told the story of his sorrowful past.
Noctis had told him he would understand everything if he looked at what was in the Boss's safe.
He had been right. Noctis had not lied to him. He had always had a problem with the Boss. He had never hidden his dislike—at least not from Isaac—and yet Isaac had branded him a liar.
Noctis might never have spoken about everything that was happening behind the scenes, but he had still tried to stand by Isaac. He had protected him and kept giving him subtle hints.
And what had Isaac done?
He had rebuked him for it. Snapped at him for daring to speak ill of the Boss.
A bitter, hoarse laugh escaped his throat.
Damn. If he had been in Noctis's place, he probably would have acted the same way—maybe even worse. How blind could someone be?
More tears fell, this time out of anger at himself.
He had let the Boss lull him into a false sense of security, had never looked behind his façade, never made any attempt to find out what he was really like.
Now Isaac understood why Noctis had insisted he see all of this with his own eyes. He would never have believed him—that the Boss was involved in all of this, or even the one pulling the strings.
With a shaky motion, he wiped his face.
Noctis was not the enemy.
The Boss was.
Though that realization did not excuse how Noctis had handled everything. He should have opened his eyes much sooner! After all, they had known each other for seventeen damn years!
Isaac clenched his hands into fists. Suddenly, a fire burned within him, threatening to consume everything. The Boss had taken everything from him—his parents, his family, his heritage, the chance to grow up in the Webster clan and live a life of his own. Instead, he had shaped him, broken him, bound him to himself—just so Isaac would stay. Just so he would function.
Because of him, Isaac had never learned to truly trust anyone.
And the one person who had deserved it most—he had pushed him away.
With an angry shout, he grabbed the folder and hurled it across the room. The papers followed, scattering chaotically across the floor. He swept the rest off the bed, letting his anger run free—but even that wasn't enough.
Though he savored every single second of finally letting go.
When nothing was left on the bed, he drew his knife and threw it across the room without aiming.
Breathing heavily, Isaac slumped back.
"Wow. I didn't expect to find you in such a mess."
The voice caught him off guard.
Isaac jerked his head up. His gaze shot to the door—or rather, to Noctis, who had entered unnoticed.
Between his index and middle finger, he effortlessly held the blade of the knife Isaac had just thrown. His gaze briefly swept over the room—the scattered folder, the loose pages, the visible extent of Isaac's outburst—before returning to him.
"As I can see…," Noctis said calmly, "you've read the file."