Hemlock didn't answer right away, the question sitting there longer than it should have, stretching just enough to feel unnecessary to him. His breathing hadn't fully settled, his chest rising and falling in a controlled rhythm, but there was a faint crease in his expression before he finally spoke.
"What do you mean, why?" Hemlock asked, a slight edge of irritation slipping in. "We've been pretty clear about that. I grew up here; I've seen what the Syndicate's done to this city, and Avant already made his reason obvious."
Hemlock turns slightly, pointing towards Avant. "He's got a grudge against Zeffer. That's enough, isn't it?"
Kenta stared at him for a moment before letting out a short, dry laugh, shaking his head as if he'd expected that exact answer.
"You're a dumbass," Kenta said, waving a hand lazily. "I remember all that. It's obvious. That's not what I'm asking."
He stepped forward slightly, his posture still loose but his eyes sharper now.
"If you two are going to push yourselves past even what I'm willing to put you through, then I want to know what's actually driving you."
Kenta pauses a moment before continuing. "Not the surface-level crap. I want to understand how deep it goes."
The air settled after that, not tense, just still, like the question had shifted the weight of the moment into something quieter but heavier. Kenta didn't say anything else, didn't push, just stood there waiting.
Avant moved first. He stepped forward slowly, his breathing steadying as he did, posture straightening despite the exhaustion weighing on him. His eyes flicked briefly toward Hemlock, then back to Kenta.
"Her name was Rose," Avant said.
Kenta's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Rose?"
Avant nodded, turning and walking over to a nearby crate, brushing a thin layer of dust from its surface before sitting down. He rested his elbows lightly on his knees for a moment before leaning back just enough to look up at the ceiling, letting out a quiet breath.
"I'm not like him, or most of the others here," Avant said, his tone even but softened at the edges. "I wasn't born in this city, didn't grow up dealing with any of this."
Avant had a faint smile on his face as if recalling a fond memory.
"I'm from a village, far from here. It was small and quiet. I had a best friend there, and she was my first love. Rose. We grew up together, spending most of our time in the same place, doing the same things. We were close."
He paused briefly, his gaze still fixed upward before continuing.
"But things got bad. The village started struggling; resources dried up, and work got harder to find. So they made a decision."
He shifted for a brief moment.
"A few of us were sent out, told to go somewhere else, make something of ourselves, and bring back whatever we could. Rose wasn't chosen. I was. I told her I'd come back, and I meant it."
His gaze lowered slightly now, drifting forward.
"A few years passed. I ended up here, in Hamone, working for the Syndicate. I wasn't proud of it and felt like nothing more than a thug most of the time, but I stayed because it paid, and I told myself it was worth it. For the village. For her. I saved what I could and took what I couldn't earn. Didn't matter how, as long as I had enough."
His fingers tightened slightly against his knee.
"Three years. Then I went back. I had more than enough to help them recover. I thought it would be enough to get my home back on its feet."
He exhaled lightly through his nose. "However, when I returned, there were no legs to even stand on. There was nothing there. Just ashes. The whole place burned down."
The words sat flat, but the weight behind them settled into the space.
"I didn't understand at first. Thought I was in the wrong place. But... I wasn't. Bandits came through, took what they wanted, burned the rest, and took people with them. Sold them."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"I looked. Followed whatever I could find. Chased every lead, every rumor, anything that might've pointed to where they ended up. Thought maybe..."
He stopped himself, letting the thought die there before continuing. "It all led nowhere. Dead ends."
A quiet pause followed as he stared at the ceiling.
"So I went back. Back here. Kept working, did what I was told. Didn't really care anymore. A year went by like that."
His gaze steadied forward now. "Then I found her. She was alive... but not well."
Avant lifted a hand, dragging it across his face, rubbing at his eyes briefly before letting it fall.
"This is where it starts," he said quietly. "My grudge. Against Zeffer."
Kenta shifted his weight and leaned back against a nearby crate, the wood creaking faintly under him as he settled into it. The empty bottle still hung loosely from his fingers, and he lifted it, tilting it just enough to peer through the glass at Avant like it might give him a clearer read. His eye narrowed slightly behind it before he lowered it again, gaze steady.
"So," Kenta said calmly, "how does finding her turn into a grudge against this Zeffer guy?"
Avant didn't answer immediately. He straightened from the crate, shoulders rising and falling once as he took a controlled breath, exhaustion still clinging to him but not dulling the focus settling into his expression. His gaze dropped briefly, then lifted back to Kenta.
"Like I said," Avant began, voice steady, "she wasn't well. Not even close. She was almost a different person."
A short pause followed before he continued, grounding himself.
"I found her while I was working. Delivering a package to one of Zeffer's brothels," he said, his tone even but edged. "I didn't expect anything, didn't think something like that was even possible, but she was there. Working."
Kenta's posture didn't change, but his attention sharpened.
"She'd been sold off and ended up there," Avant continued, his jaw tightening slightly.
"One of his places. I tried talking to her, but she barely recognized me. They had her drugged up constantly. Whatever they were using kept her compliant and dulled everything. She wasn't all there. She'd been used and abused for who knows how long in that place."
The words came without hesitation, but they carried weight that settled into the space between them.
"I went to Zeffer after that. Tried to negotiate for her freedom," Avant said, glancing off to the side for a moment before looking back.
"He didn't dismiss me outright. Thought it over, looked at me like I was something he could make use of, then gave me a number. Said if I could meet it, he'd release her."
Kenta shifted the bottle slightly in his hand. "And you went for it."
"I didn't have another option," Avant replied simply.
"So I worked. Day after day. I took whatever jobs came my way; it didn't matter how dirty they were or how far I had to go. I grafted, stole, and did things I wouldn't have even considered before, but it didn't matter. At the end of it, it was all for her."
He exhaled slowly, tension settling into his shoulders.
"I kept going back to see her whenever I could. Tried to talk to her, tried to help her however I could," he continued, his tone softening just slightly.
"And she started to come back. Slowly. She began remembering things again, remembering me. She held onto that. Held onto the idea that I'd get her out of there. She believed it and so did I."
The silence that followed stretched just a moment longer than the rest.
"This is where it falls apart," Avant said quietly, his voice flattening again. "That day never came."
Kenta didn't interrupt, his gaze fixed.
"Whatever they were dosing her with, it killed her. She overdosed," Avant continued, the words coming more tightly now, more controlled. "And when I found her, it wasn't in a bed, not even somewhere hidden. They'd tossed her out. Left her in an alley like she was nothing. No clothes, no dignity. Just discarded."
His fingers curled slightly at his side, nails pressing into his palm.
"It wasn't enough that they used her until there was nothing left. Wasn't it enough that they pumped her full of whatever poison they had until it killed her?" he said, voice lowering.
"They couldn't even give her death any respect. They just threw her away like she never mattered."
A heavier silence settled in.
"I went back to the brothel after that," Avant continued, his tone steady again but colder now. "Didn't think it through. Didn't plan anything. I just went in and went straight for him. For Zeffer."
Kenta's grip on the bottle tightened slightly.
"It didn't last long," Avant said, letting out a faint, humorless breath. "I was still nobody. It didn't matter how much I'd pushed myself up to that point; it wasn't enough. He was too strong for me."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"He beat me down. Completely. Left me in a state where I could barely move, barely think," he continued, his voice flattening further. "He could've killed me right there. But didn't."
Kenta's eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Said it was my first infraction. Told me if I ever showed my face at one of his brothels again, he'd take my head," Avant said, his jaw tightening. "But that wasn't the part that stuck."
His gaze darkened.
"He talked. About her. Everything they'd done to her, like it was nothing," he continued. "Like it was routine. Said she made a good employee."
The words lingered, heavy.
"Then he had me dragged out and dumped in the alley. Right next to her," Avant said quietly. "Bloody, half-conscious, barely able to even process it."
A long breath left him slowly.
"That was the last time I saw him."
Silence stretched again.
"I buried her after that. Did it myself," Avant went on, his tone steady but quieter now. "Then I made a promise. I'd make him pay for everything he did."
He shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders once.
"So I trained. Pushed myself. Did whatever I had to in order to get stronger," he said. "Worked my way up, took on more responsibility, became a lieutenant in the Enforcement Division. But even then, it wasn't enough. I knew it wasn't. Not on my own. Not as I currently am now."
His gaze lifted fully to Kenta now.
"So when Hemlock talked about you, about someone who could actually take down a captain, I paid attention," Avant said, his voice steady again. "And when I saw you for myself, it was obvious."
A small pause followed.
"This is my chance."
The words came firm, grounded.
"To finally get revenge on that bastard Zeffer."
Silence followed after that, not empty but settled, the weight of everything he'd said hanging in the air between them.