"I planned on that… since the day we met."
The words slipped from Nemesio under his breath, quiet enough to be carried away by the wind, yet heavy with something unspoken, an unyielding weight that settled upon him like an obligation he had long since accepted. It was not duty alone, but something closer, something almost fraternal, as though Jurgen had unknowingly stepped into a place reserved for more than a mere subordinate.
The wind returned, soft and steady, brushing past him with quiet indifference. Below, Mercedes stretched endlessly, alive with golden light and distant motion, its brilliance untouched by the stillness above. And yet, for all its life, Nemesio remained alone against the vastness, a solitary figure overlooking a world that continued without pause.
By the time midnight settled in, the quiet had long since given way elsewhere.
Branches snapped.
Leaves tore.
Jurgen burst violently out of a nearby bush, thorns clinging stubbornly to his clothes, his hair reduced to complete disarray. His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm, each breath ragged, pulled in as though the air itself resisted him.
"…haa… haa…"
Behind him, Bubbles stumbled out moments later, far less dramatically but no less exhausted, his entire body sagging under the strain of the pursuit.
Jurgen's gaze swept across the area slowly, deliberately, his breathing still rough but his focus sharpening. Irritation spread visibly across his face, not loud, not explosive, but dense, the kind that suggested restraint held together by the thinnest thread.
The kind that could break something.
Or someone.
His eyes locked onto a figure seated near a large, plainly designed building.
"Oi…"
The word dragged out of him, deep and rough, as though scraped from the back of his throat, carrying with it a suffocating amount of frustration.
"Are you KRM?!"
"Who's asking?"
The figure responded with a bright, almost carefree smile, two feathers jutting from either side of the helmet perched atop his head, giving him an oddly lighthearted appearance that clashed entirely with the atmosphere Jurgen brought with him.
"Are youuuu KRM?!"
Jurgen's voice stretched the question, louder now, sharper, each syllable jagged from exertion and irritation.
"Yes, I—"
"WHERE IS MY UNIFORM?!"
The interruption cut clean through the air, abrupt and forceful.
The smile vanished.
The figure's expression froze mid-transition, his jaw parting slightly as a single finger hovered in the air, suspended as though whatever response he had prepared had been forcibly erased.
"Yes… yes… your uniform…"
His composure wavered, voice faltering as he quickly turned and disappeared inside the building.
"Um—m-mine too!" Bubbles called out weakly from behind, raising a hand that barely managed the gesture.
Moments later, the figure returned, carrying two sets of uniforms, his earlier brightness dulled into something more cautious.
You could've atleast listened to what I had to say…
The thought lingered silently in his expression, though he voiced none of it.
Jurgen stepped forward without hesitation, snatching his uniform with little regard, already turning away as the last remnants of his patience burned out.
Without another word, he stormed off, irritation trailing behind him like a lingering storm.
"Don't think about it too much… heh… heh…"
Bubbles offered the reassurance between uneven breaths, sliding into place beside him as he reached for his own uniform, his tone light despite the exhaustion still clinging to him.
From behind them, KRM's voice rose again, hesitant but firm enough to carry.
"Well… you newbies still need your names registered by High Chief Commander Rudolph tomorrow, or you won't be able to go on any missions in those uniforms."
Jurgen stopped.
Not gradually. Not reluctantly.
Completely.
The words struck him like something deeply offensive, as though a line had just been crossed without warning. For a brief moment, he said nothing, his back still turned, the tension gathering in silence.
Then, slowly, he turned.
His eyes locked onto KRM, sharp and disbelieving.
"What did you say?"
The question came low, strained, every syllable weighed down by irritation that had yet to fully surface.
"Huh… w-what do you mean?" KRM leaned back slightly under the gaze, his earlier composure slipping as he fumbled to respond. "I—I mean… you can't start any missions until your names get registered tomorrow—"
"No… not that…"
Jurgen's voice cut through him, quieter now, but far more focused.
"The name."
KRM blinked, clearly thrown, his mind scrambling to catch up.
"You mean… Commander Rudolph?"
"Rudolph?"
Jurgen repeated it slowly, as though testing the sound itself, as if the fault lay somewhere in his own hearing.
"Rudolph Blutmörder?"
The name came out lower this time, edged with something heavier, recognition mixed with disbelief, and something far closer to irritation waiting beneath it.
"…Yeah… that's him."
KRM answered carefully, watching him with visible caution, his entire posture tightening as though trying not to provoke whatever reaction was forming.
It didn't help.
Disbelief twisted.
Then hardened.
Veins surfaced faintly along Jurgen's temples as his shoulders tensed, his grip tightening around the uniform in his hands until the fabric creased under the pressure. His teeth clenched, a low, restrained growl slipping past them as the frustration finally broke through.
And then—
"DAMN YOU… NEMESIO AURELIUS!!"
The shout tore out of him without restraint as he snapped his head upward, voice echoing into the night, carrying every ounce of irritation, exhaustion, and betrayal he had been holding back.