Chapter 80: A SERIOUS MATTER

The sun was already high when the car entered the city gates. From the window, the scenery of forest and pine trees slowly gave way to low buildings, power poles, and asphalt roads starting to get busy with vehicles. Mira pressed her face against the glass, counting the passing cars in a soft voice. Rin had long since leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes. Ella closed her notebook—she hadn’t written anything for a while, just held the pen over the blank page. Luna stared outside with half-closed eyes. Nora sat upright as usual. Iris leaned her head against the window. Eve had already closed her laptop. Aria held her cream bracelet on her lap. Fay still hugged her doll, her small earrings hanging from her ears.

Lydia sat in the front seat, watching the road they were starting to recognize—the turn toward school, the large tree at the intersection, the coffee shop on the corner. The car stopped in front of the Phoenix Academy gate. The engine turned off. Clack.

They got out one by one—Mira hopping, Rin stretching, Ella closing the door gently, Luna without a sound, Nora with firm steps, Iris casually, Eve pushing her glasses up, Aria biting her nails, Fay at the very back. Lydia got out last. But Kai didn’t get out. He stayed in the driver’s seat, with the window rolled down halfway.

"You go home now," Kai said. "To your respective houses. Don’t stop anywhere first. Your parents must be worried because you’ve been gone longer than they knew."

Mira pouted her lips. "But, Sir—"

"Go home. You haven’t been home for three days. I don’t want them to think you’re missing."

Ella nodded slightly. "Yes, Sir. We’ll go home."

"Before that—" Kai leaned toward the passenger seat, taking something from under the dashboard. A fairly large brown paper bag, with a fold at the top. He handed it to Ella. "This is for you. Open it at home."

Ella received it. The bag felt heavy—not too heavy, but enough to make her curious. She looked at Kai with raised eyebrows.

"A gift?" Mira asked, already leaning toward the bag.

"Yes. But don’t open it here. Open it at home."

Rin stared at the bag. "What’s inside, Sir?"

"You’ll find out."

Iris smiled mysteriously. "Mr. Kai really likes making us curious."

Mira raised her hand. "Mira wants to carry it herself!" She took the bag from Ella’s hands, hugging it with both arms. "Mira will open it at home! Mira will tell her mom!"

"Share it equally," Kai said. "Make sure no one misses out."

Mira nodded quickly. "Yes, Sir!"

They started to turn, one by one, toward the school gate. But before stepping away, they stopped—like something held them back to look once more. They looked at Kai, who was still sitting in the driver’s seat with the window half-open and his hand on the steering wheel. His face showed nothing—just an ordinary face, the face they knew. But there was something in his eyes that made them want to stand there longer.

"Thank you, Sir," Ella said.

"Thank you, Sir," the others said—one by one, almost together.

Kai nodded slightly. "Be careful on the road."

Lydia stepped forward to the side of the car. "I’ll take them home. Are you going straight away?"

Kai turned to Lydia briefly. "Yes. There’s something I need to take care of."

"Alright." Lydia looked at him for a long time—longer than she needed—then turned and walked toward the students. "Come on. Let’s go home."

They walked away—Mira still hugging the bag, Rin beside her, Ella in front, Luna following, Nora at the back, Iris smiling, Eve pushing her glasses up, Aria biting her nails, Fay at the very back. Lydia walked among them, occasionally turning to make sure no one was left behind. They disappeared behind the school gate, and the sound of their footsteps slowly faded.

Kai sat in his car, staring at the gate until there was no one there anymore. Then he started the engine. Vroom.

He didn’t go straight home. He didn’t want to go home—not yet. He drove without a clear destination, letting the car take him through city streets he knew and didn’t know. He stopped at a small park near the city center—a park with wooden benches and shady trees. He sat on one of the benches, watching people pass by: a mother pushing a baby stroller, two children running after a ball, an old man reading a newspaper on the bench across. He sat there until the sun started tilting westward, then he stood and walked again.

He entered a supermarket—not to buy anything, just to walk between the shelves, stare at things he didn’t need, listen to the soft hum of the air conditioner. He left without carrying anything. He walked again—past a bookstore, past a coffee shop, past a bus stop. He didn’t buy anything. He just walked.

The afternoon was starting to fall when he finally decided to go home. The sky was golden orange—just like the afternoon when he first came to this city, years ago, with a bag on his back and no destination. He parked the car in the usual spot, climbed the stairs to his apartment, opened the door with the worn key, and entered. Clack.

His apartment was still the same as he had left it. The old sofa with protruding springs. The wooden table with stacks of paper. The refrigerator whose door was slightly tilted. The light that flickered. He placed the key on the table, removed his shoes, and walked to the refrigerator. He opened it—yellow-white light turned on, hitting his face—and took out a can of soda, his favorite drink, the one he always bought even though it tasted strange to others. He closed the refrigerator door and turned around.

"Get me one too."

The voice came from the sofa. Kai wasn’t surprised. He just stood there for a moment, looking toward the sofa, and saw Leonhard sitting there—legs crossed, hands on the backrest, his worn leather jacket still the same as the last time. Kai didn’t ask how he got in. He didn’t ask since when he had been here. He just turned back to the refrigerator, took another can, and tossed it toward Leonhard. Leonhard caught it with one hand, opened it with the familiar sound, and took a gulp.

Kai sat in the chair across from the sofa—the same wooden chair he always used. He opened his own can and took a gulp. That strange sweet taste filled his mouth, and for a moment, no one spoke.

Leonhard placed his can on his knee. "Is there a problem?"

Kai looked at him. The can in his hand he placed on the table—slowly, with a thin wooden sound. His face changed. Not angry. Not yet. But something colder than anger—something he had been holding back for a long time and now starting to seep out.

"Give me back all my gear and equipment."

Leonhard took another gulp of his drink. "Don’t be too hasty."

"Don’t tell me to be calm." Kai stood from his chair. His voice rose—not a shout, but loud enough to make the can in Leonhard’s hand stop halfway to his mouth. "They touched my students. They kidnapped them. They locked them in a warehouse. They tied them up. If I don’t destroy them now, they’ll come for their lives again."

Leonhard lowered his can. "Kai—"

"Don’t ’Kai’ me." Kai stepped forward. "You didn’t see them. You didn’t see Lydia tied up on that stage. You didn’t see my students put to sleep with smoke. You didn’t see me having to hit Lydia so she wouldn’t remember." He stopped. His breath was heavy. "You weren’t there."

Leonhard didn’t answer for a few seconds. He just looked at Kai—with calm eyes, but not empty. There was something there—something he had known for a long time, something he saw every time Kai stood on the edge of destruction.

"Are you finished?" Leonhard asked.

Kai didn’t answer.

Leonhard placed his can on the table—beside Kai’s can, side by side. "The Ten Gates."

Kai looked at him.

"You can’t destroy the Ten Gates with your current strength." Leonhard stood from the sofa. He didn’t approach—he just stood there, with his hands in his jacket pockets. "You might be able to take out dozens of thugs. You might be able to destroy one base. But the Ten Gates isn’t one base. The Ten Gates is ten groups. Each has structure, members, leaders. If you destroy one, the others will know. If you destroy two, they’ll unite. And you—" He looked at Kai from head to toe, at the wounds still visible, at the hands still slightly trembling, at the eyes still red. "—you haven’t recovered."

Kai didn’t answer.

"And most importantly," Leonhard continued, "if you attack them directly, your students will become targets. Do you think they don’t know who you’re protecting? Do you think they don’t know where that school is? If you move now, they’ll move first. And this time—they won’t kidnap. They’ll kill."

Kai was silent. The words sank in—slowly, like water seeping into dry soil. He didn’t want to admit it. But he knew Leonhard was right.

He sat back in his chair. Slowly. Haaah.

Leonhard waited until Kai was truly seated, then he continued. His voice was softer now—no longer like a commander giving orders, but like someone sharing a plan with someone he trusted.

"The Ten Gates always holds a meeting. All members. All leaders. From ten groups. Every week. Saturday. The location moves around, but always in this city. That meeting—" he paused for a moment, making sure Kai was listening, "—is the only time when all the Ten Gates leaders are in one place. If you want to destroy them, you have to do it at that meeting. Once. Simultaneously. Without giving them a chance to escape."

Kai looked at him. "You want me to infiltrate."

Leonhard nodded slightly. "You infiltrate. You go in as one of them. You find out who controls them. And you wait for the right moment."

Kai didn’t answer for a few seconds. He stared at his drink can—already half empty, which tasted sweet and strange, which he always drank even though no one liked it. He thought about his students. Mira hugging that brown bag on the street. Rin still keeping her earrings. Ella nodding slightly before turning away. Luna smiling faintly. Nora nodding. Iris smiling mysteriously. Eve pushing her glasses up. Aria biting her nails. Fay smiling faintly with the earrings on her ears.

He thought about Lydia. Whom he had to hit. Who stared at him with wide eyes before falling. Whom he had lied to about what happened last night.

"Saturday," Kai finally said.

Leonhard nodded. "Saturday."

"How many days left?"

"Five days."

Kai lifted his can and drank until it was empty. He placed the empty can on the table—harder than he needed to—and looked at Leonhard with eyes that were no longer red. Cold eyes. Eyes that had made a decision.

"If I infiltrate," Kai said softly, "and they find out—"

"They won’t find out," Leonhard cut in. "You’ve been out of that world for a long time. Your face isn’t known. The name ’Kai Arden’ means nothing in their circle. What they know—" he looked at Kai with sharp eyes, "—is the Grim Reaper. And the Grim Reaper died eight years ago."

Kai didn’t answer. He just stared at the empty can on the table.

"You’ll need a new identity," Leonhard continued. "I’ve prepared a few things. Tomorrow I’ll send them here. You read them. You memorize them. You become someone else."

Kai nodded slightly. He didn’t ask what kind of identity. He didn’t ask for details. He just nodded—because he had already decided. Because he already knew what he had to do.

Leonhard stood. He took his can—still half full—and drank it until empty before placing it back on the table. "I’m leaving. You rest. You’ll need strength for the next five days."

He walked to the door. His steps were slow. He opened the door, then stopped at the threshold, turning back briefly.

"Kai."

Kai lifted his head.

"You know this isn’t about you, right?"

Kai didn’t answer.

Leonhard looked at him for a long time. Then he left. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Kai sat alone in his chair. The table in front of him had two empty cans—one his, one Leonhard’s—and the light on the ceiling was still flickering as usual. Outside the window, the sky was already dark—the moon hung up there, round and bright. He stared at that moon for a long time. Then he stood, threw both cans in the trash, and walked to the bathroom to clean himself. He hung his dirty clothes behind the door, put on a t-shirt and training pants, and lay down on his old sofa. The ceiling above him still had the same water stain—the one shaped like an open mouth. He stared at that mouth until his eyes felt heavy, and finally closed.