Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alberu carefully slid the door open and crept toward the corner. Just one more door to go through, and then he could maneuver around the alams. There would be a ten second window as the sensors would shut down, and in that time the painting had to be cut free and rolled into the bag. After that, alarms would probably sound, so he would have to carefully make it out through the planned route. The police probably wouldn’t be able to barricade all the exits in time, so he would just barely manage to slip out through one of the cracks.

Alberu fiddled with the box at his waist. ‘How much did this cost again?’ The black market was such a rip off.

He carefully closed the last door of the big hall behind him, avoiding the sensors, and slipped inside. The door locked with a soft click. The cameras had already been disabled several minutes ago.

‘Good. All the doors are sealed except for the staff entrances. That should at least slow down any police.’ Alberu smiled faintly and pulled the black mask tighter over his face.

If anyone saw his features, he would be done for.

Alberu checked the layout of the building in his memory. The entire museum complex was shaped like an H, with a large round room in the center of the building. That room also had the painting he needed to steal.

It wasn’t like he wanted to be a thief, but there were extenuating circumstances.

Alberu carefully stepped forward and emerged into the largest room in the museum. The soft light of the moon streamed down from a large domed glass skylight far above. The atmospheric paintings, interspersed with tapestries, surrounded the walls. A large classical sculpture of some kind stood in the center. The painting he wanted to steal was to his immediate left. There was only one problem.

Between the glittering curtains of light and shadow of the moonlight, a man dressed entirely in black hung from several cables stretching up towards an open panel in the skylight.

‘What.’

Alberu froze and stared.

‘The.’

The man stared back, evidently just as shocked as him.

‘F—’

Alberu’s plan had been to disable the sensors in front of the display and quickly steal the painting. The thief currently hanging from the ceiling probably had the idea to bypass the sensors altogether by going in from the top.

‘Which quite frankly is ridiculous,’ Alberu thought. ‘How would you get yourself back up? Or even down there in the first place?’

Cale, hanging from the complex system of pulleys stared at the masked thief in front of him. ‘How the hell did he get in past the front sensors? The only way in is from the top, and I had to have Ron and Basen help me out with the rig…’ All that lying he had to do to convince his butler and little brother that no, really, this was for a school project… ‘And I’m still not sure if Ron bit the bait. Scratch that, I’m sure he knows.’ Cale shivered.

The two thieves stared at each other in silence. They each gradually came to the exact same conclusion.

‘Well, shit.’

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! An excessively loud siren echoed in the large room.

Alberu swore. ‘Dammit, I have to go hide. Where’s a good place—’ He looked around frantically. Out of the corner of his eye, the trapeze artist thief was doing the same thing.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Alberu could hear the sound of footsteps.

‘Shit—’

Good places to hide, good places—WHY DIDN’T AN ART MUSEUM HAVE ANY FREAKING HIDING PLACES—

The footsteps were getting closer, along with loud shouting. Lots of shouting.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Alberu allowed himself a brief glance at the suspended thief. He had apparently decided ‘damn the security systems’ and cut himself free from the ridiculous wired rig. It dangled conspicuously in the air. 

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“NEXT ROOM! KEEP SEARCHING!”
“IT’S IN THE CENTRAL HALL! LET’S GO, KEEP IT UP, KEEP MOVING—”

‘Dammit, I really don’t have time for this—’ Alberu desperately spun around. Art piece, glass case, art piece, art piece—

Broom closet.

Alberu froze for a millisecond. 

It was not ideal.

Definitely not.

It also had way too much irony for his liking, as the secretly gay first child of the homophobic head of the Roan Corporation. 

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Alberu sprinted towards the broom closet. He yanked open one of the thinly concealed doors of the utilitarian closet. The other door was yanked open at the same time.

Alberu turned his head to see a very awkward thief holding open the second door. He and his unwanted acquaintance had apparently gotten the exact same idea.

And, once again, the two looked at each other in silence, with the exact same thoughts running through their heads. 

‘Well, shit.’

BANG! BANG! A loud collision resounded against the doors. The rhythmic sound mixed with the continued ear-splitting beeps. Alberu had locked the doors for convenience. And now that decision was apparently saving both of their asses. But not for much longer.

“F— this,” Alberu hissed. He shoved the other man inside and quickly swung the door shut. ‘Being stuck in a broom closet with this bastard for an hour is better than being stuck in jail with this bastard for several years.’ Bless the underpaid museum staff, the hinges were well-oiled. They shut with a small click.

The doors burst open. Shouts quickly filled the small room. 

“LOOK AROUND, CAREFULLY—”
“They could still be here—”
“Don’t miss a single thing—”

A thin sliver of light filtered through the slit between the doors. It wasn’t enough to see the room, only light and shadow, and hear the voices of the police searching the building. The shouts continued.

The beeping stopped. The police were in the same room.

“Hey, check this out—”
“What the hell—”

They had apparently spotted the second thief’s impromptu wired rig.

“They must still be here. Keep looking!”

‘Wow, thanks for leaving that in the open like a freaking beacon.’ Alberu grit his teeth. He held his breath, straining his ears.

The footsteps were getting closer.

‘Shit—’ Alberu jerked back. His elbow hit against something soft. The trapeze thief let out a sharp hiss of pain.

The footsteps paused. Alberu froze.

First son of the Roan Corporation or not, at this precise moment all he wanted to do was let out a dictionary’s worth of choice swear words.

Step. Step.

He stiffened. A shadow moved in front of the closet doors. Alberu couldn’t tell whether or not he was facing the wall. If he was, everything would be lost. He could feel the thief beside him tensing up as well. One open door, and it would be all over. His inheritance, his family, the plans he strove towards for the last three years. The scheming against his brothers. The joy he felt doing something good for the company, making people’s lives better and making a profit. The relationships he cultivated. The goodwill he cultivated with his stepmother, that he needed to deepen with this stolen painting. His life, his future, his relationships, would all vanish in one single moment.

Step. Step—

“Let’s move on to the next room!” A man’s voice echoed out into the room.

The footsteps stopped. 

“Roger that.” Another man’s voice sounded, very close by. Too close by. Much too close.

Alberu could barely breathe. His racing heartbeat, his acquaintance’s shallow breaths next to him, everything sounded as loud as a foghorn in the stifling closet.

The man moved away. 

Alberu still didn’t let himself breathe. 

Step, step, step. The sounds moved away from them. The thief next to Alberu shifted uncomfortably. Alberu immediately snapped a hand against his mouth, over the man’s mask. ‘What if they come back? What if—’

A large hand was slapped over Alberu’s own mouth, over his mask. Alberu blinked. ‘Dammit, I was breathing too heavily.’ He glared at the other man, as if to tell him to mind his own business. The man rolled his eyes at him.

With the weak nighttime light filtered in through the crack in the door, Alberu could see that the man’s eyes were reddish brown. They were quite pretty. Glittering with intelligence and a hefty dose of sass. Alberu’s type. This only made him even more incensed. ‘If you hadn’t come here, you stupid circus clown on a trapeze, then neither of us would have gotten caught.’ Alberu glared at him.

The bastard’s eyes crinkled. He was clearly smirking.

Oh how Alberu really, really wanted to punch him.

How long were they stuck in that closet? Alberu guessed it had been several hours before they cautiously emerged into the large room, moonlight drifting down from the large spotlight above. The rig wires were gone, likely taken in for analyzing before the museum opened again the next day. Alberu rubbed his forehead.

His eyes landed on the painting, still proudly displayed on the wall.

‘Dammit.’ Alberu stiffened. He slowly, ever so slowly, turned to face the red-brown-eyed thief. 

The thief stared straight back at him.

‘Who’s going to get the painting?’

It really was ridiculous just how similar his thoughts were to an absolute stranger. 

‘Stall for time.’ Alberu observed the man. The Trapeze Clown, as Alberu was determined to name him, stood relaxedly, as if simply taking a stroll in the park, not infiltrating a high-security museum filled with priceless art. He was quite thin, though Alberu couldn’t quite tell the other features of his identity through his head-to-toe black garb, including an old-style black facemask. It looked extremely ridiculous. 

Alberu once again determined that he really, really wanted to punch this bastard.

Behind the stupid face mask, the man’s mouth opened. “Never thought I’d see the Shining Sun Thief here.”

Scratch that, Alberu wanted to punch him, strangle him, and then leave him for the police to find, evidence or not.

Alberu had garnered the nickname Shining Sun one time when he needed to use a flash bomb to escape from a particularly sticky heist. The papers had equated the brilliance of the rather exaggerated glare from the blast to a sun, and the name stuck.

Alberu hated it.

His face unconsciously twisted into a bright smile. The instinct had developed from his years at the company; whenever he felt particularly irritated, he would simply send the annoying pest in front of him a gentle, disarming smile, and watch in bliss as the assailant’s face twisted into confusion and frustration. “Likewise, Hero of the Silver Shield,” he happily spat back.

Stupid, old-fashioned, black thief facemask, paired with ridiculous wire setups, winches, clips, and aerial maneuvering? It could only be the thief known as Silver Shield, who had once stolen an antique shield made entirely of silver from a certain museum, and escaped on a zipline off of the roof. It had been an incredibly daring escape, and a particularly visible one as the black-clothed man flew through the city skies carrying a giant silver shield, hence the moniker. 

And it clearly annoyed the man just as much as Alberu’s did. The firstborn son of the Roan Corporation watched in schadenfreude as the Trapeze Clown’s face twitched, and he muttered a swear word under his breath.

‘Ah, yes, this is truly the second best option after punching.’ Alberu was feeling very accomplished. Neither of them could physically hurt the other, lest it escalate into a full blown fight. The police who were still hanging around would come running back and find the heir apparent to Roan Incorporated brawling in full thief's garb with a strange burglar in a restricted area in the middle of the night. He could take a guess as to how well that would blow over for his inheritance.

Which, unfortunately, brought him back to the current predicament: who would take the painting?

The thieves looked at each other in silence once more.

‘I really need this.’ Alberu’s mind was racing. If he could give this painting to his stepmother, he could finally get her to stop impeding his plans to take his inheritance. If his brother’s mother was no longer blocking his way, Alberu had full faith that he could climb his way to the top of the Roan Corporation. His abilities far surpassed those of his brothers. Not to mention, he actually cared about the Corporation and the people it affected. If Robbit took over—Alberu squeezed his eyes shut. ‘I really, really, need this.’ This entire heist was only as a last resort. Everything hung on a thin line. He grit his teeth and whispered. “I need—”

Tap.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Alberu jolted his eyes open, cutting off in the middle of his sentence. The Silver Shield Hero’s gaze met his. The man slowly gestured to the painting, and lifted his hand, rubbing his fingers together.

The universally recognized sign for money. Alberu wanted to hug the man in relief. Then he noticed the bastard was smirking. That desire immediately turned into one of physical violence.

‘Keep it in Alberu.’ He glared at the Trapeze Clown. ‘Hero my ass.’

“Full price of the painting.” The man’s calm, smiling voice came out in a whisper.

‘F— you.’ Alberu frowned. “Half.”

“Two-thirds, and that’s as far as I’ll go. You ruined my rig, I’m not even asking for compensation for that.” The man smirked.

“Fine.” Alberu hissed. He had ruined the rig, sure, but the Trapeze Clown had also ruined Alberu’s own heist attempt. But he needed to book it, and quickly. The police could pop back in at any moment.

The red-brown-eyed man pulled out a pen and small notepad from a small pocket, and scribbled a couple words. The notepad looked like cheap paper, the pen was an inexpensive ballpoint. No clues to be gained about his identity.

He folded the piece of paper, shoved it into Alberu’s hand, and took out a gun-shaped contraption. He pressed a button and a thin wire shot out. He pressed another button and began a leisurely ascent up towards the roof.

‘Is that… a grappling hook? Seriously?’ Alberu’s mouth dropped open.

The thief gave a dramatic floating bow. “Bye, our dear Shining Sun in the night!”

Unfortunately, by now the man was too high up for Alberu to punch him.

By the time Alberu had safely made it outside, avoiding the security systems, cameras, and sensors, the morning sun had begun to peek through the tips of the manicured trees. He pulled out his phone and quickly punched in a couple words.

Alberu: fine arts museum, staff exit 1
Tasha: be there in 5

“Thank goodness…” He slumped against the tree. He lifted the crumpled paper in his left hand and carefully opened it.

‘P.O. Box 403. You owe me 100 000. ^^’

“This bastard.” Alberu just barely restrained himself from crushing the tiny piece of paper.

Chapter Text

“Young master, there was a package left in your P.O. Box.” Ron knocked on the door and smoothly opened it, carrying a rather large cardboard box.

Cale nodded at him and grabbed the box, slicing the tape open. He grinned widely.

That was quite the hefty sum.

“Looks like our Shining Sun really does have some money.” Cale’s scamming smile was in full force. Ron raised an eyebrow. The red-haired man didn’t bother to explain.

Cale vividly remembered the other thief’s shocked face upon seeing him floating from a bunch of cables a dozen feet in the air. It had been really a lot of fun to annoy him. But his desperate look had felt a little out of place. That punk didn’t seem like someone who normally lowered his head that easily. Otherwise he would be no fun to annoy.

‘Oh well.’ Cale just had to find a different present for Lily’s birthday. ‘I could just pick something from my room…’

He glanced around his bedroom. Everything, from the tables to the bookshelves to the corners on the floor, was packed to bursting with miscellaneous trinkets. Well, not exactly trinkets. A jeweled chest sparkled at the corner of one table. A gold-leafed crown on another. Several original paintings sagged, rolled over and shoved in the corner of the room. Nothing silver, however. Cale had sworn off stealing anything silver after the unfortunate incident of the shield. Gold was much better. Either way, there was probably something interesting in the mess in his room.

Sometimes he wondered what Ron, the only one allowed inside his bedroom, thought of his strange “collector’s habit.” He was more than certain that the old man knew absolutely everything about his nightly escapades. So why hadn’t he told anyone? Maybe it had something to do with the medicine and heirloom daggers Cale had stolen for him a while back?

Cale frowned at the butler, standing silently in the corner of the room. Ron still boasted his gentle smile. ‘Vicious.’ Cale shivered.

‘Well, let’s put this away for now.’ He strode to the leftmost of the three closets. Ron bowed and exited the room.

Normal people would have many different clothes, and perhaps shoes, in their closet. Cale did have those, of course, in the closet in the middle. The one on the right held the clothes that his family forced on him every so often: good suits, sweaters, turtleneck shirts. The one on the left, however, held a different kind of object. Cale slid three different keys into the locks and opened the doors. He was greeted with a large stack of drawers, each with a different label.

‘EUR’
‘USD’
‘JPY’
‘GBP’
‘CHF’
‘CAD’
… and so on.

In the leftmost closet, rather than clothes, Cale kept cash. He carefully took the rolls of banknotes from the cardboard box and slotted them into the drawers. They were getting full. It was about time he threw some of it away. Maybe he could get a new set of winches and cables, after his last one had been confiscated by the police, thanks to the apparently quite wealthy Shining Sun thief.

‘Then, what should I do next?’ Cale hummed happily as he locked the closet doors once more.

There was a knock on his bedroom door.

“Yes?” Cale raised an eyebrow and carefully slid the keys into his inner pocket. 

“Young master.” Ron silently opened the door. He had an unsettlingly bright smile on his face.

Cale suddenly felt a premonition of something horrible.

Ron continued, not even blinking as Cale stepped back. “There will be a banquet at the Roan Corporation building this evening. Master and Lady Henituse have ordered you to attend.”

Cale’s premonitions were always correct. He grit his teeth in annoyance. “Can’t Basen go?” His little brother was, for all intents and purposes, the next head of the family. Cale wanted no part of that responsibility.

“Your brother Basen will also be attending, as with the Master and Lady.” Ron kindly informed him. Cale could have sworn the butler had a smirk on his face.

Of course, the only reason Ron was telling this to Cale now was that if he had given any prior notice, Cale would have found some way to escape. And both of them knew it. All Cale could hear were bells chiming his impending doom. ‘Well, maybe not that bad. But it’s a freaking inconvenience.’ He frowned. Cale would have to get dressed up in stupidly fancy clothes, talk to stupidly ignorant people, and eat stupidly good food.

The last part he didn’t particularly have a problem with. It was just the two that came before it.

Cale was quite happy being the useless trash of his family. It was, as a matter of fact, a carefully cultivated image that he particularly espoused. Nobody would suspect an alcoholic trash to be the thief behind many of the heists of precious artifacts. No one would think that the junk lying about his floor was actually priceless treasure. No one would guess that his leftmost closet contained not a ridiculous amount of trashy clothes, but rather almost a billion in cold hard cash. It gave him the freedom to do whatever he wanted to do. He was pretty smart without even trying, and he was unafraid to admit to it. And quite frankly, for someone who was a law-breaking criminal by night, and a drunkard by day, the label of “trash” quite suited him. He still wasn’t quite sure why his family still cared about him, let alone hadn’t kicked him out. Basen and Lily were particularly fond of their elder brother, for some unfathomable reason.

Maybe, like with Ron, it had something to do with the treasures he kept gifting them for their birthdays, though his family didn’t seem to be particularly materialistic. Cale wasn’t sure whether they would faint if they knew about his part-time job stealing precious objects, or if they even suspected the origins of half of the rusted “trash” in his room. Or whether they knew about everything and were just leaving him alone, as he wanted. 

But sometimes, his parents insisted that he put on a respectable front, Violan particularly. Hence this truly appalling Roan Corporation banquet invitation.

‘Let’s put on my ugliest suit and see if I can sneak it past Violan.’ Cale stomped towards the rightmost closet and grabbed the brightest orange suit he could find. Truly eye-burning material. He conveniently ignored the fact that Ron would force him to put on something more presentable in the end anyway.

Two hours later, Cale was standing in one of his better navy suits, hair slicked back, watch glimmering on his wrist, looking for all intents and purposes quite miffed at the entire world. He fiddled with a golden turtle ornament on his tie. This particular one he had lifted off of a medieval exhibition in a museum a couple months ago.

‘I really just want to be anywhere but here.’ Cale looked up at the large building. ‘Well, anywhere but here or in prison.’ He thought back with a frown to the close call of the other night. Who would have thought that stealing a famous painting would give him more difficulties than a gold tie pin?

‘And, who would have thought that the thief behind the most daring aerial heists would be so reluctant to enter a corporate ballroom.’ Cale continued to stare at the large doors and glittering glass panes. He could hear the faint sounds of music and laughter from inside the building. 

He took a deep breath and stepped inside. The ballroom glittered more than the facade had. Everything was covered in a sheen of gold: the pillars, chandeliers, women’s necklines and earlobes, men’s ties, everything glittered with the unmistakable shine of money .

‘Now if only I had learned how to pickpocket, I would be having a much more enjoyable evening.’

In the ballroom, he could see various groups forming, probably according to the political factions. As trash, Cale couldn’t care less. He walked straight over to the large banquet table, ignoring a reproving stare from Violan, and downed a glass of extremely expensive wine.

From a distance, Cale could see a gaggle of old men and women approaching his father, mother, and younger brother.

“Ah, Mr. Henituse… ”
“How lovely it is to see you again, Basen seems to have grown up quite a bit… ”

Cale rolled his eyes. Ironically, everything except the gold and jewels were fake. The laughter, the smiles, the jovial atmosphere. ‘I really would rather be facing down the police. At least there the bullets they’re shooting at you are clear for all to see.’ He picked up a glass of wine with a frown, ignoring the serving staff’s wince. ‘It’s not like I’m going to start throwing perfectly good wine. At least, not this time.’

Being trash was the best.

Cale’s red-brown eyes scanned over the hall. In his mind, he immediately brought up the data on each of them. ‘Idiot, ugly, that guy’s suspected of cheating on his wife… He’s decent, there’s more political old men… Hmm?’ There was a rather large clump of people in one spot. At a glance, Cale could tell that they were all trying to curry favor of some form or another. But to whom…?

‘Oho… Shit.’

A blindingly blond, blue-eyed man stepped out from the middle of the crowd, harmoniously conversing with the sycophants around him. His suit looked to be one of the most expensive new models. His watch and stud earrings looked to be entirely gold, and his tie pin was probably more expensive than the vast majority of items that Cale had… ahem, shoplifted . More importantly, however… 

Cale’s eidetic memory never failed him. This man had the same body structure, eyes, and, if he strained his ears a little, voice as the man who shoved him in a closet for several hours the other night. The irony of which Cale did not want to comment on, as someone who had been attracted to both men and women since he was very little.

The blond man was also the very same guy who had elbowed him right in the stomach. ‘Damn that bastard.’ Cale’s smile twitched as he observed his rival thief in sparkling, expensive garb. He casually sidled closer to the mob of sycophants.

‘So. He’s Alberu Crossman, the first son of the heads of the Roan Corporation.’ Cale’s eyes gleamed. ‘I was right. He’s filthy rich.’ Cale continued to observe the blond man. Alberu boasted a wide, gentle smile. He looked out upon the sea of idiots in front of him with the benevolent gaze of a kind ruler upon his subjects. The lackeys were delighted by his charitable gaze, and more so by the very expensive watch he was flashing in front of their faces.

In short, Alberu Crossman was the most fake, condescending bastard of a man Cale had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Unfortunately, said condescending bastard was looking over at him. Cale blinked. A frown just barely flickered across Alberu’s features.

Cale sighed. ‘Might as well reveal myself before he recognizes me, too.’ Obvious nighttime antics or not, he wanted to at least keep some form of plausible deniability in front of his family. It just would not do to have the heir apparent of the Roan Corporation suddenly out him as the mysterious Hero of the Silver Shield.

‘How tiresome.’ Alberu glanced around at the people surrounding him. There were heads of businesses, nouveau riche, second generations, the works. All he had to do was wave his gold watch or expensive suit around in front of their noses and the pack of them would come running up to him, spewing flatteries and insubstantial praises. The banquet hall itself was also too ostentatious for his liking. Gold everywhere was not a practical nor aesthetically pleasing design vision. Alberu scanned the room. ‘Well, at least it looks like my faction is growing strong.’ His group of brown-nosers was the largest of the factions affiliated with his family, aside from the numerous smaller clumps of neutral businesspeople. Alberu carefully fixed his gentle smile and resumed exchanging empty pleasantries with the people around him.

Suddenly, Alberu felt a gaze on his back. The blond man blinked, mentally reviewing his image. ‘Gentle smile, no dust on my suit, my earrings haven’t fallen out—’

Perhaps noticing his alertness, one of the more perceptive and less obnoxious businessmen offered Alberu some wine. “Mr. Crossman, would you like a glass?”

“I am quite alright, thank you for the offer—” Alberu gently held a hand up, mentally approving the man as a potential business partner. Alberu liked slightly perceptive people who could still be slightly manipulated, like the man in front of him. A worthwhile acquaintance.

The gaze was still there. 

‘Who is it?’ Alberu ended his exchange with the man and surreptitiously looked around. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something red. Alberu raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that Cale Henituse?’

Cale Henituse, the rumored trash of the Henituse family. He slept until late in the afternoon, and then drank for the rest of the day, going to sleep immediately after. Somehow, he had conserved good relations with the rest of his family, though the reason for that was still unknown. Rumor had it that his room was entirely filled with stacks of trash, and that the succession had passed to Basen Henituse because of Cale’s uselessness. A different rumor had it that the current wealth of the Henituse family was entirely his doing, with various increasingly outlandish explanations: extorting money from gangs, acting as the head of an underworld organization, even one stating that the man was an outright thief. In short, someone with whom Alberu was not inclined to associate, were it not for the fact that the same red-haired man was openly staring at Alberu.

Alberu also observed the rumored troublemaker. He seemed remarkably familiar. Where had Alberu seen him? At another party? Why could Alberu recognize Cale’s red-brown eyes—

Cale Henituse placed his glass on a nearby tray and walked forward, bowing ostentatiously at Alberu. When he looked up, Alberu could see a perfectly crafted expression of pure awe on his face.

It gave Alberu goosebumps. ‘Fake.’ He recognized a fake smile when he saw one, and he knew that Cale could also see past him just as well.

“Mr. Crossman, it is such an honor to meet you tonight! Your presence glows like the light of a thousand stars, you are truly a beacon of hope for this world—”

‘He’s a similar kind of person to me.’ Alberu had the sudden urge to pour a glass of wine on Cale’s face. The red would mix nicely with his hair. But forget about inheritance, that was definitely a surefire way to get himself kicked out of the Crossman family altogether. Unclear origins aside, the Henituse family had money . 

“Young master Cale.” He gently smiled back. “I have heard quite a bit of your free spirit. I am happy to meet someone with such vigor and love of the pleasures of life.” There, that was as good as he could make it. ‘Now leave me alone.’

Unfortunately Cale did not comply with his mental daggers. The delighted expression on his face grew even more disgusting. “Mr. Crossman, I am so delighted that you have said that! I have long admired your taste in the arts.” Cale straightened out of his bow, and stared straight at Alberu.

Cale’s red-brown eyes caught Alberu’s gaze. ‘They’re so familiar, why can’t I quite remember—’

“Mr. Crossman, you are like a Shining Sun on a dark night . Do you like paintings ?” Cale Henituse, no, the bastard thief who had almost ruined Alberu’s heist, and then forced him to pay for it, smirked widely.

‘Damn you.’ Alberu knew he recognized that face that screamed to be punched from somewhere.

The surrounding crowd, like a flock of parrots, began to repeat the overly awed words.

“Yes, sir! You are a guiding star for this company—”
“The room is filled with light in your presence—”
“The first time I laid eyes on you sir you were like a sun that lit up the room—”

‘Cale Henituse, you bastard!’ Alberu shouted internally. ‘You thieving, conniving, irritating bastard!’ He imagined himself shooting daggers at the man. It wasn’t nearly satisfying enough. Exactly how much wine could he pour on the pest’s head before he was kicked out of the family? He was very tempted.

“My my,” Alberu grit his teeth through his wide business smile. “You seem to have quite the silver tongue. May it shield you from the many twists of life.” ‘Go and rot away with your alcohol.’

“I see we understand each other.” Cale replied happily.

‘Oh, yes.’ Alberu’s fist tightened behind his back. ‘Oh yes, we definitely freaking understand each other, you despicable man.’ He smiled wider. “Naturally. It was a… pleasant conversation, Cale Henituse.”

“You have my most sincere appreciation for your time, Mr. Crossman. I will leave you to your duties.” Cale bowed flippantly once again, his bright red hair fluttering back up as he stood. The wide grin on his face hadn’t changed.

Alberu really, really wanted to punch the bastard. He glared at Cale’s back as he walked away, red hair swinging tauntingly back at him. Alberu sincerely hoped that someone would accidentally end up spilling wine on him. Or that the Hero of the Silver Shield would get caught.

‘No, he can’t get caught.’ Alberu stiffened in realization. ‘Because if he gets caught and suspects I’m a part of it, he won’t hesitate to rat me out as well.’ Because that was exactly what Alberu himself would do.

They were at an impasse. And both of them knew it.

‘Shit.’

What could he do? Alberu frowned, momentarily ignoring the chatter around him, deep in thought. Would he be forced to live the rest of his life like this with this stupid bastard, the shadow of the truth hanging over both of their heads?

Who was Cale Henituse? The first born son of the Henituse family. A trash, a lazy idiot, a perpetually drunk rebel. The mysterious rumored culprit behind the Henituse Family’s inexplicable wealth. A thief by night, stealing precious paintings for no particular reason. An oddly kind opportunist who would give up the object of their heist if someone else needed it more, but would make sure to rip every penny they could in good conscience take first.

Alberu started to smile.

‘He is someone who wants to be left alone.’

The smirk, hidden behind his hand, slowly began to grow wider. To others, it simply looked as if the first son of the Roan Corporation was deep in thought, pondering the mysteries of the universe.

‘Cale Henituse.’

He had forced Alberu to hide in a closet, then squeezed millions in cash out of him. What was the best way to get back at this bastard? What was the best way to annoy someone who preferred to work alone, who habitually avoided contact and relationships with people under the guise of a bad reputation?

Of course, it was to give them something to do.

‘I definitely won’t leave you alone.’ Alberu’s eyes sparkled with malice and barely-contained fury. 

Halfway across the hall, Cale shivered.

Chapter Text

Cale stared up at the plain ceiling on top of his bed. Frankly, the ceiling was the only empty space about his room. The rest was either piled high with sparkling chains, large stones, rusted treasures, priceless tapestries, dusty antiques, or rolled up paintings. The ceiling alone was bare, just the plain white of the wall paint. It was nice when he wanted to sit on his bed and not think about anything.

Not thinking about anything was the best. It was summer, for goodness’ sake, he shouldn’t have to think about annoyances like university, or career planning, or anything at all . Especially after the awful banquet. Aside from the short conversation with the bright blond Alberu Crossman, otherwise known as the stupid Shining Sun thief that had ruined his painting two days before, the rest was absolute boredom and soul-sucking anguish of social niceties. All “hello, Mr. Henituse,” and “how have you been, Mr. Henituse?” with absolutely not a whit of care about how he actually was doing. The one consolation that kept Cale through the entire banquet without finding a bottle and dumping the contents on someone’s head was the priceless look on Alberu’s face when Cale had subtly hinted at their nighttime fiasco.

‘Damn, I wish I had my smartphone out to take a picture… What a missed opportunity.’ Cale privately made a mental note to have his phone camera handy next time he had the golden opportunity to annoy the golden boy.

Which he sincerely hoped would never come to pass, as he would never meet the bastard again .

Three sharp knocks sounded on the door. ‘Sounds like the universe hates me.’ Cale sighed deeply. “Come in,” he grumbled. There was only one person who would knock that ominously.

Sure enough, the door softly opened and Ron Molan walked in the room with a smile that was just a bit too kind to be comforting. And, surprise upon surprise, the vicious old man was holding a letter. Even while lying on his bed, Cale could make out the fancy paper.

‘Another annoyance.’ Cale frowned. ‘What is it this time?’

“Young master,” Ron began gently, “there is a letter for you.”

Cale limply held out an arm and took the letter. There didn’t seem to be an envelope. He slowly opened the thick cream paper.

‘The Roan Corporation cordially invites Mr. Cale Henituse to work as the personal secretary of Roan offices, HQ. Please report Monday morning in proper attire for your new post. The Roan Corporation wishes Mr. Cale Henituse an excellent day, and looks forward to our cooperation.’

At the bottom was a signature of a familiar name: ‘Alberu Crossman’.

The thick paper letter dropped to the floor. Cale stared at the missive of doom.

From Alberu Crossman.

To Cale Henituse.

‘Work.’

“Ron.” Cale opened his mouth shakily. “Please burn any and all letters that arrive from the Roan Corporation. And all affiliates. Anyone who works with them. Burn it all.” His eyes were fixed, terrified, upon the cream paper on the floor.

Ron said nothing.

“Ron?” Cale repeated. “Please tell me this isn’t real.” He slowly brought his eyes up to look straight at Ron.

The red-haired man’s eyes were shaking, filled with despair and terror. His young master looked like the world was crumbling around him, but the old man simply smiled as brightly as he could. Ron chuckled lightly as Cale’s smile twitched. Truly, this young master of his was quite amusing.

It did manage to make him feel just a sliver of pity for the words he was going to say next. “I am afraid it was not addressed to you, young master.” Ron looked at Cale’s expression that changed to one of horror.

“Excuse me?”

“The letter was not addressed to you, young master.” Ron kindly repeated.

Cale’s eyes widened. He wanted to hole himself up in the bed. He did not want to hear what Ron was going to say next, he wanted all of this to be a nightmare that he would wake up from and find himself not here—

“It was addressed to the Henituse Household.” Ron’s voice inexorably. “The Lady and Master have already read the mail, I am afraid. They will be here soon to celebrate.”

So that was why there wasn’t an envelope. Cale’s mouth was left hanging open. ‘You—you—THAT BASTARD. THAT BASTARD ALBERU CROSSMAN.’

Ron smiled a bit wider. “If you ask me, young master, I believe Mr. Crossman knew that you would reject the invitation had it been sent to only you.”

‘T-this… Does the universe hate me? Does it just want me to suffer? Why—’

“Congratulations on your new summer employment, young master.” Ron chuckled and gently closed the door, leaving a very terrified and shaking Cale Henituse sprawled on the bed behind him.

“BROTHER!!!”

The door to the dining room burst open just mere seconds after Cale sat down at the table. It had only been minutes after Ron had left Cale with the specter of his impending doom in the form of a fancy letter with cream paper, currently lying on the floor of his bedroom.

Lily excitedly ran over to the dining room chair where Cale sprawled fatalistically. “Brother! I heard that you got a new job! And it’s in the Sparkle Tower!”

The Sparkle Tower was the name that Lily had dubbed the Roan Corporation office headquarters, which had later been adopted by Basen, Deruth, Violan, and later the entire Henituse household staff, in that order. The Roan building was entirely glass, and the Crossman family, with their usual monetary surplus, made sure the windows were regularly washed such that they sparkled in the sun. It certainly didn’t help that the place was regularly decked with gold for banquets. Or the fact that only wealthy businessmen came in through the front door, their entire bodies sparkling with expensive jewelry.

Cale groaned. ‘Don’t remind me.’ But he couldn’t let down Lily, especially when she was so enthusiastic. “... Yes.”

“That’s so cool! Oh my gosh!” Lily bounced around the table. “Brother Basen! Mom! Dad! Cale really got a job at the Sparkle Tower!”

The large doors to the dining hall creaked open a good deal more peacefully than when Lily had thrown them open. Violan Henituse walked calmly into the room. Cale’s step-mother always maintained her carefully crafted expressionless face, but Cale could see a faint light of pride and happiness in her eyes. Deruth walked in after his wife with a spring in his step. On Cale’s father’s face was a clear smile and joy for his eldest son. Basen walked in last, trying to emulate his mother’s stately walk, but failing to contain the same bounce and excitement that his father and sister displayed.

‘Oh, dear. Now the whole family’s assembled.’ Cale just barely restrained himself from passing a hand over his face. ‘I’m just going to tell them that I don’t want to do this job, give it to Basen, and go.’

The members of the Henituse family took their places around the dining table. Lily fidgeted happily, casting glances at her older brother, despite the fact that Violan had calmed her down and stopped her from running about the room moments before.

“I heard you have a new job? Congratulations, Cale.” Violan opened happily.

‘This… is not the best atmosphere for a rejection, is it?’ Cale began to grimace.

“I am happy for you, my son. This is an incredible opportunity for you. But please remember to take care of yourself first. Do not overwork.” Deruth gently told him.

‘That is literally the exact thing I am trying not to do—’ The grimace widened.

“Please remember to come home often. Your siblings will miss you.” Violan calmly cut the food on her plate. “... and we will as well.” She added in a more subdued tone. She was not one for expressing her emotions. “This opportunity will greatly aid you for your future, no matter where you wish to go.”

“Do remember to rely on your parents as well sometimes.” Deruth added, half-jokingly.

‘... You really aren’t making it easy for me.’ Cale was frozen. He hadn’t even eaten anything yet.

Basen noticed Cale’s awkward expression. “Don’t worry, brother. I understand.”

“You do?” Cale whipped around to stare at Basen, hope written all over his face.

Basen nodded solemnly. “Please do not worry, brother. I will make sure to take care of the family while you are at work.”

‘Damn you, Alberu Crossman!’ Cale’s hope shattered on the ground like the ripped shreds of the envelope he had received. He turned to Lily.

Lily, his last hope. Lily, the only one in this family who might save him from his impending corporate doom—

“Brother! Can you please take me to see the Sparkle Tower sometime? I wanna see what it looks like from the inside!” Lily looked at him with large, pleading eyes.

‘... Goodbye, cruel world.’

The excited dinner conversation continued for quite some time. Each minute, it became harder and harder to tell them that actually, he really didn’t care about his future, and wanted to stay as far away as possible from the Roan Corporation headquarters as he could for the rest of his life.

Finally, Cale opened his mouth—

“Brother! When you take me there, do you think we can go to the roof? I bet the view is amazing!” Lily turned her wide eyes on Cale, full of anticipation and excitement. It was impossible to say no to Lily when she was in this state.

And that settled it. Cale’s doom was sealed by his adorable little sister that no one, not even trash, could reject.

Cale resigned himself to his fate. The rest of the evening was comprised of Lily and Basen’s excited speculation about what exactly a job at the Sparkle Tower would be like, mixed with Deruth’s humorous remarks and Violan’s gentle prompting.

“I bet they have the smartest people there!” Basen mused.

‘More like smartasses.’ Cale dimly retorted in his head. In his mind was a picture of a certain blond-haired pest.

“Do you think they have a rock-climbing wall? Or a martial arts studio?” Lily tipped her head. Cale began to fantasize of a punching bag with Alberu’s face on it.

Lily turned to Cale, who was spaced out with a small smile on his face. “You’ll still come back for the gymnastics and rock climbing class right? Right?” Lily carefully asked.

“Fine.” Cale sighed. ‘There’s not much I can do about it now.’ Because he had been forced to accompany Lily to her gymnastics and rock climbing classes since she was very little, he had developed quite a prowess in both sports. It was also where he had gleaned his knowledge of harnesses and cables for his aerial stunts. It had been Basen who accompanied Lily to her martial arts classes, however. But Cale still knew how to throw a punch.

Now if only he had a blond punching bag. He tried to ignore Ron Molan’s smirks in the corner of the dining room.

‘Vicious old man.’

And thus, Cale Henituse’s corporate doom was decided.

“Hello, my friend Mr. Henituse.” Alberu smiled brightly.

“Mr. Crossman!” Cale opened his arms wide and bowed ostentatiously. “I must humbly thank you for this incredible opportunity. I confess, I think it is rather much for someone like me, so I humbly decline—”

“Nonsense! You are quite qualified, I am certain! Come, let us proceed to the office.” Alberu led the glaring red-haired man down the corridor.

The Roan Corporation headquarters was just as ostentatious on the inside as it was on the outside. Rows of ergonomic desks made of fine wood, neat and tidy offices with official-looking name plates, and the large windows that let in bright sunlight into the large office space. Truly deserving of the Sparkle Tower moniker.

‘It’s like this for all twenty floors, isn’t it.’ Cale took in the office with a deadpan stare. It was too bright and cheery. It should be dark and burning in fire. That was a more apt description for what the building was to him. 

Alberu and Cale entered the elevator. The doors closed. Their identical bright, jovial, fake smiles vanished in an instant.

“You bastard.” Cale immediately dropped all pretenses.

“Why thank you.” Alberu smirked.

Cale ran a hand through his hair. “Why would you do this?”

“To see your lovely face, of course.” Alberu responded with a business smile.

“Look at me like that one more time and I will punch you.”

“What a coincidence. I feel the same about you.”

“What a lovely realization.” Cale grimaced.

‘I forgot that by making him work, I’ll also have to deal with him. Daily . Dammit.’ Alberu had an identical expression of disgust. “Here’s to a wonderful partnership.”

“If I had alcohol, I would have either drunk it or dumped it on you, rather than cheering.” Cale turned to face the elevator doors.

“It’s quite nice to have someone who understands you.” Alberu chuckled.

The elevator door dinged to mark their arrival at the top floor.

Alberu stepped out of the elevator. Cale briefly contemplated simply riding the elevator all the way down, escaping the building, and “getting the hell out of dodge,” to use the common term.

Then he realized that Roan Corporation was a fairly global enterprise. And that someone could phone down to the main lobby to intercept him faster than he could go downstairs. And, lastly, that Alberu could just keep pressing the elevator button to prevent him from going anywhere.

‘Well, that plan died out quickly.’ Cale reluctantly followed Alberu onto the twentieth floor. It looked the same as all the others; big, open, and way too cheery, with a wide open view on a gorgeous cityline.

“This is where you’ll be working. You’re my secretary, so you’ll be working…” Alberu took a bracing breath, “in my office. Unfortunately.”

“Shit.” Cale swore.

“Yep. That about sums it up.” Alberu blankly looked around the top floor office. “It’s early, so no one else has arrived yet—”

“So what the hell am I doing here—”

Alberu ignored Cale and continued. “You won’t be working with the other people in the office much. There’s a lot of paperwork that needs doing, and you’ll be doing most of it. Pass it onto me to review once you’ve filled it out.” Cale opened his mouth to retort, but Alberu was quicker.

“Let me remind you of one last thing.” The blond man’s smile turned dangerous. “One mistake, and we both go down. If I get caught with my nighttime… job , then I will implicate you. And you will do the same, I know.” Cale nodded. “Likewise, one mistake with this paperwork in the office and we both go down. Me because that means one of my brothers will take over, and they definitely won’t want me hanging around. You because you are affiliated with me now.”

“Oh, many thanks for dragging me into your stupid succession war.” Cale hissed sarcastically.

Alberu sighed. “Not like you left me much choice.”

Desire to frustrate Cale aside, Alberu really had no other choice. After all, Aberu had to live his entire life by the old saying, “keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” It wasn’t like he hung around the sycophant businessmen because he enjoyed their company. And Cale was a wild card, just like Alberu was. The only way they could get past this rough time was to stick together. Unfortunately.

Cale grunted. Alberu smirked at him. “There will be a lot of paperwork.” It looked like the blond pest was taunting him. “Can you get it done, O great Silver Hero?”

Cale glared at him. ‘Damn him. I’m going to get the stupid paperwork done so quickly, he’s going to grow piles of files on his desk that he won’t ever be able to finish.’

Several days later, Alberu stared at his desk that had what looked like the contents of five filing cabinets upended onto it.

‘Maybe I underestimated Cale’s efficiency.’ Alberu’s smile twitched as he stood in the doorway to his office.

“Can you get it done, my dear Shining Sun?” Cale smirked as he passed by, and ceremoniously plunked yet another pile of papers onto the growing stacks.

‘It seems I also underestimated his ability to annoy me.’

Needless to say, Cale’s plan was a great success.

Chapter Text

‘Well.’ Alberu stared blankly at his desk, that was close to breaking in half under the weight of the piled-up paperwork. ‘Now I can’t even berate him for not doing his job. I can’t tell whether this plan was a monumental failure or an unbelievable success.’

Why did Cale remain as trash if he had such ridiculous speed with the paperwork? And Alberu knew that likely none of the files had errors; he had impressed the danger of a mistake in the succession war enough times to both himself and Cale that the man would never risk it. But the papers on his desk were definitely not just a trick of the light. The point remained that he couldn’t annoy the red-haired pest over his “failure” to do enough paperwork. For goodness’ sake, he had done too much paperwork. And the bastard knew it.

Cale smirked at him from the corner of the room.

‘Congratulations.’ Alberu thought grimly at the man. ‘You have been promoted to permanent staff.’ He tried his best to ignore the fact that he himself would also have to stand the man’s presence in his office. Permanently. Was his sanity too big of a price to pay to get back at Cale?

Alberu stepped inside his office. Cale watched the door close and chuckled triumphantly. It was definitely worth being productive to see Alberu’s smile drop when he noticed the work pile up on his desk.

Over the past couple days, Alberu had not stopped giving Cale work to do. It was clear that the blond man was frustrated that Cale wasn’t giving him a single opening to criticize. Cale had also taken Alberu’s offhand comment about meeting the office staff, and had befriended each and every one of them with a carefully-crafted pure smile. So they would definitely take his side over their boss if Alberu started to make his life miserable.

Well, more miserable than he already had, given the fact that Cale still had to work in an office , of all things. 

‘I am going to run you ragged, Alberu Crossman.’ Cale grit his teeth.

In just three days, Cale and Alberu had cut the workload for the office by at least one-fifth, all by themselves, each trying to outdo the other and gain the rights to slap it in their rival’s face. Their co-workers, observing the same scene every day, could never decide whether Alberu and Cale worked extremely well or extremely horribly together.

But that lovely time of excessive spite-driven productivity all came to an end one fine morning.

It was a morning just like any other: that is to say, excessively bright, cheery, sunny, and awful, perfect for morning people, which were the worst kind of people, in Cale’s opinion. Or, if one were to ask Alberu, the best kind. Honestly, the opinion varied quite a bit depending on the person and was the subject of much debate in the Roan Corporation office.

The point was, it was a normal sunny morning. With the exception of the man sitting in the second chair in Alberu’s office.

Cale carefully examined him from where he stood at the corner of the room. The visitor was of an average height, average build, with dull yellow-olive-colored hair that came down straight to his shoulders. Though his clothes broke that average image. His light gray suit boasted excessive decorations, fine jewelry twinking, the whole ensemble giving off a remarkably vulgar image, despite the clearly pricey material. His looks made it all worse. It wasn’t that his face was anything out of the ordinary; no, if anything, it was quite average. It was his expression. The man smiled kindly, but a kind smile was clearly not fit for his face. It contorted into something more ominous and slimy.

Venion Stan was always a very unwelcome guest. 

‘I wonder how much money he’s wasted trying to make himself look good… He should give up, it’s a vain endeavor, in both senses of the term. Though I guess I could take some notes on how to waste money like a true trash…’ Cale mused to himself. ‘And anyways, why couldn’t I just get a chair?’ Cale glanced once more at Alberu. Standing was not his favorite pastime. ‘Which,’ he sighed internally, ‘is probably why Alberu made me attend this stupid meeting in the first place: to make me stand.’

“Mr. Crossman.” Venion’s distorted smile made a particularly stark contrast with Alberu’s perfect, welcoming, business expression. “My sincere gratitude for accepting this meeting.”

“Oh, not at all, Mr. Stan. Shall we begin?” Alberu courteously replied. ‘Let’s just get this over with already and not drag out the greetings.’ The slimy businessman supported one of his brothers, rather than Alberu himself. There was only one reason why someone from an opposing faction would come visit Alberu in the middle of a workday.

“I see you are working adequately well… for a headquarters with no resources.” Venion grinned blandly.

Naturally, it was to humiliate and pressure Alberu’s own faction.

‘What an ugly expression. He looks worse than some of my drinking buddies.’ Cale subtly wrinkled his nose. ‘I guess the clothes really don’t make the man.’

“Indeed, we have quite the skilled personnel.” Alberu replied impassively.

Venion laughed, a disgusting, high sound. “How nice. If they’re that excellent, I might have to take some for myself.”

‘Just go back to your own territory, you slug.’ Alberu made sure his face remained expressionless. If Venion appealed to his mother, a stolen antique painting might not be enough to stop him from taking some of his staff. The Stan family was a rising power in the business world. As the heir apparent to the family, Venion Stan’s words held a lot of weight, and a large number of smaller but no-less-successful groups continued to curry favor. His position was virtually unshakeable.

“Now, now, I am here to inquire about the recent construction plans your branch has announced.” Venion continued jovially. “You see, some of it seems to be on an acquaintance’s property, and he is quite averse to the noise, you see…”

‘Of course he’s saying that.’ Alberu smiled blankly. “I am afraid it has already been announced, and the deadline for complaints has long passed. Your friend should have appealed several weeks ago.”

Venion’s expression turned sinister. “Ah, but it is his property… And of course, I must support my poor friend.”

‘Pressuring me with his background.’ There was no change to Alberu’s expression. “Sir, I believe the construction project is entirely a legal procedure.”

“Naturally. But I am certain that with your already overworked staff, you would look kindly upon there being… less disruptions.” Venion gently replied. “I am certain I could make that happen… If we worked together, Mr. Crossman.”

‘You—’ Alberu thinned his lips. Despite Cale’s recent hiring, his workforce really was stretched thin. The fact that the paperwork on Alberu’s desk, stacked high enough to reach his head, was only a fifth of the whole, was a clear sign that Alberu’s office staff were desperately overworked. A lawsuit, no matter how shaky the claim, might make them crumble. Alberu smiled through grit teeth. “Mr. Stan, I believe you’ll find that a lawsuit is not worth your time. My company has the legal documents to prove the land ownership. If you would—”

“I am certain that with your background, cheap labor is the most you can do.” Venion interrupted. His smile grew a shade uglier and more vicious. 

‘His background?’ Cale saw Alberu’s hand pause. He frowned. From what he had heard of his time in the office, Alberu’s mother had died at a very early age. She had previously been shielding her son from the political intrigue and dangers of the business world. However, as soon as her funeral ended, the little Alberu had been carted off to study overseas for several years, making way for the second and third brothers to establish their footing in the company to compete with their older brother. Bereft of any strong supporters, Alberu returned home years later to find his place in the family snatched away from him.

Cale was starting to get a better idea of Alberu’s position. Why had Alberu needed to steal that painting, only to give it to a stepmother he hated? Why did the office have so little staff? Why was Alberu’s position so precarious that a single mistake in the paperwork could crumble his efforts so completely? In a place where his entire family was against him, he himself was the only person Alberu could rely on. His mother had done the best she could for him.

Just as Cale noticed Alberu’s brief pause, Venion did as well. He grinned wider. Smiles truly didn’t fit his face. “Your mother was quite the beauty, but what a shame, always spouting idealistic, naïve ideas. So stupid.”

‘Shit. This bastard.’ Alberu’s finger trembled. He couldn’t do anything. One wrong move and Venion’s lawyers would have more reason to take away this project. Antagonizing the Stan family was a very bad decision at this point in time.

Cale’s eyes narrowed.

“Other than her looks, she really didn’t add much to the family.” Venion gleefully completed.

Alberu closed his eyes. He couldn’t say anything in reply. He wanted to swear, to take a heavy stack of Cale’s completed paperwork and smash it over the Venion’s ugly, oily smile, but he was powerless, again, all he could do was open his mouth—

A loud beeping rang out in the room. Alberu’s eyes snapped open. He whirled around, following Venion’s surprised gaze at the corner of the room—

“Mr. Crossman, I believe it is time for your next meeting.” Cale nonchalantly held up his phone and fiddled with it. The beeping stopped. “You had asked me earlier this week to set a timer, as this is a very important meeting.” Of course, that had never happened, but what would Venion know? Cale’s emotionless gaze turned to the visitor. “My apologies, Mr. Stan. I am afraid the meeting will have to be rescheduled.”

‘His voice is like a machine’s.’ Alberu blinked in surprise. Cale had always shown some kind of emotion while interacting with him, whether that be ridicule, irritation, or a triumphant smirk… This Cale was cold. Somehow, though, Alberu knew. ‘He’s definitely angry.’

Venion would definitely not have noticed the difference. For all he knew, this might as well have been Cale’s entire personality. But Alberu could tell, having been with the red-haired man for more time than he would have ever liked. Which left him with one more question.

‘Why on earth is he angry?’

“I will see you to the elevator.” Cale smoothly gestured to the door.

Venion, rather surprised, frowned, but stood up anyways. He stiffly walked out the office door. Cale glanced back at Alberu. His gaze crossed Alberu’s bewildered stare. Cale blinked and looked away. Alberu could almost hear the red-haired man’s voice in his head.

‘Go and do your paperwork, bastard. Unless you have enough free time to loiter around here.’

Alberu started to smirk. He slowly reached toward the top file on the stack and blatantly made a show of dragging it over to a clear space at the center of the desk.

Click! Alberu exaggeratedly removed the cap from his fountain pen. Cale rolled his eyes and swung the door shut.

“Hah.” Alberu calmly closed his pen and slid it back into his pocket. Cale’s red-brown eyes had softened at the last moment.

‘I didn’t know he could be so… unemotional.’ Which one was the real Cale? The irritating, fiery bastard, or the cold, methodical machine? Maybe the side that Cale showed Alberu was the fake, the mask that he put on in front of everyone. Maybe Alberu was deluding himself into thinking he could tell the red-haired man’s feelings. Though he hadn’t ever noticed that he was trying. 

Or maybe… Maybe the machine-like countenance was his wall that he put up. Maybe Alberu was one of the few people to whom the punk showed emotions.

‘Honestly, there’s no way to tell.’ Alberu pushed the thought out of his mind.

But he had a nagging feeling it was the latter. And it wasn’t as bad of a feeling as he thought it would be.

Cale walked in silence to the elevator, Venion following.

“You must be Cale Henituse. I heard that Alberu Crossman hired you.” Venion gave a friendly smile. It gave Cale goosebumps. “Would you care to switch out of a sinking ship, Mr. Henituse?” If Venion could get the as of yet neutral Henituse family to join his faction, his influence would increase exponentially. And with the addition of the indescribably wealthy Henituses, it was all but given that they would finally win the succession.

Cale pressed the button. He affixed a bright smile on his face and turned around. “Mr. Stan. What a generous offer. It is too much for such a humble man such as myself.”

“Hm.” Venion hummed, but said nothing more. The Henituse family was even more wealthy than he himself. He was alright with antagonizing the eldest Crossman brat with the red-haired man in the room, since the Henituse family had yet to announce their alignment… But confronting a Henituse outright was still much too risky. “Well, if you ever change your mind, the Stan family will welcome you with open arms.” He gave Cale one more wide, distorted smile.

The elevator dinged. Venion stepped forward and watched the doors close.

After a brief moment of silence, Cale opened his mouth. “Mr. Stan?”

Venion looked up, a disgusting glint of greed passing through his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Henituse?” 

The elevator doors were halfway closed. Cale still sported the same gentle expression. “Try to smile less often. It makes you slightly more tolerable, but at this point it is a fairly low bar. Good day.”

The elevator doors shut.

Cale spun around on his heel and marched back through the office, ignoring the cheers and applause exploding throughout the floor at his last proclamation. He had noticed his coworkers eavesdropping on the hallway conversation a little while ago, but it wasn’t his problem. They could listen as much as they wanted.

‘Alberu’s probably going nuts in his office.’ Cale smirked. ‘Annoying that punk is the absolute best.’

Cale dramatically swung the office doors open. “Venion Stan. What a charming fellow.”

Alberu just stared at him.

Cale raised an eyebrow. “You don’t agree?”

Alberu sighed and shook his head helplessly. “I just can never understand you,” he muttered under his breath.

“Good.” Cale flipped his hair over his shoulder and began rearranging documents. “I wouldn’t be able to annoy you if you did.”

‘I owe him an explanation.’ Alberu rubbed his forehead. So far the red-haired man had been dealing with the non-essential paperwork. There was no way Alberu would trust him with company secrets. But now… “Venion Stan is part of Grandike Orsena’s faction.”

Cale paused and glanced at Alberu in surprise. ‘Oh, is he going to start talking now? I thought it would take a lot more to get the secrets out of him.’ He turned back to the papers. ‘I don’t want to get involved though. Might as well just ignore it.’

When Cale was like this, Alberu could read him openly. ‘You’re getting involved whether you like it or not, bastard.’ He smirked. “Venion Stan, along with his faction, is being an ass.”
“When isn’t he?” Cale muttered. He shoved another three papers into the slightly less messy pile.

Alberu snorted. For some reason the man looked less annoying today than he had at the beginning of the week. Alberu chalked it up to his increasing usefulness, and to the fact that the repulsive Venion Stan had just left the office.

“My dear Silver Shield.” Alberu crossed his fingers and set his elbows on the desk.
‘... Oh shit.’ Cale flinched. Alberu was smiling brightly, a very, very ominous sign. “... Yes, our glorious Shining Sun.” Cale slowly put the folder in his hands down. ‘Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. Especially not from you. Please just say it quickly so I can go prepare flowers for both of our graves.’

Alberu opened his mouth happily. “Let’s go smack Venion in the back.”

Cale blinked in surprise. ‘That… actually isn’t as bad as I expected.’ A slow grin began to spread across his face. It mirrored Alberu’s expression.

“How about a heist?” Alberu proposed.

The words floated in the silent room as Cale tried to process his question. His grin dropped very quickly. “Illegal,” he replied with a glare.
“Yes, very.” Alberu casually stamped another document and passed it to Cale. “But isn’t it a bit late for that, Hero of the Silver Shield?”

“You are a terrible corporate owner.” The red-haired man skimmed over the text and placed it on the growing pile.

“I would argue I’m the best.”

“Agree to disagree, dear Shining Sun of the Roan Corporation.” Cale raised an eyebrow. “Should you be doing such illegal things so easily?”

“Should I be hiring a robber and a known trash?” Alberu rested his hands on his head.

Cale flatly replied. “No. Please fire me so I can stop seeing your awful face.”

“Too bad.” Alberu shoved a new stack of papers at Cale.

Cale grit his teeth but didn’t refuse. He was employed, after all. And one mistake on his and Alberu’s part could mean Alberu losing the succession, and both of them would be doomed. “Don’t mess this one up, Shining Sun,” Cale reluctantly agreed.

“Excellent.” Alberu ignored the use of his horrid nickname and the subtle barb Cale threw at him. “Meet in front of the building at 2 tomorrow afternoon.”

‘This bastard’s making me work on a weekend?’ Cale grit his teeth and shot Alberu a glare. The blond pest smiled sunnily back at him. He stomped out of the office and slammed the door.

“See you tomorrow~!” Alberu laughed behind him.

Chapter Text

Alberu pushed down the urge to tap his foot impatiently. The blond man stood at the entrance to the Roan Corporation building, in all its sparkling glory, searching for the telltale flash of bright red hair. When the hell was Cale going to get there?

‘Is he even going to show up?’ If he didn’t, then Alberu would make his office life hell. His eyes caught on a bright spot of red across the street. ‘Finally.’ He sighed and called out as Cale approached his street corner. “Took you long eno— cough .” Alberu couldn’t finish his sentence. “What…” He blinked his eyes. ‘Is that… a giant cage of pigeons?’

Cale reached Alberu and gently set down the cage, which was almost half as tall as Cale himself. The thin bars of the crate did not at all block a perfect view of some twenty pigeons, sleeping soundly,

Alberu stared. “What. The hell.”

Cale looked at him blankly. “Don’t worry, they’re sedated, so they won’t make any noise.”

“... That’s not what I was asking and you know it.” Alberu coughed once more.

Cale shrugged, a wide smirk growing on his face. It had been quite the ordeal to drag the cage all the way here. He had gotten a decent amount of curious stares, particularly from the taxi driver. But… “You can never have too many pigeons.” It was a fact of life that Cale had learned early on.

Alberu struggled to keep his mouth shut. ‘No, seriously, what the hell ?’ Why did Cale have twenty pigeons in a cage? When had he found all the pigeons? How did he bring all of them here? How did he sedate all of the stupid birds? Why was he bringing pigeons to a freaking heist in first place??? What in the name of sanity—which at this point, Alberu realized, was a very rare commodity around Cale—was going on?

“So, dear guiding light of the world, we’re smacking Venion in the back, right?” That was the only reason Cale had agreed to show up here. On a Saturday , no less. “What exactly is your plan?”

With remarkable difficulty, Alberu tore his eyes away from the enormous pigeon pile in the cage. “It is well-known that Venion has had numerous very illegal dealings, but no one has ever been able to find evidence to convict him. We need to find any files or evidence that definitely incriminates him.”

“So, he threatened to destroy your project, and you’re retaliating by destroying his career.” Cale commented dryly. He gave an impressed whistle. It didn’t help that the whistle sounded like a bird’s cry. Like a pigeon’s for instance.

‘Alberu, stop thinking about the pigeons.’ The blond man berated himself. ‘Maybe if you ignore them, they’ll go away.’ Because that strategy worked so well. Alberu looked back up at Cale’s face innocently. “Come now, he is destroying his own career. I am merely helping it along. And don’t you want to do the same, dear Hero of silver justice?”

Cale glared at him. “So are you going to tell me the plan or not?”

Alberu smirked triumphantly. It was always so convenient when someone understood you. “Knowing Venion’s disgusting personality, he probably keeps the files he wants to hide in his office, at his house. There is most likely a safe in there, or a secret door. If I know his personality, it’ll be behind a bookshelf he never uses.” Alberu couldn’t possibly imagine the man reading any kind of book. “Regardless, you’ll need to search the entire office for a bit.”

“Why not just do it when Venion isn’t home?” Cale frowned. There was no point to conducting a heist on a Saturday, when their victim was most likely to be inside his house, where he could hear any potential intruders looking for incriminating documents.

Alberu smirked. “I thought of that—”

“Of course you did.” Cale rolled his eyes.

“—shut up, Cale. The only time that security, including the cameras, is off inside his office is when he himself is in the house. He probably doesn’t want video recordings of his criminal activities.”

“And neither do we.” Cale muttered.

“Exactly.”

“And I gather from our brief but rather memorable interaction that Venion Stan is not so lovely a gentleman as to simply allow us to rummage around in his personal belongings.”

“Oh, how did you guess?” Alberu replied dryly.

“What documents are they?”

“Corruption.” The blond man gave a one-word response. 

“Just generally?” Cale gestured expansively, his hand almost hitting the massive cage of sleeping pigeons.

“I know they exist, I don’t know the specifics. If I did I wouldn’t need you, now would I?” Alberu frowned at him. Cale rolled his eyes. The redhead really had a talent for making him miffed. “What I need is the data in those files. You need to copy them. Based on your speed at paperwork in the office, that should be a cinch for you. The point is, Venion can’t know that the data in the files has been leaked. Otherwise, he’ll know to come up with a counter for anything that we try to pull on him.”

“Wonderful. Just wonderful. Do you have a plan, at least?” Cale challenged.

Alberu wanted to punch him. He glanced again at the baffling pigeons. “I’ll put it in simple terms, so even an idiot like you can understand. In short, I will be the distraction, and you will be the one to sneak into his office.”

“Are you planning on selling me out or something?” Cale narrowed his eyes.

Alberu snorted. “Are you kidding? You go down, we both go down. I’m not naïve enough to hope that you won’t sell me out if you get caught.”

“... I’ll hold you to that.” Cale closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “So, do you have anything beyond ‘distraction’ and ‘trespassing’?”

His tone was really irking. “I’ll be paying him a visit to talk about the recent development plan that he has so thoughtfully been attempting to trifle with. Meanwhile, you can go into his office. I checked the floor layout of his house—”

Cale coughed in surprise. The pest really did plan quite a bit.

“—and the office is on the second floor. Should be right up your alley, Trapeze Clown.”

‘Trapeze Clown?’ Cale glared at him. “Fine. Mess this up and I’m bailing.” He spun around and grabbed the oversized crate.

Alberu blinked incredulously. “... Are you bringing the pigeons?”

Cale looked down to the enormous cage of sleeping birds. “... Yes.”

“... Why ???”

Cale did not deign to give a reply.

Alberu had never imagined that he would be standing in front of Venion’s house. Frankly, he had never wanted to imagine himself standing in front of Venion’s house. If his future wasn’t at stake here, and if he had never forced a certain redheaded pest to come steal the man’s private documents, he would be staying as far away from Venion’s house as he possibly could.

By all rights it was a decent house architecturally, not at all like its occupant’s personality. It was situated on the outskirts of the city, and as such boasted a considerable footprint and an expansive front and back garden. Venion had rather ruined the view by decorating the mansion with too much expensive, unnecessary, and tasteless junk. Was that a porcelain garden gnome? Just how much did that modern, abstract, and abhorrently ugly sculpture sell for? Who would even want to gold-plate the inlay on their door?

‘In short,’ Alberu thought sourly, ‘it’s Cale’s dream house to rob.’ He glanced around the gardens surreptitiously. Cale had covered his conspicuous red hair and was now nowhere in sight. Alberu nodded approvingly at the large trees in the garden. ‘Those should at least block the view of the guards. I hope the cameras are off.’

Alberu took a deep breath. He briskly walked up and rapped sharply on Venion’s door. The door opened cautiously to reveal a very weathered butler, whose eyes immediately widened in shock and surprise upon seeing Alberu dressed in an expensive business suit and looking for all intents and purposes like a very annoyed rich man.

“I am here for Venion Stan.” Alberu raised an eyebrow in feigned impatience.

“I will call Master Stan.” The butler bowed and led Alberu to the sitting room. Alberu glanced around. Expensive paintings graced the walls. The mantelpiece boasted several exquisite statuettes and antique artifacts. It was, all around, a tastefully decorated room.

‘There aren’t any photos.’ Alberu frowned. He knew that the Stan family had several sons. Taylor Stan, the eldest, had been involved in a car accident a few years prior, and lost the use of his legs. But the rumors in the business circle whispered that it was Venion’s doing. The rest of their relations were just as ruthless. ‘Their family is definitely too estranged to bother putting up a happy family photo.’

Stately footsteps sounded from the stairs. Alberu checked that every inch of his business smile was perfect, and calmly turned around.

Venion walked towards him. “Mr. Crossman! What a surprise. I did not expect you to come on a weekend. I believed you would be too busy.” In other words, ‘why are you here?’

“Mr. Stan. I wished to discuss our business proposal a bit more.”

“Certainly! Shall we move to the office?”

‘No, no, no. No the office.’ Alberu’s heart leaped. “I much prefer to stay here, Mr. Stan. I believe the butler has already gone to prepare refreshments, it would be a shame for the beverages to go to waste.”

“Very well then.” Venion let himself fall onto the couch. His actions just barely toed the line of disrespectful, but not rude enough for Alberu to call him out on it. The first son of the Roan Corporation didn’t mind at this point, as long as the man stayed out of the office. “Shall we begin?”

“Certainly.” Alberu’s fake smile was still perfect. “To whom do the lands under contention belong?”

“Ah, an acquaintance of mine, Neo Tolz.” Venion gave a wide grin.

‘Neo Tolz. One of Venion’s lackeys, and another supporter of my brother.’ Alberu gave no indication of his exasperation on his face. “Might I have the explanation of his particular complaints?”

“Why of course, Mr. Crossman.”

How long would this stupid conversation have to go on for?

The climb up to Venion’s office window was remarkably easy, especially for one as experienced as Cale Henituse, the master of aerial heists, Silver Shield Hero—

‘When will I ever be able to get rid of that stupid nickname?’ Cale grumbled to himself. He mentally swatted the image of Alberu that continued to list the most inane titles and artificial flatteries that he had showered Cale in for the last couple—extremely unpleasant—office workdays. ‘I’m going to have to come up with new ones for that pest.’

Cale wrapped the rope that led down to the pigeon cage around his hand, hooked his fingers into a protruding stone, and hoisted himself up to the second floor window. ‘Thank you, Venion Stan, for your terrible choices of shrubbery. Well, terrible for you, great for me.’ Thanks to Venion’s stupidly extravagant tastes, several meticulously groomed trees obscured the wall from the view of the rest of the ground. They provided excellent cover from any potential cameras, security guards, and the passersby on the street below. It was also likely that Venion didn’t want anyone else to peek in on whatever he was doing in his office when he wasn’t working. Either way, it was really convenient.

Cale silently lit a small candle in his mind for the likely overworked security staff in the Stan mansion. One brief rattle of the window, and Cale slipped inside the office, the rope still trailing behind him. Luckily, the pigeons still hadn’t woken up.

‘And if everything goes well, they won’t have to.’ Cale frowned. He jumped down from the windowsill and looked around the room.

It was a rather atypical office. Psychology students often told him that a person’s office was like a reflection of their mind, and though Cale completely disagreed, he had to admit the truth in this particular situation. With one glance, Cale could immediately tell Venion Stan’s defining characteristic: filthy rich. With emphasis on the ‘filthy.’

The bookshelves were stuffed with expensive statues, stands with precious displays, and one bookshelf was even filled with antique books that Cale was absolutely certain Venion had never and would never wish to touch. The table was made with the finest polished wood, Expensive paintings hung on the wall, and the floor was covered in a very plush carpet that almost made Cale pause to wonder if he should take his shoes off before standing on it. Then he realized that this was Venion’s office. Cale maliciously ground the sole of his dirty shoe into the carpet. Meanwhile, Cale continued to look around. He only had one thought.

‘Wow he’s really… extra.’ 

Sure, everything was expensive, to the point where it was ridiculous. But the man had no taste . Colors and jewels clashed, statues were place haphazardly, paintings were simply slapped onto the walls as if the quantity could make up for the poor arrangement. The quality of the items was completely lost. So much expensive junk, so poorly taken care of, such an arrogant property owner… As Alberu had previously judged, it was Cale’s dream house to job. Of course, if Cale and Alberu knew that had the same thoughts separately, they would both have been fuming with rage and denial.

Cale carefully tugged the rope that dangled out the window. The pigeons were still sleeping. He tied an easy slipknot by the window ledge as a last resort. Cale took a deep breath. ‘This trick can only be performed in a couple situations, but when it works, it works remarkably well.’

“Well then.” Cale murmured to himself. “Time to start digging. Secret corruption files, huh?” Cale had fine-tuned his ability to skim through documents while working with Alberu. He sighed. The blond man’s name and a boatload of swear words, which were inseparable in his mind these days, ran circles in his head again.

‘Let’s start with the drawers, shall we—Ugh, seriously?’ Cale dropped his shoulders. He had expected to find adult magazines and toys, but not quite this fast… ‘This bastard keeps these thinks in his office desk? Seriously? He’s worse trash than me…’ Cale froze. ‘Alberu freaking Crossman, don’t tell me that I have to go through all of his goddamn drawers—’ Well, a promise was a promise, and if there were any target files hidden among the poor taste in magazines, then Cale would have to find them.

Unfortunately.

‘Think happy thoughts, Cale. Think about a raise. Think about smacking Venion in the back. Think about making a martial arts gym in the Roan building with Alberu’s face on every single punching bag. And every single inch of treadmill track.’ Cale grit his teeth and restrained the impulse to rip the contents of the drawers to sheds.

The first drawer didn’t contain any interesting files. Or, well, any useful files at all.

‘You know what’s a happy thought? Coming back here to steal some of Venion’s stuff.’ It wasn’t like Cale was Robin Hood, but frankly, at this point, the slimy ass deserved it. Cale glanced around the room. All the expensive items glittered at him enticingly.

‘Yep, definitely marking this place as somewhere to come back to. Maybe I’ll burn his ‘files’ next time, too.’ Cale’s eyes glittered. He turned to the desk. ‘Next, the papers on top of here. Venion shouldn’t be bad enough to leave the same kind of stuff out in the open, at least.’

Spurred on by the promise of future loot, Cale reluctantly, and silently, began rummaging through the corners of Venion’s office.

Venion gave Alberu the rundown of the extremely distressed Mr. Tolz’s varied complaints about the construction project. All of them mixed several facts and blatant lies about the state of the construction project. Unfortunately, they were also just barely defensible enough in court that Alberu would have to dedicate a portion of the resources to challenge them if he so chose. 

‘Venion Stan,’ Alberu had to admit, ‘chose his battles well. But for now, all I have to do is keep him talking.’ As long as Venion continued to hold the upper hand in the conversation, he wouldn’t think about going back to his office. Cale should have plenty of time to finish his theft.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud from the floor above.

Alberu really should have kept that last thought buried at the back of his mind. The gods and the universe just loved to destroy his hope.

Venion paused. “Pardon me, Mr. Crossman. Shall we move to the office?”

‘No, no, really, you don’t want to go there—’ Alberu swore internally. “Mr. Stan, I am quite comfortable here.”

“Mr. Crossman, I shall return in just a moment—”

“Are we not going to finish the business conversation?” Not for the first time, Alberu thanked the gods for his experienced poker face. In his mind, he hurled continuous abuse at Cale. ‘What the heck are you doing, you bastard? You had one job ! Why can’t you just be silent? In and out! You are going to drag both of us to prison—’

“Excuse me, Mr. Crossman, but I really must check just one thing.”

‘Cale Henituse, if we make it out of this alive I promise I will strangle you—’ Alberu let out a fake sigh of disappointment, masking his utter panic. “Then I will accompany you. I would also like to see what exactly it was that interrupted our important conversation.” Cale Henituse was going to be so dead once he caught him. So. Goddamn. Dead.

Alberu climbed up the stairs after Venion, making sure to let his feet fall heavily on each step. THUD. THUD. THUD. ‘Trapeze Clown, if you don’t take this as a warning then you deserve whatever is coming for you. You’re dragging both of us to hell, you hear me?’ Alberu’s thoughts continued to spit abuse.

A second thud resounded from the office, momentarily drowning out Alberu’s footsteps. ‘DAMMIT. WHAT THE HELL IS CALE DOING—’ Why was he taking so long? Why were there noises from the office when it should have been just a smooth in and out? What would happen if Cale was caught? What if Cale was hurt? What if he couldn’t make it out? What if… 

Wasn’t it Alberu’s fault in the first place that he was here? 

‘Dammit.’ Alberu couldn’t decide whether he would strangle or hug Cale Henituse when he next saw him. Probably both. Alberu couldn’t get caught. He didn’t want himself to get caught. He didn’t want either of them to get caught, he didn’t want Cale to get caught—

The office was in sight. The second thud had been the last. Alberu had stalled for time as much as he could. He could only pray that Cale had gotten out of there in time—

‘Please, please get out of there in time, Cale…’

Venion reached out a hand towards the door.

Alberu squeezed his eyes shut, praying that behind the door he would find a perfectly undisrupted office, or even a completely ravaged one, so long as a certain red-haired man was not there. ‘Cale Henituse, if we both get out of this alive and not in prison I will ask the Henituse butler for your favorite cookies—’

Venion turned the doorknob.

Chapter Text

Cale had started with the desk, since he would have felt thoroughly the idiot if what he was looking for were simply sitting out in the open and he went the difficult path. The difficult path was always the worst one. Cale had learned that very early on.

He did take a moment to memorize the placement of stacks on the desk—he wouldn’t be able to place them back in exactly the same spots, but it should be good enough that someone like Venion who didn’t have a photographic memory wouldn’t notice anyone had gone through his stuff. However, so far Cale had found nothing more than useless files informing him of potential future business prospects, waivers, and the occasional adult magazine. He had even managed to unearth an entire chest of large adult toys and even whips in the corner. Cale grimaced in disgust. ‘Venion really is the worst scum there is.’ He didn’t even want to think of what the whips were for.

But there wasn’t the hard evidence that Alberu was looking for. The morally gray business practices and suspicious tools were enough to jail a regular person, but definitely not enough to touch the soles of the Stan family boots.

The desk drawers to the right were locked. Cale carefully took out several hairpins from under his black hood and wiggled them around. The drawers opened with a satisfying click.

Lockpicking was another skill that Ron had taught him and his siblings, though Lily did not have nearly enough patience. Basen had managed to wrap his head around it, and Cale, of course, had taken to the skill like a fish to water. Though it made him even more terrified of the old butler, it came in remarkably handy every time.

‘Even more morally gray business practices… Oh, look there are the same stupid magazines—’ Cale wrinkled his nose at Venion’s poor work-life balance. The magazines all had ridiculously disproportioned female models, though a couple threw in a male partner here and there. None of them were as handsome as Alberu Crossman, however. Cale frowned. ‘If someone with that terrible of a personality can be so good looking, then the others need to try a lot harder.’

Cale slowly shut the cabinet doors. By this point, he had thoroughly ransacked the place and put it back in order. No sign of any incriminating enough evidence to lock Venion Stan away for good.

Cale sighed heavily. ‘Looks like I really am going to have to do it, aren’t I?’

He turned his gaze over to the heavy bookshelf, filled with old books Venion would never read. From that point of view, it was an utterly useless bookshelf, stacked high with things that the owner of the office didn’t care about. But, if he looked at it from another perspective… 

‘He wouldn’t want to risk breaking the expensive stuff he does care about every time he moves the bookshelf.’ There was probably something behind there.

Cale carefully knelt down beside the bookshelf. The clock was ticking. There was only so long that Alberu could distract Venion, and Cale keenly understood that Alberu’s job was more difficult than his own.

‘Not that it makes me like him any more.’ Cale swiftly peeled back the carpet. ‘Yep, there they are.’ The floor under the carpet was scored with heavy scuff marks, stretching back to the shelves of old books. ‘Venion must have moved the bookshelf each time he wanted to access things.’ Cale glanced back to the desk, and the nearby chest of not-exactly-innocent toys. ‘The staff in the house must know to just not pay attention to anything that happens in the office.’ They were scum, all of them.

Cale grit his teeth. He knew where the things he needed to access were. They were behind the bookshelf. There was only one problem: It would probably make a very, very loud noise. It wouldn’t matter how well Alberu was distracting Venion; as soon as there was a loud noise in his office, Venion would be alerted to his presence.

Cale closed his eyes. Alberu’s voice echoed in his head. ‘The point is, Venion can’t know that the data in the files has been leaked. Otherwise, he’ll know to come up with a counter for anything that we try to pull on him.’

‘How the hell am I supposed to do this, you bastard?’ Cale frowned. He glanced out the window at the slip-knotted rope. “I am so glad I brought those pigeons,” he muttered.

Cale positioned himself against the far side of the bookshelf. He took a deep breath.

‘Three. Two. One. Here we go—’ Cale shoved the bookshelf out of place. It skid with a loud scratching noise across the floor before hitting the wall with a loud THUD.

‘Timer starts now!’ Alberu would probably guess something is up and buy him some time, but Cale didn’t have his hopes up. Venion hadn’t come this far by being naïve, after all. ‘I reckon I have about one minute.’ Just enough time to grab something, smash the bookshelf back into place, and jump out the window. 

He whirled around. There was indeed a small room behind the bookshelf. It was big enough to accommodate two people kneeling. There was a large safe.

Cale froze.

“Shit.” He swore under his breath. ‘Venion should be a freaking idiot, why does he have enough common sense to put a safe inside the hidden room? He should be stupid enough to be confident in his secret passage and keep all his valuables laying out in the open—’

There was no time. He could hear Alberu’s heavy footsteps, bless the man for thinking of alerting him, on the stairs, signaling Cale to get out fast. He had to do something. 

Alberu’s words once again echoed in his head. ‘What I need is the data in those files. You need to copy them.’

Cale let out a shaky breath. The clock was ticking. Fifty seconds.

There was one possibility. It could work. He could complete the mission, keep Venion in the dark, and get both of them out safe. It was supposed to be just in case, but… ‘I really, really hope it works.’

Cale ran to the window and yanked on the rope that he had previously tied into a slipknot. What was it that he had remarked before, when he was entering the office?

‘This trick can only be performed in a couple situations, but when it works, it works remarkably well.’ One could hope.

Thirty seconds left. The end of the rope was slowly lifted over the branch.

‘So much for stealth.’ Cale quietly swore. “Well. Whatever it is, you can’t do only half the job. Either stealth all the way...”

The pigeons quietly slept in the cage, attached to the end of the rope. It swung back and forth, dizzyingly close to the edge of the branch. Cale quickly tied the end of the rope to the doorknob.

“... Or go out with a bang.” He finished muttering.

Ten seconds left.

Cale sprinted back behind the bookshelf. He set a hard mineral stone from another bookshelf on the floor and raised the safe far above his head. Cale briefly mourned any potential fragile items, and brought the safe down, hard, onto the rock. The box broke with a loud THUD!

He could hear fast stomping on the stairs. ‘Please let this plan succeed.’

Five.

The contents of the safe spilled out onto the floor. There were only a few documents, stacks of bills, and several gold chains and ruby pendants. There. At this point, there was no doubt that someone had been here. Venion would know. No he already knew. The plan needed to work. It had to.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

Three. Two. One.

The creak of the door echoed in the ransacked room.

Venion turned the doorknob… 

He only had a moment to see a rope tied to the other end of the doorknob, the window open, the room completely ransacked—A large black box sped towards the room at high speed—

CRASH! The box hit the wall. Glass shattered and pigeons exploded.

SQUAAAAAAWCK!— Twenty pigeons burst out from the open door. Suddenly the flock of birds realized that there was probably more room in the hallway than inside the office where they had apparently been cooped up. They immediately fled the room, straight into the waiting form of an astounded Venion Stan. Feathers flew everywhere, flying up into the air, catching on buffets of agitated wings, and headed straight for the man holding the doorknob. All that could be seen from the open door was a storm of flapping wings, sharp beaks, beady eyes, and whirling feathers. 

“AAAAAHHH—” Venion shrieked in surprise as angry birds assaulted his head. He desperately waved them off, his hand hitting several birds, and knocking them away, but this only made the pigeons more incensed. They shrieked in return and began attacking the businessman with their beaks, flapping out all over the corridor.  The birds squawked and shrieked in desperation, renewing their siege upon the man’s expensive suit and shoulder-length hair. 

It was utter black, gray, and white pandemonium, inhuman screeches and squawks filling the air, to the point where no one could tell where the pigeon mass ended and Venion began. Alberu stood stock still. He couldn’t decide whether to laugh his ribcage out or yell as many choice swear words as he possibly could. Stuck in the middle of both decisions, the blond man stood, frozen in the doorway to the office. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something darker black than the glimpses of Venion’s suit in the middle of the office. Slowly, Alberu turned to fully face the middle of the office.

A man stood, dressed entirely in black, nonchalantly leaning against the office desk, with the bookshelf completely overturned beside him. Ancient books lay scattered about the rolled-back carpet, pages and covers flying, cheap statues overturned and dropped onto the floor. Shards of glass had fallen down onto the plush carpet. They crunched underfoot, sinking deep into the expensive rug threads. Right beside the overturned bookshelf was a recessed alcove in the wall, where the black-clothed man—who at this point Alberu was absolutely certain was a particular redhead whom he really, really wanted to punch—had just come out from. Alberu could see several papers and documents scattered about the floor, along with uncut gems, all of which had clearly once belonged to a safe that lay open and dented on the floor of the no-longer-hidden room.

‘Oh, god.’ Alberu thought faintly. ‘What the hell has Cale Henituse done this time?’

Alberu stared, transfixed, frozen in place. The battlefield of pigeon versus Venion Stan gradually subsided beside him. The pigeons had either been smacked into unconsciousness or flown off to find more fruitful exploration in the rest of the mansion. Alberu could vaguely hear Venion’s labored breathing as he struggled to his feet.

The black-clothed Cale slowly lifted his hand. He dangled a gold chain on the end of his finger, and began spinning it in place, as if to say, ‘hello~ look at me~ look what I have here~!’

‘Damn you, Cale Henituse.’ Alberu’s mouth dropped open. What the hell was he going to do with this stupid bastard?

Worse, Cale started laughing.

Alberu desperately wanted to punch him out the window.

“Hellooooo, Venion Stan!” Alberu thanked the stars that at least the bastard had the common sense to slightly lower his voice, so that it wasn’t immediately recognizable.

“YOU—YOU—” Venion sputtered. He had finally regained his footing, feathers drifting despondently down to the floor all around him. His eye caught on the pendant lazily being swung around the black-clothed thief’s finger. “That’s a family heirloom! GUARDS! GUARDS!” He started forward.

‘Cale, what the f— are you doing—’ Alberu sprinted forwards as well, though whether it was to tackle Venion or Cale himself he still wasn’t sure—

Cale backflipped out the window.

It was a gorgeous arc. His hand caught the branch smoothly. Only a meter separated him from the office windowsill. He laughed, a low, free, chaotic sound.

“SECURITY! GUARDS!” Venion grabbed a statue and threw it viciously at Cale.

Cale ducked just in time to see the expensive work of art smash against the tree behind him. He looked back. “Wow, I don’t even have to trash your stuff for you! How kind!” He joyfully called out, still in his fake tone of voice. “You and that stupid Crossman behind you are such idiots—” Cale narrowly dodged a heavy beozar. “—what useless pieces of corporate trash you both are, why don’t you help each other out and drag yourselves into the mud!” He glanced pointedly at Alberu. ‘Pretend to help each other out. Make it easier for me.’

Alberu’s eyes widened. He nodded, subtly. “GUARDS! IN THE OFFICE! NOW!” He yelled. Hopefully that would keep them away from the front yard. Alberu walked into the table and sprayed the documents on top of it everywhere. Now no one, not even Cale, could tell which ones were important, which ones were secret, and which files were normal. 

Cale grinned behind his mask. ‘It’s nice when someone understands you.’ Hopefully the staff who would have to clean up the office would find the… less than appropriate material in there. It would be one more excellent push to drag this disgusting businessman down the drain. He gave one last lunatic grin, and backflipped down the tree, sprinting for the gate, cackling madly. Venion and Alberu’s shouts grew fainter.

Alberu closed his mouth, out of breath from yelling. Venion slumped down at the table. He had exhausted all the nearby projectiles. Somehow, the thief had dodged them all. Alberu made a mental note to ask Cale exactly how he had developed such reflexes. ‘And,’ Alberu grumbled to himself, ‘why on earth he would backflip out of a goddamn window.’ The more time he spent around the red-haired bastard, the more he thought Cale was an absolute idiot.

But there were more important things to deal with right now. Namely, to ridicule and drag Venion’s reputation through the mud. Alberu fought to keep the smirk from spreading across his face. He carefully let a small amused light pass through his eyes. Good. That way, Venion would be even more incensed.

“Mr Stan.” Alberu bowed slightly. “It seems like today is not the best day for you. Shall we continue this conversation another time?”

Venion glanced at Alberu. The blond man had a stoic expression, but Venion could clearly see his supposedly hidden amusement. But there was nothing he could do about it. After all, it was quite bad manners to involve your business partners in a robbery, even if the relationship was only superficial.

‘Just a bit longer. When Robbit takes the inheritance, I can push this punk into the mud. And that damn secretary of his, too.’ Venion vividly remembered the calm, derisive smile the red-haired man had sent him as the elevator doors closed. He grit his teeth. “Have a nice day.” He managed to articulate.

The corner of Alberu’s mouth twitched. He spun around and proceeded out of the mansion. The office door shut with an audible clack.

Venion carefully watched the bright blond head of hair pass out the front gate and out onto the street. Once Alberu was completely out of sight, Venion immediately closed the blinds around the shattered window and scrambled over to the small room that once housed the safe. The box itself was in pieces, clearly having been smashed open. The gold chains and stack of cash were conspicuously missing, but Venion didn’t care. There were things worth more than gold in that safe. He desperately flipped through the files on the floor. ‘There’s one, there’s the second—’ He let out a sigh of relief. All the files were there. Nothing else was missing.

Good. That thief was only after the gold he could sell, and was too stupid to know the value of the other files. As long as nobody knew the contents of those documents, he was safe. Even if that damned Alberu Crossman brat was behind the disruption, he wouldn’t have any evidence to attack Venion directly. Everything would be alright.

Venion sighed lightly. It wasn’t worth dwelling on useless bits of gold. What was more interesting was thinking about ways to ruin Alberu Crossman.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, Cale tore off his black mask, shaking loose his long red hair. He took a deep breath. His face still wore a madman’s grin.

Alberu climbed into the passenger side and slammed the door shut. He whirled around to face Cale. The man’s smirk irked him to the ends of the earth and back.

“You… you—” Alberu sputtered. Thanks to the lovely shock his partner in crime had just given him, his heart was currently beating faster than was advisable for any health recommendations. Cale Henituse simply continued to grin at him. The red-haired man looked to be on the verge of bursting out into a monumental peal of laughter, but, thankfully for Alberu’s last vestiges of sanity, he refrained.

‘My sanity is far, far gone at this point.’ Alberu glared viciously at Cale. He took a deep breath. It didn’t help much. Cale turned to the window to shake in laughter, ignoring the pressure from Alberu’s stare.

‘Deep breathing. Think peaceful thoughts. A beach. A mountain of gold coins. Cale’s face on a punching bag. Venion surrounded by pigeons.’ As the car pulled into the street and sped away from the Stan mansion, Alberu forced himself to calm down. ‘First things first.’

“Documents,” Alberu spat. Okay, maybe he wasn’t as calm as he initially thought.

Cale’s smile faltered. He stared out at the road. “I can’t give you the documents.”

Alberu jolted. “YOU MEAN YOU DIDN’T GET THEM?!” He shouted.

Cale winced. “Too loud—”

“CALE HENITUSE—”

“Let me finish, dear Shining Sun. I didn’t steal the documents.”

“Wha— what ? Do you realize that both of our lives basically depend on this? Do you have any idea—”

“They’re on my phone.” Cale flatly interrupted.

“Excuse me?” Alberu blinked.

The corner of Cale’s mouth twitched upwards into an irritating smirk. “I didn’t have enough time to copy the documents by hand, as you already know. So I bought just enough time with the pigeons, and scanned them with my smartphone camera.”

The car was silent.

“The wonders of modern technology, right?” Cale joked.

Alberu continued to say nothing. Cale wisely decided that focusing on the road was the best option at that particular moment in time.

‘... He’s smart.’ Alberu had to admit. He had explicitly stated earlier that what he needed was the ‘data in those files,’ not necessarily the files themselves. And by not stealing them, Venion would be kept in the dark. The only problem was…  ‘How many times is this bastard going to give me a heart attack?’ A sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Hand over your phone.”

Cale gave a prompt reply. “Give me a bonus.”

‘To hell with the cookies, this guy is too irritating.’ Alberu decided to just bury his face in his hands. “How much?” Alberu’s resigned voice came out muffled.

“Double my current salary.”

“How outrageous.”

“Is that a no?”

“Just hand me the phone, you damn bastard. I’ll deal with the salary raise paperwork when I get back to the office.”

Cale chuckled. There was a moment of silence.

“... Could you explain what the hell was that was with the loud noises and the pigeons?” Alberu glanced at Cale.

A smile split Cale’s face. “That, my dear Shining Sun, was my backup plan.”

“Excuse me?”

“You remember the thud, right?” Alberu nodded. “As you guessed, Venion had a secret bookshelf safe. But in order to open it, I had to make a noise. And it was certain that Venion would hear that noise, and wonder what exactly was going on in his office with his very important safe.”

“So?” Alberu raised an eyebrow.

“So I needed a distraction. I needed to prove that yes, there was a thief, and that the thief had stolen his belongings. That way, he wouldn’t worry about someone seeing his documents or the safe, he would be focused on what he was sure the thief had stolen.” Cale rummaged around in his pocket and drew out several golden chains, one with a large, glittering ruby in the center. He casually tossed three to Alberu and swung the last one around his finger, leaving one hand on the wheel. “So Venion suspects nothing about the documents, suspects nothing about you, dear Shining Sun of the Roan Corporation, gets a faceful of pigeon poop, and we get a nice piece of bling. Sweet deal, don’t you think?”

Cale tossed the fourth gold chain with the ruby pendant to Alberu. The blond man caught it deftly and inspected it. It would definitely fetch a high price on the black market, if they chose to sell it. Alberu let out a breath that was half-sigh and half-snort.

There was only one last thing he wanted to say.

Alberu opened his mouth. “The pigeons were overkill.”

“The pigeons were great .” Cale retorted, offended.

“If I see a single bird in my office I’m revoking your salary increase.”

Cale jumped. Luckily, the car was stopped at a red light. “Hey!”

“So you did have a plan to put pigeons in my office.” Alberu smirked.

Not until the more important documents were cleared up— Cale shivered. He could feel the shadow of his impending office doom looming over him with an ominous smile. “Ah, no, definitely not, dear shining—” 

Alberu continued, inexorably. “And here I was, wondering how you caught them so fast—”

The entire car ride back, Cale desperately felt the need to escape his fate, as Alberu laughed darkly in the passenger seat.

Alberu ignored the small nagging feeling of relief. He pulled out the gold chain and pendant to inspect it once more. Seeing his unprecedentedly serious face, Cale pushed down the urge to tease the blond man and concentrated on the road.

The tension from the earlier heist slowly dissipated as their car sped along the highway.

Chapter Text

Cale shoved open the door to Alberu’s office. Alberu was busy attempting to diminish the growing piles of papers stacked on his desk. Cale let a new pile fall with a definitive thump and Alberu glanced at him exasperatedly.

‘Can he be a little less efficient?’ Alberu grumbled. He dragged another pile off the stack, ignoring the self-satisfied smirk the redhead sent him.

His eye caught back onto the news article that he was reading.

‘... businessman Venion Stan has been arrested on numerous charges and will soon be brought to court. His older brother, Taylor Stan, has returned to take charge of the family inheritance—’ 

Alberu closed the tab. A happy smile floated on his face.

With the success of their heist, Alberu had plenty of material to point law enforcement in the right direction against Venion. Over the past several days, there had been several breakthroughs that effectively put Venion Stan in the corner. From funding illegal activities, to mistreatment, even evidence that Venion had intentionally broken all of his older brother’s limbs to remove him from the inheritance race and blocking his access to medical care, the evidence uncovered had been more than enough to lock Venion away for good. With a little financial and political push from Alberu, as the son of the heads of the Roan Corporation, the process had been remarkably expedited. By now, it seemed that Taylor Stan was officially on the path of recovery, his care generously financed by the Crossman family and, for some reason inexplicable to the general public, the Henituse family as well. Even better, the chaos that this news caused in the business circle forced most of Alberu’s opponents to lay low for a while, lest the investigations turn to target them as well. In sum, this had been one of the most rewarding and enjoyable weeks of work that Alberu had ever experienced.

The one downside was the increased amount of paperwork. At this point, both Alberu and Cale had managed to get into an office work routine, efficiently working together to complete the maximum amount of work possible, much to their mutual mild displeasure. Alberu gave the stacks of papers on his desk the stink-eye. 

He glanced back at his computer screen. There wasn’t much else of interest in the local news. Several prominent businessmen were throwing parties, one of the bridges over the river was blocked for construction for a couple weeks, a certain art museum was revamping their anti-theft security force, Clopeh Sekka had announced his intention to reside in his brand new Lake Hotel… 

‘Hmm? Clopeh Sekka is returning to the city?’ Alberu raised an eyebrow. ‘That international businessman-philanthropist? What on earth is he coming back for?’ 

Out of the office, Cale glanced back at the closed door. Seeing Alberu’s irked face, he definitely didn’t regret kicking his efficiency into overdrive these past few days. Well, maybe a little. But the regret was only because Cale himself hated work; it had nothing to do with the slight dark circles under the blond bastard’s eyes.

The office workers had also expressed their utter disbelief at Cale’s breakneck working pace. They would frequently stop and stare at him with open mouths as Cale passed down the hall with new stacks of papers to deliver. He had made sure to keep tabs on the flow of gossip in the office, and his coworkers had made frequent comments about his incredible spiteful productivity, but luckily most of the comments had been positive. Cale’s efforts getting to know them had paid off. Though these were the same people who fully believed that Alberu and Cale had a harmonious relationship, so Cale made a note to himself to take their opinions with a grain of salt…

The rumors on that subject had gotten increasingly strange, as a matter of fact. What did they mean that he and Alberu worked well together? Sure, he and Alberu usually thought along the same lines and easily understood each other, but Cale did not want to work with that blond bastard any more than necessary. He didn’t want to work, period. Being trash was the absolute best lifestyle.

Cale tiredly opened his computer and glanced at the news. There were at least five different articles about Venion Stan’s downfall. He smirked. ‘Excellent.’ This was the best result: stealing gold, bonuses, and smacking a slimy bastard in the face. Cale bookmarked several of the articles to read for later.

‘What else… Ooh.’ Cale’s eyes brightened as they came to rest on two particular headlines.

The first: ‘SEKKA BUSINESS TO RETURN TO CITY’ 

Clopeh Sekka was a well-known businessman, head of Paerun Banks, an international bank chain that was almost on par with the Henituse Northwest Banks. In Cale’s completely unbiased opinion, the Northwest Banks were far superior; Paerun had long been rumored to have inadequate funding and agreement transparency. Clopeh himself was quite the figure; he was extremely religious, which manifested in his frequent donation of large sums to various charities. Public opinion of him was generally favorable, despite his more… eccentric tendencies. In short, he proselytized. A great deal. In Cale’s opinion, the only thing more annoying than an excessively virtuous figure was excessively vocal virtue.

What pissed Cale off more was that the location of the Lake Hotel conflicted with the Henituse family expansion plans. The Henituses and the Sekkas didn’t really interact, as they had rather different spheres of influence, but that didn’t stop some mild sentiments of animosity from growing. Embarrassing Clopeh Sekka sounded like an excellent plan. Cale had further familiarized himself with the background of the Lake Hotel: the land claims weren’t entirely legal, and the whole complex had been built on a pure lake, landfilled in, despite numerous environmental detriments. All of Clopeh Sekka’s charity was merely hypocrisy. Cale hated this type of person the most: the kind who hid their own shortcomings behind a mask of purity. If one was trash, it was best to be trash proudly.

Which brought him to the second headline: ‘SEKKA KICKS OFF HOTEL OPENING WITH A PRICELESS GEM’

‘This… sounds like fun.’ Cale clicked on the articles and skimmed them.

Exactly five minutes later, Cale dramatically swung Alberu’s office door open and announced, “I want two days leave.” 

Alberu looked up from his desk. “... Excuse me?”
Cale stared at him blankly. “Consider it compensation for not putting pigeons in your office.”

Alberu’s eyebrow raised higher on his forehead. “...Why?”

“Because a certain blond bastard is making me work very hard.”

Alberu was not convinced.

Cale smirked. “Don’t you need a little extra time to catch up with my paperwork speed, my dear Shining Sun?”

Alberu glared at him. Cale chuckled and took his silence for a yes. The red-haired man spun around and walked out the door, laughing again at the sound of Alberu swearing that drifted after him.

Alberu sighed. He continued reading the news article where he left off.

‘SEKKA KICKS OFF HOTEL OPENING WITH A PRICELESS GEM’

‘... International businessman Clopeh Sekka has announced that he will celebrate the opening of the anticipated Lake Hotel complex with an exhibit of rare and precious items from his collection. Star among these is the famous White Crown, an authentic late 18th-century masterpiece of silver and diamonds. Mr. Sekka invites many to come view this priceless treasure the day before the opening, this coming Thursday…’

Alberu snorted and picked up his pen. ‘More useless shiny objects.’ Cale Henituse would be ecstatic. But no one in their right mind would steal from somewhere so tightly-guarded as Sekka’s hotel fortress, they would have to be an idiot to even consider it—

Alberu froze. He looked up toward the door, where precisely that kind of idiot had disappeared not two minutes prior.

Cale frowned as he rummaged around in an old chest. Of all the furniture in his bedroom, this chest and the bed were the only two things without a pile of old priceless junk on top of them. At the moment, however, this list only included the bed. Cale glared at the cables and ties littering the ground around him.

‘Dammit. Where are my winches? Did I really leave them all behind?’ The first pulley system had to be sacrificed during the heist that Cale’s dear colleague the Shining Sun ruined. Several others had gone missing long ago, left behind to a similarly gloomy fate in some overworked policemen’s evidence cabinet. ‘But I didn’t think I was completely out of them…’ Cale sighed. He couldn’t exactly go out and buy some; he could imagine the chaos it would cause if the first son of the Henituse family were found buying distinctly not office-related cables and winches from a general store, and while Cale himself didn’t care about his personal reputation, it would also end up dragging his family into the mud. And it wasn’t like he could ask someone else to causally go out and buy him heist instruments. The only solution left was to order it online… but in that case he would have to wait some time before actually using it, otherwise the purchase records would clearly have him on it.

Cale rubbed his forehead, frowning. ‘Looks like I’m going to have to come up with another plan, since I don’t want to scrap this heist altogether—’

Tap, tap, tap .

There were three sharp knocks on his bedroom door. Cale stiffened. He looked around at the mess of cables and borderline-legal industrial construction implements scattered about his bedroom floor.

“Who is it?” Cale suppressed the shaking in his voice.

A deep voice came through the door. “Young master, it is Ron.”

Cale flinched. ‘Shit.’ At least it wasn’t his family, who might ask intrusive questions about his hobbies. But he needed to clean up the floor as soon as possible—

“I am coming in, young master.”

‘No, don’t!’ Cale desperately shoveled cables back into the chest. The door creaked open.

Ron Molan stepped into the room, carrying a large package. He paused. Cale stared back at him, wide eyed, from the corner of the room, surrounded by a sea of wires, cables, and clips. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like a cornered puppy surrounded by his guilty carnage. Ron’s smile twitched in amusement. The old butler ignored the way his red-haired young master flinched at the gentle expression.

“Young master, part of my duties as the head butler is to supplement the needs of the Henituse household.” Ron calmly held out the large package in his arms. His gentle smile grew wider. Cale stared back fearfully.

Cale cautiously extended his hand and grabbed the package. It was heavier than he thought. The package fell to the floor with a loud clunk .

Cale flinched. He intentionally avoided looking up at Ron; the scary old man’s smile seemed to burn into his back. Cautiously, he opened the package.

Sitting in the midst of copious amounts of bubble wrap and packaging sat two gleaming, new, high quality winches, along with several lengths of thick cable.

Cale felt the blood drain out of his face. 

“Your old ones looked a bit rusty, young master.” Ron’s voice echoed in the room. “You should always have spares of good tools.”

Cale couldn’t face Ron. He stared at the packaging and the box, anything. He didn’t want to see an expression of disappointment or disapproval, didn’t want to hear that his family had finally realized what a terrible trash he was, didn’t want to hear the confirmation of everything he knew to be true about himself—

He could hear Ron open his mouth. “The young master looks happier nowadays.”

Cale froze.

“The master and the lady do not wish to pry into the young master’s life. They simply wished to tell you that they are glad you look happier these days.”

‘I look happy...?’ Cale slowly looked up at Ron. The old man had an impassive smile. Shock, pain, surprise, joy, a jumble of emotions chased each other inside Cale’s head.

Ron bowed slightly and exited the room. Cale was left in the middle of a sea of cables and parts strewn about the floor, two gleaming winches set in the center of a wooden box in front of him. The redhead didn’t quite know what expression he had on his face.

When Cale regained his senses, he spent a brief moment in his room, cleaning up the more incriminating objects lying about on the floor, before heading downstairs. There were lots of supplies he needed to buy, and even more things he needed to set up… The outline of his plan was clear now.

‘Several cables, some attachments, clips, fuse threads and sawdust, not to mention that I get to make a long-awaited trip to the thrift store…’ A smirk slowly grew on Cale’s face. ‘Oh, this is going to be fun .’ 

Cale nodded a greeting to Basen as he passed the living room. His younger brother glanced curiously up from his book, but Cale simply continued on down the hall. There was a lot to do, and definitely not enough time to do it—

For the second time that day, Cale froze, with the door half-open.

An unfamiliar car was parked right outside his house. It was a standard, inexpensive model, and didn’t look particularly fancy. The problem lay with a certain blond man leaning casually against the side of the vehicle. Alberu Crossman stood outside Cale’s door, talking happily with Lily. It seemed like they were getting along quite well—‘NO, WAIT, THAT’S NOT THE POINT!’

“Lily, what are you doing?” Cale called out. ‘More like, Alberu Crossman, what the hell are you doing?’ He held back a monumental sigh.

Lily turned around and caught sight of Cale. She bounced over excitedly. “Big brother Alberu seems nice! Not at all like the evil person you said he was, oppa—”

Cale winced. “Lily, please just go inside.”

Lily blinked. “Okay!” She grinned happily and sprinted back inside like a human whirlwind.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“You told your family I was an evil person?” Alberu stared off at where Lily disappeared.

Cale raised an eyebrow. “Do you deny it?”

Alberu grinned. “Definitely not. Does your family know about your… part-time hobby?”

“A couple probably suspect it, but no.” Cale’s mind flashed back to Ron and his two brand new winches. At this point, the old man could do whatever he wanted. Cale wanted to part in it. “And I’d like it to stay that way.” He glared pointedly at Alberu. “So what are you doing here, shining sun of the Roan Corporation?”

Alberu leaned carelessly against his fancy black car. In contrast to his usual suit and business attire, the first son of the Roan Corporation wore more casual clothes, perfect for going out incognito. He grinned. “How are your preparations for the Sekka White Crown?”

‘Dammit. How does he know about that?’ Cale stiffened. His expression remained carefully neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alberu smiled gently. It was a smile that gave Cale shivers, even though it wasn’t cold. “Cale Henituse. We can do this the easy way, and you simply tell me exactly why you asked for leave on the exact days jewel-collector and businessman Clopeh Sekka is coming back to the city, coincidentally carrying one of the finest works of inlaid diamonds. Or, we can do this the hard way, in which I tell all of your family, right now, where that lovely gold tie pin you were wearing at the banquet the other day came from.”

Cale grit his teeth. Better to just confess right now and get Alberu off his back. “Does your royal highness have a problem with it?”

“Of course. It would risk the safety of my dear secretary.”

“Might I point out that it is none of your royal business?”

“Might I repeat that it is actually indeed my business, as you are jeopardizing both your and my safety?”

Alberu and Cale’s bright smiles were identical. As were the daggers they mutually stared at each other.

‘It looks like I’m not going to be able to get rid of him.’ On one hand, a bad teammate could drag down the heist completely. On the other, he and Alberu had already pulled off a successful stunt at Venion’s place. Plus, for some reason the blond man understood Cale’s actions. He knew to pretend to help Venion while letting Cale escape, and he had signaled his presence on the stairs to give Cale enough time to set up his pigeon plan. If anyone were a bad teammate, Cale grudgingly admitted, it would likely not be Alberu.

‘... A teammate wouldn’t be too bad. If nothing else, to carry the bags.’ Cale conveniently ignored that he had relegated the first son of the Roan Corporation to the position of a porter. He also ignored the small twinge of relief at the fact that he wouldn’t have to do everything alone this time.

‘Whatever. Trash don’t need pride anyways.’ He frowned.

“... Fine.” Cale sighed. Alberu smiled triumphantly. “But I’m not changing my plan.” The triumphant smile turned intrigued. “Come upstairs.” Cale spun and walked back inside the house. Alberu followed close behind.

Chapter Text

The Henituse house entrance opened into a wide coatroom, with a large gap in the wall to the right leading to the living room. Two brown-haired children—Lily, whom Alberu had chatted with earlier, and Basen, he assumed by force of elimination—sat conspiratorially on the couch, whispering to each other.

“Lily, Basen, we’re going upstairs.” Cale glanced cursorily to the pair and walked past to the staircase.

Alberu nodded at them. The two kids were staring at him curiously.

Basen glanced at his sister. He whispered. “Is that the evil boss?”

“Shh!” Lily spun and glared at him. She peeked anxiously at Alberu.

Alberu sent the kids a dazzling smile. They quickly turned away. He turned back to the staircase and caught Cale’s gaze. His smile turned incredibly gentle, oozing with sweetness. Alberu was satisfied seeing Cale shiver in disgust. ‘Just what have you been telling your family about me, dear secretary?’

Cale sped up the stairs. He reached the closed door to his room and paused. 

His family rarely came into Cale’s room, mostly because Cale did not want them to inquire about the origins of the objects lying about his floor. But now he was just going to let Alberu in… Would Alberu disapprove of him? For some reason, that one thought gave Cale pause. Despite their apparent mutual animosity, Alberu was the one person with whom Cale had managed to express something. The two of them fell into a pattern of back and forth jibes and insults as they worked, and even as they thought up of more ways to annoy the other, for some reason he always knew that the blond man would take it with a smirk, and dish it back. For the first time, Cale felt like someone could just accept him as he was, without being the first son of the Henituse family, without being a notorious trash, but rather just as Cale. When he saw his room, would the blond man show him the same expression of disgust and disappointment that Cale had seen so often during his time acting as trash? Why was his mind spinning so much over this? What was he even thinking?

Cale shook his head and pushed the door open.

Alberu watched as Cale carefully entered the room. He felt a strange kind of anticipation curling in his stomach. Was he going to see Cale’s room? A person’s room was like a mark of one’s personality, and the man named Cale Henituse was more or less a mystery to him. Alberu carefully took a step forward. He blinked. “... Wow. And I thought my desk was bad. You live in a dumpster.” He snorted. “Still not as bad as my aunt’s place, though.”

The corner of Cale’s mouth twitched. The red-haired man was standing unusually awkwardly. “Take a closer look.” Cale’s flat voice came back at him. The redhead walked over to the corner of the room, opened an inlaid and carved chest, and began rummaging around.

Alberu glanced around. Things were… unusually sparkly? Unusually old? ‘Did Cale get a bunch of junk from a thrift shop or something?’ Alberu’s eye caught on a particularly gaudy necklace. It was a dull gold color, inlaid with several stones. The entire necklace was covered in a thick layer of dust. Alberu picked it up and held it to the light… 

And almost choked.

What was he seeing? Alberu almost couldn’t believe his eyes. What had he thought earlier? That Cale had bought all the gaudy things in his room from a thrift shop?

“Is this… real?” Alberu muttered. ‘Please say it isn’t, tell me I’m just losing my mind—’

“That one?” Cale glanced over. “Oh, that’s one of the cheaper ones, should go for a couple tens of thousands.”

Alberu jumped.

Cale turned back to the chest and resumed rummaging. “Stolen from the office of Mr. Tolz’s wife, gold plated with inlaid aquamarine and one green sapphire, princess necklace style, date is approximately…” His voice was bored, as if he were simply rattling off uninteresting data points.

Alberu carefully put the necklace back down on top of the shelf. His hands trembled lightly. ‘It’s just sitting out in the open like this? What the heck? Does Cale have any sense of value or price? Does this bastard have any common sense? What is going on here? —Wait. What did he say?’

‘Oh, that’s one of the cheaper ones.’

‘One of. One of .’ Alberu shakily looked around the room.

Every inch and corner was covered in the dull shine of metal, old parchment, rolls of canvas and oil paints, plush carpets, and the sparkling of gems. Objects were piled haphazardly everywhere: an old carved oak stool with gleaming inlays carried several boxes of necklaces and rings; a long decorated sword leaned against a stack of paintings in gilded frames. Gaudy, sparkling jewelry hung from coat hooks and the ends of upside-down chair legs. Every space that didn’t impede the path from the door to the bed was stacked high with what Alberu initially thought was trash, but now realized might be… definitely not trash.

Alberu hesitantly opened his mouth. “Are… all of these real?”

“Yep.”

Antiques, jewelry, paintings, artifacts worth hundreds of millions lay strewn about the room like dirty clothes.

Alberu’s mouth dropped open. “How do you live like this?” He muttered. His gaze landed on the three closets at right. “... Don’t tell me you have more in there.”

Cale dismissively waves a hand toward that side of the room. “Don’t worry, those are just clothes. Mostly. All the trash—” Alberu coughed at the word “—that I have is sitting out here.” He glanced up from where he hunched over the box of cables. 

Alberu had the sneaking suspicion that the chest that Cale was using as a convenient storage tool was actually an antique of more than seven hundred years old. And the bastard was keeping climbing gear in there.

Seeing Alberu’s stunned face, Cale decided not to tell him about the contents of the leftmost closet, which didn’t strictly contain trash , per se.

‘If the Roan treasury had half of the stuff that’s lying on Cale’s floor, we wouldn’t ever have to worry about making a profit.’ Alberu blankly continued to stare around the room. ‘That gem was stolen from Mr. Ailan, wasn’t it? And that painting is from Neo Tolz again, and there are some other businessmen who have been less-than-charitable recently…’ Alberu raised an eyebrow. Most of the valuables lying about were stolen from rich businessmen, specifically those who had questionable business practices, and none of whom Alberu particularly associated with. All of those thefts had made headlines, at least in the business circle. ‘He has a surprisingly charitable side, doesn’t he?’ Of course Cale himself would deny it point blank.

“Why do you have all this?” Alberu looked back at the red haired man.

Cale frowned, though Alberu couldn’t see his expression from the back. “I’m waiting for people to forget about the more recent robberies, so I can sell them in peace.”

“But why?”

Cale looked at Alberu carefully. So far, he hadn’t shown any signs of disgust, just shock and surprise. But there was no telling how emotions might change. “Money is the best.”

Alberu raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He had a feeling that wasn’t the real answer; there was something more. But Cale definitely wouldn’t answer him anytime soon.

Cale continued to move things around inside the large—and priceless!—chest, making loud thuds against the old carved wood. Alberu winced at each noise. The pile of gear on the floor around Cale had grown considerably. There were two winches on the floor, looking new and sparkly, as well as several lengths of cables and industrial bolts. Alberu watched as Cale endeavored to yank what looked like a tangled web of straps out from the chest.

“Here. Put it on.” Cale handed him the mess of a harness that he finally managed to free from the confines of the chest.

Alberu looked at him incredulously. 

Cale stared back calmly. “Wear it or I leave you as fodder for the police.” He had plans that would require these. If Alberu wasn’t going to put it on, then he could just bid farewell to whatever plan the blond man had of following him around on his heist.

Alberu sourly took the harness from Cale’s outstretched hand. It took a while to find the correct orientation. He brought the harness up over his head and began to slip it on. Halfway in, the straps caught. ‘Shit.’

Cale observed Alberu’s attempts to free himself and frowned. Why was the man so much larger than him? Well, Cale was definitely skinnier than he had any right to be, but still. He had no idea Alberu was so much larger than him, even when they were about the same height. Cale sighed once more and reached for the harness.

Alberu fumbled with the clips. ‘I can’t reach the ones in the back.’ The cords, passing over his shoulders, left too small of a hole for his arms to pass through. He couldn’t even get it on all the way, and in this half-on state his arms were all but restrained. He hissed in annoyance. ‘Cale, this bastard, why do I need to put on a harness in the first place—’

A light touch of fingers brushed past his back.

Alberu flinched. Cale’s hand finally found the buckle and began loosening it. His fingers lightly bumped into Alberu’s back at each pull of the strap. He didn’t particularly care about the red-haired man’s hands, except for the fact that Cale was actually helping him . Alberu’s breath caught. He had thought the man would just laugh at his attempts to extricate himself from the web of buckles and straps. He could feel a sharp tug on his back as Cale yanked the harness into place.

“That’s one done.” Cale muttered. “Why is it so hard to fit these things?”

He truly had never imagined that Cale would actually help him, without asking him something in return first. Did he really not take any embarrassing pictures on his phone? Alberu hadn’t heard the telltale click of a phone camera…

‘…He struck back at Venion.’

Even before Alberu had asked him to help with the heist, back in his office, Cale had put a stop to Venion’s biting remarks about his lineage. It had been a situation in which Alberu was limited in the ways in which he could retaliate, but even without being asked, Cale had all but kicked the slimy businessman out. And he still hadn’t asked anything in return for that incident. For the heist at Venion’s mansion, Alberu had expected the demand for a salary increase; he was the one who had put Cale in danger, after all. But Cale had only asked for it after the successful heist. For some unknown reason, in each of these situations, Cale had his back. Literally, in this case. A strap yanked sharply against his shoulders.

Cale took a step back. The buckles on his spare harness were uncooperative from a prolonged period of disuse. Cale glanced up at Alberu. ‘He didn’t mind that I had to loosen it, did he?’ Cale blinked. ‘Why is he spacing out? He’s not mad at the fact that I had to adjust it for him, is he? Or does he hate harnesses? Looks like I finally found something that ruffles his feathers!’ Cale triumphantly grinned. Finally, something he could make use of. He ignored any small twinges of sympathy and focused on the best way to make use of this new, and quite erroneous, realization. 

‘Yep, definitely a great way to annoy him.’ Today was quite the productive day. Not only did he receive two new winches, but he also a new way to irritate Alberu. ‘Let’s have him put a harness on in all future heist plans too. Maybe that’ll teach him to force himself along in my plans.’ The smirk on Cale’s face widened. He decided to take pity on the poor man for now. “Alright, that’s enough, you can take it off. But you’ll have to put it back on later.”

“... Mmm.” Alberu grunted blankly in agreement.

Cale raised an eyebrow. ‘Not so eloquent right now, are we?’ He continued rummaging around in the chest. Once he had piled a satisfactory amount of obscure gadgets onto the floor, he started shoving them in a duffel bag that had miraculously appeared out of all the junk.

“Are you going to stand there, or are you going to come help out?” Cale inquired.

Alberu turned around, took a deep breath, and stared at him.

“Fine,” Alberu muttered.

Cale’s eyebrow raised higher. He had expected Alberu to offer a little more resistance, maybe say something like, ‘you really expect your boss to help you sort through your own stuff?’ and snort at him. ‘He is being remarkably cooperative for someone who forced himself along.’

Alberu chucked several lengths of cable into the bag, reached for the next item, and blinked. “What is… ”

“A jar of sawdust.”

“Why do you…”

“Part of the plan.” Cale flatly replied.

‘Is this going to end up like the pigeon debacle?’ Alberu shook. ‘What the heck is this plan of his?’

“Oh, be careful of those canisters over there. Leave those out for now.” Cale nonchalantly called out.

Alberu raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“They’re timed fuses.”

Alberu choked. “ What ?”

“Still part of the plan.”

Alberu stared at Cale dumbfounded, but the red-haired man seemed to have no inclination to explain exactly what he was going to do with several very illegal incendiary supplies. 

‘If he’s going to ask questions with every single object, then this is going to take forever.’ Cale yanked the zipper closed. “Alright, Shining Sun, you’re taking this one.”

“Can I refuse?”

“Not unless you want to carry the fuses.”

“I’ll take the duffel.” Alberu wholeheartedly agreed. The bag almost dropped to the ground. “This thing is heavy!”

“What did you expect?” Cale called over his shoulder. He hoisted the fuses up in his arms. Alberu flinched, but thankfully they did not light. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Alberu looked up from his examination of the heavy duffel.

“We’re taking your car, of course, since you were kind enough to bring it here.” Cale stalked out of the room. Alberu rolled his eyes and followed, trying his best to ignore Cale’s unusual cargo.

Chapter Text

Cale marched out to the inconspicuous car, Alberu dragging the duffel behind him. The red-haired man jerked his head toward the vehicle. Alberu sighed, opened the trunk, and dropped the duffel inside. Cale opened the side door and stuck his head inside.

His eyes landed on a stylish woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Though her stature was short, she exuded a rare aura of extreme capability. Cale did not doubt that this woman could absolutely destroy him in more ways than one. An awful enemy to have, but an excellent ally.

“Hello,” Cale nodded politely. 

“Hi.” The woman grinned, a quick, exuberant flash of white teeth.

The trunk thunked shut, and Alberu’s footsteps sounded behind him, followed by his voice. “Ah, Cale, meet my aunt Tasha.”

‘Aunt? She looks young enough to be his sister. Damn Alberu and his family genes.’ Cale carefully put on a bright business smile.

“Don’t smile at me like that, it gives me the creeps.” Tasha called out flatly.

Cale’s expression broke and transformed into a more genuine smile. “Nice to meet you, Tasha.” Alberu’s aunt rose greatly in his estimation.

“Hey, why are you respectful to her but profane with me?” Alberu slid into the other side of the car. Cale ignored him and continued carefully loading the fuses he placed the last one onto the floor of the car, squeezed into the seat, and shut the door.

Tasha grinned. “So you’re the assistant I’ve been hearing so much about.”

Cale snorted. “All good things, I hope?”

“I tell her about how horrifying I find your presence.” Alberu interjected.

“I’m flattered.” Cale dryly replied.

Tasha jerked the car to a start and pressed down on the accelerator.  “Hate to interrupt this pleasant conversation, but can I know where we’re headed?” She pulled out into the street in a daring and dramatic swerve.

Cale couldn’t quite decide whether he heartily approved of her expert driving skills or wanted to scream at her numerous close shaves with the surrounding parked cars. He glanced at Alberu with a raised eyebrow.

Alberu shrugged and rolled his eyes. “You can talk freely, she’s the one who helps me out on my heists.”

“I provide the getaway car and the gadgets.” Tasha grinned with another bright flash of teeth. She yanked the car to the left, narrowly speeding down a corridor.

‘No wonder he could get through the museum security.’ Cale muttered. “Miss Tasha—”

“Just Tasha is fine.” She spun the car back on track.

Cale smiled again. “Tasha. I hope you know that my estimation of you has risen considerably.”

Tasha grinned. “Good to hear. If you like me that much, give me some extra cash.”

‘We are definitely on the same page. She resembles Alberu a lot more than his immediate family does.’ Cale chuckled. “Naturally. Please go to Lake Hotel.”

Tasha floored the gas and the car sped down the highway.

Lake Hotel was one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city. Clopeh Sekka clearly had quite a lot of money, and it showed. The exterior facade was crafted of smooth white marble. The building had a large footprint to begin with, and shot up almost 40 floors above the street level. Large, sparkling windows were set into the facade at regular intervals; on the whole, the complex could absolutely give the so-called “Sparkle Tower” a run for its money. The white marble of the tower and the jut of the top of the skyscraper were starkly visible from even a couple blocks away.

“... I probably should have asked this sooner, but what exactly is your plan?” Alberu gazed at the Lake Hotel in thought.

Cale grinned. “Get the diamonds and book it.”

“You…” Alberu pressed a hand against forehead. “Elaborate, Henituse.”

Cale smiled mysteriously. Alberu felt the sudden urge to slap the smile off his face. “Did you know that Clopeh Sekka is quite religious?”

Tasha raised an eyebrow, just barely decelerating and perfectly speeding around a curve. The hotel was approaching. “I’ve heard he prays every day. Impressively devout,” she called out from the front.

“He believes that the White Crown is a crystallization of a lake spirit’s tears.” Cale specified.

Alberu frowned. “... So?”

“Do you know the origins of the name Lake Hotel?”

Alberu could almost feel the web Cale was weaving. Just a bit more. A bit more, and he would understand the full extent of this ridiculous man’s equally ridiculous plan. “... Tell me.”

Cale gave a small grin. “They say that it was built upon a dry lake.”

Alberu narrowed his eyes. “... What exactly are you planning?”

“The grand opening of a new hotel, a dry lake, and a treasure trove of diamonds just waiting to be stolen. Isn’t it exciting?”

The red-haired man’s eyes sparkled. They seemed to catch the light reflecting off of the glass windows all around them, and Alberu couldn’t help but feel a rising sense of anticipation. Unconsciously, he began to grin as well. “Sounds terrifying.”

“On this one, I have to agree with my dear nephew.” Tasha remarked. Cale chuckled.

Alberu dropped his smile. “You still haven’t told me your plan.”

Cale’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, sunshine boy—”

Alberu snapped his eyes open. “ Sunshine boy??? ” Alberu’s incensed shout pierced his ears. Tasha let out a bark of laughter.

“—Sekka is going to deliver the goods to me himself.” Cale finished with a satisfied grin.

Alberu could barely hear the rest of the sentence. “ What did you just call me? Cale Henituse—”

Cale simply snorted at him and turned to the window.

“Cale, you bastard , just what did you—”

Cale’s laughter and Alberu’s enraged shouts continued in the car as it pulled up in front of the marble entrance. Cale glanced around outside the window. “There are quite a lot of good options here. We’ll have to do a survey. Sunshine boy—”

“Use that name again and I will make you Roan Corporation’s exclusive secretary.”

Cale coughed. “Alberu, please get us up into that skyscraper.” He pointed across the street, several buildings down.

Alberu inspected it from afar. “The office building?”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t that other one the Lake Hotel?” Alberu pointed in the opposite direction, toward the marble and glass monolith close beside them.

Cale rubbed his hands together. “Of course. But if you want to fly, you also need a place to land.” He grabbed Alberu by the arm and took off toward the inconspicuous office building. 

‘What is this idiot talking about now?’ Alberu stared at him, bewildered.

Alberu and Cale managed to get into the office building smoothly. It was simple enough, really; all they had to do was pretend to be well-to-do businessmen with urgent appointments on the higher floors. For some reason, Tasha had an entire fancy suit in her trunk, which Alberu promptly changed into. No one questioned a thing.

‘Though why Alberu’s aunt carries around several-thousands-worth of suit in her car trunk is still a mystery.’ Cale glanced at Tasha out of the corner of his eye. She merely sent him a bright smile in response. ‘It probably has something to do with his heists. She did say she was the getaway car.’

Cale strode into the building and headed straight for the elevator. Once inside, he turned around to face Alberu. “Meet you back at your aunt’s car.”

Alberu nodded. The elevator doors closed. Alberu spun around and walked briskly back to Tasha’s car.

When he finally made it all the way back, he leaned against the outside and stared up at the office building, purposefully not looking in Tasha’s direction. His aunt was grinning at him in a strange way and he didn’t like it.

After several minutes passed in awkward silence, she gleefully opened her mouth. “So that’s the assistant who has been irritating you so much.”

“He’s a walking disaster.” Alberu flatly replied.

She grinned. “I like him.”

Alberu coughed and snapped his head to face her. “Excuse me?” He caught Tasha grinning at him. His expression turned into a glare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Tasha was still smiling cheerily at him. “Alberu, my dear nephew. He’s pretty, isn’t he?”

Alberu choked. “Cale is not —”

“I never said Cale, did I?”

“Y-you—”

“Oh, look, he’s back. Cale, over here!” She ignored her blond nephew, who was still coughing madly against the side of the car, and waved cheerily at the approaching head of bright red hair. Alberu almost jumped out of his skin. He glared at Cale.

‘Is he mad at me or something?’ Cale blinked confusedly. “Sorry I took so long.” Beside Alberu, Tasha was laughing for some unknown reason. He raised an eyebrow. “Miss Tasha? Everything alright here?”

“Oh, everything is just fine,” Tasha cackled.

Alberu looked ready to punch her. “Just get in the car.”

“Sure.” Cale decided it was best not to ask. “Next up: the Spirit Church.”

Alberu coughed. He glanced skeptically at Cale. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly regretting your actions and decided to repent.”

Cale just grinned.

“I see. Point taken.” Alberu turned away and looked out the window wistfully.

After a moment, Cale opened his mouth. “Aren’t you curious?”

‘Yes, like hell , but there’s no way I’m saying that.’ Alberu continued to stare out the window.

Tasha chuckled, as if she could hear Alberu’s thoughts. “Oh, he’s interested alright.” Alberu glared at her. “Do tell, Cale, but one thing first: if I am not mistaken, then tomorrow is Sunday, correct?”

The smirk on Cale’s face widened. “You are correct.”

“Sunday also happens to be Clopeh Sekka’s day of prayer,” Tasha continued.

“Indeed.”

“And it just so happens that the church they habitually go to is precisely Spirit Church,” she finished.

Cale smiled widely. “Would you like to hear a story?”

“Do tell.”

“The story goes like this: once upon a time, a lady fell into a lake and became a water spirit.” Cale turned to look out the window. “The lake dried up, and she used her last tears to try and refill it. Her tears as she fell turned into diamonds that her family kept and passed down through the generations. The actual story is much longer, but you get the general idea.”

Cale turned away from the window and back to the people in the car. “It is said that the lady’s last name was Sekka.”

Alberu tore his gaze from the window and fixed it on Cale. The red-haired man was staring straight back at him.

“Now then. Can you make a connection to anything?” A teasing grin floated on Cale’s face.

Alberu took a deep breath. “The Sekka Family.”

“The White Crown,” Cale added.

“And the Lake Hotel’s dry lake,” Alberu finished. “You brilliant bastard.” This was one insane tapestry of a heist that Cale was weaving. Some small part of Alberu wanted desperately to see the finished product.

Cale smirked. “Why thank you.” He couldn’t stop the smallest amount of satisfaction from rising to his chest at the clear light of approval and curiosity in Alberu’s expression. It always felt nice for someone of a similar mind as him to approve of his plans.

The car safely pulled into the church parking lot. Cale jumped out and immediately reached for the timed fuses that had been sitting quietly in the back of the car.

Alberu almost spat the remains of his sanity through his nose. “Cale, the hell do you think you’re doing with those! In a church !”

Cale swung the fuses carefreely over his shoulder. “Come along if you want. Oh, and bring the bag in the back.”

‘Like hell ,’ Alberu shouted inwardly, ‘am I letting you , of all people, be alone in a church with a bunch of arson materials—’ He jumped out of the car and raced toward the trunk. The bag was quite heavy. What on earth did Cale put in here? Alberu was there for pretty much the entire packing process, but who knew cables and straps would weigh this much? There was also the still-unresolved mystery of the fuses, the sawdust, and the freaking gunpowder packet that he saw Cale sneak into his pocket earlier.

The church was closed, but it was hidden from view of the street, so Cale had the lock picked in no time. Alberu made a mental note to ask the man where exactly all his ridiculous skills came from next time he got the chance. They slipped in. 

Alberu carefully lowered the bag of equipment. Cale immediately bent down and took out a coil of thin wire, thread, the jar of sawdust, a can of biodegradable glue, the packet of gunpowder, and two of the timed fuses, setting them all carefully in a smaller bag that he hoisted over his shoulder.

“Be lookouts.” He hissed to Alberu and Tasha.

Tasha nodded, bemused, and posted herself by the door. Alberu glared firmly at him.

Cale stared back, raising an eyebrow. “Come if you want, but one of you has to make sure we don’t get busted.”

Alberu really wanted to punch the bastard. He followed along. Cale made his way directly to a small set of stairs in the corner, as if he knew exactly where he was going. Come to think of it, he probably did; knowing Cale, the redhead had probably looked up and memorized floor plans for all of the places he visited. The staircase curved around a corner, and Alberu finally got a good sense for where they were going. 

It was a private booth. 

The web Cale weaved was being illuminated bit by bit.

“Don’t tell me…” Alberu whispered. Cale’s lockpicks clinked and the door smoothly swung open. “This is Clopeh Sekka’s private booth, isn’t it?”

Cale grinned and carefully slipped inside.

‘You bastard, what the hell is your plan?’ Alberu followed afterwards. The door closed behind them with a perfect click.

The private booth looked out upon the altar at the front of the building, an unobstructed view of the grandeur of the front carvings. The Sekkas had donated a ridiculous amount to the church, which only contributed to their “pure and devout” image. The pillars and walls were made of marble, the floor of stone, each piece exquisitely carved and shining a pure white, not losing out to the altar at the front. It was to the point where, if someone suggested making the private room itself the altar, no one would object.

In other words: Clopeh Sekka was worshipping himself.

Cale tossed Alberu a can of biodegradable glue. “We’re going to be writing letters.”

“I assume they’re specific letters and not random ones?” Alberu grumbled.

“Correct. Go write an E, a U, and an N with the glue on those pillars, at the same height. Under those, write another E, a third E, and a T. They should be level with each other.” Cale pointed to every other pillar.

The damn punk had a sense of the dramatic. It looked like he wouldn’t reveal the message he was writing so easily, and had instead only revealed half of it, with every other letter. There were six pillars—two words with six letters each, perhaps? Alberu sighed and got to gluing.

“Really, now. I, Alberu Crossman, the oldest son of the Roan Corporation, am stuck in a church, commiting a crime by putting glue on the walls,” he grumbled, “Cale Henituse, you are an absolute bastard.”

“And you, my dear Sunsh—my dear Shining Sun, are an excellent manual laborer.”

‘He was about to say Sunshine Boy. Damn him.’ Alberu squeezed the glue canister in barely contained annoyance. 

The glue took half an hour to fully write out. Tasha shifted position several times on the ground floor, but it didn’t seem like anyone would visit that day, thankfully.

‘There’s no way this is natural. Cale really planned this all out.’ Alberu wasn’t sure how the red-haired man had done it, but he had to admit that Cale was quite effective when it came to laying plans. Alberu turned around to check on how Cale was doing, and froze.

Cale was sprinkling gunpowder on the glue.

Gunpowder . On the glue.

“The hell —”

“Shhh!” Cale whirled around and placed a finger on his lips.

“—are you doing?!” Alberu finished in a low hiss.

Cale blinked. “Isn’t it obvious?” He tossed another pinch of gunpowder at the glue.

Indeed, it was quite obvious. He was just casually tossing gunpowder onto glue. In a church. Alberu was pretty sure this behavior was categorized either under “arson,” “heresy,” or “lunacy,” or all three. He was truly at a loss for words. ‘Let’s just give him a lot of extra paperwork. All of the remaining paperwork for the next couple months. Everything. Just damn it all.’

Cale passed him a jar. Alberu flinched.

“I am not touching the gunpowder,” he quickly emphasized. If Cale wanted to get a highly volatile and dangerous substance over his hands to be traced back to the criminal police, that was entirely his decision. Not Alberu’s.

“It’s sawdust.” Cale stared flatly at him. He moved over to the third pillar and repeated the motions of sprinkling it with gunpowder. “Go and cover the rest of the glue with it. It’s fine if this one spills.”

With the subtext, naturally, that it was not okay if the gunpowder spilled.

Damn that bastard.

“Why the hell are you throwing gunpowder around then?!” Alberu hissed.

Cale blinked at him. “I’m not making you do it. I haven’t stooped so low as trash to make you put the gunpowder in.”

‘That’s not the goddamn point!’ Alberu took a fistfull of sawdust and threw it at the pillar. It exploded onto the glue, and the majority of it stuck. Alberu angrily made his way around the pillars, imagining that each one was Cale Henituse’s despicable face. That way, the poof of sawdust hitting the marble was a little bit more satisfying.

Cale chuckled a little at Alberu’s actions, ignoring the small twinge of guilt in his heart at making the blond man do all this just for his own heist. He carefully wired a thin thread, connecting it to each of the letters on the pillars, hiding it behind the fancy carvings. He attached the end to each fuse, and hid those as well. Just five minutes of cleanup, which essentially consisted of brushing all the escaped sawdust down onto the ground floor, and the space was clean.

With the nature of the carvings, one had to look particularly closely to even notice the sawdust and glue, which were both of a similar color to the marble.

Alberu took a step back. Everything was complete. But what the heck was it?

On the first row: ‘R,’ ‘E,’ ‘T,’ ‘U,’ ‘R,’ ‘N.’

And on the second: ‘R,’ ‘E,’ ‘P,’ ‘E,’ ‘N,’ ‘T.’

Alberu inhaled sharply. “You… are going to drive him, me, and everyone else nuts .”

“That’s the plan.” Cale laughed under his breath.

Alberu took one last glance at the fully rigged private booth, and slipped out after Cale. The door shut and locked with a click behind them. They slipped down the stairs, rejoining Tasha, and then made it safely back out to the car. Cale washed the gunpowder off his hands and jumped into the car.

“Now we wait.” He nodded to Tasha, and they sped off. “I’ll meet you two tomorrow at the Lake Hotel building.”

“Tomorrow? You do realize you’ve been dragging me around all day, don’t you?” Alberu still had hope that maybe this redhead had a conscience.

Cale couldn’t care less. “It’s no different than what you do in the office, your highness,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “You can stand one day of work, can’t you? And may I remind you that this was entirely your choice?” 

Cale smirked. Taking Alberu along was turning out to be a much better decision than he had anticipated. Finally, he had a valid reason to order the bastard around as much as he wanted, and he could push all the responsibility of his actions onto Alberu himself, since really, it was his decision to come along in the first place. He spun around, not bothering to conceal the growing smirk on his face. “See you tomorrow. Unless, of course, you’ve finally seen reason and decided that you won’t follow me around.”

“Not until you’ve seen reason first and call off this ridiculous heist.”

Cale smirked. “Not in your wildest dreams.” He flipped his long red hair and ostentatiously bowed a goodbye to a highly amused Tasha. Cale turned back to Alberu.

“See you tomorrow, Sunshine Boy.” He slammed the car door shut and walked off.

“No, seriously, SUNSHINE BOY ???” He could hear Alberu’s patience finally snapping from the car behind him.

Chapter Text

Clopeh regally shrugged off his coat, handed it to the bowing attendant, and walked through the open door. He let himself sink into his plush cushioned chair.

A private booth in his very own church. Money generously donated to fund new buildings and create new churches, to spread devotion and the harmony of human existence. The epitome of piety and nobility, Clopeh Sekka. How delightful.

What a perfect way to celebrate the opening of the Lake Hotel. Clopeh shivered in excitement. 

‘With this, perhaps even spirits might one day swear allegiance to me.’ Clopeh Sekka couldn’t help but curve his mouth upwards into a dreamy smile. He gazed down upon the altar at the front of the room. Now, the service was about to commence, and later tonight, he would unveil his Lake Hotel, the refuge for the spirits and the dry lake that it was built upon. He imagined himself the king with a diamond crown, sitting atop his plush cushioned throne in a church of his own creation. 

The diamond crown, no, the White Crown. That marvel. It truly was a wonder. And if it were truly endowed with the rumored ability to dominate, then not just the …

Clopeh Sekka chuckled softly. Of course, it was all a mere rumor. But rumors and superstition were what he thrived upon.

Unbeknownst to him, a small spark slowly began traveling up several wires, hidden behind the ornate pillars. 

‘To enjoy the luxuries of money, and to be hailed as a saint for doing so…’ Clopeh leaned back comfortably in his chair. ‘I sit above all others.’ He continued gazing down upon the altar. ‘Even the gods and spirits.’

The fuses slowly snaked upwards.

Clopeh’s mind was drawn to imagine a scene. He himself, sitting above the clouds with white hair fluttering, donned the White Crown and dominated the world…

BOOM!

A loud bang blasted its way through his ears. Clopeh gasped. Flecks of dust and marble spat out from the columns around him, showering him with dust. The image in his head shattered, and he toppled over onto the floor. He could hear the hiss and crackle of flames, the sharp tang of burning powder and charred wood, where was it coming from, what was going on—

“Aaah!” Clopeh inadvertently let out a yell.

The door behind him flung open and slammed into the wall. Priests and his own assistants and people from the building poured into the room.

“Mr. Sekka! Where are you?”
“Are you alright?”
“Bring the bodyguards!”
“If you can hear my voice, Mr. Sekka, respond—”

They filled the available space, shouting, chaotic, their voices intermingled with the air, so much so that Clopeh was dizzy, everything was smoke and chaos and sound, he leaned back onto the floor, and looked up at the smoldering columns—

The black-charred marble made a pattern. It was a familiar pattern, even to someone who was looking upside down from the floor in dizziness. In fact, Clopeh might even call it two patterns, etched into the marble with fire.

An R and an N. Letters, burned into marble without anyone being around. Nothing had been found in the room before he entered. No one was in the room now. 

Could a human have done this? How? It was unlikely.

Clopeh’s mind went white. There were still people yelling, all around him, but he couldn’t respond. There was something much more important to be done, more important than anything Clopeh had ever seen in his life. Clopeh shakily pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the shouts of relief and the urgent requests to evacuate the building behind him. His mind was chaotic.

Was this his moment? Was this the time when he would receive his message from the spirits, and be called to dominate over them all, when he could place the White Crown on his head, and all he had to do was read the message, one letter on each pillar—

He froze.

‘RETURN’

No. No no no. This was quite wrong. The spirits should be praising him, glorifying him as king—

‘REPENT’

The words of the spirits, burned into the pillars of the church, seared into his eyes.

‘... No.’ Clopeh’s mouth twisted into a smile of ecstasy. ‘This must be a challenge, a trial to overcome.’

“Mr. Sekka, if you could please come this way with us—” His assistants continued to plead with him. “The police need to do an area sweep of the room, we still don’t know if there will be a repeat attack. Sir, please, you must evacuate—”

So it was to be a trial, was it? He shall triumph over any obstacle that dared to hinder his path.

“Guards,” Clopeh Sekka called. His assistant, along with several of the bodyguards, froze. Clopeh Sekka’s eyes shone with a mad light. Finally, finally, he would have a chance to prove himself. He would create his own legend.

“Move all the security to the rooms around where the White Crown is stored. But leave that main room empty.”

Gods and spirits couldn’t be caught with the eyes of the unfaithful: they needed a hero to defeat them.

“I will protect the crown myself.”

He would make himself a hero, no, a legend, who protected the White Crown. He would make the spirits see the true meaning of repentance.

Clopeh’s mouth twisted upwards even more.

“What are you looking at?” Alberu dryly asked Cale.

It was evening, and the sun slowly drew closer to dipping behind the trees in the horizon. Cale and Alberu once again sat idly in the backseat of Tasha’s car. Cale’s yet-to-be-revealed plan involved two days of planning, but thankfully, it was a weekend, so there was plenty of free time. Though Alberu half-wished he didn’t have to enact a rather dangerous heist during his leisure hours… until he remembered that he was the one who asked to come along in the first place. He further ignored the fact that he himself had also forced Cale to wake up early on a Saturday when they had first pulled the heist in Venion Stan’s mansion. 

‘Cale would just tell me to leave if I don’t want to… But then this bastard will stick his nose into all kinds of trouble.’ Alberu glared at the red-haired man, who was currently scrolling through his phone with a small smirk that screamed evil schemes.

“Nothing, dear Shining Sun. Just checking some updates.” Cale looked up with a sparkling, gentle smile.

Alberu narrowed his eyes at him expressionlessly.

“Alberu,” Tasha called from the front seat, “you might want to check the news.” Alberu could hear a barely contained laugh in her voice as the car pulled away from its parking spot by the side of the Henituse grounds.

The blond man pulled out his own phone and began looking at the first headlines. He quickly found the answer he wanted.

‘DIVINE RETRIBUTION? BEHIND THE SCENES AT SPIRIT CHURCH—’
‘EVIDENCE OF THE SUPERNATURAL?’
‘EXPLOSION AT SEKKA CHURCH!’
‘SEKKA CORRUPTION, MESSAGE CARVED IN REVENGE—’
‘HERO SEKKA TO PROTECT THE WHITE CROWN HIMSELF!’

“What the heck did you do ?” Alberu scrolled disbelievingly through the headlines. Tasha burst into laughter from the front seat. The car jerked disconcertingly with the force of her general hilarity.

“What did we do,” Cale corrected, still grinning madly, “we did something very fun.”

“ Fun? ” Alberu asked incredulously. “You—”

“We.”

“— We burned the Spirit Church! And what the heck is all this about divine retribution?” He sputtered.

“Well…” Cale turned off his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “Technically speaking, we didn’t burn the church.” Cale would not commit arson or involve innocent people. “Remember, we glued everything to marble, which doesn’t burn. That’s why we needed the sawdust. The sawdust burns, the glue burns, and we get a nice scorch mark on unburnable marble, that spells out the message in the glue.”

“And the gunpowder?” Alberu raised an eyebrow.

“It had to have a little kick to it somehow, right?” Cale tilted his head.

Tasha laughed from the front seat. “You are crazy and I approve.”

“Why thank you.”

Alberu rubbed his forehead. “There’s one more thing.” He held up a single finger. “What is all this idiocy with divine retribution?”

Cale smirked. “What a fun question, my Dear Shining Sun.”

Alberu stared at him. “You bastard, just tell me. I’m your partner on this, so I need to know.”

Cale’s smirk widened. 

“Cale Henituse, my Dear Silver Shield, if you don’t start talking right this instant I will tell your parents that I have hired you as my company’s personal assistant for the next three summers.” Alberu smiled brightly at him.

Cale’s soured instantly, then immediately recovered. “You know, ‘return’ is a strange word.”

Alberu raised an eyebrow.

Cale continued. “It can mean both for something or someone to come back of its own volition… Or it can mean forced restitution.” Cale locked eyes with Alberu. “The White Crown is said to be the lake spirit’s tears, so it technically belongs to the lake spirit herself. What if the lake spirit wants it back? And what if someone else wanted to rule the world, be a hero, or a legend? Wouldn’t they try to capture that lake spirit?”

Alberu frowned. “But spirits are just superstition. They don’t exist.”

“Of course. The Crown itself is just a pile of diamonds. But!” Cale raised a finger dramatically. “Does Clopeh believe that? No. There was no evidence left.” The biodegradable glue, sawdust, and gunpowder all burned away, as did the threads connected to the fuses. As for the timed fuses themselves… “The strings were timed to ignite just before the janitor came to clean. After all, Clopeh Sekka’s booth floors must be free of dust before the man himself deigns to arrive. When the janitor arrives, he will find several balls of scrap metal and pick them up to recycle, never knowing that those are in fact used fuses. See? No evidence.”

Alberu nodded. “And with Clopeh’s superstitious personality…”

Cale grinned. “No signs of intrusion? The words ‘return’ and ‘repent’ burned into fireproof stone?”

“It must be an act of the supernatural.” Alberu’s mouth slowly curved upwards.

Cale continued happily. “With his obsession with heroes, he will want to protect the White Crown himself, and capture the lake spirit.”

The car slowed to a halt back on the same street where they were yesterday. A large skyscraper with marble adorning the entrance and windows soared up into the sky right next to them. To their left was the same office building that Cale had asked Alberu to let him into.

“Isn’t it much easier to dupe one rich businessman than a whole host of security guards?” With that, Cale gracefully exited the car and opened the trunk. “Besides, my plan is only halfway complete, dear Shining Sun.”

Sitting innocuously in the back of Tasha’s car was the same ominous dark gym bag that had previously held all of Cale’s cables, clips, glue, sawdust, and other thieving paraphernalia. This time, however, it seemed to be… bulging somewhat.

Alberu did not like the look of that bag.

With less difficulty than expected, Cale hoisted the duffel over his shoulder and closed the trunk.

‘What is in there this time?’ Alberu really, really did not like the look of that bag.

Cale smirked up at the unopened Lake Hotel, then spun around and calmly walked towards the entrance. Alberu glanced back at Tasha.

“Well then.” Alberu had the fleeting urge to head to the nearest legal office and write down his final will. “... See you.”

Tasha smiled up at him. “Have fun.”

“Don’t normal people say something like ‘be safe’?”

“Neither you, nor I, nor that Cale Henituse, would count as normal people, though?” Tasha the getaway car, Alberu the first son of the Roan Corporation, and Cale… He was an interesting character. Tasha grinned wider. “Just come back in one piece. You’ll always have a place with me.”

“Thanks.” Alberu nodded. His aunt’s words meant more to him than he could say. She had always been there for him. He already knew he could go back to her, but his goals wouldn’t let him be by her side. ‘I will reform the Roan Corporation. My place is in the middle of the fake gold.’ He glanced over at Cale, who was pretending to inspect the building while hiding the fact that he was actually waiting for Alberu to catch up. Alberu’s mouth twitched. ‘So he has a considerate side?’

Alberu turned back to Tasha. “I’m off.” He nodded, and jogged to catch up with Cale’s receding back.

Tasha huffed, watching the blond and red heads of hair bobbing up and down as they walked beside each other. Make that two interesting characters. She flashed a short, fond smile in their direction.

‘They’ll be fine.’ Tasha spun the wheel and took off.

It was quite easy for the first son of the Roan Corporation and the Henituse family to gain access to the unopened building, once they stated their names and identities.

“The roof, please.” Cale smiled gently at the receptionist.

“Of course, Mr. Henituse.” The receptionist bowed and pointed them to the elevator.

The doors dinged as Alberu and Cale made it to the top of the office building. Cale confidently walked out onto the roof. A heavy gust of wind buffeted his clothes and roared over the sheer edge, and for a moment, Alberu’s heart leaped as he imagined the wind sweeping them both up and hurtling them off the sides.

“Wow!” Cale exclaimed, “what a view! Take a look at this! No better place to discuss business than up here.” Cale spun around and threw his arms open.

‘Business?’ Alberu raised an eyebrow. He watched Cale eagerly lean over the side of the building, wind whipping his hair around his face. It caught some of the dying light of the setting sun, glowing even redder than before.

After three seconds, Cale turned around. All traces of the sun-haloed amusement vanished from his face as he walked around to the other end of the roof. He smirked evilly. His expression practically screamed at Alberu to run. “Sunshine Boy, take a look at our wonderful escape route!”

Alberu squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to freaking see whatever fresh hell Cale had decided to bring him.

He opened his eyes.

“ This … is our escape route?” Alberu whispered, almost drowned out by the loud wind.

“Yep,” Cale replied happily.

A thin cable wire shot out from the edge of the building, connected almost three hundred feet away to the office building that Cale had asked Alberu to get him into the other day. And apparently, Cale had installed a zipline end on the other roof. The thin cable dangled and swayed over a four-hundred-foot drop to the busy street and cars below. It looked fragile, ready to snap at any moment. A thin cable. Several hundred feet up. Over the entire cityscape.

This was their escape route?

“No. Just no. There is no way I am ziplining 40 stories in the air—”

“Would you like to be left as cannon fodder for the police?” Cale smiled brightly at him.

“Why a zipline???”

Cale turned to look at the view. “Think about it. If you were the police, where do you think people would try to escape from?”

“... From the ground floor, like normal people.” This was not going to end well. Alberu wanted to stay as far away from this ridiculous, insane, death-wish of a plan.

“Exactly.” Cale grinned wider. “So we’re doing the opposite. After all, spirits escape from above, by flying. And aren’t we the spirits who have come to steal back our White Crown?” 

Alberu was on the verge of exploding. “Is there any way you can do things normally?” he shouted.

“May I remind you that you agreed to follow the plan, my dear Shining Sun?”

Alberu dragged his hands over face and groaned. “Damn you, damn you to hell and back—”

Cale clapped his hands delightedly. “Excellent. Now help me get into this stupid costume.”

“You brought a costume ?!”

Cale carefully unzipped his stuffed duffel bag and pulled up several folds of pure white cloth and a long, silky, pure white wig. “Spirits should look like spirits, no?” He grinned. “With the police chasing a suspicious man in white clothes, if we ditch the costume, it should give us plenty of time to hook into the zipline, safely make it to the other end, and then detach the entire wire from the roof. Spirit steals the jewel, no one can trace it, and we make off with the diamonds.”

“What an excellent plan.” Alberu looked down. “Now if only it didn’t involve speeding over a 400-foot drop.”

“Heading home already? How about you try getting some of that paperwork done, huh?” Cale called out.

Alberu glared at him. Cale casually took off his shirt and tossed it as his feet, pulling on the white fabric. Alberu ignored the sudden heat at the tips of his ears and turned his back to Cale.

“I’m not taking anything else off, you know.” Cale smirked. “Put yours on, it’s in the duffel.”

Alberu wanted to punch him so badly. Spirits could get beaten up, right?

“Damn you, Cale Henituse you Trapeze Clown,” he muttered.

Through the rush of wind, he could hear Cale chuckling behind him.

“We’re really doing this.” Alberu stared.

“Yep.” Cale also turned his head to look down.

A 40-floor drop extended in front of them. Twenty minutes had passed since their arrival on the roof, and the sun had finally lowered below the horizon. Three long, thick cables extended from Cale’s back, clipped to the harness under his billowing white robe. With the flowing white fabric, long silver hair, and smooth white mask, Alberu couldn’t help but admit that the bastard looked every part the mysterious, spirit-like figure. Now if only he wasn’t so obsessed with flying .

“Please, please, tell me one last time you’re sure you measured all of this out correctly, and that it’s not going to snap in the middle—”

“Just focus on reeling the cables back up when I give you the signal.” Cale’s face split into a wide, adrenaline-fueled grin. His expression would have looked more at-home on a demon than a spirit.

“Silver Shield, if you fall and die I will drag you out of hell to beat you up myself,” Alberu muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jumping now.” Cale’s grin widened. He took one step forward, out into the air.

Chapter Text

“Jumping now.” Cale called out above the rushing wind. There was a trace of laughter and a kind of excited madness in his voice.

‘Dammit, if this bastard makes himself a meat-pancake on the streets below at least I’ll be a witness—’ Alberu snapped his eyes back open. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

The red-streaked sky had been dyed a deep blue as the sun dipped below the horizon. In front of him, Alberu could see the central business sector of the city glow and shimmer as the thousands of office lights and windows flickered with electric lights. Far, far below, cars hummed down the street in both directions, white and red lights mixed and further reflected off of the towering spires. People, cars, towers of metal and glass, the sky melting into deep navy blue… 

And two madmen standing, buffeted by the roaring wind, atop one of the highest skyscrapers. 

Alberu wore a harness over black exercise clothes, an outfit that Cale had somehow stuffed into his duffel bag, along with the large winches, cables, harnesses, and clips. And somehow, the red-haired man knew exactly his size.

‘Red-haired man, more like a red-haired mad man.’

The sky, the buildings, the lights, the glass, the cars far below, all of it—Alberu couldn’t see anything but the man in front of him, moving as if in slow motion.

Cale wore long, white robes that dangled and fluttered all about him. His white wig was firmly affixed to his head, and a smooth silver-white mask obscured the top half of his face. With the pallor of his skin, the entirely white outfit, the man standing on the roof looked like a ghost, standing balanced in an improbable angle, one foot stretching out into the empty air, as if to step forward and fly. A thieving, flying, white ghost, there to take back his White Crown.

Cale tipped slowly forwards. His rear foot tensed, then kicked. His body shot forwards into the open sky, white robes fluttering. Underneath the mask, Alberu could still see his lunatic smile.

His eyes caught Alberu’s, and the blond man’s breath caught. Cale’s red-brown eyes glimmered in anticipation, for the fall, for the heist for the freedom in the air.

He fell.

Alberu closed his eyes.

‘One second.’

The rush of wind had never felt louder.

‘Two seconds.’

It roared through Alberu’s head, blasting away all of his thoughts.

‘Three.’

There was a loud clank as the three cables attached to Cale’s back jerked against the winches. They held in place. Alberu could see the wires start to bend over the edge as the person at the other end swung back towards the building, steadily picking up speed. Closer, closer, closer—

CRASH!  

An inconceivably loud sound of glass shattering resonated upwards, cutting through the howling wind.

Alberu unconsciously relaxed, then tensed again as shouts drifted upwards from below.

“Well then. Real thing starts now.” He opened his eyes and moved towards the locked crank of the central winch. “Don’t mess this up, Cale Henituse.”

Cale felt the whoosh of air whipping his face as he fell. The windows flashed by him like tens of shooting stars, adrenaline raced through his stomach, the thought of Alberu’s gloriously shocked face still lingering in his mind as he unconsciously grinned. His white robes flapped in the wind as Cale let out a barely contained cackle—

The cord yanked . His stomach lurched. The cords held.

‘Of course they did.’ Cale sent a mental smirk towards Alberu on the roof. The blond man had repeatedly tried to talk him out of this insane plan, and Cale had been rather amused at the sheer terror on his face. Was Alberu afraid of heights? ‘Well, if he is, he definitely will have to get over it by the end of this.’

Cale could feel himself swinging back towards the buildings. The dark cables around his harness were taut, invisible against the cityscape of twinkling fluorescent lights and telephone wires. He spun himself around in the air. The side windows of the Lake Hotel grew in size as they approached. If his calculations were right, he was now hurtling towards the thirty-fifth floor. 

The White Crown, of course, was to be displayed on the thirty-fifth floor exactly.

Cale could see a bright white reflection in the mirror-like glass, growing exponentially in size as the air whooshed past his ears. His reflection grew closer and closer, bigger and bigger, and Cale knew, he had to do it now, otherwise he would smash head-first into the glass and it would hurt —he snapped a round shield of metal out of the front of his robes and held it in front of him. 

‘Hero of the Silver Shield, huh?’ Air-resistance be damned, nickname be damned, he was not interested in getting glass shards all over himself.

‘Three, two, one—’

Cale braced himself for impact.

CRASH!

Cale’s shield smashed through the window with an unholy noise of shattering glass that Cale was sure Alberu had heard all the way from the roof. He quickly extended his legs and skidded across the floor. Cale flung the small shield to the side, slowing himself down gently with each step. He flared his arms wide, fluttering the stips of white fabric wrapped around his arms and the long, flapping white robe behind him. 

Cale looked up.

There it was, in front of him, displayed on a pedestal in a square case of glass. The White Crown glowed from below with pure white underlighting. The diamonds inlaid in silver sparkles with each step Cale took. The crown was beautiful, awe-inspiring, and expensive . But Cale looked away.

A pair of wide, bright green eyes stared at him. Two heads of white hair, one wig and one natural, fluttered gently in the leftover breeze from the smashed window.

Cale looked at Clopeh Sekka. And smiled gently.

Clopeh’s eyes were wide. Fear? Terror? Surprise? Cale couldn’t quite tell. But that didn’t particularly matter. He had a job to do. The best job, of course: scamming.

“Clopeh Sekka.” Cale carefully modulated his voice to be lower, softer than usual. His long white wig swayed in the cool air. His white robes gently swished back and forth. The moonlight and white spotlighting gleamed off of his white clothes and pale skin. The shattered window made quiet clinks on the floor with each step, dust and powdered glass swirling in the air, coating Cale’s arms with a light layer of glitter. With the gleam of the moon, the sparkle in the air, and his gorgeous arc of flight through the window, there could only be one explanation. 

This miraculous being who had flown in through the window was a spirit.

“You hold in your possession something not of your world,” Cale gently continued. He took another step forward. The glass cracked lightly at his feet. A flurry of lights crossed his face, reflecting off of the facets of the almost forgotten crown of diamonds in front of them. “We have sent you a warning, and a request.”

Return. Repent.

With an apparently supernatural message left in Clopeh’s church that very morning, the coinciding date of the Lake Hotel’s opening, and the White Crown itself, there was no room for doubt in Clopeh’s mind: this man, this ethereal, flying, pale, unnatural man in white robes in front of him was a spirit. The White Spirit for the White Crown.

“The time of reckoning has come,” Cale announced. His eyes gazed warmly at Clopeh. Slowly, he reached out his hands toward the glass case of the White Crown. It lifted, almost too easily, and he set it aside. His eyes, turned blue with contact lenses, never left Clopeh’s.  “What will you choose?”

Here it was. Clopeh was frozen. Cale had his goal at the tip of his fingers. The fuse-lit message in the church, the cords, the costume, the preparation, the publicity, all for this moment. Cale could feel it, the tingle of anticipation in his fingers, the investigation that would later uncover the Sekka’s hypocrisy, dismantling and selling each of the diamonds in the crown of domination, this ugly treasure—

Click!

The softest sound. Cale flinched. His eyes flicked back upwards from the crown, to where they should have been all along. Clopeh Sekka, dressed in fine evening attire, glinting silver tie pin on his lapel, with a distorted smile on his face, arm outstretched, holding a sleek, small, cylindrical piece of metal.

Cale stared at the barrel of a gun.

‘Shit.’

This was wrong.

‘Oh, shit.’

This was very, very wrong.

‘‘What kind of businessman hides an illegal gun on his person?! This was not in the plan.’ Cale took a step back, fighting to keep the shock and fear from creeping across his face. ‘No, no, no. I am a spirit. Spirits can’t be killed with guns.’ Cale was definitely mortal, but Clopeh didn’t know that.

That realization did not make him feel any better.

“Welcome, spirit.” Clopeh’s high-pitched voice thrummed with awe and delight, and an edge of something else. Something more lunatic.

At this moment, Cale distinctly realized that, perhaps, he had misjudged just how “superstitious” Clopeh Sekka truly was.

“Rejoice.” Clopeh’s smile twisted further upwards across his face. “You shall be the first! The first to witness my reign, my rebirth, my crowning moment!” He threw his left hand outwards, the hand not holding a gun, and laughed towards the ceiling. “I am Clopeh Sekka! Watch me, spirit of the lake, watch me and revel! I shall crown myself with domination, and you shall be the first!”

‘He’s a lunatic.’ Cale thought faintly. ‘And there’s nothing I can do about it.’

“I have waited for this moment, you know,” Clopeh continued in a whisper, “and it was every bit as grand as I had hoped.” His grin continued to travel and twist across his face. “I will be the ruler of the world of spirits. A king, no, a legend!” He crowed ecstatically.

For all of Clopeh’s swinging excitement, panic, or euphoria, the gun barrel gleamed steadily in the moonlight, still pointed directly at Cale’s chest. The dust from the window had settled. Cale desperately resisted looking around for his discarded metal shield. He had dropped it in the moment of impact while flying through the window, and he had never regretted it more. It had rolled across the room, too far to reach.

Cale clenched his fist. He forced a confident smile on his face.

“Fool,” Cale hoped the shaking in his voice was inaudible, “mortal weapons cannot hurt spirits.” Clopeh was crazy. He was insane.

Clopeh laughed, a wild, unsettling sound and snapped his head back. His fervent gaze pinned Cale in place. His green eyes burned with an unbridled fire, a passion, an obsession—

“Do you not see, spirit? You are at my mercy. Now kneel.” Clopeh’s smile was now a grimace, splitting his face in two.

‘Dammit, he definitely noticed how I look at that gun—’ Cale was going to die, and Clopeh had definitely, absolutely, lost all of his marbles.

In a brief flash of hysteria, Cale thought back to the large marble entryway of the Lake Hotel. ‘So that’s where all his marbles went,’ Cale faintly thought. It didn’t matter. Whether the bullets were marble or lead or downright gold, he was going to get shot. And die. Thirty-five stories was a long way up, even for someone who wasn’t afraid of heights like that bastard Alberu was.

“Kneel!” There was fury in Clopeh’s eyes now. He was reaching out towards the crown, to put it on his own head. Cale couldn’t move.

Alberu. What was that bastard going to do without him? He was probably waiting on the roof, wasn’t he, for the signal when Cale would jump back out the window, to reel him up. The police would have blocked off all exits downstairs, and they would zipline to safety, knowing that no one would guess at an aerial exit. The police were probably on their way to this very room now, if all of the glass-smashing hadn’t already alerted them. But Alberu. Alberu could get away.

There was nothing Cale could do. The plan had failed. He could fly out the window on the cables, but that would still give Clopeh the chance to shoot him, and for all of Cale’s self-loathing, because that was what it was, pure, utter, self-loathing, Cale still didn’t want to die. 

That fact only made him hate himself more.

‘Alberu. If you have ever done anything sensible in your life—’ Cale closed his eyes. Of course he had. Alberu had been the one to try and talk him out of it. And Cale had failed. ‘Run.’ Alberu needed to save himself. There was the zipline. He had a harness. He would make it out in time. ‘Just run.’ Cale wouldn’t give him up, since it was his fault Alberu had been dragged into this nonsensical plan in the first place. Cale was the laughingstock of his family, the trash of society, and he probably ruined Alberu as well—

“Damn, you, you crazy bastard.” A familiar voice rang out in front of him, along with a loud BANG as the door on the far edge of the room slammed against the wall.

Cale snapped his eyes open.

There had been quite a few moments in his life where Cale wasn’t quite sure if what he was seeing was real. When his mother had died when he was younger, for one. When he first climbed to the top of a building during a heist, and looked out over the sparkling lights of the cityscape in front of him. When he had seen the damn bastard Alberu at the banquet after the disastrous painting heist. At each instance, a swirling mix of awe, fear, shock, excitement swirled in his gut, churning and leaving him speechless.

By all rights, Alberu should have fled when the plan broke down to pieces. He would have known that Cale had messed up, after several minutes of no signal from the ropes attached to Cale’s back. He could have left Cale all alone, because to be honest, it was Cale’s fault the plan went wrong. He would never have implicated Alberu, someone he had just dragged along in his lunacy.

All Cale could say was that at that moment, watching Alberu smashing Clopeh’s face with a jeweled crown made of diamonds, the blond-haired man looked like the most gorgeous human being in existence.

Alberu stared blankly at his hand as Clopeh fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

“Aaaaargh!” Clopeh blindly struck out with a fist. “I will be king! I will be a hero! I will be—”

Alberu glanced back up at Cale. Time seemed to stop as they looked at each other in shock. Alberu looked down to his hand, still holding several kilograms of silver and diamonds, and back up at Cale.

Finally, Alberu opened his mouth blankly. “Run?” It came out as a question.

Cale said nothing. He flicked open a pocket knife and sliced cleanly through his harness. The cables and straps that were once attached to his back dropped out the window, swaying in the strong wind. Cale picked himself up off the ground—he had fallen to the ground at some point, apparently—his white robes and wig fluttering around him. He grabbed Alberu’s arm and sent a bemused smirk down at the white-haired man on the ground.

“Up,” Cale said simply. They bolted.

A figure cloaked in a black outfit and mask and a figure in glowing white robes and silver mask burst through the doors of the fire escape, and hurtled up the stairs. Alarms began to ring, loud and piercing. Cale could vividly hear the pounding of too many boots on the stairs behind him.

‘Go, go, go—’ They had to get out of here, dammit—

It was said that exercise was good for collecting thoughts, but not so much when there were several dozens of policemen and guards on your heels. Cale and Alberu sprinted up five flights in record time.

The door to the roof burst open. Cale and Alberu ran across the cement, gasping. Cale could still hear the footsteps, they were getting closer. His legs felt like they were on fire. He could hear Alberu heaving breaths beside him. The chorus of thuds were getting louder, closer.

The zipline was right in front of them. Their escape, the cable shooting off into the night sky. Inaccessible. In order to run down, Alberu had unhooked himself from the zipline. In order to save him, Alberu had cut Cale’s harness. The blond bastard had saved Cale’s life. They had to escape.

Cale closed his eyes and let out a desperate, hysterical laugh. With how out of breath he was, it sounded more like a wheeze. What an apt metaphor for his life.

“Alberu,” he laughed desperately, “wish you’d stayed home?”

“You are… a crazy… bastard…” Alberu panted, “and you would do this regardless and end up dead.”

Cale grinned. He heard banging on the metal door to the roof. The police had arrived.

Chapter Text

Three minutes prior.

Five minutes had passed since Alberu had watched Cale Henituse jump off the roof.

‘Yeah, no, it still doesn’t sound any less ridiculous in my head.’ Alberu grimaced. Cale Henituse, the Hero of the Silver Shield, thief and bastard extraordinaire, just casually launching himself off of the roof of a skyscraper. He was an idiot.

And Alberu, against all reason, was starting to get… concerned , for that very same idiot, unfortunately.

Five minutes.

The signal should have come by now. When he had first heard the plan while Cale had been getting into his costume, he had thought it the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, and quite frankly that opinion hadn’t changed. They were to manipulate Clopeh’s perception and expectations by burning him a message in his church wall. The businessman, being of a superstitious nature, would then only see a white-robed individual smash through the window—thirty-five floors off of the ground, Alberu reminded himself, thirty-five goddamn floors —and immediately believe it to be a spirit. The best case scenario was that Clopeh would be too terrified to try and stop the spirit—Cale Henituse in a wig—from snatching the crown and jumping back out the window, where Alberu would reel him back up. Then they would hook themselves on the zipline and speed away to safety. If things didn’t go to plan, Cale could still jump back out the window and reel himself to safety. The whole plan was to take, at most, only a couple minutes.

But it had been five, no, seven minutes now, and there was no sign of any white-robed individual swinging from the cables. The whole setup was absolutely still.

Alberu could feel a small worm of unease wiggle in his chest. Something was wrong. He glanced at the zipline.

‘If I unhook myself now…’ He wasn’t as comfortable with the equipment as Cale was. If they were pressed for time, he wouldn’t have time to hook himself back onto the zipline. But something was wrong.

Alberu fumbled with the clips, tore his harness free, and sprinted towards the door on the roof. His heart started beating fast in his chest, each thud sending a wave of fear surging through him, growing ever stronger. Something was very, very wrong. Alberu slid and sprinted down the stairs. He could hear voices, one high voice cackling. It was Clopeh, he could see him through the glass door, he could see Cale, in full white regalia and silver mask, frozen in front of him, Clopeh was holding something—

A gun.

‘What the hell —’ Alberu’s mind went white. Where had Clopeh gotten the gun? How had Clopeh gotten the gun? Why the hell would any respectable businessman carry around a gun in the first place—Every single question flew out of his mind, except for one certainty.

He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, but he did know that he would absolutely not let Cale Henituse die on him.

The light glinted off of something else. Something sparkly. Diamonds were a very hard substance, right?

Alberu dashed forward, throwing the door open. It thudded against the wall with a thud, but Alberu could barely register it over the sound of the blood roaring in his ears. He grabbed the crown, felt his fingers tightening over the cool metal and inlaid stones, and brought it in a wide arc to smash against the side of Clopeh’s face. The gun slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor.

Everything stopped.

The blood rushing in his head subsided. Alberu stared down in shock. Clopeh writhed on the floor, shouting something that he couldn’t make out.

‘No permanent damage, thankfully,’ a detached part of his mind assessed. ‘Little physical damage, mostly just shock.’

Alberu slowly brought his eyes to look at Cale’s. His thoughts had started working again.

‘What am I doing here? What the hell are we doing? Is he okay? Are we going to get caught? What happened? Should we—’

“Run?” His voice slipped out.

Cale stared at him for a few moments more, looking as shocked as Alberu felt. “Up.”

They ran. Alberu could feel his feet, his calves, his entire leg burn as he followed Cale up the five flights of stairs once again. They sprinted to the edge of the roof and turned around. 

“Alberu,” Cale laughed beside him. Alberu could hear a note of desperation in his voice. “Wish you’d stayed home?”

“You are… a crazy… bastard…” Alberu couldn’t help but let his thoughts slip out. “And you would do this regardless and end up dead.” Of course he would. And Alberu had decided to follow him. From the first moment they met, that night in the museum, to the banquet, to even now, on the roof, their actions were tied together. Call it fate, call it stupidity, Alberu knew: they would either escape together, end up on the pavement forty floors down, or they would both go, together, behind bars.

‘Fate be damned.’ Alberu swore. The banging on the door of the roof continued. The guards would break through, any minute now, any second. Alberu stared at the thin metal, just barely separating the two of them from certain imprisonment, and took a deep breath. “I don’t know about you, Trapeze Clown, but I am not excited to go to prison! Especially not with you, you crazy bastard!”

‘Think of something , Cale Henituse!’ Alberu clenched his fists.

Beside him, Cale took a deep breath. “... my dear Shining Sun,” he began in a low murmur.

Alberu glanced quickly at Cale, then back at the door, now thoroughly dented. The hinges wouldn’t last much longer. “Yes, you bastard?” He whispered back.

Cale awkwardly opened his mouth. “Do you trust me?”

Time slowed down. Five floors below, Clopeh had probably retrieved his gun, and was among the bangs and thuds on the door to the roof. It was only a matter of seconds. They could hear thuds on the stairs, and shouting, similar to their first meeting under the moonlight in the art museum. Everyone in the entire city had probably realized that the thieves they were chasing had gone to the roof, instead of down to the ground floor, like sensible people. Either way, there was no place to run.

Did Alberu trust the red-haired man? Had they been working together long enough for Alberu to trust him? Did trust need a time frame? And, why was Cale asking this question? “... Why are you asking me that?” Alberu managed to ask, with great difficulty.

“Because I might just be about to do something either monumentally beneficial or monumentally stupid.” Cale exhaled shakily, his eyes fixed on the door to the roof. He took a step back, into the low rail.

Alberu blinked and backed away in the same direction as Cale. “Are you insane?”

Cale grinned. “Probably. No, almost definitely.”

Alberu backed up further against the ledge. Concrete hit his lower back. He couldn’t back up any further. The zipline was just behind them, so close and yet so far. Cale’s harness was broken. Alberu’s harness was unclipped. They would be caught before either of them had time to attach themselves to the zipline, let alone get to the other side safely and cut the rope.

No way out… except perhaps something that bordered on insanity.

“Can you trust me for two minutes?” Cale called out. His voice was tense, somehow crystal clear against the shouting and pounding.

Alberu took a deep breath. “Is it going to get us out of prison?”

“It might! Or we might end up dead.”

The blond man squeezed his eyes shut. He grit his teeth. “Sounds lovely! Any other ideas?”

“Nope!” Cale joyfully called back. There was a note of terror in his voice.

Alberu hissed. “Fine. Two minutes. Just freaking do it!”

Cale started laughing maniacally.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that?’ Alberu blinked. “Wait, what are you going to do—”

Cale suddenly reached out and grabbed Alberu. “Hold onto me!”

“No, really, what the hell are you going to do—” Alberu instinctively wrapped his arms around Cale’s shoulders. Cale stepped up onto the ledge. The unused zipline was to their right. In front of them, Clopeh had finally freed himself from the restraints, and struggled to his feet.

BANG! BANG! BANG! Behind the very, very thin door, the police pounded against the metal.

Behind them was a 400 foot drop down to the traffic below. Cars rushed past, bright headlights lighting up the street almost as much as the neon advertisements against the tall skyscrapers. 

Alberu tightened his hold on Cale’s shoulders. His mind spun. ‘What is going on? Why is Cale giving me a piggyback ride? No, don’t tell me—’

BANG! The police burst out into the roof.

“Nowhere to run, spirits! I shall command you!” Clopeh cried and struggled to his feet, his gun fixed firmly with them in his sights.

“Get them!”
“They’re cornered!”
“Stand down! You’re under arrest!”

The shouts of the policemen tangled in the air.

Cale let out one last loud, hysterical laugh… 

And jumped.

“AAAAHHHHH—” Alberu screamed.

Cale’s left hand shot out and grabbed the line of the zipline. The pair bobbed up and down in the wind, a 400 foot drop to the street under them. Everything was silent… for about two seconds.

“SHIT—”
“WHAT THE HELL—”

The policemen had clearly never seen such a ridiculous stunt.

Alberu privately agreed. ‘THAT’S MY F—ING QUESTION—’ He screamed internally. And externally, too. “WHAT THE F— WHAT THE ACTUAL F— YOU BASTARD—”

“Wait up, Sunshine Boy, we’re not done yet!” Cale’s face split into a demonic grin, part exhilaration, part pure terror. He laughed at the men on the rooftop. Alberu could see the flash of metal in his right hand. The pocket knife he had used to cut his harness earlier.

Cale sliced through the end of the zipline connected to the building.

Alberu had the brief hallucination of a moment of silence, where it seemed like the whole world stared at the white-clothed Cale in shock. There they were, a white spirit with a black barnacle riding on his back, crown of glittering diamonds in their bag. They floated in space, as if suspended by some kind of spiritual force. The thread connected to the building began to fall in slow motion. In the crisp moment, Alberu swore he could make out the individual whites of the policemen’s eyes as their faces widened in horror, and the ecstasy clouding Clopeh’s as his desired miracle revealed itself in front of him.

 Alberu allowed himself one last thought before resigning himself to his fate:

‘I really should have asked Cale what he was planning to do.’

The moment shattered. They fell.

“FUUU—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH—”  Alberu threw all shreds of dignity and caution to the biting wind and screamed . Next to him, he could hear the despicable bastard Cale Henituse laughing crazily at the top of his lungs.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH—” The wind whipped Alberu’s face, just barely managing not to knock the mask away. He was falling , they were swinging on a thin cable like two stupid cartoon characters through the literal city streets , they were going to freaking die —

“HEY SUNSHINE BOY!” Cale shouted at him over the roaring winds. His right hand was clenched, white-knuckled, around the edge of the cable as they flew. “LOOK AT THE VIEW!”

“F— YOU!” Alberu screamed back. “F— YOU, YOU F—ING BASTARD—”

Alberu peeked up to see Cale throwing his head back and laughing. The torrent of swears continued in his head. He couldn’t think. His mind was white. The wind tore out any thoughts he could possibly formulate.

WHOOSH— they skimmed past a building. A gust buffeted them to the left. Alberu and Cale let out two small shrieks. 

Alberu glanced up, terrified, at Cale. “I THOUGHT YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING—”

“WHEN HAVE I EVER KNOWN—”

“IF WE DIE I’M GOING TO KILL YOU—”

The wind roared past their ears, they were still falling, hanging and swinging from a wire that could snap at any minute —

“IF I WIND UP WITH YOU THEN IT’LL REALLY FEEL LIKE HELL—” Cale shouted, his face laughing but his eyes terrified.

“I WILL FOLLOW YOU AND GIVE YOU PAPERWORK EVERY F—ING DAY—” Alberu squeezed his own eyes shut.

The wind was roaring very loudly. Alberu wanted to punch this bastard. He wanted to strangle Cale Henituse to death. But unfortunately at this exact moment that action would end up making him a sad meat pancake on the road below.

Far, far below.

“F— YOU, YOU BASTARD—” Alberu repeated, over and over. The wind slowly stopped whipping his clothes. Slower, slower, slower… There was a brief jerk, and the two men suddenly stopped moving, hanging in mid-air.

‘Are dead?’ Alberu didn’t want to look. He didn’t, he really didn’t—‘Shit.’

His nose was two inches away from a block of concrete.

They had stopped just short of the building. Any further and he would have broken several bones. Alberu slowly looked up. 

Cale’s right hand was extended, trembling, just barely holding onto the top ledge of the roof of the building and the edge of the zipline cord simultaneously. He had grabbed the ledge right as they had crested the highest point of their swing. Alberu dangled from his other hand, and the son of the Roan Corporation was utterly mortified to see both his arms and legs gripping Cale’s chest in sheer terror. Cale, trembling, clearly wasn’t faring any better from their ridiculous aerial escape. 

“Want to go up?” Cale’s voice shook slightly.

“Hell yes.” Alberu took an unsteady breath and hoisted himself firmly on the roof. He looked down at Cale, who was still holding the cut zipline cord.

‘I want to push him off, see if he likes that swinging again.’ Alberu glared daggers at Cale, grabbed the man’s hand, and viciously yanked him up onto the roof to safety. Cale and Alberu collapsed together on the concrete.

On top of each other.

Alberu froze. ‘Shit—’ Why was the man so close ? Was he always this thin? Alberu’s face began to heat up. ‘Why won’t he just get off me—’ Instead of sweat, Alberu could almost smell a faint lemon scent. He couldn’t move. What was he supposed to do in this situation—

Cale rolled off of him. Alberu breathed in shakily. Then the blond man realized that he had spent the last five minutes screaming bloody murder across the city skyline in the exact same position.

“How was your flight?” Cale sent him a weak grin.

Well there was an excellent topic to distract his mind from his previous thoughts. “Please,” Alberu sighed. “Don’t ever make me do that again.”

Cale let out a weak chuckle. “So how do your heists normally go?”

“I go in through the front door , like a civilized human being .” Alberu hissed, still out of breath.

“But there’s no fun in that.” Cale laughed again. The sound spiraled up into the air. It was nice.

Better than screaming, anyway.

“If you die from pulling a stunt like that, I am not paying your insurance.” Alberu slowly pushed himself to his feet and let out a huge breath. He looked back towards the large building they had come from. The cut zipline dangled from the medium high rise in between them. It swayed tauntingly in the strong wind.

‘We just rode… on that ?’ Alberu couldn’t believe his eyes.

If they had chosen a lower building, they would have fallen down to the street to become fodder for cars. If they had swung at a slightly different angle, they would have hit one of the other highrises around them, like a deadly labyrinth of glass and metal spires. Alberu turned back to the roof of the very tall high rise they had jumped off of. It was swarming with police officers. He could see the lights even from a couple blocks down. Any longer and they would have both been caught.

‘Ah.’ Alberu blinked. ‘He just saved my life.’ Alberu glanced again at the dangling cable. He forced his thoughts away from Cale. ‘And I nearly lost it again. I saved his life, too. That means it was sum zero.’

He ignored the slight burn at the tips of his ears. His heart was still racing from the cut zipline.

‘We just saved each other’s lives.’ Alberu unconsciously repeated to himself. He decided not to speak his thoughts, opting instead for a much better sentence.

“I’m going home, you bastard.”

When Cale looked in the mirror that morning, he noted the beginnings of two dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, too busy admiring the way the White Crown gleamed in the moonlight through the window, sending flecks of colors through the facets to dance on the walls. And then Ron had walked in on him.

There he was, young master Cale Henituse, playing with the exact gemstones that had been pasted everywhere on the news for the past three days. Ron said nothing and slowly shut the door. In the morning, Cale awoke to the newspapers announcing, in large, bold letters, the daring heist and disappearance of the White Crown, the family heirloom and spiritual stone of the Sekka household, and revealing subsequent investigations into the Sekka house corruption as a consequence of the undue attention placed on the family due to the house. Investigations that were, naturally, well under way, with plenty of evidence.

All Ron had said was a simple, “I hope you are staying safe, young master,” with a gentle smile that sent more chills down Cale’s spine than any yelling would possibly ever produce.

‘But at least the secret is safe.’ Cale grimaced. ‘At the expense of my night’s sleep.’

Well, and there was also the whole Alberu-saved-him thing. Which Cale did not want to think about, or obsess about, or spend half the night wondering why, why on earth, what could possibly make that man go out on a limb to save Cale Hentiuse, known trash and the person who had gotten Alberu into that mess in the first place—

‘Dammit.’ Cale just needed something to get his mind off of things. For the first time, he felt thankful for being employed in the Roan office. At least he would be able to get his mind off of things with the stupid paperwork.

Cale wearily pushed open the door to the top floor of the Roan office building, and froze in the doorway. Alberu stopped walking as well. The two of them locked eyes. 

Tacitly, they broke their gaze and walked past each other as if nothing happened.

If Alberu had a tinge of vermillion on his neck, and the same light bags under his eyes, Cale didn’t notice. If Cale’s ears were bright red, Alberu wasn’t looking in the proper direction to see. But Alberu Crossman and Cale Henituse were both unusually productive today.

Chapter Text

Alberu felt the urge to laugh hysterically as he slipped through the door to Tasha’s apartment. He didn’t want to be around his family or his home today. His mind was spinning, hyperactive with thoughts and doubts and worries and if he had to spend one more second pretending to be the perfect Crossman Heir, adding doubts and worries about his image or his inheritance onto the roiling pile, he truly did think he would combust from the stress.

Cale Henituse, that bastard, was not helping.

After their brief jaunt playing Cut the Rope: Live Edition, Lake Hotel has been mostly shut down. Clopeh Sekka had been carted off to the hospital immediately, revealing only a mild concussion and nonthreatening injuries. There had been whispers of Clopeh’s newfound obsession with spirits, and constant talk of repentance and worship, and as such his injuries were deemed to be still under diagnosis. Clopeh himself had been relegated to bedrest for the time being. Police investigations into the theft and assault on Clopeh had mysteriously stumbled upon a deep-rooted corruption scandal in the Sekka household, conclusively tanking Sekka stocks and halting the development of the Lake Hotel and any Sekka-owned businesses for an indeterminate period of time. In conclusion, the entire operation was infinitely beneficial for Alberu’s division of Roan Corporation, which had not partnered with the Sekkas in any fashion, placing him far ahead of his brothers, who had been considering potential cooperation. Roan Corporation was on the rise once more, and towards Alberu.

And though he was loath to admit it, it was all only possible thanks to Cale Henituse, the source of many of his successes lately. And also the source of his many headaches lately.

The scene on the roof had replayed itself a thousand times in his mind over the course of a couple days. Each time he caught a glimpse of the bright red hair in the corner of his vision, he would immediately be reminded of the wind whipping across his face, his throat screaming raw, and the gleam of the windows and cityscape down below. And the bright red flush of blood as it moved to color his face a deep red.

Alberu nodded to Tasha, groaned, and flopped onto the couch. Tasha raised an eyebrow and moved to the kitchen, wordlessly turning up the burner on the stove and filling a kettle with water. Alberu idly unlocked his phone and typed in a phrase, scrolling through the results.

The room was silent as the water in the kettle was slowly brought to a boil.

“It’s just infuriating ,” Alberu suddenly announced.

Tasha said nothing.

“He’s just— I don’t— That stupid— Ugh…” Alberu ran a hand over his face.

Tasha set down a mug of tea on the table beside him. Alberu left his hand covering his face. Tasha looked over her nephew. Anyone who didn’t know Alberu Crossman would have said that he looked spotless, regardless of the rather unrefined position he currently found himself in on the couch. With years of experience wrangling the crafty, deviously intelligent first son of the Roan Corporation, Tasha could see the signs: a slightly rumpled shirt hem, several strands of hair just out of place, not to mention the frequent sighs and groans that continued to escape her nephew’s mouth. Something was bothering him. And if she didn’t deal with it now, Alberu would probably find some other way to vent his frustrations. Like turning on his slimy fake charm to max power and making all of his enemies uncomfortable. Or starting another ambitious project at the company. Or another heist. None of which were particularly terrible, but Tasha still wanted to at least try to assuage some of his worries.

And she had a pretty good idea of what they were, if the headlines from the last night were anything to go off of.

“Alberu,” Tasha called, gently nudging the mug of tea towards the edge of the table, “if you can actually formulate sentences right now, talk to me.”

Alberu grunted. He pushed himself upright and flopped a hand over to take the mug of tea, wincing as the hot water hit his tongue.

Tasha sat down in the armchair across from the couch and patiently crossed her legs, staring at him. “Well?”

“Cale Henituse,” Alberu replied, as if that were enough of an explanation. And in some cases, Tasha reflected, it was. 

“I’m not a mind reader, my dear nephew,” she said anyway. “Spill the tea. Metaphorically speaking.” She nodded toward Alberu’s mug, currently dangerously wobbling towards the carpet.

“He’s infuriating. It’s just— you saw the headlines, he literally jumped off a forty-story building—”

‘And I followed him,’ Alberu didn’t say.

“—and then he has the gall to show up in the morning today like nothing happened, like I didn’t fear for my life, and I got so much freaking work done today it was unbelievable, and he had this stupid smirk like you wouldn’t believe, and—” Alberu broke off and clamped his mouth shut.

Tasha was grinning. Alberu glared at her.

“Oh?” she deadpanned, “and?”

Alberu stared at her. “And what?”

“What were you looking up earlier on your phone?” Tasha dramatically tapped her chin. Alberu clamped his mouth shut.

Tasha grinned wider. It was nice to tease her nephew sometimes. He so rarely allowed himself to act like a child. He certainly couldn’t afford to show any immaturity, which he considered a weakness, in front of his company, his employees, or his business partners, and most certainly not in front of his family. Tasha was one of the few people Alberu could let himself be a little more authentic around. He had grown out of childhood too early. It felt to Tasha like a gift of his trust that Alberu could act a little less like the heir of the Roan Corporation and a little more like a human being. Of course, that didn’t mean she would ease up on the teasing.

“I wonder, little nephew, why you would possibly be interested in the meaning of ‘misattribution of arousal.’” Tasha’s grin turned shark-like. Oh, this was fun.

“...I don’t suppose you would take it as a purely scientific interest?” Alberu tried.

Tasha said nothing, smiling. Alberu’s neck and cheeks were slowly turning a bright shade of vermillion. She really should tease Alberu more often, if he had this entertaining of a reaction. Plus, it seemed she had found the perfect ammunition.

‘I should give him a break.’ Tasha pulled out her phone and leaned back in the armchair, pretending not to hear Alberu’s small sigh of relief. She wasn’t that cruel. Now, all she had to do was wait for him to be ready to tell her himself.

“He jumped off a forty-story building,” Alberu repeated finally, “and I followed him .”

“As concerned as I am about you jumping off of high places, I think I’ll let that one slide since you’re still alive,” Tasha muttered. Years of being Alberu’s infiltration tool dealer and getaway car had conditioned her to just accept certain things as they came. In this case, there was a more pressing issue. “I also heard on the news that Clopeh Sekka has a concussion.”

“Ah.” Alberu froze.

Ah, well, then it definitely had something to do with her nephew. And probably, by extension, Cale Henituse. “Care to elaborate?”

“I… may, or may not have… hit Clopeh Sekka over the head with a diamond crown…?” Alberu trailed off.

Tasha blinked.

Alberu seemed to see something in her face, because he rushed to explain. “I wasn’t intending to do any serious damage, but he had a gun, and Cale was on the ground, and the crown was really the only option, it was right there—”

“Let me get this straight,” Tasha interrupted. She could feel the smirk growing back on her lips, threatening to split her face in two. This was good. Oh, this was amazing. “You grabbed a diamond-incrusted heirloom crown and used it as a mace to save your…” Tasha hesitated, trying to find the right word, “ friend— ”

“—secretary and habitual idiot—” Alberu interjected.

“—from being shot, followed him off the side of the building, and now you’re lying in bed complaining about what a productive day you’ve had at work and how said friend— ”

“—bastard—”

“—has been smirking at you all day,” Tasha finished.

There was a moment of silence.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Alberu said blankly, “yes.”

Tasha snorted. She pushed herself off the sofa and retreated to the kitchen. Alberu could hear the muffled sounds of giggling from the other room. He halfheartedly considered calling out something insulting but decided against it. He would just be digging his own grave, probably.

And Cale Henituse. That bastard.

What the heck was he supposed to think? Why had he done that? Why had he done any of that, from the crown-mace to the building-jumping to even agreeing to his stupid, insane, ridiculous plan in the first place?

‘And the worst part,’ Alberu realized, ‘is that I probably would do it again.’

If the choice was between Cale going out and enacting that idiotic plan on his own and potentially dying while Alberu remained shut in his stupid corporate glass tower, or going with him, Alberu would choose Cale every time. Even if it meant wearing the stupid ninja costume while Cale posed as a ghost spirit. Even if it meant arson in a church—well, ideally not, but still.

‘Do you trust me,’ Cale had asked. Alberu had been a tad—well, really —terrified of getting captured or shot in the moment, so he hadn’t had much time to reflect on it.

Did he trust Cale?

Yes. Alberu closed his eyes. Yes, he trusted Cale. Enough to jump off a building with him, apparently. Enough to ask him to be his partner for a heist. Enough to be the best secretary Alberu had ever hired.

Alberu’s gut twisted.

‘Best secretary I’ve ever had, huh?’ That was right. He shouldn’t forget. This was a temporary arrangement bought by mutual blackmail. He was already surprised Cale had even stuck with the job this long, and not thrown everything into a fire at the first opportunity. 

‘Don’t forget, Alberu.’

For all his joking threats of hiring him permanently—at which, Alberu remembered with another pang of dismay, Cale always responded with exaggerated horror—Cale would probably be gone at the end of the summer.

Alberu squeezed his eyes shut and turned around on the sofa. After a while, her laughter long stopped, Tasha could hear her nephew’s breath even out. She leaned her head out of the kitchen doorway. A tuft of blond hair peeked out the side of the sofa. She sighed.

“They’re both idiots, aren’t they?” Tasha muttered, and shook her head.

Dinner at the Henituse estate was usually a lively affair.

Lily chattered to Basen about her newest set of moves in martial arts in between bites of food. Deruth sometimes asked Violan about the day at work, finding a new trading partner, new projects for the Henituse banks, or simply talked of recent events in the social world. Basen shared the newest passage from the accounting, history, or management books he paintakingly memorized, his excited voice growing louder as Lily twisted her face into ever more exaggerated mock-disgust. Cale rarely had anything to share, and the others had gotten used to the red-haired man’s general silence, only broken by the occasional snort at Lily’s antics, or an equally disgusted face at one of Basen’s long rants about the duties of a management official. On rare days Cale’s sharp edges softened, and his siblings caught a small remark of praise or encouragement that lit their faces with bright smiles that Cale, for all his denial, was helpless against. His family knew, though he liked to deny any interest and insisted upon being a “trash,” he listened carefully to each of their stories. No matter their doubts, no matter their guilt or concern, he was their big brother, their son, their family.

Therefore Violan, Deruth, Lily, and Basen could all immediately tell that something was off about Cale that night, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. And quite frankly, it didn’t seem like he was bothering to hide much of anything.

Nothing was wrong per se. Just… off kilter.

Cale’s fork chased the food around his plate. He absently shoved the slice of meat this way and that, before finally stabbing it and bringing it to his mouth. He chewed silently, then restarted the process with a pepper. His usual remarks held none of their usual attentive snappiness. Basen was halfway through a speech on the importance of taking breaks to productivity in the workplace and Cale had not scrunched his face once, while Lily’s expression grew more bored by the minute. He simply stared at the plate, blankly.

Stab. Cale’s fork stabbed another piece of meat.

Violan and Deruth looked at each other, frowning. 

“Cale?” Deruth asked carefully.

“Yes?” Cale distractely replied.

Deruth paused. How to word this carefully?

“Is everything alright?” Violan took up the relay. Deruth breathed a silent sigh of relief and thanks for his wife.

“... Yes?” Cale’s statement sounded more like a question than an affirmation.

The table awkwardly fell silent. Cale continued stabbing the food on his plate, ignoring the expectant tension in the air. Lily kept sneaking glances at Cale. Basen stared resolutely down at his plate as if it held all the answers in the universe. Deruth fought back the urge to rub his forehead in frustration.

Something was clearly happening, but Cale always avoided talking about personal matters like a damn stronghold safe, and Deruth could never find the right words to be the key.

“You can talk to us, Cale.” Damn. That came out awfully. Deruth was terrible with words.

“What he means, Cale, is that we would be happy to listen if you would like to talk.” Violan coughed. Once again, Deruth thanked whatever gods or spirits there for Violan.

Cale opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. Deruth felt like he was walking on pins and needles. Would Cale finally talk to them? What would he say? Was this a good thing?

“Well…” Cale took a deep breath. “Someone bashed an annoying pest over the head for me, and I’m wondering why.”

The people at the table froze. Basen’s mouth gaped open and closed like a humanoid fish. Lily blinked and immediately dissolved into peals of laughter. Deruth spit out a mouthful of water and began coughing. Violan awkwardly raised her arm and patted him in the back, staring off into the middle distance.

Well, that certainly was not the answer Deruth had been expecting. Inadvertently, his mind flashed back the most recent headlines in the newspapers. 

‘CLOPEH SEKKA ASSAULTED BY GHOST’
‘SEKKA HEIRLOOM STOLEN! CLOPEH SEKKA IN RECOVERY!’
‘SEKKA CONFIRMED TO BE OWNING ILLEGAL FIREARMS AFTER LIGHT INJURY TO HEAD’

The Sekka heirloom, the White Crown, had been stolen from one of the top floors of the Lake Hotel the day prior to its opening ceremony. Security guards and the museum cameras had recorded two men at the heist, one wearing a cartoonish, all-black ninja outfit, the other wearing some kind of floating white robe and silver mask. If Deruth had been just a tad more superstitious, he might have even said that the white-robed individual in the released footage looked like a spirit, instead of the rumored Hero of the Silver Shield, as the police analysis suggested. The two men had jumped off the building, but not before the ninja-man dealt a blow to Clopeh Sekka’s head.

Or, to use Cale’s turn of phrase, “bashed an annoying pest over the head.”

But… No, there was no way. Cale couldn’t be the Hero of the Silver Shield.

Probably.

Maybe.

Ignoring the fact that Cale mysteriously acquired artifacts of great value each time he left his room. Ignoring the fact that he had never actually been inside of Cale’s room. Ignoring the fact that Deruth hadn’t seen Cale for most of the day before the recent heist had taken place—

Nope. This train of thought was going to stop. Either way, each heist the Hero had been on had ended with a corruption scandal being exposed, and Deruth sometimes even supported the strange figure. The name “Hero” had stuck for a reason. Now he just had more reasons.

Either way, the fact remained that someone had “bashed” an annoyance for Cale, and this act was enough of a distraction to affect Cale himself. Deruth wanted to find this person and ask them to protect his son right then and there.

“Well…” Violan opened after a minute of shocked silence and cackles from Lily in the corner, “if they did this for you, it likely means they care about you, no? Would that not be enough of a reason?”

“Care about me?” Cale raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it is very likely.” Violan nodded. Deruth wanted to applaud.

Cale blinked, confused. “Why?”

Violan wisely decided to ignore that statement, and continued pressing forward. “The question remains, Cale, do you care about that person?”

Cale paused. Did he care about Alberu? “Why do you ask?”

Violan hesitated. Cale’s relationship with the person who had helped him was unclear. They did not want to jump to conclusions, and some were better left for Cale himself to realize. So how to approach this…?

“Because…” Violan took a bracing breath, calling up the best words she could muster. “All relationships go two ways, Cale. Whether you are coworkers, acquaintances, friends, or something more, it always requires both people to accept each other and work together. If you care differently about them than they do you, then you may need to reevaluate where you stand with each other.”

Cale stared blankly at the wall. Did he care about Alberu? Almost involuntarily, his mind brought up all the images of the blond man that he could remember. Alberu’s smirk as he introduced the plan for the first heist to Cale, his shocked look of realization at that first banquet, his wide, fake smile that promised untold suffering to his opponents, his look of concentration as he scribbled on his documents, his look of abject horror and terror as he raised the crown and saved Cale’s life. The way he hugged Cale’s back like he was clinging for dear life—because, well, he was —as they soared over the cityscape, which meant, Cale realized, that Alberu had literally jumped off a building with him—a thought which immediately sent an odd rush of blood through his ears.

Well, shit.

“Yeah,” Cale muttered, still staring blankly at the wall, “yeah, I think I care about him.”

Chapter Text

Cale set the next stack of paperwork down onto the desk with a dull thump and surveyed the room. Alberu’s office had changed remarkably from when Cale had first arrived. Back when Alberu had first dragged him into the company, all innocent and apprehensive (“rude and infuriating,” Alberu would have corrected), Alberu’s office had looked… messy, if he were being polite. An abhorrent rat’s nest of paper and neglect, or a burial mound of shredded trees for the dessicated office worker, if he were being slightly less polite. The point being, it had been bad.

Cale only took a portion of the credit for the mess. It wasn’t his fault Alberu couldn’t keep up with him at first. It was his fault for intentionally going through tasks at breakneck speed, though. And then Alberu had caught up to him, somehow. They had spend their days in between heists and stupid sparkly banquets playing an interminable race against each other. Would Cale manage to pile more paperwork on Alberu’s desk than he could manage, and win the right to infuriate the blond with a smirk and a snide comment? Or would Alberu finish all the paperwork beside him and wait with a triumphant gaze and a bright, fake smile for Cale to open the door to his office?

Cale would never admit it, but he had actually, maybe, perhaps… started enjoying their races. His coworkers had long given up attempting to match the pair’s speed, and instead rejoiced at the significantly lightened workload.

Unfortunately, this also meant that the other office workers had more time to talk to each other. Cale kept hearing whispered gossip behind his back, his acquaintances glancing at him with gentle, knowing smiles that made Cale feel iffy and warm at the same tine. Once he overheard something about him and Alberu, but he didn’t particularly care, so he ignored it. Alberu was in the office anyway, so he couldn’t hear. If it was important, someone would probably let him know. Not his problem.

Now, Alberu’s office was markedly cleaner. It wasn’t that the volume of papers had decreased—rather, Cale could have sworn that it actually increased as Alberu expanded his network and influence in the Roan Corporation, and dealt with the chaos of their two previous heists. With the constant flow of documents from Cale to Alberu and occasionally circulating through the office, the papers had been arranged in neat piles of importance. The filing cabinets in the corners emptied, and Cale could actually see the full grains of the wood of the desk. The floor was clear of any and all obstructions. The sun shone brightly through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, falling upon the large, comfortable chair behind the desk, that was, for once, unoccupied. Alberu almost never had enough free time to even leave the chair, the poor bastard. Cale had seen Alberu make so many expressions in that exact spot; grinning viciously, a rather insulting deadpan expression each time Cale came to him with a new plan for how people in the office—which, Cale assumed, included himself—should take some time off, the small furrow in his brows when the numbers in a document weren’t quite right, his exasperated glace when Cale opened the door with yet another hulking mass of paperwork, his small smile when Tasha occasionally called to check in on him… Well.

‘It’s a nice office,’ Cale grudgingly admitted.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he?

Cale wasn’t oblivious; in fact, he often noticed details and could read people better than anyone else he knew. Cale knew what was important to him: money, his family, and slacking off. It was change that stumped him. Change was what turned him from a rather successful trash of the Henituse family, Alberu’s unfortunately too-competent assistant, and the Hero of the Silver Shield, to just… Cale. And he had taken on so many roles that he wasn’t quite sure who “Cale” was anymore. 

And yet, he could feel the same tingle of nerves when he was around Alberu Crossman. But, this time, it was enjoyable. A comfortable trepidation. With Alberu, he didn’t know what to do. With Alberu, he found that he didn’t always have to. With Alberu, he was just Cale.

Over the course of the past few days, ever since their escape from the top of the Lake Hotel, Cale came to realize several things about Alberu Crossman.

The first was that the man was beautiful. Cale had seen his fair share of pretty men and women, and he could safely say that he had a good understanding of what constituted beauty for the greater percentage of the human population. But Alberu was different. Poets could expound upon the gold shine of his hair or the deep blue of his eyes, or perhaps the feral glint in his eyes as the heir of the Roan Corporation readied himself to destroy his enemies, but Cale was no poet. It was an occupation with too much thinking, in his opinion, alongside publishing deadlines and expectations… But perhaps he could try it out sometime?

Poet or not, Alberu Crossman possessed his own kind of brilliance, one that Cale rarely found in the general population. It was not that his face was particularly symmetrical or that his body was a particularly toned figure, but something more fundamental. Something very Alberu. Cale couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

Cale leaned against Alberu’s office desk and stared blankly out the sparkling window.

The second realization had come in the evening as Cale flopped onto his comfortable bed, blankly watching the brilliant refractions of the White Crown’s diamonds flickering on his walls. Cale slowly turned the facets and watched the light dance.

Alberu was the only person, outside of his family, who had seen value in Cale. Though mutual blackmail was a less-than-ideal method of showing appreciation, Alberu had nonetheless given—forcefully—Cale a place to run wild. And Cale noticed that Alberu ran a little more wild in turn. Well, a lot more wild. But who was he to keep track?

Maybe that was why he was still here, at the Roan Corporation. Cale always hated working in an office, but he had yet to stop. Alberu, either intentionally or inadvertently, had given him multiple opportunities to complain and back out. Cale had a feeling that despite their mutual blackmail, the blond man wouldn’t try and keep him here if he asked to go. Somehow, both of them had moved past the circumstances of their meeting. He doubted either of them even remembered their original threats and safeguards in the first place. Alberu’s succession was all but set. No one would bat an eye if Cale Henituse, notorious troublemaker and drunkard, were to simply walk out and quit. The office could run perfectly fine without him, now.

Yet here he was. Still working as an administrative assistant, completing documents in a process that he once abhorred. Still delivering paperwork to Alberu’s office. Still standing in the center of the room, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the top floor of the Sparkle Tower.

Suddenly, here was a loud knock on the door to the office. Cale jumped in shock and swore under his breath.

The third thing Cale realized was that he was now hyper aware of Alberu Crossman.

The office door swung open with unnatural energy as the very same blond man stomped his way into the room.

“It’s ridiculous that I knock on the door to my own office,” Alberu complained.

“I never said you needed to,” Cale grumbled, still half-recovering from being startled. ‘If that bastard didn’t knock, though, I might have had a heart attack.’

Alberu just raised an eyebrow in reply. “... I see you brought me more work.”

“Yep.” Cale straightened himself up from his slouch and grinned brightly. “Have fun, dear shining sun of the Roan Corporation.”

“You bastard.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

“How many times have I told you to stop with the stupid royal titles?” Alberu groaned and put a hand to his face.

‘Exasperating him is just too much fun.’ Cale grinned wider. Then he paused. Alberu was smiling now. This did not bode well.

“I have a better idea, dear Cale Henituse,” Alberu began gently. He slowly lowered his hand from his face and gazed at Cale with a warm smile. “You are younger than me, aren’t you?”

‘Oh, no.’ Cale suddenly felt an impending sense of danger. He shivered. “Aha, Alberu, why don’t you get started on the paperwork? There were quite a few that were urgent and you might want to take a look—”

“Cale, call me hyung.” Alberu grinned evilly.

Cale snapped his mouth shut. He stared at Alberu in horror.

“Cale, come on, call me hyung...” Alberu teased in a sing-song voice.

“Absolutely not,” Cale replied flatly.

“Dongsaeng…” Alberu sang.

Cale wanted to punch the smirk right off his blond, shining face. “You bastard.”

“That’s not right, dongsaeng, it’s ‘hyung’—”

Cale marched straight past Alberu, stormed out of the room, and slammed the door behind him. He could faintly hear Alberu burst into raucous laughter behind him.

Cale’s fourth realization was that Alberu’s stupid, squawking laugh was really nice to listen to.

‘In some ways,’ Alberu mused, ‘my current position is all thanks to that bastard Cale Henituse.’

If one set aside his snark and subtle mockery, Cale was the assistant of any manager’s dreams. His documents were all superlative, and by now Alberu barely felt the need to double-check them. Of course, he did anyway, but it was the principle that mattered. It had gotten to the point where Alberu sometimes even looked forward to the paperwork from Cale, when he felt tired of the day and just wanted something easier to do. Alberu made a point to never show any tiredness, any annoyance, any weakness, on his face, and yet he could swear that Cale always timed his deliveries on those days at the exact moment he needed something else to do. One more item on the long list of things Cale would probably never admit to.

Sometimes, Alberu even enjoyed his snark, too.

How on earth would they continue to function when Cale left?

Alberu ignored the pang in his chest at that thought. ‘It’s just worry. Yes. I’m worried about the state of the paperwork in the office. In that case, the best thing to do is…’

Alberu pushed himself up from his seat, strode to the office door, pushing it open.

“Cale,” he called flatly. Alberu tried to keep his tone quieter so as not to disturb others working in their own cubicle, but it seemed he hadn’t called out quietly enough. The eyes of nearly every single person in the office swiveled over to where Alberu stood, framed by his office doorway, the sun gleaming behind him, casting what was almost a halo of light on his hair. Then, in unison, every single gaze turned to fixate on the red-haired man in the corner of the room.

Cale Henituse slowly turned around to face him. Alberu could see Cale freeze for a moment. The light from the windows behind Alberu reflected off his red-brown eyes and made his red hair flicker like the gemstone on one of the rings Cale had stolen and left lying on the floor of his room. Alberu didn’t notice that Cale had taken just a moment longer than usual to reply.

“Alberu,” he replied gently, with a bright smile that fooled everyone in the room except Alberu himself. 

Alberu could almost imagine Cale’s thoughts. They were probably something along the lines of, ‘I’m trying to finish the stupid work you gave me, you annoying pest,’ or, ‘what now? ’ he smirked.

“My office is a mess thanks to a certain someone,” Alberu stared pointedly at Cale, “always dumping their paperwork anywhere they want on my desk.”

Cale blinked, seemingly confused.

‘This bastard. I’m not falling for that innocent look.’ Alberu rolled his eyes. “My dear Cale Henituse, would you do me the honor of… assisting me in righting the state of the paperwork in my office.”

Alberu could almost see the gears turning in Cale’s head. Alberu knew that Cale would refuse on the pretext that he already had too much work to do, Alberu would use that as an excuse to give him even more. He would have successfully annoyed Cale secretly in front of the entire office staff, where Cale couldn’t even show his dissatisfaction back at him, to keep up the pretense of a perfect working relationship. Alberu patiently waited for Cale’s predetermined response.

“... Sure.”

Alberu blinked. “What?”

“Sure,” Cale replied, “anything for our wonderful Alberu Crossman, heir of the Roan Corporation, guiding light for us common folk.” Cale smirked as if he had just found a particularly large cage of sedated pigeons. 

“... Alright then.” Alberu was thoroughly confused. What was going on? Didn’t Cale hate paperwork with a burning passion? He turned around and walked back through the door. Surely Cale would just sit back down and pretend nothing happened.

The sound of Cale’s footsteps followed Alberu back into the room. The office door swung shut.

Neither Cale nor Alberu noticed the excited stares from the rest of the workers, particularly the gossip-mongers, that were left training on the door to the office. So long, they had waited… It had been glaringly obvious to all but the most oblivious of people in the office… was today the day? Would their idols finally…? 

Once the door to his office had fully clicked closed, Alberu tried to rationalize Cale’s actions. Well, “rationalize” was a stretch. When were Cale’s actions ever rational?

‘I guess this is a good outcome? I should just take this in stride,’ he decided.

Besides, he had more than just paperwork to discuss. The plan wasn’t finalized, but he might as well take this opportunity to bring it up.

Alberu took a deep breath. “You can take the shelves. I’ll take the desk. Sort them into three piles, urgent, for review, and inconsequential.” He walked over to his chair and let himself fall into it. He stared blankly at the piles of paper in front of him, wearily reached a hand forward, and began sorting.

The office was silent except for the rustling of paper. The silence seemed to press on Alberu’s shoulders, like an awkward, heavy load, impossible to ignore. It grew heavier by the moment. After nearly half a minute, it grew too much to bear. 

“Uh—”

“So—”

Their voices overlapped. Alberu snapped his mouth shut. Cale blinked and turned to stare at him. Alberu gestured towards Cale.

Thankfully, Cale took it in stride and continued, “so, what did you want to discuss?” Calling Cale into the office just to annoy him with more work did seem like something Alberu would do, but the blond man had seemed like he had something he wanted to ask.

Alberu shifted some files to a different stack. “There’s a bank called Central, a rival bank to Northwest, the one affiliated with Roan—”

Cale rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know Northwest Bank, my family practically runs the thing—”

Alberu ignored him. “Central has been causing us some issues. What do you say we give them some problems of their own to think about?”
“Bank robbery? Are you a movie protagonist or something?” Cale raised an eyebrow.

“I should be handsome enough, don’t you think, my heroic assistant?” Alberu dryly responded back.

Cale frowned at him. ‘Dammit, I can’t even deny that.’ Alberu was quite the stunning man. Cale tossed a stack of papers over at Alberu, who just barely caught them in time. ‘Next time they’ll go flying and he’ll have a very stupid look on his face.’ Cale pushed the smartphone camera back in his pocket. He captured the photograph anyways. ‘I’ll photoshop it into something idiotic,’ he promised himself, ignoring the fact that he had at least five other such photos and had made at least seven other such unfulfilled promises.

‘... Why didn’t he reply to that?’ Alberu quickly carried on, desperately masking the fact that he was just a smidge flustered. “Anyways, yes, in simple terms so that your single-celled brain can understand, a bank robbery.”

“If I’m a single-celled brain, I pity that empty space in your skull.” Cale slapped more files onto the stack. “No matter how nice of a casing it is, it means nothing if the box is empty.”

“Well, you—” Alberu put on a bright, fake smile, and faltered. ‘Wait did he just call me pretty? Or was that an insult?’ Why did this bastard make his head spin? He sighed and rubbed a hand against his forehead. “The point is, it’s not just a bank robbery.”

“Oh, great, because we need more than a bank robbery?” Cale rolled his eyes.

Cale’s eyes were very pretty, even when they were being used for a sarcastic response. They seemed to glimmer in the office light— ‘Get it together, Alberu.’ The first son of the Roan Corporation should not be unnecessarily hyper aware of this distraction, no matter how gorgeous his eyes—

“Yes, more than a bank robbery.” Right. That was the topic. “The purpose of this heist isn’t what we’re stealing. It’s to drive people nuts.” Alberu let the words sink in.

Cale paused. He began to grin widely. “Drive people nuts? That’s what I do best.”

‘Yes. Yes it is.’ Alberu closed his eyes.

“So who’s the lucky victim this time?” Cale’s voice continued.

Alberu forced the gears in his head to start turning again. “This time, we’re stealing it from Mr. Grandike Orsena, head of the Central bank chain.”

Cale let out a low whistle. “High up, huh?”

‘You need to redefine the words high up, Cale Henituse.’ Alberu’s mind flashed back to the unfortunate flying zipline incident with the Sekka fiasco. “Yes. He’s the head of the faction that supports my brother.” Orsena took every opportunity to suppress Alberu and raise up his brother. It was about time Alberu smacked him back. “As I said, it’s essentially a bank robbery, since Orsena’s house and the Central headquarters are practically in the same location. Gods know how many security measures they’ll have installed…”

“So with Orsena off your back, you’ll be free to take over the company.” Cale’s sentence calmly floated in the room. Alberu’s eyes were still closed, and yet even his voice was nice to listen to.

“So this’ll be the last heist, huh?”

Alberu jolted. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of cold water on top of his head. He snapped his eyes open.

‘Last heist.’

“... Yes.” Alberu stared straight ahead. Under the desk, his hand was shaking. ‘Last heist, last heist, last—’

His eyes were firmly fixed against the wall. He couldn’t see anything but the grains on the far side of the door. Alberu did not notice the twisted grimace that appeared on Cale’s face for a brief moment, nor did he notice that the red-haired man’s eyes were similarly fixed on an undefined point in the distance.

“Yes.” Alberu repeated.

Cale nodded, then grabbed some papers on his desk. 

Alberu jumped. Cale’s and had brushed past his own. The sensation of electricity coursed down Alberu’s forearm. The red-haired man spun around and walked away, Alberu staring after his bright red hair.

The office door closed with a click.

The first son of the Roan Corporation collapsed onto his desk and laughed. 

‘Last heist, huh.’

Before he knew it, Alberu had been looking forward to spending time with Cale. The man’s acerbic responses made him laugh, the knowledge that the bastard would always have a witty response to whatever Alberu said was a comforting thought. Alberu could hand the man the most obscure papers and forms, and he would always find a way to fill them out, much to Alberu’s annoyance. When Cale came into the office, their work was so in sync it was as if they thought in the exact same way.

‘Shit.’ He rubbed his forehead and thought to himself.

When Cale laughed, his eyes crinkled and sparkled with ambient light. When Cale moved, his long red hair would sway side to side. When Cale was annoyed, he would stare with expressionless eyes. When he was flustered, the tips of his ears would get red. 

Alberu put his head in his hands. The words ‘last heist’ seemed to echo in the silent office.

“So with Orsena off your back, you’ll be free to take over the company.” Cale calmly continued the conversation. At this point, it was all he could do. Who asked him to be in the same room as this damned Alberu Crossman? Who asked the blond bastard to be this distracting? And it was so much freaking worse now that he was aware of it.

Cale’s eyes continued to stray towards the desk where Alberu sat. His eyes quickly glanced upwards. Alberu’s eyes were closed. Cale let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. Then immediately kicked himself. ‘No, you can’t stare openly, even if he has his eyes closed.’

He could feel heat rushing up his neck to his face. His ears were already probably fire-truck red. He couldn’t help the thought that briefly flashed through his mind. ‘Thank goodness Alberu has his eyes closed.’ He had to think of something to say, a way to continue the conversation, normally he was so smooth with words, but for some reason each time he glanced at Alberu Crossman in the past week he kept being tongue tied. ‘Think, you trash, think—’

“So this’ll be the last heist, huh?”

‘Ah, shit.’

That went… extremely poorly.

What… did he just say? Why did he say that? Why the hell did he just say that? ‘Cale Henituse, you absolute garbage—’ Cale let out a torrent of swears in his head. 

He made sure none of his internal panic showed on his face. ‘Stoic. Unemotional.’ Cale had been called many things, but at this moment all he could do was bless the fact that he could keep a straight face even in the worst situations.

“... Yes.” Alberu’s voice slowly trickled into his ears. Cale didn’t mind his voice as much as he let on. Cale stared out the window. He didn’t particularly want to look at Alberu. He didn’t want to see the blond man’s face again, didn’t want to have yet another rejection, someone else who thought he could simply be discarded—

The view out the window was quite nice.

“Yes.” Alberu repeated.

‘I did not need that double confirmation, thank you.’ Cale continued to look out the window. He nodded, then wildly looked around for something to do.

‘Papers. Yes. Work. Let’s go do something.’ Cale awkwardly grabbed at the files on the desk. His hand brushed past Alberu’s arm, commencing a new waterfall of swears in his head.

He quickly spun around and exited the office. The door closed with a click.

Cale stopped walking just on the other side of the door.

“Cale Henituse, just how badly can you mess things up?” Cale mumbled to himself. He placed the stack of papers against his forehead like an ice pack. All he could do at this point was just make sure whatever plan worked perfectly .

‘Last heist.’

“Let’s not mess this up.” Cale started walking once more down the hallway.

Chapter Text

If one had asked Cale what the plan was for the bank infiltration on the last heist, he would have mumbled something about loudspeakers, bait, and foolproof scams, and perhaps a couple mentions of the sky-high prices of good theater props these days. If one had instead asked Alberu what the plan was for the infiltration, Alberu would have simply replied by reciting the following snippet of conversation between him and Cale during their planning session:

"If you can't be subtle, don't bother," Cale had drawled.

Alberu couldn’t decide between hysterical laughter or tears, so he had settled on a rather shocked face that Cale would have unhesitatingly labeled as rude. "No, Cale, this is more along the lines of, 'if you can't be subtle, just dump subtlety in a dumpster-fire and then throw it off a cliff for good measure—'"

"Yes, isn't that what I just said?" Cale had blinked innocently.

Needless to say, Alberu was not exactly satisfied with his answer.

Nonetheless, Alberu reluctantly followed Cale on his extravagant shopping spree for the entire rest of the day. At each destination, Alberu gently leaned against the doorframe and watched as Cale chatted with the shopkeepers, his mask of general indifference failing to conceal the fact that he actually cared about the goings on of the people around him. The proprietor of the cable and construction hardware shop had smiled widely as Cale entered, giving him news on the latest models and details of the machines, interspersed with commentaries about how his son was faring in university under what Alberu gathered was a “mysterious scholarship.” Cale bought a large loudspeaker. Next, the boisterous mechanic was quick to inform her two customers of her father’s swift recovery from illness, and Alberu couldn’t help but spy a small, barely visible smile on Cale’s face as the red-haired man turned away. They left the store with a suspiciously rectangular package, the contents of which Alberu wasn’t able to confirm. At their last stop, Alberu watched as the small daughter of the clothes store owner shyly crept out from behind the counter and bowed nervously to Cale. Cale nodded coldly to her and turned away, yet Alberu, the mother, and the daughter had seen how his eyes softened. Cale finished his order and tossed a mass of black cloth into the trunk of Alberu’s car.

‘And you still say you’re trash,’ Alberu shook his head in disbelief. 

And that was how Alberu found himself with Cale, the latter fully geared and cloaked in light black fabric covering his hair and entire body, crouching on the rooftops of the closest building to Central Bank headquarters. A small breeze, simply generated by the height more than any significant movement, buffeted their bodies as they stood gazing out at the massive structure in front of them.

Central Headquarters was a monolith of tan stone that jutted out from the streets below at obtuse angles and stopped abruptly just shy of skyscraper category standards. Large columns squatted imposingly by the front entrance. Simplistic carvings of flowers and paisley patterns curved around archways in front of the building in an ostentatious attempt to mimic the classic style. Windows sank deep into the stone walls at intervals that were most likely aesthetically tasteful, but incredibly inconvenient to clean and repair. From their perch atop the neighboring building, Alberu could see into the back lot behind the building, still busy with cars moving back and forth despite the late hour. 

It was a perfect view of the building. Cale had wanted to scout the site beforehand, mentioning some things about “visibility” and “acoustics,” and Alberu knew better than to ask. Cale could go ahead and have his fun, so long as he didn’t drag Alberu down with him.

And yet even then, Alberu ignored the small voice that wondered whether it mattered if Cale’s plan implicated him as well. Whether he wouldn’t just follow Cale, even if that night went haywire. Whether, upon having the choice between saving himself by leaving Cale or getting captured with the man, he would even consider leaving at all.

‘It’s stupid.’ No matter how much Cale liked to insult him, however, Alberu wasn’t an idiot. He knew that what he was feeling implied a desire for more than a friendship, let alone a simple working relationship.

Here, in the light evening breeze, the soft sparkle of the stars above just barely peeking through the glare of city lights, Alberu finally found the words for a question that had plagued him for quite some time.

“When did you start being a thief?” Alberu eyed Cale from the corner of his gaze. ‘And why?’

“Hmm…” Cale looked up at the sky, deep in thought. “Probably three years ago?”

Alberu raised an eyebrow. The Hero of the Silver Shield’s fame had really only begun two years prior, with his signature aerial shield theft. “I guess you couldn’t always have been famous.”

Cale snorted. “I didn’t mean to get famous, being a slacker is so much better.”

“How unfortunate that did not work out for you.” Alberu desperately restrained himself from laughing, settling for a gentle smile. Cale looked at him suspiciously. Alberu’s expression twitched in mirth.

Cale sighed and turned back toward the view from the rooftop. “I’m trash and my family’s rich, I’ll definitely get to be a slacker in a couple years.” His gaze contained so much firm conviction and hope that Alberu did not have the heart to tell him otherwise.

“So do you steal things to fuel the bottomless funds of the Henituse family? Are you a wealthy mastermind, like some of the rumors I’ve heard floating around?” Alberu’s lips quirked up into an amused smile.

“I thought you’ve worked with me long enough to know that I am absolutely a wealthy mastermind. And an evil one.” Cale snorted.

“Cale Henituse, the wealthy, evil, mastermind. There’s a headline for the papers.”

Cale rolled his eyes. “No one would believe you.”
“Why don’t you take out that—what was it? Princess necklace? From Tolz’s house—”

“Tolz’s wife. Gold plated, aquamarine and sapphire… Is that what you were thinking of? It was laying around in her study, and she didn’t look like she was using it, so...” Cale shrugged. “Sure, let’s just bring out a bunch of the stolen junk in my room. That ought to convince the papers real quick.”

Alberu gasped in mock-shock. “Oh dear! Cale Henituse was evil all along! I knew it!”

“Hey, if I get behind bars, you’re not getting off scot-free either, bastard. I’m taking you with me.” Cale elbowed him.

Alberu sent him a blindingly bright, glaringly fake smile back. “Do you appreciate my presence that much, Cale Henituse? Look out, I’ll have to dock your pay so you don’t get too cocky—”

“Damn, I’ll be stuck with you in hell, won’t I?” Cale muttered. Alberu snorted. 

The rooftop fell into silence for a moment.

“Why this? Why choose to be a thief?” Alberu finally asked.

Why did the two of them, Alberu and Cale, Cale and Alberu, meet that day in the museum? What spirit of fate, chaos, or random chance had pulled taut the cables of Cale’s harness and the steel of Alberu’s lockpicks, their threads of fate, such that the two of them could meet in that darkened gallery? So many questions, unspoken, unanswered.

“I won’t deny that I am doing this, in part, for my family,” Cale answered, at length. “I may be trash, but I’m still living in that house, so I guess I should pay rent. Thieving kind of… came up naturally?” Cale cringed at his own unsure tone.

Alberu snorted. “Nice excuse. Next?”

‘Truth. Tell him the truth.’ Cale breathed out slowly. “If my family is already disappointed in me, if they lower their expectations enough, then maybe I won’t fail to meet them,” he murmured.

Cale was trash. An alcoholic. The failure of the first son of the Henituse family. The wanted criminal Hero of the Silver Shield. An eternal disappointment. An eternal waste of resources. And Cale had worked hard to make it that way; to become the failure of the first son to draw the ire of high society away from Basen, his infinitely more talented little brother; to allow Lily to pursue hobbies that were “unladylike” for someone with the wealth and standing of a member of the Henituse family; to avert scheming eyes from the wealth and prowess of the Henituse family, and point them to his own squandering of resources.

“I am trash,” Cale finished.

Alberu raised an eyebrow. “If you’re trash then half of the people on this planet are nuclear waste—”

“I am trash,” Cale repeated, “I made myself that way. But…”

Cale was a self-made target for the piercing arrow of high society, as was the role he chose to play to help his family in his own capacity. But at the end of the day, even targets grew tired of being riddled with holes. 

“I wanted a break,” Cale said finally, “I wanted to be something different. I wanted to… fly, just for a little bit.”

The Hero of the Silver Shield. The daring thief known for his aerial escapes. In the end, Cale was just a boy craving the freedom to find who he truly was, away from the role he forced himself to play. The freedom gained by flying through the air on invisible wings of steel, the freedom of being on the edge of a cliff, at the peak of adrenaline, and to know that the sky was his, and his alone.

‘Can trash be this beautiful?’ The thought, unbidden, suddenly popped to the forefront of Alberu’s mind. He fought desperately to keep the flush from his face. What the heck was happening to him these days? 

“Well,” Alberu mumbled, desperate for something to distract his thoughts, “you certainly seem to have excellent wings. You’re free to go wherever you want.” Bitterness oozed into his voice.

‘Dammit.’ Alberu cursed himself, desperate to take back the words he had said. 

Cale frowned. He didn’t think Alberu was talking about literal heist cables and harnesses. What was this about? Freedom?

“And you can’t?” Cale challenged. He turned and locked eyes with Alberu. In the dim evening light, his eyes were tiny gray-blue puddles, mirroring the cloudy sky above. Here and there, little flashes of light were reflected as the cars drove by and the clouds moved to reveal stars above. Cale searched in those eyes for answers to questions he had been wondering since the first time they met. “Why do you stay there, in Roan? Why did you decide to become a thief? Didn’t you also want wings?”

Alberu Crossman, the heir of the Roan Corporation, an internationally renowned business conglomerate with incredible capital. Alberu Crossman, golden boy and prince charming extraordinaire, sun of high society. Regardless of the close competition between siblings for the successor’s seat, Cale clearly knew firsthand that Alberu had the wit and power to completely outplay his siblings for the seat in the first place. Either that, or break off from the Roan Corporation and grow his own business empire from the ground up. Why would he risk all of that and spend his nights dodging between cameras and shadows, if not for the same freedom that Cale wanted?

“My wings…” Alberu sighed, frustrated. He ran a hand over his forehead. “Just… let’s stop with the wings and flying for a second, okay? I wanted Roan. I have always wanted Roan. And the time it would have taken to surpass my brothers and take over Roan by myself would never have been fast enough.”

“But why?” Cale threw his hands up in the air in confusion. “Your office is at the top of the building. That might seem nice, but I’ve taken a tour of the rest of the skyscraper. The top is the smallest. It was supposed to be individual offices. They give you a skeleton crew to run your piece with while your brothers suck up to politicians and businessmen for favors and offices that look like the Lake Hotel. You deserve better. Why stay there—”

“Because I am the best person to run the thing and I know it! I do believe my brothers are good people ,” Alberu hissed, “but the people they suck up to for favors will turn around in a heartbeat and ravage everything they’ve built if they see a better opportunity. I see my brothers changing themselves in this stupid succession contest. If this is how it is now, what will it be like when they run the country? They could lose who they are. So many people could lose their jobs on the drop of a dime. They could start projects that ruin people’s lives, in an oblivious search for more profit. I’m the only person who will keep the damn place afloat!” Alberu was halfway to his feet, the syllables flowing out of his mouth like an unstoppable flood. “Call me greedy, call me fake, call me ruthless, but I will get my Roan running no matter what !”

The last word reverberated around the walls. Alberu found himself on his feet, breathing rapidly, staring down at Cale. The man’s bright red hair was splayed around him like a halo on the ground.  His red-brown eyes were half-lidded, staring stoically back at Alberu. Though Cale’s posture seemed relaxed, his muscles were half-tensed. Alberu realized he had been shouting.

“Oh,” he muttered, “sor—”

“I definitely think you’re greedy.” Cale’s voice sliced through his apology. The red-haired man was still staring, unflinchingly. No emotion could be read from his face. Alberu blinked.

“You’re fake too sometimes, around stupid bugs,” Cale continued, “and you’re definitely ruthless, and that’s not a bad thing. And, like I said…” He took a breath. “You are greedy. But—” Cale quickly whipped a finger upwards to silence any of the words bubbling in Alberu’s throat.

Alberu himself wasn’t even certain what he was trying to say. Excuses? Protests? Agreement?

“—you’re not greedy for yourself.”

Alberu snapped his mouth shut. Whatever he had been expecting to hear from Cale, it had not been that.

“You’re greedy for Roan because you think you can run it better than anyone else. Not to make profit, no.” Cale’s gaze bore holes into Alberu’s own. “You’re greedy for safety. For security and stability in your people’s lives.” He paused. “You became a thief, risking your position and your own stability, working way too hard—you should really slack off sometime, you know—all so that you could reduce the time people spent in hardship.” Cale glanced at Alberu. Alberu couldn’t tell what Cale saw in his expression, but the red-haired man continued, softer, “and you want to save your brothers.”

“I want to defeat my brothers,” Alberu immediately argued.

“—And by doing so, save them from themselves,” Cale replied.

“I’m not a good person,” Alberu muttered. ‘Where have I heard that line before?’

“Nope,” Cale happily agreed, “you’re a terrible bastard and you’re going to hell with me.”

Alberu stared at him flatly.

Cale opened his mouth again. “But—”

“There it is,” Alberu sighed.

“—You’re not a bad person, either,” Cale said simply. Alberu closed his eyes.

Cale’s voice had not stopped. “And if there’s one thing I know, Alberu, it’s that you’d make a damn good corporation head.”

‘Damn him.’ Alberu felt tiny pinpricks of tears burning in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes tighter. ‘Damn it all.’

Alberu worked his entire life without ever receiving anything in return. He worked because he wanted to work, because he was expected to, and because he cared about it. His employees completed their tasks efficiently, and went home with their customary goodbyes. Alberu would go back to his own cold apartment, preferring the cramped privacy to the sterile hostility of his room in the Crossman mansion; sometimes he would head to Tasha’s place, for company or complaints or some semblance of a normal life. Alberu simply always worked. 

And yet, with Cale, Alberu found recognition. Cale was rude, blunt, and unfailingly honest. Alberu felt seen. Appreciated. 

He still wasn’t entirely sure what this feeling was, whether it was love, affection, or appreciation, but he damn sure wanted to keep it.

Chapter Text

Under the dim light of the street lamps, Alberu awkwardly adjusted the cuffs of his suit, feeling the expensive fabric brushing against the form-fitting black clothes under the coat. He resisted the urge to scratch under his brown wig.

“This is the first time I’m wearing three outfits at once,” he muttered quietly to his left.

“It’s just for tonight. Get used to it, dear shining sun.” Cale whispered back testily, crouched uncomfortably in the shadows of the hedge. The night gloom perfectly concealed the man’s dark outfit. The sight almost gave Alberu a sense of nostalgia; Cale had been wearing the same thing on that first heist in the museum, hadn’t he? Complete with a stupid, cartoonish black ski mask.

Despite the plan not strictly requiring Alberu to do any stealthing, Cale had forced Alberu to wear the same outfit under his suit, though minus the ski mask. It was remarkably uncomfortable, with the suit jacket, the shirt, the harness straps (“Just in case,” Cale had said, and Alberu shot him a look of suspicion and terror), and then the thieving outfit underneath. Cale had pointed out, ‘you never know if you’ll need a sudden change of clothes.’ Alberu tended to agree.

Better to be safe than sorry. Especially on their last heist, and, most likely, their last time working together. There would probably be cooperation in the future between Alberu, as the heir of Roan, and the Henituse family, headed by Basen Henituse. But likely not with Cale.

No. Probably never again with Cale.

What a terrible line of thought. Alberu turned his gaze back toward the tan monolith that was Central Bank. He took a deep breath.

“Time to go.” Alberu took one more glance at the shadows of the hedge to his left. Blue eyes met red-brown. Their gaze held for a moment, caught in the gleam of street lamps and floodlights from the bank in front of them. In their gaze they looked like stars.

Alberu tore his gaze away, and stepped toward the bank. He could barely hear the soft rustle as Cale took off, slinking towards the back entrance.

‘Operation start, first phase. I need to buy twenty minutes, starting when I set foot inside the building.’ Alberu threw his shoulders back with feigned confidence and pushed the double doors open. 

The front lobby of the bank was just as grandiose and beige as the outside. Polished brown stone neatly rose up toward a ceiling of sequential Baroque arches. The floor tiles gleamed brightly despite the heavy foot traffic. Modern, spherical glass lamps cast a white glow, dangling from thin wires. Alberu spared a single apologetic glance toward the unfortunate man sitting behind the brown marble table as he strode purposefully toward the help desk.

“Excuse me,” Alberu called out in the most nasally, pompous voice he could muster. All of those conversations with Venion Stan really paid off; he could not mimic the man almost perfectly. “I have several complaints.”

That’s right. At the moment, he was not Alberu Crossman, heir of the Roan Corporation, model citizen, and perfect philanthropic businessman. Neither was he the elusive Shining Sun Thief. He was currently Bob Johnson, rich second generation of the nouveau riche Johnson family in Roan, an arrogant bastard with a bone to pick with anyone who crossed his line of sight. And, luckily for him, there were quite a few people in the bank at the moment. Alberu, or Bob, felt like a kid in a candy store. An annoying, rich, idiotic kid.

‘I can see why Cale finds causing chaos so much fun.’ Alberu barely suppressed a grin. This was going to be an amusing twenty minutes.

Thirteen minutes later, Bob Johnson was officially, in the minds of the bank tellers and most likely a good half of the customers, one of the most awful, appalling, truly evil bastards to ever walk the earth. Though strategic application of his nasally, cracked voice, and unnecessarily loud commentary on the inefficiency of the modern banking system, Bob had successfully forced three tellers to take their breaks early, caused seven customers to mutter obscenities, and even made a small baby in the corner to burst into tears, with wails that echoed piercingly through the arched room. Alberu was not particularly proud of that last one, but, well, it added to the chaos, so he would take what he could get, he supposed. He had also caused a twenty-person pileup in the line behind him as Bob categorically refused to move from that spot without being able to “speak to a manager, for goodness’ sake,” seemingly oblivious to the sheer murderous force of the glares being levied at him. A large number of security guards stood around the perimeter, just waiting for a good reason to exorcise the demon from the premises. And yet, Bob Johnson had somehow mastered the art of only just toeing the line of being kicked out, never quite crossing it. He had even overheard some unfortunate souls mutter questioningly under their breath whether a murder in this particular scenario would be classified under self-defense. The other half of the crowd were heartless souls who would likely be popping popcorn into their mouth if they had any on hand to enjoy the show.

Alberu was having the time of his life. He reckoned it would come back as karma later.

If the murmurs and whispered invectives were just a little bit louder, perhaps Alberu might not have realized. But as it was, Alberu could just barely hear a commotion growing from outside the bank. And this time, it was not Bob Johnson that was causing it.

The sound of shouting grew louder. Everyone inside the front lobby frantically looked around for the source. Thirteen minutes with Bob Johnson had driven them to the point where they would take any distraction over another second spent with the demon. The others were just happy to have more for the show.

Alberu hesitated. Should he go look? Or should he continue his distraction?

“Hey, all you idiots!”

A voice suddenly rang out across the grounds. Alberu’s breath stopped. Even with a voice-changer, Alberu would recognize that familiar cadence of speech anywhere, as well as the slightly understated maniacal smile that bled through into his voice.

‘No, no, tell me it’s just someone who sounds like him—’ Alberu abandoned his spirited ramble of the pitfalls of modern-day capitalism and rushed to the window, peering up at the rooftop.

“No…” he breathed. All of his worst fears solidified into one shadowy figure standing atop the smooth roof tiles of Central Bank, high above the slowly growing crowd below.

It was Cale.

“I’ve always wanted to rob a bank!” the Hero of the Silver Shield shouted. He held a loudspeaker in one hand and a voice-changer in the other—a voice changer? How long had he been planning this? Or had this been a, terrible, worst-case contingency plan?—and Alberu thanked whatever gods or spirits existed that Cale was wearing his black ski mask, no matter how ridiculous it looked.

Nonetheless.

“Come and get me!”

Oh, hell.

Alberu could see the flashing lights of police cars in the distance. The sound of sirens was drowned out by the cries and jeers and shouts of the crowd below, a crowd that was slowly growing in size as more and more onlookers joined the throng. Flashing lights bounced off of the mirrored windows, faster and faster, in tune with Alberu’s erratic heartbeats.

‘What the hell happened?’

Something had happened to Cale. Somehow, he had failed in securing documents. This was not like the heist with Venion: this was a bank . The documents were not going to be conveniently in a desk drawer for them to find, and both Alberu and Cale already knew that. They had plans . Alberu would distract the staff long enough for Cale to search. Then, once Cale had found incriminating evidence of Orsena’s wrongdoings, he would make a large commotion about being a thief and draw onlookers, including Alberu, into the office. Bob Johnson, as the annoyingly perceptive, awkwardly loud-mouthed citizen, would “coincidentally” notice some strange images and documents, and point them out, perhaps with a bit of theatrical screaming. With enough witnesses, Orsena would no longer be able to deny the existence of any evidence brought up against him. 

The timing was too short. Cale was not supposed to be on the roof. Cale was not supposed to risk exposing his identity and voice, no matter what kind of voice-changer he had equipped. And most of all, Cale was not , under any circumstances, supposed to draw a bigger target on himself than he could handle.

And yet, out of the second floor window, Alberu watched as the crowd slowly parted around what looked like half of the city’s police system. There were no windows to jump out of, no walls to scale, no getaway car that could outrun a blockade.

The path to the safe: blocked by the guards.

The exit out the front: blocked by the crowd.

The back parking lot: blocked by flashing lights.

And yet: Alberu could get out. Alberu, whose location had not yet been compromised. Alberu, whose biggest problem was the fact that he had made most of the bank tellers and a good half of the customers utterly livid, which was the least of their worries at the moment. Alberu, with whom Cale had hatched this ridiculous plan in the first place. He could almost hear a voice in his mind, shouting at him to just stay put, and save his place in Roan. Save himself for certain.

Alberu could still escape.

A different voice in Alberu Crossman’s mind could hold its frustration no longer.

‘If something went wrong, you were supposed to share the risk, you self-sacrificing bastard.’

If Cale went down, Alberu went down with him. That was how it was. That was how it started, much to their mutual displeasure. And that was how it was going to end. This time, of his own accord.

Between a certain chance of saving himself, or the slim chance of saving them both… The answer was obvious.

“Shit.” Alberu took a deep breath, in a vain attempt to slow the blood and panic coursing through his veins. “Here we go.”

After breaking away from Alberu at the front of the building, Cale immediately snuck his way to the back entrance. In the gloom, the parking lot became an obstacle course of mottled light and shadow. Cale had really wanted to stand up and swagger his way through, if he could, but Alberu had swiftly pointed out that, not only did all the cars on that side all belong to employees, it was also a surefire way to increase the chances of getting himself caught. Cale had backed down with a huff; which led to the current situation.

Cale crouched in the shadow of an expensive Mercedes and couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

‘Mercedes, Porsche, Mercedes again…’ These employees sure made a lot of money.

His stomach did a little excited flip at the thought of the heist. Alberu had invested in some of Central’s rivals, by virtue of Central being aligned with one of his younger brothers. When Orsena fell, and Central fell with him, he would unquestionably benefit; his brothers’ financial power would be dramatically reduced, his wealth would increase, and he would have gotten rid of one of the last obstacles towards his inheritance of Roan.

‘He won’t need me anymore. He’ll have enough money to hire as many competent employees as he wants. He won’t have to drag me along on heists anymore. I’ll be free to go back to my slacker-trash life.’

Dashing from one shadow to the next, Cale tried to imagine what the future would look like, after the heist. Drinking as much as he wanted. Staring at piles of sparkling, stolen treasure. Making daring escapes in the air.

Alone again.

Somehow, the thought was rather less exciting than the memory of Alberu’s gaze locking on his as he crouched by the hedge, just two minutes prior.

A window on the second floor was slightly open. Cale glanced around, confirmed that no one and no cameras were in sight, and pulled himself up toward the ledge. One hand gripped the ledge over the top of the window as the other carefully nudged the window farther open and shimmied the screen out of its sheath. He dropped to the ground inside an empty conference room.

Cale glanced at the time on the room clock. Fifteen minutes until Alberu’s distraction would end. They had estimated that Cale could stick around for no more than five minutes afterwards, by which time people would have dispersed, and getting out of the bank without being caught would be an exercise in futility. Cale creaked the door open and quietly slipped into the hallway.

Getting to Orsena’s office through well-lit corridors was much harder than sneaking across a parking lot with plenty of obstacles and their shadows. Multiple times, Cale heard the sound of footsteps approaching from around the corner. He ducked into a nearby conference room, or a small alcove, or behind a tasteful piece of modern art, and barely suppressed a swear. Finally, he arrived at his destination.

Cale knew it was the right room because it squatted at the end of a long, empty, and uselessly ostentatious hallway. A placard reading ‘G. ORSENA’ that hung on a large oak door set with marble inlay. It couldn’t have been more pretentious if it had been gilded in gold. Actually, the sign probably was.

Cale surreptitiously pocketed the placard. Hey, gold was gold.

As soon as his hand left his pocket, he once again heard the approaching sound of footsteps.

‘I don’t suppose they’ll just… pass by this hallway?’ Cale squeezed his eyes shut.

Who was he kidding? His luck was never that good. He immediately looked around. His eyes darted from one side to the other, desperately. Smooth burgundy carpet on the floor. Expensive abstract paintings on the wall. Thin fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

Nowhere to hide. Except inside the office behind him.

‘Here goes nothing.’ Cale grabbed the fancy door as quickly and quietly as he could. He just barely caught a glimpse of a shiny black security guard boot as he skidded inside and clicked the door shut.

Had he been a little less panicked, perhaps he would have noticed that the door wasn’t locked.

The footsteps passed on. Cale sighed softly in relief. The filing cabinet was to his left. He didn’t have time. He would just have to steal all of them, and figure out which ones were useful later. Cale carefully rolled the drawer open.

He immediately stiffened.

He was not alone in the room.

A large older man reclined comfortably in the plush chair behind a smooth desk. He wore an expensive navy suit, with bits of gold gleaming on the lapels. His slightly balding head shone in the light coming from the large, floor-to-ceiling window behind the table. A large monitor and stacks of paperwork sat atop the desk, pushed carelessly off to the side to make room for the man to lean his arms. Behind him stood three security guards, all dressed in identical dark clothes. Cale recognized the man before from many of the cross-factional banquets his family forced him to attend with Basen, despite his disinterest in the position of Henituse heir.

“Good evening, thief.” Grandike Orsena, shrewd businessman, leader of the second Crossman son’s faction, and owner of the Central Bank chain, floated an amused and condescending expression as he stared at the Silver Shield thief from across the room. 

‘Shit.’ Cale couldn’t move. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Orsena always left the building in the late afternoon. They had made sure to infiltrate after he had driven off. And yet, here he was. Something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.

“It did take you long enough,” Orsena continued, relaxed, “I was expecting a visit from someone sooner or later.”

‘Oh, no. No, no, no. This is bad.’ The plan was falling to pieces before his eyes. Sneak in, cause a commotion, sneak out.

“Now, then.” Orsena kept his smirking, snakelike gaze fixed upon the frozen thief. “How much, exactly, did Alberu Crossman pay you for this little stunt?”

Cale’s heart dropped to his stomach.

No.

How? How did he—

“Honestly, I’m surprised no one ever noticed,” Orsena continued in the same, insufferably smug tone, “all those robberies? All that staging? And the fallout, oh dear.” He chuckled. “Uncovering corruption, human trafficking, drug busts, forgery… One might even compare him to the present company. Isn’t that right, oh great Hero of the Silver Shield?”

Cale didn’t dare move an inch. 

“All of those little burglaries…” Orsena slowly made a show of unfurling one finger at a time. “That art museum several months ago, that painting was about to be bought by one of the third Crossman son’s associates. The commotion at the Stan mansion removed one of Robbit Crossman’s major supporters. The theft of the White Crown at the Sekka mansion exposed the corruption and inadequacy of a rival international business. It all benefited only one person.” He turned his awful gaze toward Cale. “What do you think old Zed Crossman would think?”

Cale said nothing. Anything he said would only make everything worse. And he wasn’t entirely sure it could even be worse. Everything, all his plans, all his hopes, the dream of a better Roan that Alberu had confided in him earlier that night, were turning to dust before his eyes.

“Thinking about it logically, I was the last one left.” Orsena pushed his chair back and slowly, very slowly, advanced toward the filing cabinet. “But you have failed. You have been captured. And soon, so will your employer.”

‘He believes Alberu is paying me. He doesn’t know who I am.’ A minor relief, at most. Cale’s mind was spinning faster than it ever had before. It might still be salvageable. His plans had gone wrong before. Honestly, they usually went wrong. But never quite so terribly.

“In any case, you are a very good thief, to have gotten this far. Truly deserving of the title Silver Shield Hero. Therefore…” Orsena’s oily smile stretched wider. He raised his hands. “Won’t you consider joining me?”

Cale froze. 

“I can keep you out of the way of law enforcement. You can walk free of this predicament here, instead of rotting the rest of your days away in cell,” Orsena chuckled, “of course, you will be running several… errands for me. And only for me. After all, we wouldn’t want you to be captured again, now would we?”

The security guards looked on impassively.

“I can give you wealth, thief. Money beyond your wildest dreams. Money beyond what the fool of Roan can offer you.”

‘What?’ Cale blinked.

Orsena’s oily smile stretched wider. He had him. “Join me, Silver Shield, and you live like a king. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

Cale stood still. But not for the reason Orsena believed.

‘Is this guy actually an idiot?’ He had high hopes for Orsena at first. By hook and by crook, the man had managed to raise a medium-sized bank chain to one of the most colossal moneylending and storing corporations in the region, large enough to rival the Henituse Northwest Bank, and perhaps even Roan Corporation itself. Orsena was the definition of a businessman; he knew when to strike a deal and how; he could create profit from the smallest leverage; he was remarkably skilled in the art of building a solid network. He amassed information from seemingly unrelated heists and correctly tied it all back to Alberu. He had perfectly baited and trapped Cale in his office. And yet, Cale now had only one thing to say.

“How can someone like that be this incredibly stupid?” He muttered to himself.

Orsena, busy extolling the virtues of becoming one of his henchmen, broke off mid-sentence. “What?” he hissed.

“I said,” Cale repeated absently, “you are incredibly stupid.”

Orsena gaped like a suffocating fish.

“I know. I couldn’t believe it myself either.” Cale glanced at him sympathetically. “And yet you managed to underwhelm all of my expectations with the sheer volume of your idiocy.”

Sell out Alberu Crossman? For a pittance, handed to him by a despicable pig like Orsena? He must be joking.

Once upon a time, perhaps. Orsena was not clean by any stretch of the imagination, but then again, neither were most people with money. However, Orsena had not yet fallen to the depths of depravity of the likes of Venion Stan, or even Clopeh Sekka. He had money. He had the means to hide himself from prying eyes. He could potentially offer the Hero of the Silver Shield some modicum of protection from the law. And Cale had never been particularly attached to the heists he pulled. He helped people, yes, but Cale didn’t particularly like going out of his way, and he certainly did not like getting caught, as was seeming increasingly likely as the minutes he spent in the Central bank offices wore on. Had it been the Cale Henituse of half a year ago, he might have been persuaded. 

But now? Somewhere along the way, Cale had started caring less about the money, less about the object of the heist, less about what brilliant trick or flamboyant mockery he would perform for his law enforcement audience. Somewhere along the way, something—no, some one —grew to take that position.

Cale could almost hear Alberu Crossman’s voice as memories flooded his mind.

‘Let me remind you of one last thing: one mistake, and we both go down.’
‘You are… a crazy… bastard…’
‘I wanted Roan. I have always wanted Roan.’

And Cale’s own voice. ‘Yeah,’ he had said to his step-mother, ‘yeah, I think I care about him.’

‘I don’t want to leave.’ The realization hit him in an instant. Cale snapped his eyes back open and pinned Orsena with his glare. ‘Oh.’

He cared for Alberu Crossman.

He trusted Alberu Crossman.

He was not selling out Alberu Crossman.

Grandike Orsena watched as a wide grin slowly split the black-clothed thief’s face. He shivered. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. Something in his perfect plan had gone terribly wrong.

Cale smiled even wider as fear flashed in Orsena’s eyes. “Go to hell, you bastard.”

He loved Alberu Crossman.

‘Looks like we’ll have to scrap the plan.’ Orsena was in the office, and Cale and Alberu would both get captured before the police had any time to look at the documents. Orsena would deny everything and pin it all on Cale and Alberu. If they could incriminate Orsena before he had the chance to reveal Alberu’s identity… It might work. It would be tight. And they would have to escape first. It would take a lot of improvisation. And if they got caught… 

Luckily, Cale was always very good at improvisation.

The thief swiftly reached out and snatched the documents from the dresser. He immediately ducked as two bodyguards’ fists sailed past his head and smashed into the wall, and rolled out of the way as the third attempted to tackle him to the ground. Cale smoothly came out of his roll into a runner’s position and shot forward toward Orsena. The man had barely enough time to take a frightened step back before Cale collided with him. The Silver Shield Hero planted one foot firmly on Orsena’s shoulder and vaulted over him, directly toward the floor-to-ceiling window. All Orsena saw as he was pushed to the floor was the thief’s crazed grin underneath his black mask. Cale curled himself into a protective ball and shot straight through the glass.

He let out a wild, cackling laugh.

This had absolutely nothing to do with living a peaceful slacker life. The logical part of his mind should have considered escaping. But it was so exciting. And it felt right.

Cale grabbed a pipe and swung himself back around, leaping up from one ledge to the next. He could hear alarms blaring around the building, Orsena’s shouting in the room below him. He grabbed the ledge of the roof and swung himself onto the tile. Cale turned around.

From this vantage, Cale had a clear view of the bank. The beige stone flickered in the lights of the alarms. He could see a large crowd starting to gather at the front of the bank. Somewhere below him, Orsena’s shouts grew more and more incensed. Somewhere in the distance, a police siren began wailing.

Cale grinned. He unhooked the small loudspeaker from his belt. It was supposed to be used to make a commotion.

Well. He would definitely make a commotion.

Cale flicked the “on” switch.

“Hey, all you idiots! I’ve always wanted to rob a bank!” Cale’s slightly warped voice echoed over the grounds. He could see Alberu poking his wigged head through one of the windows in the main hall. He had an amusing expression of horror. He really was quite pretty, even while making ridiculous faces. Cale smirked wider and resisted the urge to wiggle his fingers in greeting.

‘You’re an absolute bastard, making me do this kind of stupid shit,’ Cale chuckled to himself. He did not regret it one bit.

“Come and get me!” he shouted.

The police sirens were two blocks away from Central bank. Security guards began to congregate on the grounds. He could hear thudding footsteps in the rooms below his perch on the roof.

Cale turned the loudspeaker off and clipped it back on his belt. His gaze met Alberu’s once more. Cale took a deep breath, though Alberu would never be able to hear him from across the building, and muttered one last line before ducking to the other side of the roof:

“Didn’t I say? Subtlety was never my strong suit.”

Chapter Text

It was surprisingly easy for Alberu to slip out amidst the chaos. The bank staff, for one, looked about ready to start praying to a benevolent higher power when Bob Johnson made his way over to the corner where the restrooms were, and finally left them alone to attend to the more pressing matter of the alarms blaring throughout the building.

‘Cale. I need to find that bastard Cale.’ Alberu moved past the restrooms. A new expletive was hurled at the red-haired man with each step he took. It helped keep him centered.

‘That absolute, idiotic, goddamn stupid, oblivious, moronic, bastard—’

It was therapeutic, almost. It would definitely be more therapeutic when he had the red-haired man sitting right in front of him , letting Alberu yell at him out loud , safe, healthy, and definitely not in a prison cell. 

Alberu’s strides lengthened until he was almost running. He couldn’t run. Running meant urgency, it meant that someone wasn’t supposed to be there, in the back corridors of the bank. Running brought attention. He needed to walk. Quickly.

He was so lost in his thoughts that Alberu didn’t see the person in front of him until he abruptly collided with him and fell to the floor. He jolted himself out of the midst of the storm of expletives in his head. He was about to shout the nastiest one on the tip of his tongue when his eyes fell on the person sitting in front of him.

Cale. It was Cale. 

Alberu froze. Relief and anger warred against each other in his throat, a thin spear of pure emotion that pierced his vocal chords and rendered him mute and still. The red-brown eyes opposite him blinked, stunned. Suddenly, they sharpened.

The unmistakable heavy thud of footsteps and enraged shouting echoed down the hallway.

Cale reached out and grabbed Alberu’s arm.

‘Hide. We need to hide.’ Alberu tore his eyes away from Cale—he was okay, he was okay , for now—his gaze now flying wildly about the corridor.

There.

‘Those doors.’ It would have to do. It had to. Alberu yanked Cale’s arm roughly, not caring about the other man’s whispered swear, and shoved them both into the supply closet.

The door closed just as the guards rounded the corner.

The guards stormed past. Alberu held his breath. Next to him Cale was perfectly still. Neither of them moved.

The heavy footfalls made tremors in the floor that shook the small closet. Or maybe that was one of the two men trembling. ‘Still. Silent. Invisible.’

After what seemed like an age, the shouting receded. Alberu could hear the noise as it spread throughout the bank. The guards would be everywhere, now. The police were already outside, and had likely entered the building as well. They were trapped.

Someone let out a shaky sigh. Alberu wasn’t sure if it was him or Cale. A small tendril of tension seeped out of him, no longer wound up tight and on the verge of exploding. A reprieve.

Alberu desperately tried to contain the rest of his surging adrenaline as he slowly turned around and swiftly grabbed Cale by the shoulders. “What the hell happened, you bastard —”
“I got caught,” Cale flatly replied.

“What?”

“I said, I got caught.”

“I get that!” Alberu hissed. He gestured widely—well, as widely as he could without knocking into any brooms or buckets of cleaning solution. “What I want to know is how . You don’t get caught. You’ve never gotten caught. You’ve probably robbed banks before—”

“—Two,” Cale replied absently.
“So how—”
“He knows . Alberu.” Cale turned to face him.

Alberu froze. “He—what?” It occurred to him, and his faced dawned in horror. “Oh, hell. Are you okay? Is your family okay? Do we need to get you out of here, is there something I can arrange—”

Cale clamped a hand over Alberu’s mouth. “No you idiot , it’s you! ”

“—excuse me?” The words were slightly muffled by the hand on his face. Cale snatched the limb back as if burned.

“It’s you.” Cale breathed out sharply. His eyes glittered in the dim light, frustration, fear, and exasperation mingling in his gaze. “The bastard Orsena knows you’re the Shining Sun Thief.”

In another moment, Alberu would have laughed at the ridiculousness of his thief title, particularly coming out of Cale Henituse’s mouth with any modicum of seriousness that wasn’t a friendly jibe at his status and the ridiculousness of the press. But hiding in a closet, alarms blaring all around them, and both men desperately keeping an ear out for footfalls that might have landed a bit too close to their hiding space, was certainly not that moment.

“Shit.” Alberu swore. Cale said nothing. He didn’t have to. Alberu took a deep breath.

“Okay. We can work with this,” he muttered, “we need to get out of here. You have the files—” he shot Cale an inquisitive look, which the red-haired man returned with a nod “—so we can cut our losses and get out of here. We have what we came here for.”

Thanks to Cale’s—stupid, idiotic, foolhardy, completely insane —distraction, nobody would be expecting them to go further into the bank. They could work with that. If they made it into other people’s offices, they could even get away with stealing even more files, and deal an even harder blow on Central Bank. They could split the police’s attention between the two of them. The catch was getting out.

The police sirens still blared loudly outside. They were trapped. There would be patrols on every street corner, with people on the lookout for anyone coming in and out of the bank. Stealth was out of the question. Brute force was beyond their capabilities. They were only two human beings, for goodness’ sake! Why were they getting into these situations in the first place? Speed—

Speed. The police had brought quite a few vehicles along with them, hadn’t they? They would have needed to for the blockade.

Alberu caught Cale’s gaze. He could see the widening in the other man’s eyes, and he knew that Cale had come to the same conclusion.

“As idiotic as your stunt was, my dear Silver Shield Hero, we got lucky.” Alberu made a valiant effort to ignore a rush of affection for the bastard who thought so similarly to himself. The beginnings of a smirk grew on his face.

Cale’s grin matched his. “Very lucky.”

“So… we can, maybe, pull this off if we get lucky again,” Alberu finished. 

If they could escape, it would still drag Orsena’s reputation through the mud. They could emphasize the fact that there were thieves in the bank, and Orsena had failed to capture them. They could still solidify Alberu’s place as heir. And with any luck, the files in Cale’s grasp, and those that Alberu would secure from the offices deeper in the bank, would invalidate Orsena’s accusations. His suspicion of Alberu Crossman would no longer hold any weight.

They needed a vehicle. They would need to steal the keys, but if they could get their hands on a car, or even some police equipment, they could make it out of there. A car would be a big, moving target, and they would be sacrificing maneuverability in favor of putting as much distance as possible between them and the bank, but it was the best they had. Once they lost the police, they could sneak away.

Cale nodded and narrowed his eyes. “I’ll go down, you go up?”

Alberu nodded slowly back, calculations flitting through his mind. He turned back to the crack in the doorframe. He was briefly reminded of another night, another time, with the same red-haired stranger in the closet with them as both of them held their breath. The same tension, the same chaos, the same feeling of the world shifting under their feet as things went wrong and they made it right . The first time he had met Cale; not Cale Henituse, first son of the Henituse family and disappointment of high society, not the Silver Shield Hero with his overconfident aerial heroics. Just Cale.

Cale, who infuriated and exhilarated and supported him in equal measure. Cale, who was just as scared of getting caught as Alberu; who has just as many plans and hopes and dreams riding on his freedom as Alberu himself. Cale, who trusted him in whispered conversations as they stared up at the stars, who put himself up on the roof in plain sight in one of the stupidest acts of sheer audacity that Alberu would be sure to never let him live down when they made it out of here.

Alberu took a breath. “For what it’s worth, Cale…” Cale looked at him. “Thanks.”

Cale blinked. “Huh?”
“For not ratting me out.”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Cale tipped his head to the side, confused.

‘Idiot as always.’ Alberu breathed a shaky laugh. “Thanks anyways.”

Cale frowned, but accepted that he likely was not going to get more of an explanation out of Alberu. He turned a wary gaze back to the slit in the door.

Alberu continued to gaze at the red-haired man silently. The shouts outside the closet were dying down, further and further away from their hiding place. Alberu felt his own breathing a little easier as the spike of terror receded to a background hum.

“It was so ironic when you shoved me in the closet back when we met.” The words involuntarily slipped through his lips. In the closet in more ways than one, indeed. ‘And now, I might even have fallen for you.’

Next to him, Alberu could faintly hear Cale’s murmur. “It was ironic for me too.”

Alberu all but jolted. He carefully held himself as still as humanly possible. ‘What did he mean? Ironic? Is he saying that—’

“We need to go.” Cale’s voice rudely interrupted any attempts at coherency in Alberu’s thoughts.

‘No, wait, you bastard, explain to me exactly why it was so ironic—’ Alberu grimaced. Now was not the time for a mental breakdown or a detailed inspection of the bastard’s lack of social awareness. Later. Preferably when they weren’t in imminent danger. Another time, another place. Now the most he could do was wryly appreciate Cale’s proficiency in dodging any conversation that could potentially ask him to confront his emotions.

“On three,” Cale whispered, “I go down, you go up, remember.”

All Alberu could do was nod. “Okay.”

Cale nodded back at him, and glanced back toward the door. “One.”

Alberu took a deep breath.

Cale’s eyes narrowed at the sliver of light.  “Two.”

Alberu tensed. ‘Not yet, not yet...’

“Three.”

The two men burst out of the closet and charged forwards. Red-brown eyes met blue one final time, then glanced away. Not a second later, the two figures split and ran in opposite directions, perfectly synchronized. 

The escape was on.

There was a click as the door unlocked, and the shadowy figure of Bob Johnson in a business suit slunk into an empty office. Moonlight streamed in through the small windows, nowhere near enough light to work, but certainly enough to see.

Alberu quietly stepped into the room, looking around in all corners, looking for any security cameras that he might have missed. He still had the localized disabling device, a small black box that he hadn’t touched since that first disastrous—or fortuitous? Alberu didn’t know what to think anymore—museum heist, but he could have missed one. And he wasn’t about to take chances, not with both his and Cale’s freedom on the line.

Whatever the heck that bastard was doing on the ground floor, he was doing it well. The office was thoroughly cleaned out. That didn’t mean it would stay that way for long, though.

Sharp shouts and intermittent sirens rang out from a cracked window. Alberu’s breath briefly caught, but he shook it out. He did not want to check out the commotion. He needed to do his job. And then get the hell out of dodge.

‘With Cale,’ his traitorous mind added, ‘with Cale, or else we go down in a blaze of Shining Sun glory.’

Alberu’s fingers gently worked on the filing cabinet lock. Funny things, locks. They kept most people from wondering what was held behind them, an artificial, insurmountable obstacle that most preferred to pretend didn’t exist. But for the right people, a lock was like a bright, neon sign that practically screamed, “IMPORTANT STUFF HERE!” Things like financial records, hiring records, or, oh, perhaps bribery records?

Perfect.

Alberu quickly stripped out of his business suit and flipped up the hood of the sweatshirt underneath, thanking and cursing whatever deity and Cale for recommending he wear a hoodie beneath his fancy getup to conceal his hair, “just in case.” And several layers of thieving clothes, and a harness, which Alberu desperately hoped he would never have to use again . But, well, he supposed sometimes needs must. He squeezed the files out of the drawers and shoved them roughly into his pockets and, when those were full, his shirt. Cale would have had some kind of inappropriate snark at that. Alberu clenched his fists.

The thief carefully listened to the hallway outside. Silence. Shouting, two hallways to the right. Still far, but getting closer. Any longer and he would be trapped, and no matter how much he and Cale had exchanged tips and training, he hadn’t yet picked up Cale’s skill in vaulting out windows. Alberu tore the door open and started sprinting towards where he knew the stairs to the ground floor would be. He needed to meet back up with Cale. The shouts flared to life behind him with renewed intensity, sirens and the vigorous thumping of heavy boots on the tile telling him all he needed to know about just how close he was to his pursuers.

Alberu breathed heavily as he slid around a corner, and kicked the fire escape door open. The side of the door hit the wall with a tremendous BANG as Alberu slipped through, and swung back immediately to slam shut. He could hear the shouting on the other side increasing in volume as he leaped into the stairwell, practically falling more than running down the stairs, yanking himself around corners and leaping railings like a trampolinist with wings. 

Alberu could hear screams from a commotion on the bottom floor, and a strange rumble.

“Stop right there!”

“This is your final warning!”

“Thief! Help!”

A swing round one corner, then the next, then a straight sprint down a hallway. There was a larger group behind him now, the noise behind him increasing in volume and voices. Eight people? Ten? Alberu couldn’t tell. Still manageable.

The shouting in front grew louder as well, as did the strange rumbling noise. An engine.

‘Cale, what the hell are you doing—’ Alberu yanked himself around a corner and continued sprinting down another identical hallway. There was no time. Cale was down there. The only reason Alberu had a manageable group on his tail was due to Cale taking all the attention off of him. But no matter how skillful Cale was at being an impossibly frustrating bastard, he couldn’t hold onto the distraction for long. Alberu needed to get out.

The sound of an engine grew progressively louder, as did the sirens of the group on the ground floor.

“STOP HIM—”

“WE NEED BACKUP! OVER HERE—”

Alberu leaped over another railing and slid down another flight of stairs, gasping under his mask. Alberu slammed his whole body into the door. A star marked the sign next to it. Ground floor. Escape was within reach. Alberu tore off running.

There it was: a window. 

Alberu couldn’t breathe. It was taking all of his energy to keep running, adrenaline pumping through his veins and flowing to his legs. He picked up speed.

‘Just like Cale taught you, Alberu.’

Faster.

‘Wait for the right moment.’

Even faster.

‘Now.’

Alberu jumped, tucking his knees up into his chest and crossing his arms in front of his face. He squeezed his eyes shut. The stale air whipped past his face as he approached. The world seemed to slow down. He could hear the shocked and outraged shouts of the ten bank employees chasing behind him. They shouted unidentifiable syllables as Alberu soared forward through the air.

Alberu’s knees hit the window first, and the momentum of his body followed. The glass shattered. The world sped back up. He cleared the short hedge and landed with a perfect roll in the grass outside, stumbled, and pushed himself back to his feet, not sparing a single glance for the group behind him.

Well. Maybe he had picked up some of Cale’s skills after all.

Alberu charged forward. The sirens pierced the air now that he was outside. Any thief with half a brain cell would run directly toward the back street, away from the shouts and sirens.

Alberu sprinted towards the sounds.

He leaped over another hedge, mentally thanking Cale for the brief lessons in parkour and window-smashing, but simultaneously hurling insults in his mind.

‘Dammit. Cale. Get out of there! Now!’

Cale charged around the next corner, uncaring if his footsteps echoed on the flagstones. The louder the better. The more attention on him, the less on Alberu.

And it seemed to be working. Behind him, in front, to the sides, Cale could hear shouting, the crackling of radios, the thud of urgent footsteps. A net was growing smaller and smaller around Cale. Soon, it would be too small to slip through the holes. Soon, but not yet. 

Cale ducked and rolled to the side, a sudden change of direction. A split second later, two men charged past his turn and skidded. Three extra seconds. Cale jumped a bannister, rolling smoothly as he hit the floor below. Five extra seconds.

He could buy all the time he wanted.

The back parking lot was close. Cale angled himself toward it, hand shooting out to grab a dooframe and swining himself around it. A figure shot towards him from the front and Cale dropped, sliding past the guard and hooking a leg through his knees, sending them tumbling into his closest tail. Ten extra seconds.

Cale grinned widely.

It was here, on the edge of sanity and insanity, freedom and capture, possible and impossible, alone but not alone, where he felt like he had wings. Like he could fly. Where he felt the most alive .

Cale whirled around and slammed a bar down on maintenance stairwell door and all but dropped down the two flights of stairs. The door would hold for one minute, maybe two. Gasping half in need of breath and half in barely restrained laughter, Cale rammed himself into the door on the bottom floor and shoved himself through it. Finally, the back parking lot.

“Back again, Silver Shield Hero?” 

Cale paused. Then cautiously turned around.

Orsena’s business suit looked unfairly unruffled for having been used as a stepstool to a window. The cadre of police officers fanning out around him looked even less amused. They brandished a mix of batons and tasers. The bright white fluorescent lights of the parking lot cast a harsh glare on their features. Silver and navy varnish on standard issue police vehicles gleamed in the artificial lights.

“Orsena.” Cale’s eyes roamed around the room, recording faces and weapons and exits. “I’d say it’s lovely to see you again, but it’s really… not .”

The businessman’s eyes gleamed. “Are you that desperate to be caught? Come quietly now, give up your bastard of a blond employer, and maybe, I’ll let you have an easier time in prison.”

“Hmm.” Cale mockingly tapped his lips, hidden behind the cloth mask. “How about… Go shove it.”

In a synchronous movement, all of the security agents in the room drew their weapons.

No guns. Non-lethal takedown, then. Cale narrows his eyes. They wanted a confession. They weren’t here for Cale, they were aiming for Alberu, still under the not-so-mistaken assumption that the Silver Shield Hero had been hired by the first son of the Roan Corporation, and the definitely-mistaken assumption that said Silver Shield Hero would be willing to sell out his employer. Cale’s sight flicked back to Orsena. The man’s gaze shone greedily as he slipped his fingers inside his suit pockets.

‘No,’ Cale amended. ‘ Orsena is aiming for Alberu.’

Orsena, and whomever was behind him: the second son, here to deal a devastating blow to ruin his own flesh and blood and to take over Roan.

Cale straightened. Tension was evident in every  part of the thief’s posture. He carefully spread his hands wider and shrugged.

“You know,” Cale started softly. His eyes flickered to and fro between the businessman and the officers fanning out and flanking him. “I think you are… not good , but not a terrible human being. Definitely not as bad as Venion Stan .” He spat the last word. Cale carefully angled his body and coiled in readiness. He quietly wound his arms back to his sides.

Orsena stared at him, nonplussed, and a self-satisfied smile slunk across his face. He knew, they both knew: there was no conceivable way that Cale was getting out of this one.

Good thing Cale had regular practice in being insane.

“But then you went and threatened someone you should not have.”

‘Let him assume,’ Cale thought viciously, ‘let him think that I was talking about myself. Let him so much as try to use Alberu to get himself out of it. It will be the last thing he ever does.’ 

“You are a pathetic excuse of a human being.” Cale’s voice was sugary sweet smiles and deadly poison.

In a flash, he leaped.

His fist collided with the side of Orsena’s face.

His foot connected with the manager’s stomach, and pushed off.

Then he was flying through the air, cackling madly, dodging arms and legs and shouts left and right, snatching a baton and smacking two more bodies, and then he was off and sprinting across the room, towards the glint of sleek silver and speed. Cale kneed another officer in the stomach and grabbed a gleaming ring from someone’s belt and sprinted towards the police motorcycle.

He flipped himself dramatically into the seat, jammed the key into the ignition, and stomped on the gas.

A loud screech of tires on smooth concrete echoed throughout the garage, melding beautifully with the screams and enraged shouts, a symphony of disbelief and rage and Cale’s mad cackling.

That was cathartic .

Time to go find his dear partner in crime.

How much time had passed? Was Cale alright? Did he manage to cause a distraction without getting caught? Were they going to make it out? Was Alberu racing to his doom? Had Alberu failed?

Alberu continued sprinting toward the back parking lot. He could hear the shouts of his pursuers behind him. They had managed to amass more people, doubling in size. Not manageable.

‘Shit, shit—’ Alberu swore.

The long-forgotten sound of engines grew louder. No: a single engine.

Something sped toward Alberu at such a speed it almost looked blurred. Almost.

A small, thin figure in dark, form-fitting clothes straddled a silver motorcycle that flashed the bright colors of the local police. Behind him, a swarm of vehicles suddenly roared to life, tires screeching, picking up speed. Above the defiant roar of the silver motorcycle, the stuttering squeal of tires, the hum of engines, the frantic shouting, the screaming of passersby… Alberu could hear a bright, loud, manic cackle as Cale Henituse floored the gas on his stolen police motorcycle and accelerated toward him.

All of Alberu’s frantic worries shattered to pieces as he hurled abuse at Cale in his mind. ‘What the hell did you do?’

“HOP ON, SUNSHINE BOY!” Cale hollered, skidding a half turn. Alberu grabbed Cale’s outstretched arm, hauled himself up, and swung around behind Cale. Alberu had barely enough time to wrap his arms around Cale’s waist for dear life before the red-haired bastard stamped firmly on the accelerator and they shot forward.

“Where did you find a motorcycle ?!” Alberu shouted over the roar of the wind and engines, gasping for air.

Cale just laughed in return, a lunatic, wild sound. 

Alberu scoffed. “To hell with that, go faster you moron!” It occurred to him that he had his arms wrapped around Cale in a tight hug. It also occurred to him that now was not the time to think about that. 

“SO WHERE IS IT?” Cale shouted. The wind stole away his voice before it could reach Alberu’s ears.

“WHAT?” Alberu shouted back.

“OUR GETAWAY!” Tasha had a car on standby. She always did, no matter how much Alberu protested. And, not for the first time, he was incredibly thankful for his blessing of an aunt. They would be safe, if only they could make it to Tasha.

“OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER BRIDGE!” Alberu and Cale heard gunfire. They both swore and ducked in tandem, Cale weaving an unsteady and dangerously sharp curve down the street.

“CAN WE GO ANY FASTER?” Alberu yelled.

“IF I COULD DON’T YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE ALREADY?!” Cale screamed back.

They skidded around a curve. Alberu briefly wondered where exactly Cale learned to drive a motorcycle. He made a mental note to ask him later. Preferably, not while they were in prison. Or dead, for that matter.

Cale leaned the motorcycle a good forty five degrees to the side as they zipped past another corner.

Suddenly, the sky opened up. The buildings stopped, The river emerged in view, unfurling and glittering silver in the moonlight. 

Along with a raised drawbridge, cement road blocks, flashing lights, and police cars. An enormous blockade.

Once again, both thieves had the exact same thought.

“Shit.”

Chapter Text

A blockade.

“Dammit,” Alberu swore. His stomach dropped. It was all over. This was the last, desperate gambit, and they failed. There was a freaking blockade. And even if they somehow managed to make it past the blockade, the bridge, their route of escape, sat completely vertical, disconnected from the other bank.

In front of him, Cale was still cursing a long stream of invectives, letting out some of the most inventive words Alberu had ever heard.

“We’re screwed, aren’t we,” Alberu murmured. This was it. ‘I gambled on both of us, and I failed.’ Alberu huffed softly. ‘But I don’t regret it.’

Cale was silent in reply. He pressed down further on the accelerator. The stolen motorcycle gleamed silver in the moonlight as it sped up. 

“Cale?” Alberu blinked. Their ride straightened out into a steady line forwards, towards the lights.

“Alberu,” Cale said.

“Cale, what the hell are you doing?” It was strange. Alberu had expected a note of panic in his speech, perhaps a shift to a higher key in fear. But his voice remained markedly steady.

Cale exhaled slowly. “Alberu, do you trust me?”

Alberu grit his teeth. “The last time you asked me that question we ended up dangling from the end of a zipline more than a hundred feet in the air—”

“ Alberu ,” Cale interrupted, “please. Do you trust me?”

‘Is that please answer the question? Or please trust me?’ Either way, the answer had already been decided long ago, since that first time in Venion Stan’s office.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Cale smiled. With his right hand, he reached down into his pocket and pulled out a small gun-shaped contraption. Alberu had seen it before: the grappling hook from the museum. So that was what had been in the suspiciously rectangular package from the mechanic. The satisfaction of resolving that particular mystery soon turned into horror.

‘The bastard’s thinking of using it, isn’t he?’

The stolen motorcycle was still speeding toward the blockade. Alberu could see officers rushing to get in formation, opening and closing car doors, and rushing back from the cement roadblocks as they realized the ridiculous reality of the situation: the silver motorcycle was, against all odds, not slowing down. Several officials gesticulated vociferously, pulling their men away from the front.

“Hold my hand,” Cale called out. He held out his hand, and Alberu grabbed it tightly, thought better of it, and pulled himself into a tight embrace around Cale’s waist. Cale took a deep breath. “On three, jump.”

“Are you insane —”

“Do you have a better plan?”

Alberu was silent. The wind roared in his ears as they sped down the riverside road, closer and closer to the lights ahead.

“Please,” Cale whispered.

Alberu just squeezed his arms harder.

Cale took a deep breath “One.”

The blockade was only a half block away. Cale tilted the motorcycle and drifted sideways, until finally turning the handlebars straight again, barely a foot away from the sharp drop to the rushing river. The bridge and blockade grew ever larger up ahead.

“Two.”

The street intersection was even closer now. Alberu could see the details on the blockade, the way the police flashed gleamed in the multicolored lights, the distinct light gray of the trapezoidal barriers, the gleam of windshields and metal tire rims.

The raised bridge, a tall, shadowy spear shooting up towards the night sky, was almost within reach, past the police cars. Just a stone’s throw away.

Or, a grappling hook shot away.

“THREE!”

Alberu opened his eyes wide and jumped. He watched Cale’s finger pull the trigger on the grapple gun. The hook shot out the front end toward the middle of the bridge. It soared through the air. Alberu and Cale were hurtling forward behind it. The hook caught. Alberu and Cale reached the crest of their jump and began to fall back down. The prongs snapped out and lodged themselves behind the web of support beams on the left rail of the bridge. There was a lurch, then suddenly Alberu and Cale were swinging again, towards the river, over and past the dumbstruck, horrified faces, the flashing lights, towards the other bank; but they were too far, the cord was too short, at most they would get more than halfway across the river and oh, that was the point —

Alberu felt the whoosh of wind, the spray of the river, heard the commotion and incredulous chaos from behind them. The stars glimmered on the water. The second seemed to last an eternity. The anticipation of the fall, the knowledge of the impact, the space before the crash, all coalesced into the flash of light on the zipline hook in the distance and an incredible feeling of freedom and terror.

Cale let go. Alberu let go. They fell.

Cale hit the water feet-first, ramrod straight like a pencil. The bone-chilling cold of the river crashed into his feet, pounding every piece of his body, swirling up into his nose, slipping over his tightly-closed eyelids. He couldn’t breathe. Which direction was up? The murky water was all around him now, pressing against his mouth and nose. He needed to breathe. Cale reached forward desperately.

Something grabbed his hand and hauled him upward.

Cale surfaced, sputtering and gasping. The muddy water ran rivulets down his face, dripping into his open mouth, thick with dirt and grime and the iron tang of metal. He shivered violently as his face hit the night air. Next to him, Alberu gripped his hand.

Cale squeezed tighter. He grinned.

Behind them, the sirens wailed louder as the panic and harsh shouts gradually overtook the stunned incredulity of their pursuers. It was kind of an idiotic plan, after all.

Cale flipped on his side and took after Alberu, arms and legs slicing through the water. He felt a laugh bubble up in his chest, but forced it down. Now was not the time. The other bank approached at a snail’s pace, too slow. The waves and water battered his ears, the piercing noise of their pursuit flip flopping with utter waterlogged silence in a dizzying spiral. Cale ignored it all, focusing on Alberu’s back and the water he shoved past him.

Then, the bank was there. Four feet. Three feet. Two. 

Cale dragged his legs under him through the water, shoved them into the riverbed, and stumbled onto the bank. A strong hand gripped his arm and hauled him forward as he sputtered, water dripping off his nose, his eyes, his mouth.

Alberu stumbled. Cale flipped their grip, catching him in turn. He glanced back toward the other bank. The blockade was still there. A mass of people in uniform, bright flashing lights, shouts, and rage converged toward the other end. The bridge was starting to lower.

The grappling gun was still attached in the joint of two of the cross beams, swaying gently in the wind, like a taunting flag of impossibility.

Cale finally let the wild laugh escape from where he had barricaded it in his chest.

“Come on, Sunshine Boy.” Cale grinned and turned back to Alberu. “RUN!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Alberu grabbed his hand and yanked him forwards, away from the bridge, away from the shouts, toward freedom. The two thieves took off, elation adding wind to their steps.

Their hands didn’t separate.

Alberu and Cale ran for nearly five minutes, the screech of sirens getting softer as they tore down alleyways, skidded around corners, and single-mindedly raced away from the river, before  they finally collapsed on the grass of a small park. It was nothing more than a small patch of grass and a couple swings, surrounded by lush trees, the leaves just barely starting to lose the vibrancy of summer and yellow into early fall, but it was quiet.

The grass beneath them was muddy with river water, but neither thief found that they cared. Water continued to drip off of their hair and clothes. Cale reclined into the ground and stared up at the night sky. The stars above were hidden by the dim streetlights, but he could still make out a couple pinpricks of light that stubbornly refused to be outshone. The rustle of wet clothing sounded next to him as Alberu let himself fall limply into a sitting position on the grass. 

Then, for a while, all Alberu could hear was both of their breaths, heavy with exhaustion and adrenaline, slowly returning to normal. Crickets chirped softly in the background. The sirens were still wailing, somewhere in the distance, but this far away, it was easy to forget about them.

Alberu found his gaze drifting to the red-haired man on the ground next to him. Their hands were still intertwined. Alberu fought to keep a small flush from forming on his face. 

‘I was holding his hand the entire time, and didn’t even realize?’ And then Alberu immediately kicked himself. A successful disaster of a heist, a full on police chase, a dip in the muddy river, and he was worried about holding Cale’s hand? ‘I really need to review my priorities,’ Alberu thought wryly. But then, he found that he didn’t care.

“You’re beautiful.” The words fell out of Alberu’s mouth. He didn’t realize he had said them out loud until the silence in the air, mixed with the occasional sound of crickets, hit him full force. Alberu froze. His eyes widened. ‘What… did I just say?’ He quickly opened his mouth to explain something, anything—

“I’m covered in mud water, you know.” Cale responded in a dry voice after a brief moment of silence. Droplets in his red hair gleamed in the moonlight.

Alberu closed his mouth again. His mind was spinning. ‘He thought it was a joke.’ What on earth was he feeling? Relief? Disappointment? What the hell was going on with him these past few days? Why was he acting this way, why couldn’t he just act like a normal person around this bastard Cale Henituse—

“But you’re still beautiful.” The words slipped out. Again. He wasn’t even conscious of his mouth moving, of sounds being created, until they were already up in the air. ‘Shit. Dammit. Alberu, why the hell—’ He covered his face with his hands, desperately searching for the right words to say to remedy the situation, so engrossed in his panic that he failed to notice the slightly reddening ears of his partner in crime. ‘I’m sitting covered in mud, after a very illegal successful heist, with my freaking company assistant, and I just said the man was beautiful —’

“... I’m a mess, aren’t I.” Alberu mumbled.

He could hear Cale’s strained chuckle. “I wouldn’t say it’s that bad, your highness the Shining Sun.”

Alberu continued to cover his face. He sprawled on the ground, closing his eyes. Just how much could go wrong with one stupid confession? Did Cale treat it as a joke? Should Alberu be happy if he did? Should he just deny everything right now? Should he just run away—

A hand pushed down on his chest, preventing him from sitting up. Alber lowered his hands slightly. ‘Why can’t I get up—’

“Just… stay there for a minute.” Cale’s flat voice called out.

Alberu blinked. “Huh?” What? Why was Cale keeping him from standing up?

“... Just give me a moment.”

“... Okay?” Alberu looked at Cale. The red-haired man had his back turned to Alberu. All he could see was Cale’s black hood and shirt covered in mud. Even that looked beautiful.

‘Dammit.’ Alberu really was losing it. “Is our Silver Shield Hero embarrassed at being called beautiful?” Alberu grinned desperately. Maybe if he played it off as a joke, he could get up, go back to the company, and try to avoid this bastard for the rest of his life.

Cale was silent.

The minutes of silence dragged on. Alberu unconsciously began counting cricket chirps. ‘Three, four, five—’ When would this silence end? What was he doing with his life? Oh, dear, what did Alberu just say? And for goodness’ sake, why wouldn’t Cale say anything? Alberu could feel it, fear seeping into his chest like a cold river. He didn’t want to hear the rest. He didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be anywhere but here, even hiding in a closet from the police, pressed against Cale—Alberu let out a torrent of swears in his mind, why did his mind keep going back to this stupid bastard—

“You.” Cale mumbled finally.

Alberu’s mind jerked. Every single piece of his focus was entirely directed towards Cale’s next words. The cold river of fear slowly winding around Alberu’s heart grew a stronger current. Alberu opened his mouth. What should he say? What was there to—

“You drive me nuts.” Cale finished in a mumble.

Suddenly, Alberu realized that, despite weak visibility in the moonlight, Cale’s ears, the only parts he could see with Cale’s back turned, were tomato red. Everything, the river current, the fear, Alberu’s mind, everything, froze .

“Huh?” Alberu let out a dull sound. A grin was stretching its way across his face. The widest, happiest smile he had ever made, even counting the fake ones he had to put on for show for his family and business partners, the small ones he sent to aunt Tasha when he could let down his mask for a moment in the evenings. Alberu ignored the heat and undeniable blush that grew on his face in tandem with his smile. 

“Cale.” Alberu called out flatly. His heart was beating way too fast, he felt like he was running a freaking race. Really, this bastard wasn’t good for his heart. ‘It’s way too hot tonight,’ he faintly thought.

“Mm.” Cale grunted in reply. His ears, oh, his ears were beautifully crimson.

Alberu’s grin stretched wider. “Turn around.” How could one punk be so amusing and frustrating at the same time?

“No.” Cale mumbled a rejection. Alberu rejoiced at seeing the crimson spread to the back of his neck.

‘Cale Henituse, turn around before my face explodes.’ Alberu’s heart was racing. “Cale.” This man, this beautiful, shocking, irritating, wonderful bastard of a man. Alberu laughed. “Can I kiss you?”

Cale visibly stiffened. “You— what—” Whatever he had anticipated, it was most definitely not that. 

Alberu immediately noticed his discomfort. He hesitated. “Was that uncalled for?” The river of fear slowly began moving once more.

Cale whipped around and stared at Alberu. To Alberu, his red-brown eyes glimmered faintly. He briefly remembered their meeting in the museum painting gallery, how pretty Alberu found the strange thief’s eyes then. Now, Alberu thought they were indescribably more stunning.

‘I am so, so far gone.’ Alberu faintly thought.

Cale stared at the idiot in front of him. ‘Why did he have to say that all of a sudden?’ Did the bastard even know how much his mind jolted when he said that Cale was beautiful? Cale knew he himself was good looking, but to hear Alberu say it—the blood rushed to Cale’s face. His only thought at that moment had been to not let Alberu look at him, to make the man lie on the muddy ground and stay there until he could somehow get his emotions under control again.

But then the exquisitely aggravating phenomenon known as Alberu Crossman asked to kiss him, and Cale’s mind went white. He couldn’t think of anything.

Cale Henituse, the trash of the Henituse family. The eternal disappointment. The man who only got a job as the son of the Roan Corporation’s secretary through the backdoor. A man who wanted to punch Alberu Crossman’s face every five minutes. A man who secretly thought that same Alberu Crossman was more beautiful, dazzling, and precious than the best artifacts he had lifted off of rich men’s vaults. ‘Should I just throw those away?’ Cale blinked at Alberu. He was trash. He did not deserve it. But he wanted Alberu. And it looked like Alberu wanted him too.

And maybe, if Alberu said he was worth it, then Cale might just believe him.

“Cale?” Alberu asked tentatively.

Cale slowly brought his eyes back up to Alberu’s face. “I’m covered in mud water, you know,” he said again.

“Yes.” Alberu simply. His lips quirked up into a small, shy smile, and suddenly Cale couldn’t look away.

In the weak moonlight, Alberu could see that Cale’s face was just as scarlet as his ears. He realized that his own face was the exact same shade. Somehow, that realization made him indescribably happy.

“Well?” Alberu asked again. ‘Can I kiss him?’

This time, he had a feeling he knew the answer.

Cale grinned. “Yes. Absolutely freaking yes, you bastard.”

It was the happiest smile Cale had made in a long while.

Alberu, for once in his life, wanted to play the romantic and say that the first kiss had been starlight and moonbeams, setting afire the hearts of him and his now-boyfriend. He wanted to say that it was an unforgettable memory, fireworks of love exploding in his chest, Cale’s eyes gleaming in the moonlight…

It was awkward. Very awkward.

Both Alberu and Cale were covered in mud from their river escape, and any gleaming they were doing was due primarily to the river water still dripping off of their hair. They bumped noses and had to retry more times than either of them wanted to admit. Not that they were complaining, mind you. And what the heck were they supposed to do with their hands?

It wasn’t like Cale or Alberu had any prior experience kissing, even family. Cale had been rather committed to his role as trash, and while he could appreciate beauty and aesthetic choices for what they were, he was never particularly committed to any kind of enamoring. He liked expensive trinkets and his family, and that was about as far as he had ever cared to think. And Alberu’s family wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely, loving kind.

However, the kiss was certainly unforgettable. And, without flowery poetic descriptions, it felt right. Even if, soaked to the bone and sitting in muddy grass, they were frozen stiff by the end of it.

There was a getaway car waiting for them, somewhere a couple streets over. Tasha was probably out of her mind with worry. But that could wait.

Alberu felt happy. It was not like an essential piece of him had fallen into place, or as if he had found his other half. The world didn’t suddenly shift. With every bump of their noses and stifled chuckle, with every drop of muggy water that traveled down the back of his hands as he carded them through Cale’s red hair, with every unintentional bump of teeth, it just felt good.

And perhaps that was what love was. Not a dramatic realization, or perfection, or an unchanging obsession; but to see each of their own selves as full, flawed human beings, with all their mistakes, hubris, fears, triumphs, pride, courage, and finding the whole beautiful.

Chapter Text

Tasha glanced at the clock one more time.

Her car had been idling for ten minutes now. Her stupid, impulsive, idiotic nephew was going to pay through the roof as soon as he made it back home. In one piece. With his equally stupid and obliviously impulsive partner in crime. They would both make it home and Tasha would verbally rip them a new one and they would never worry her like this again.

Idiots, the both of them. Idiots that made her worry far too much.

The police sirens had not stopped for twenty minutes . 

There were not supposed to be sirens in the first place. Only the worst, most extreme backup plans involved sirens. And Tasha knew what they had planned for this bank heist, more or less. You didn’t make a career in the underground without picking up some basic observation skills, though her nephew and his crush—as soon as Alberu got off his oblivious high horse and admitted it, which was another thing that Tasha would tease him to oblivion about, as soon as he came back in one piece —made her doubt the standard of observation on both sides of the law these days, especially with some of their most flamboyant tricks.

The less said about the pigeons the better, in Tasha’s humble opinion.

But even the Stan incident had not involved police sirens. Or, at least, the police had come much later, after Alberu and the Henituse had been far, far away from the major commotion. This time, Tasha had the sinking suspicion that they were right in the middle of it. 

Tasha’s hands fluttered nervously along the wheel.

‘Stupid getaway car. Stupid bank heist. Stupid sentiment.’ Her mouth curved into a frown. No matter how idiotic he was, Alberu was her family. And she would go down in a blaze of destructive glory before she let any miscreant lay a hand on her damn nephew.

Which led her here. In the driver’s seat of a getaway car. Listening to the screaming noise of a plan gone horribly, desperately wrong in the distance, and horribly, desperately worried.

Finally, two thin figures sprinted around the corner of the block, making a beeline for Tasha’s car. They were firmly holding hands.

The sigh she released was nearly explosive in its relief. Spinning back towards the wheel, Tasha made sure her key was in the ignition and changed the gear to drive.

Alberu and Cale slid to a stop beside her, yanked the door open, and topped inside, on top of each other. Tasha ignored the slight yelps of her nephew and his crush in the backseat as she slammed her foot on the gas. The back door swung shut under the force of her acceleration, and, tires screeching, the car shot forward into the night.

It wasn’t until they were safely on the highway that Tasha chanced a look back at her two charges. Alberu and Cale had finally managed to wiggle themselves into something that resembled sitting positions. They were still holding hands.

The flash of triumph that passed through her mind was soon overwhelmed by pure angry relief.

“ What —” Alberu and Cale both flinched “—the absolute hell do you boys think you were doing?”

Cale inclined his head downward with uncharacteristic politeness, a light sheen of guilt in his eyes. Alberu stared straight back at her, uncowed. Tasha bared her teeth. Oh they would be sorry.

“You kept me waiting for twenty minutes. The police sirens were audible from the other side of the river! What in the name of sanity did you even do? What took you so long?
“Do you— do you even know how worried I was? The sirens have been going for so long, and I didn’t see heads or tails of either of you, I wasn’t sure if you were caught or hiding or what, the news was talking about a police blockade , and then all of a sudden they were screaming about people swinging over the river and I had no idea what to think! You should have gotten here ages ago, and I had no idea where you were—”

Tasha broke off as she lifted her foot to press down on the breaks, slowing down from her panic-induced acceleration. In the backseat, Alberu and Cale looked increasingly cowed, guilt finally flashing across her nephew’s face. They were still holding hands.

She took a deep breath. ‘Drive, Tasha, drive.’

In the silence, Alberu spoke up. “Sorry, aunt Tasha.”

Tasha glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. He did look sorry. She turned back to the road.

“I’m sorry,” Cale echoed contritely.

Tasha nodded firmly. “Good. For now. Don’t think you’re off the hook yet.”

Alberu and Cale relaxed minutely.

“Now then.” Her boys tensed again. A smirk grew on her face. “Have you two finally stopped dancing around each other like two proud peacocks and gotten together yet?”

Both men flushed red.

Tasha stopped fighting it and her smile stretched wide across her face, two parts triumph with a dash of vindictiveness.

“Now then, my dears, you will be telling me all about it. ”

Tasha slid the car into a stop in the back of the Henituse mansion with a vengeful squeal of the tires. Cale winced.

“Well then,” he began lamely.

Alberu stared at him, just as lost as he felt.

“Orsena will be on the warpath,” the blond man finally said.

Cale nodded.

“Be careful,” Alberu added.

Cale nodded again. “... you too.”

They stared at each other for a couple seconds before Tasha huffed, shattering the atmosphere.

“Oh, come on, you two! Nephew, this is teasing material for at least a couple weeks. Now hug or something, and Cale get back to your family before they start freaking out and knocking on everyone’s doors.”

Cale’s mouth twitched upwards. In front of him, Alberu’s face was doing the same.

“... See you tomorrow,” Cale whispered. Alberu squeezed his hand. Cale slid out of the car and carefully closed the door, breaking eye-contact with Alberu as it clicked shut.

He took a deep breath, spun around, and marched towards the back door of the Henituse mansion.

He didn’t look back until the squeal of Tasha’s tires turned the corner. Only then did he glance back at the empty street, and smiled.

Any illusions of subtlety vanished the instant he stepped foot inside the mansion. It might have had something to do with Tasha’s extremely loud tire squeaks of revenge for making her worry. 

Standing in front of him was a stone-faced Deruth Henituse. Cale could only be thankful that the rest of the mansion’s staff were not present. And that Violan was not the one staring him down. Deruth might be stern, but Violan was vicious.

Deruth raised an eyebrow at him. Cale fought to keep himself from shrinking back.

‘Trash does not shrink.’

Finally, Deruth opened his mouth. “Please do tell that fine blond gentleman who dropped you off that my son’s boyfriend is always welcome in our home,” Deruth informed him.

“You— How did you…” Cale did not sputter. A Henituse does not sputter. Usually.

Fine. He sputtered.

“Son, it’s obvious.” A large hand patted Cale consolingly on shoulder. Deruth brushed past his son and headed towards the entrance, leaving him standing, shocked, in the hall.

‘Obvious!?’

Cale woke up the next morning to the muffled sound of shouts and car horns outside his curtained window. 

He rolled onto his side and got out of bed, navigating through the precarious stacks of twinkling precious metals and musty tapestries to open his door. The mansion staff had left the morning newspaper on the side table next to his door, as they usually did.

The headline was written in bold, loud letters, and splayed on the front page.

‘CROSSMAN AND HENITUSE SONS UNDER FIRE FOR SERIAL THEFTS’

Cale’s blood ran cold.

‘Orsena.’

In a daze, Cale made his way down the stairs and towards the front of the building. The crowd of flashing cameras and chatter had grown like an angry pustule at the front of their gates. This wasn’t the first time the Henituse family had come under fire from the media—a public presence and wealth was bound to attract attention. Heck, it wasn’t the first time Cale had come under fire from the media, with his successful persona as trash. But this was slightly different.

Cale closed his eyes and remembered the conversation with Alberu that had taken place some time ago.

If my family is already disappointed in me, if they lower their expectations enough, then maybe I won’t fail to meet them.

This was it, then. He had successfully distanced himself from the Henituses, enough that they would not be implicated by any accusations. If Cale came under fire, they would remember that he was trash first, and Henituse second.

It hurt. An aching pain that shuddered through his bones and swept upwards to prickle lightly at his eyes. Cale shoved it aside.

He would protect his family the only way he knew how, and they would hate him for it.

He snapped his gaze upwards to the cameras, through the cameras, to Orsena himself, a resigned mental apology directed at the back door, where the Henituse family stood together in shared surprise. 

‘Come one, come all, come see Cale Henituse perform his theater play,’ Cale thought acidly. He took a large step forward. “I—”

A large hand fell on his shoulder and he worked very hard not to jump. Cale looked up, startled.

Deruth sported an unimpressed furrow of his brow, the look that made more successful businessmen and cutthroat competitors shrink back in fear. Cale winced slightly. What had he done to provoke that?

It didn’t matter. Anything that caused a further rift between him and his family would only serve his purpose.

The ache intensified further as Cale waited for Deruth to speak.

Finally, Deruth turned to the crowd. “My son and Mr. Crossman spent the night at the Henituse mansion to further solidify Roan business ventures.”

‘What.’

“I cannot pretend to know what those are, as I am not a part of Roan Corporation, but I assure you, my son—” he stressed that word, and Cale stared, “—and Mr. Crossman have not left the building all night.”

Cale sucked in a breath.

‘No, no, no. This is not how it was supposed to go. Why are they putting themselves under fire to protect me —’

Deruth was still speaking, but Cale could not hear over the roar in his ears.

Deruth was not the sharpest knife in the shed, but he certainly was not dull. He was certainly sharper than the vast majority of his fellows in the business circle, who played sycophant and sucked up to whomever held the most power in the room. He was observant enough to note the constantly shifting alliances and enmities and avoid them. He was quick enough to cow any difficult customer with a bright smile and a sharp tongue, and placate his allies with smoke, mirrors, and some solid rewards.

The Henituse riches were not built on luck, after all.

And Deruth was certainly sharp enough to recognize the defeated yet determined curve to his eldest son’s shoulders as he stepped forwards to face the vultures. He and his wife had often wondered why it was that Cale was so adamant on distancing himself from them; why he insisted upon actions that he himself disliked; why with every glance full of affection towards his siblings there was also a hidden pain.

Well, he had his answer, now, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Deruth’s mind spun as he strode forward, plans and faces and who to bribe and which media outlets to point towards and which strings to pull to protect his family, his son, his family, and dropped a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I—” Cale’s voice cut off.

The look his eldest sent up at him made him want to rip the world apart and flay whomever had put that look of incredulity, as if he couldn’t believe that Deruth would care, that anyone would care, upon his face. Deruth’s grip tightened imperceptibly.

He could feel his wife approaching and stopping right behind him, as if to restrain him from rampaging. He hid a quick smile. He loved Violan.

Deruth braced himself and recalled every trick on impromptu public speaking to project in his voice. “My son and Mr. Crossman spent the night at the Henituse mansion to further solidify Roan business ventures.” He could feel his son’s shoulders stiffen in surprise. A familiar anger coursed through him and came out as a note of pure steel in his voice. “I cannot pretend to know what those are, as I am not a part of Roan Corporation, but I assure you, my son and Mr. Crossman have not left the building all night.”

Violan’s vindictive smile and his younger children’s proud smiles were almost tangible, for all that Deruth had his back turned to them.

“I am certain that if you ask any of our household staff, they will say the same.” Deruth made a small gesture to Violan behind him. If her smile towards their employees grew a serrated edge, that was not his problem. “Our family driver was working with my youngest daughter, and thus could not have been used by anyone in the mansion.” There were no lies in that sentence. It was a technique that Deruth was quite proud of. 

“We were happy to have the chance to be further acquainted with Mr. Crossman, and we hope to see him again sometime soon. We will also extend our gratitude to the police force, and send support to them for their duties. Thank you all for your time, and the Henituse family bids you a good morning.”

‘There, that should placate the public enough.’ 

Deruth ended the impromptu press release, and gently steered his nearly-unresponsive son back inside.

Cale let himself be led back inside, still reeling.

Why would they protect him? He had done everything he could to make sure they would be safe. He wasn’t their son. He wasn’t their brother. He was trash, and he liked it that way. There was no responsibility, no one counting on him to do well, no one who would be hurt if— when he failed.

And with a few sentences, Deruth Henituse had destroyed that.

‘Why? He couldn’t possibly think—’ That Cale was family.

The air in the mansion was slightly chilly, but Cale didn’t feel cold. The prickling in his eyes came back with a vengeance.

Cale blankly made his way to the corner of the hall. Deruth was holding his phone in one hand, rapidly giving orders to his staff at Northwest Bank, debating the potential of various media outlets, determining the budget—”as much as you need, this is my son and we are Henituse ”—and tying any loose ends at the company. Violan was calling for a meeting with the heads of the mansion staff, and her smile was just a touch too wide and showed just a flash too many teeth to be comfortable. Lily and Basen were giggling together, making bets on their ever-growing marble collection on how long it would take Orsena to drop all charges. 

Cale heard the sound of familiar footsteps, made audible to ensure that Cale acknowledged his presence. Ron. In a movement that took more effort than anticipated, Cale jerked his head up to look at the old butler.

The way Ron’s gaze gradually settled on the red-haired man made a sense of deep dread settle similarly in his stomach. Ron’s usual smile had nothing on this gentle monstrosity. Cale shivered. He stubbornly refused to take a step back.

‘Ron is probably like sharks, scenting blood in the water.’ There was no way he was going to show any kind of weakness. 

A glint of what looked like almost approval flickered through the old butler’s gaze before his eyes narrowed.

“Young master,” Ron began calmly. Cale suppressed a shiver. “This old man worries about you.”

‘Right. Making me feel like I will get stabbed in my sleep is you being worried ?’ Cale wisely stayed silent.

“Because of this, your humble butler—” Cale tried very hard not to snort, in the interests of not being murdered, “—has decided to train you in the subtle arts.”

‘—Wait. What?’ Cale’s eyes shot up towards Ron’s face. “... What?” was all he could say.

“I will be training you, young master. It would be beneficial for you to gain a deeper understanding of the intricacies of the skills that are shared between our respective trades.”

‘ What? ’

“Of course, I will only be teaching you skills that befit your current path. I expect you to stick to the values that the Lord and Lady Henituse have spent a great deal of time drilling into your mind, young master Cale. If I find that you have been misusing them in any way, this old butler will be very disappointed.” Ron had a hard glint in his eye.

Cale gulped. If there was any one reason to stick to only virtuous vigilante heists, not garnering the displeasure of a murderous-probably-assassin-butler who lived in the same house as him was definitely it.

“Of course, young master, I have no doubt that you will have no trouble with ethics.” The smile on his face softened, for a moment, letting some indescribable emotion through for barely a split second, before smoothing over once again. “You have proven that much time and time again.” The last sentence was so quiet it was barely audible, but Cale heard it anyway.

It made something in his chest prickle a bit.

“Now then, young master Cale.” The gleam in Ron’s eye was back. “I am certain the Lord and Lady are going to want to discuss certain things with you.” He patted Cale on the shoulder.

Cale twitched in fear, but the edge of terror was missing a little bit. He even felt… warm? Cale shivered. Nope. Definitely not.

“I will be outside the door to your quarters tomorrow. Please do bring your lockpicking tools.” Ron gently patted him on the shoulder one more time and faded into the background, right as Violan glided over to Cale’s corner.

‘How did he even see her approach with his back turned to the rest of the room?’

Either way, there was no escape.

‘What is this, some kind of revolving door of terrifying conversations?’ Cale grit his teeth and turned to face doom-in-a-deep-olive-dress.

Violan fixed him with a piercing stare. Her gaze pinned him in place, reading every minute detail in the tenseness of his shoulders and the minute widening of his still-disbelieving eyes. She sighed, but Cale did not relax his posture.

“Well, I would rather you choose a safer profession, my dear, but at least you have someone who can back you up.” Violan smirked slightly, an odd sight on her habitually impassive face. “Do not worry about sneaking out through the window anymore, just use the back door.”

Cale stiffened. “I wasn’t aware that being a corporate secretary was such a dangerous occupation,” he deadpanned.

Violan was utterly unimpressed. She raised an eyebrow and waived her hand in a dismissive movement. “Just know, Cale, that you are a Henituse. We protect ourselves and we protect our own.” She fixed him with another stern stare. “If you are injured then I expect you to be on bedrest for at least three days before I allow you to pull any more stunts. And yes, my dear, that does mean you will be supervised by Ron.”

Cale said nothing.

The small smirk that previously floated on her face was back with a vengeance. “And besides, for a wanted criminal, that Alberu fellow does seem rather charming.”

Cale stiffened. His face betrayed nothing, but Violan caught the reddening of the tips of his ears with the ease of an experienced mother. She nodded at him with finality and turned around, strolling absently towards Deruth and Lily. They were deep in one of their habitual bouts of verbal sparring over something or other, in this case whether or not Lily should be allowed to take kendo on top of her current martial arts courses. Violan gently ruffled Lily’s hair and turned to Deruth, beginning to build her argument in her daughter’s favor. Deruth knew what she was doing, he always did. But they both loved it. Much like Cale and Alberu’s own banter, this was how Deruth and Violan connected, subtly teasing and checking in on each other and basking in the enjoyment of their family’s presence all at once.

Basen nonchalantly strolled up to Cale and joined him in gazing at his family. “So, how much was that tiara you gave Lily on her 10th birthday?”

“Roughly 800 dollars…” Cale answered, dazed.

“Mm. And that fountain pen you gave me last year?”

“One thousand… Tolz did piss me off…”

“Okay.” Basen shrugged. Cale’s eyes flicked towards him, then back at Violan, Deruth, and Lily. His mother, father, and sister. They were arguing about something different now, Violan clearly having won their last argument by the excited triumph in Lily’s posture. They were probably discussing the concessions for Lily to take kendo. Probably something Violan had wanted to teach Lily for a while, like etiquette.

“I’m not going to sell anything you gave me, so you can’t ever take it back.” Basen said simply, and wandered back to the group. Violan had moved on to carefully teaching Lily silverware etiquette, and Lily was carefully trying to internalize exactly none of it. Violan had an amused gleam in her eye that promised future retribution. Deruth was calmly listening to the lesson, a fond expression on his face.

Cale stared at the scene from the corner of the room he had not moved from for the past fifteen minutes. He blinked. 

“—Wait, Basen? What?”

Cale shook himself and stared out at the dining room. His precious, mature, talented little brother, who followed the rules, who loved writing and contracts and business, who Cale thought would hate him when the truth came out. His little brother, who loved and accepted him anyway. His sister, who wasn’t mad at him for keeping secrets, but happy that her sports classes helped him in some way, glad that he cared enough to get his family gifts that he had worked for himself, no matter how unconventionally. His mother and father, who, if he believed what he was hearing—and he did, of course he did, they had never lied to him and never would—already knew about his dangerous hobby and accepted him anyway.

His family.

For all the precious jewels he had stolen, the safes he had robbed, the jewelry he had lifted, this, Cale realized, was, without a doubt, the most precious thing he had.

Chapter Text

After a weeklong absence, the air in the office hung slightly different as Cale stepped forward into the open space. Where once reigned a low hum of mutters and shuffled papers, the light clack of fingers on heavy keys, the squeak of chairs rolled back and twisted as one writer leaned back to ask a question of the other… now the crinkle of documents and clack of keys sounded forced, and the air itself around Cale felt heavy with the weight of thirty-odd stares.

‘Clearly,’ Cale thought wryly, ‘they read the news.’

One day ago, Zed Crossman called a press conference to publicly announce his impending retirement and formally pass the position as head of the internationally-acclaimed Roan Company to Alberu Crossman. The second son of the Roan company, once favored for the heirship position, had been steadily losing backers over the course of the summer, with several of them implicated for small or medium crimes, or pulling out support entirely as they gauged the direction the winds of fortune were shifting. Of Robbit Crossman’s major backers, Venion Stan was imprisoned for a slew of illegalities, “including but not limited to contract falsification, bribery, extortion, and forgery,” as the papers gleefully proclaimed, and Grandike Orsena’s bank had lost quite a bit of trust and capital after their… unfortunate break-in the week before. 

Strange, how the police never caught the perpetrators.

Orsena, of course, had his reliability severely put into question as he continuously insisted that Alberu Crossman, assisted by Cale Henituse, were to be blamed for the break-in. Both the first son of the Crossman family and the first son of the Henituse family had rock-solid alibis, supported adamantly by nearly every single member of the Henituse household, their staff, and several unaffiliated shopkeepers that had seen the two of them wandering around together and from whom the oldest Henituse had purchased several wares. The workers at Roan Headquarters even mentioned seeing the two men leave together right at closing time. The courts ruled, and Orsena’s credibility plummeted.

Central Bank would take a long, long time to recover, and in the meantime, Northwest Bank was more than happy to subsidize them.

With interest, of course.

Now, the employees of the top floors of the Roan Corporation, heretofore forgotten, relegated to the abandoned first son, pledging their loyalty to the Crossman who seemed to want to do things right, they found themselves in an odd position of unforeseen power. The top floors of the building had been abandoned, but now it represented their status: the top.

After having spent the past week working frantically on piles of urgent paperwork as their absent bosses—because ask the employees of the top floors of Roan about Cale, and down to the man they would emphatically describe him as nothing else; the man did as much paperwork as Alberu, for goodness’ sake—attended court cases and press interviews with twin calm, disarming smiles that had their underlings shivering in incomprehensible terror, finally their curiosity reached a head. And that particular head sported red hair and had just entered the office. 

Cale’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he stalked over to his usual chair and pulled over a growing stack of papers that nearly reached the top of his head.

Silence in the office. The expectant stares slowly slid off of Cale as the minutes ticked by and nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Fifteen minutes later, several members of the office even breathed easier as they found their paperwork load significantly lightened by the mere presence of their red-haired Office Saviour. Their Bloodthirsty Desk Angel. Their Archivist of Absolution. The Red Terror of—

Thankfully for everyone’s sanity and continued health, Cale never did find out what his co-workers— underlings, they proudly named themselves—had taken to calling him in his absence, and his pen scratched absently at the next document, the stack already halfway completed.

The office door swung open, knocking lightly against the wall, and Alberu strode in. Thirty-one-or-so stares firmly planted themselves on his person. Cale found himself on his feet, though he wasn’t quite sure how.

Alberu paused. His eyes locked with Cale’s own.

Cale felt a heat slowly crawl up his neck. Visions of starlight, drops of water, wild laughter, and the roar of a stolen motorcycle filled his mind. In front of him, Alberu’s face had done the same.

They had survived for over a week avoiding the topic, assailed by court cases and testimonies and press conferences, and for the first time in days Alberu and Cale stood, face to face, with nothing in the way of acknowledging the reality.

They were together. And they liked that.

Neither man noticed the pointed looks the office staff around them exchanged. All of a sudden, one employee abruptly pushed her chair back and leapt to her feet.

“Freaking finally!”

The shout reverberated through the silent office, and the room exploded into cheers and whistles. Cale jumped. Alberu slammed a hand on the side of a desk to keep from falling over. Cale glanced around wildly, and caught several paper bills surreptitiously exchanging hands.

‘They bet on us? ’

Cale made a mental note to either throw them out or request a percentage of the cut. He still wasn’t quite sure which to choose.

Alberu had no compunctions. “Cale, give Miss Valencia, Mr. Moore, and the rest of the sorry lot the paperwork in cabinet 2-E for the next week,” he muttered, “and find a way to get those damn betting records. I thought I curbed this last year.”

Cale smirked.

Both men ignored the conspicuous blushes on their faces.

They glanced at each other at the same time. Their faces reddened some more.

‘Next on the budget is some AC for the office,’ Cale internally swore. It was going to be really hard to do productive work in the next couple days.

Alberu wandered over to his office, Cale on his heels, and smoothly clicked the door shut as they entered. Alberu caught Cale’s eyes and gently traced his chin. Cale leaned into it, smiling. Alberu gave him a small peck on the cheek and turned to his desk. “Well, then, boyfriend.”

Cale raised an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

Alberu huffed. “Do you have a better word?”

“Lover?”

“Too old.”

“Beau?”

“I know I’m handsome, thank you.”

Cale snorted. 

“Consort?”

“What the hell kind of century are we living in?”

Cale’s growing smile stretched wider. “Partner in crime?”

“You-” Alberu paused. He looked up at Cale. “If we call each other that in front of other people, and they’ll never guess.” A slow grin spread across his face. “They’ll just think it’s a term of endearment.”

“A prank on the entire world.” Cale finished. He and Alberu sported identical grins.

“It’s perfect.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Alberu chuckled, and Cale joined in. 

‘This is… nice,’ Cale thought. He had never really cared for the idea of a relationship, but being here, with Alberu, made something warm puff itself up and settle in his chest. It wasn’t as intense as their first kiss, where the adrenaline and the shock and newness made the colors around them surreal and all too vivid. It was a comfort of understanding.

Cale watched as Alberu leaned over to grab a newspaper, tossing it to Cale. He glanced over the articles until he found it.

“‘Mr. Sand Ailan exhibiting green sapphire, on display next week,’ hm?” Cale recited. 

Alberu raised an eyebrow. “You interested?”

Cale grinned. “Absolutely.”

“No trapeze artistry this time, please. I don’t think my stomach can hold it.”

“I’ll secure the exit route with minimal flying, then.” Cale rolled his eyes. 

Alberu yanked down on Cale’s over for a short kiss. Cale obligingly leaned over.

“Bastard.”

In an effort to better understand emotions, Cale had eventually resorted to Greek. His own language, Cale mused, felt remarkably inefficient at explaining whatever the heck it was he had and continued to be experiencing.

The Greeks had defined six different words for “love.” There was philia, the sentiment of cherishing and being cherished that came from family or loves, whether by blood or by choice. Agápe, the broad affection one feels toward a community or a caretaker. Storge, the grudging affection one felt for a child, even a troublemaker. Eros, the love of beauty of the body. Xenia, hospitality and reciprocity. And philautia, the acceptance and appreciation of the self.

It must be said that Cale had never particularly experienced strong physical attraction, and he wasn’t particularly inclined to start. It seemed superficial. But he could not deny that he thought Alberu was beautiful, in his own way. And if eros encompassed the urge to tip Alberu’s chin just so when he was sitting at his desk, such that the light through the office window could shine off the blue of his eyes, and gently press their lips together, then eros it was.

But Cale found philia to be more appropriate, or, at least, there was a healthy amount mixed in. Storge, when the bastard he was fond of did something particularly idiotic. And when he saw love, in all of its many forms, in Alberu, he could see it all around him.

Philia for, and from, the Henituse family; he could accept it now. 

Storge from Deruth and Violan Henituse, when he himself did something particularly idiotic. He never quite understood why they looked the same way when he spoke of his slacker aspirations, however…

Agápe for the top floor of the Sparkle Tower, and all of its inhabitants, because damn it all, the place had really started to grow on him, despite his best efforts.

Xenia in Tasha’s insistence that he stay over for tea, in the warm smiles she sent him and his family when Basen, Lily, Deruth, and Violan came over for dinner. Cale did not linger much on the fact that Violan and Tasha got along quite well from the moment they had been introduced to each other, as that thought was terrifying.

Neither Cale nor Alberu had ever quite understood philautia, and yet… 

In the end, that was the beauty of it, was it not? Because Alberu had Cale, because Cale had Alberu, they were willing to try. In order to accept the other’s love, in all of its myriad forms, they had to accept that they themselves were worthy of that love.

If Alberu thought Cale was worthy of love, then Cale would try to believe he was.

From what Cale could see, Taylor Stan was quite pleased with his life as the head of the Stan enterprises, and as a subcontractor to the Roan Corporation construction branch. 

Of course, that might also have to do with the mildly amused but nonetheless polite smiles that Taylor sent in his vague direction anytime something to do with the now-notorious Silver Shield Hero and Shining Sun Thief popped up in conversation. He’d never said anything about it, and judging by his pleased grin at Venion Stan’s fate, he likely never would. He owed Alberu much more than a simple contracting job, after all.

The vigilante thief pair popped up in conversation a lot these days. Apparently the Hero of the Silver Shield and the Shining Sun Thief were now dating. Who knew?

Well, most of the city, to answer that question. People tended to find things out. Especially after the Hero of the Silver Shield had very blatantly and very publicly made out with the Shining Sun Thief on the side of a rather well-lit skyscraper. In the middle of the heist. Captured by no less than five security cameras and seven cellphones. 

That it had happened right outside the office of a certain Zed Crossman was a coincidence . That Alberu had frequently stormed into the office and collapsed on his chair to complain to Cale about his openly discriminatory father in the couple of weeks prior had nothing to do with it. That Mr. Crossman happened to be half-asleep, and thus prone to making impulsive decisions that involved a rather large amount of shouting and inappropriate words, all of which was caught on said cameras, was also pure coincidence , of course.

Cale came home that night to a very odd look on Deruth’s face. He wasn’t quite sure whether it was meant to be disapproving, relieved, or amused. In Cale’s humble opinion, he just looked constipated. None of Cale’s business, anyway, as he still had plausible deniability. 

Violan looked partly triumphant and partly on the verge of laughter the entire evening. Lily and Basen would not stop giggling. When Cale had arrived, Ron’s lips twitched as he gave the red-haired man a frankly unimpressed stare which made him shrink back in mild fear. But the scary butler served apple pie for dessert, so Cale couldn’t have done anything too bad.

Cale mentally cursed Alberu, who only had to endure knowing looks and smirks from Tasha as he crashed in his aunt’s house for the night. And innuendos. And offers to network with the entirety of the city’s underground criminal population to get their support in the two thieving vigilante’s relationship, and wasn’t that a fun conversation when Alberu first nonchalantly mentioned his aunt’s job from before she retired.

On second thought, Tasha was scary enough. Alberu could deal with her without Cale, thank you very much.

The day after Mr. Crossman’s media stain on his reputation and subsequent “unfortunate retirement,” Alberu walked into the office with a rather smug look on his face. And promptly kissed Cale senseless. In full view of the employees.

There were quite a few wolf-whistles and bonuses given out on that day.

They fought. Like all couples, at times Alberu and Cale argued. At times, they were disappointed. At times, they were sad, or angry, or frustrated.

Like all good couples, however, they worked it out.

Love came from trust. Love came with time. Love came with reciprocity and equality. Love came from relationships by choice or by chance that withstood the challenges thrown their way. Love came with effort, struggle, and reward.

“Cale?” Alberu called.

“Mmm.”

Alberu’s lips twitched into a smile. “I trust you.”

“I know,” Cale responded simply.

 “I cherish you.”

“I know.”

Alberu’s smile widened softly. “I love you.”

Cale paused, seemingly in thought. He turned to look back at Alberu. His eyes pierced into Alberu’s own and he met them, unflinching. A tiny, genuine smile floated on his face. Alberu didn’t even know whether Cale was aware of it.

“I love you too,” Cale replied softly.

“I know,” Alberu said.

Anyone who has ever said “and they lived happily ever after” has lied. Just as humans notice contrast over color, one cannot live happy forever, for it is the sadness in contrast that makes the joy that much worth it. One cannot live happily ever after. One cannot even live “ever after.”

But for all that scholars might argue semantics, Cale and Alberu certainly did live happily .

Fin.