Tyson gave a slight shrug, as if the question had never truly occupied his thoughts in any serious way.“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, his tone still flat and calm. “Even if I do go back, probably not anytime soon.”There was no promise. No certainty. His words were left hanging in the air.Scarlett studied his face for a few seconds longer than necessary, then offered a faint smile. She had no intention of pushing him.“That’s already enough. As long as you still have the intention to return, even if it’s just for a visit.”She leaned back in her chair, her fingers loosely circling her glass.“There are still people in Pueblo who want to see you,” she added quietly. “With good intentions.”Tyson didn’t respond. His gaze settled on the table, on the reflection of light on the metal spoon, on anything but Scarlett’s face. He listened without leaving any opening for others to glimpse what was truly turning in his mind.Scarlett continued, her voice growing more serious. She spoke

Tyson’s room was quiet. The half-drawn curtains let daylight slip in through thin lines, falling across the immaculate surface of his desk.Behind the monitor, Tyson sat with his back straight, his gaze sharp and focused, his fingers moving quickly yet with controlled precision over the keyboard.Anna sat on a small sofa in the corner of the room, her legs crossed, her hands clasped together on her lap. She watched Tyson for quite a while, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows, a sign that his mind was deeply at work.As if sensing her gaze, Tyson stopped typing. He didn’t turn right away, only asked, “What is it?”Anna was slightly startled, then smiled faintly.“I was just thinking about what Scarlett said earlier. About Pueblo.”Tyson finally shifted his attention away from the screen and looked at Anna. His gaze was calm, warmer than usual, not the cold and flat look he often wore.“What do you think?” he asked in return. “If one day we go back ther

Tyson arrived at the hospital as night fell. The corridor lights reflected dully off the polished floor, the antiseptic smell unchanged, sharp, cold, and biting. His steps were measured, calm as always, yet there was something restrained behind his clenched jaw.Scarlett had been moved to the HCU, a high-dependency unit under close observation. Her condition was no longer critical; her breathing was steady, her heart rate normal. However, she was still unconscious, asleep under the effects of medication. The doctor said it was normal, her body needed time.Fortunately, there was no serious threat to her life.Inside the room, there was only Anna. She sat in a chair beside Scarlett’s bed, her body leaning slightly forward, her hands folded in her lap. She looked exhausted, yet composed.The monitor beside the bed emitted a soft, steady beeping, its rhythm consistent, like a marker of time moving slowly.Scarlett’s assistant was not there. He was outside, contacting Scarlett’s family on

Tyson lifted the phone to his ear, his steps slowing as he stopped at a quieter corner of the corridor. The low hum of the air-conditioning and the occasional echo of footsteps faded into the background.“Tyson,” the voice on the other end was calm and heavy, carrying an authority that did not need to be raised, one that, even after all these years, had not diminished but grown more pronounced.“I’m glad to know you’re doing well.”Without realizing it, Tyson’s shoulders loosened slightly. No matter how guarded he was, he never rejected concern from those who genuinely cared about him.“Thank you, Commissioner,” he replied politely. “I didn’t expect we’d be speaking under circumstances like this either.”Rodriguez let out a soft chuckle. “Life has a strange sense of humor.”A few lines of brief small talk followed about Scarlett’s condition and other things safe enough to be spoken aloud. But both of them knew it was only a prelude.Then Rodriguez’s tone shifted, becoming more direct,

Tyson didn’t answer right away. He believed what Mr. Hale said that the offer was real, that Aelius could indeed be handed over with a single decision.And precisely because of that, he doubted the intent behind it. A man like Mr. Hale never moved without long, careful calculations.“Why me?” Tyson finally asked. His voice was calm, but there was a clear sharpness beneath it. “There are plenty of people out there who are more ambitious. Hungrier for power. Far more suited to lead a group as large as Aelius.”Mr. Hale turned to him, not offended in the slightest. If anything, there was more approval in his eyes, as if Tyson’s reaction only confirmed his judgment.“I’m not interested in people who are hungry,” he replied simply, relaxed and unhurried. Then he added, “I’m interested in people who know when to stop.”The answer didn’t fully satisfy Tyson. In the end, the old man’s words still circled the same vague ground, offering no concrete clarity and Tyson disliked shallow reasoning