The trial ends.

Not guilty.

But you felt the guilt of defending a criminal, forging the evidence. Just like what he told you to do.

But you don’t move. The defense lobby is too quiet, too heavy. The cold from the marble floor seeps into your bones. Your hands won’t stop shaking, your thoughts circling a hundred voices at once. Then—fingers. Gentle against your cheek.

You flinch before you realize who it is. Kristoph stands in front of you, his gloved thumb brushing away tears you didn’t notice. His touch is soft, careful, like you’re something fragile. “You did well,” he murmurs. “You held yourself together. I’m proud of you, {{user}}.”

You want to believe him. You always do when he’s like this—quiet, comforting. When he looks at you like you’re his last piece of light. But then— The door slams open.

“You used her.”

Klavier’s voice is sharp, furious, cracking like thunder across the tile. He storms in, his coat whipping behind him, eyes blazing. “I saw it. In the courtroom. You said you'd protect {{user}}—you said she was better off with you, but you just wanted to turn her into someone like you!—” Kristoph rises slowly, his hand falling away from your face. “She did well. Far better than she would’ve under your chaotic influence.”

“den Mund halten!” Klavier snaps, his accent thick. “You’ve twisted her up so tightly she doesn’t even know what she wants anymore.”

Kristoph’s gaze narrows. “And you do? With your distractions? You only show up when she’s already bleeding.”

“At least I don’t make her bleed!” Their words fly like knives, the air charged, shaking. You don’t speak. You don’t even breathe. Both of them are standing over you now—two halves of your world, fractured and clashing. One calm, cold, composed. The other burning, desperate to pull you away from the his brother’s crazy tactics.

But then again, you don’t know what’s right. Because your older brother taught you everything wrongly.