Floor 1: Chapter Eight - The Watch

The room was colder than I expected.

The air was nippy, but the atmosphere itself was like ice. Everything inside was plain. No runes or enchantments that I could see. Just a square space with stone walls, one wall had a large and obvious two-way mirror lining it, a table, two chairs, and a single lightstone in the ceiling that hummed faintly.

I sat with my hands folded, forcing myself not to fidget.

Across from me, the door clicked, and a well-dressed human walked in. The Watchman introduced himself as Finch. Detective Finch, apparently. He was young, sharp-eyed, muscular, and dressed in a way that tried to look effortless but wasn’t. He carried a parchment folder and a cup of something steaming. The scent was sharp, sweet-leaf maybe.

Fancy drink… I wish my mouth wasn't as dry as a desert right now.

He set the cup down in front of me.

“Figured you could use something warm,” he said casually, like we were friends meeting for lunch. “It gets really chilly here.”

I didn’t touch the cup. “No, thank you.”

Typical Watch bullshit, trying to get my DNA.

He smiled a little. “Suit yourself.” He left the cup in front of me in a way that let the fragrance linger.

He knows, doesn't he… He knows I’m studying every movement just like he’s doing to me.

Finch sat across from me and opened the folder, flipping through pages that I couldn't see. He made a show of it, casual, measured. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty. The kind that waited to see what you’d do.

I waited too.

Don’t fidget. Don’t move or say more than what's needed.

Finally, he pulled out a photo and slid it across the table.

A grainy still image, the same one they showed before. Hood up, broken leather gear, partially obscured face, but it was me. It was definitely me.

“This is you, correct?” he asked before quickly adding, “Before you answer, know that we’ve already identified you. The question is more of a formality… and this will go much smoother if you're honest.”

A weak bluff.

I shrugged, “Pictures blurry.”

He gave a slight chuckle, then reached for a quill, tapping it once on the photo. “You know, it’s funny, most people either deny it right away, or they start asking how much trouble they’re in.”

“OK,” I responded without missing a beat.

“When’s the last time you were questioned?” He asked.

I didn't answer.

He peered at me from across the table, “Should I take your silence as an admission of guilt, then?”

I didn't answer.

Finch leaned forward a bit, folding his hands. “We’re investigating an incident that took place at a local shop five nights ago. Several people were injured. Three were killed. The shop went up in flames two days later.”

The Xanathar’s Guild burnt down Xolob’s shop!? …Don’t react…

He paused. “We know you were there at the time of the incident, so why don’t you start with how you know the shop owner?”

He knows??? No… it has to be a charade.

I spoke with a blank expression. “Sounds pretty serious.”

“When’s the last time you’ve seen the shop owner?” He asked, rehashing the question.

I didn't answer.

He waited…

I waited…

“We spoke to witnesses. One saw you enter the shop with a dusk elf carrying two blades. Witness says he took them out and started attacking without provocation. How well do you know him?” He slid a second photo over. It was a mid-motion shot of a dusk elf, swords out but facing away.

Black armor, that hair. That's Val… Wait, we entered the shop together and just started swinging?... He wants me to correct him… and saying I know or don’t know him could give them something… maybe enough to run a test or two.

I didn't answer.

Finch continued. “Why’d he do that?”

I didn't answer.

“Your silence makes me think we need to dig into you further. Like I’m heading in the right direction.”

Liar. They can't use that against me.

Finch nodded slowly. “We know that he got into a fight. That he’s responsible for all this. We know who he is. What we don’t know is why you got involved. We want to give you a chance to tell your side of the story.”

This sucks. I bet I could get off on self-defense, but then I’d be forced to let them run tests. The only way I walk out of here is if they don’t have enough for that already.

“You’ve got quite the imagination,” I said coolly.

“Is that not what happened?” He shot the words at me.

I didn't answer.

Relax. They wouldn’t be probing if they had everything they needed.

“Listen, you can start explaining things, in which case we can actually help you, or we can run your DNA through the tower registry. Is that what you want?

My only hope is that he doesn’t have enough evidence to authorize that.

“I do not consent to any searches, tests, or contact in any way,” I said blankly.

He continued, looking irritated at that. “I’ve been doing this a long time, and something tells me so have you. So if you're done playing around, why don't we just start with the DNA?”

Breath. He’s just trying to rile me up. It's a sham. It has to be… or I’m screwed.

I met his eyes. “You seem to know an awful lot, so why do you need me?”

The grin vanished. “If you’re trying to make me think you're innocent, you’re doing a terrible job.”

I smiled back. “Maybe I’ve watched a lot of dramas.”

He made an exaggerated effort to sigh. “You won't talk then? I guess you don't care about that shop owner, not this dusk elf friend of yours. Don't care that its owner hasn’t been seen since? You’d just rather stay silent and make jokes? Is that it?”

The Guild took Xolob!? …Stay calm…

I looked at him and tried copying Eshlyn's pretentious voice. “My fau-ther told me not to talk to Watch without representation.”

My voice came out cooler than I felt. Humor felt better than silence. Better than panicking.

He paused, then sat forward again, voice low. “Alright. Let’s cut the games. Your friend already told us everything. We had him here just an hour ago. OK. You were there. You fought. The shop was destroyed because of you. So, unless you want us to think you lit the fire and chopped up the owner, maybe you should start explaining your side.”

High-Aether, I hope that's a lie. Please be a trick. Please.

I stayed quiet, then responded in a mocking tone. “Again, if you know everything, why are you asking me?”

A flicker of irritation crossed his face again.

He chuckled and changed his demeanor so fast it was off-putting. Now acting more friendly. “Look. We’re not after you. Not really. You look like someone who just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. We understand that. I think you tried to help, and maybe things got out of hand. We’re here to protect people like you. We just want to know where the shop owner is. Can you help us find them?”

Probably took them down that sewer drain that Val almost jumped in. Watch is fucking useless.

I leaned forward, voice flat. “Am I being held, or am I free to go?”

Finch hesitated, just a second too long.

“I can hold you for 24 hours if you want to go that route. That’s usually not a good time for people like you.” He said in a threatening tone.

Piggies just love to flex that on everyone, don't they?

I stared at him and slowly leaned back in my chair. “Am I free to go or not?”

Please say yes. Please let me out of here. Please let everything he said be a lie.

“No.” He said in an icy tone. “We have a witness coming to identify you. You’re here until that happens.” He got up from his chair and began leaving the room. “I know your kind. You better hope the witness has never seen you before.” I didn’t breathe until the door clicked shut. And even then, I wasn’t sure I could.

Who is this witness??? …This dress may just save me. I was also caked in dirt that day, so that's something…

---

                                                                                 ...

I sat in that room for what felt like hours.

No clock. No sound except the low, aetheric hum of the lightstone above me. At one point, I rested my head against the table. At another, I counted the bricks in the wall. I gave up at sixty-seven. I got so bored, I resorted to falling asleep upright. The cold had settled into my spine long ago. This dress did nothing to keep me warm, but I didn’t know if I was shivering or just tired.

Eventually, the door clicked again.

Not Finch this time. A different Watch officer. Older woman. Didn’t even look at me.

“You’re free to go,” she said flatly.

I thought I might be delusional for a moment. “What?” I breathed.

“You’re free to go,” she repeated.

I blinked in disbelief. “That’s it?”

She stepped aside, holding the door open without a word.

I stood, slowly, my knees stiff from sitting so long. The cup from earlier was still on the table, untouched. No explanation. No questions. Just... done.

I walked through the hallway, every step feeling strangely loud in the quiet. I didn’t say a word as they led me to the front doors of the precinct. I didn’t ask what changed. I didn’t thank them. I just walked out into the night.

And there she was.

Eshlyn was waiting, pacing just outside the gates in that same white dress, her shawl now draped tight around her shoulders. Her face lit up the moment she saw me, but that light dimmed just as quickly when she saw mine.

“Remy,” she breathed, rushing forward. “Are you okay? What happened in there?”

I blinked at her, unsure if it was exhaustion or guilt making my chest ache.

“You waited?” I asked. “This whole time?”

“Of course I did.” Her brow furrowed like she couldn’t understand why that would be a question. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I asked to see you, even threatened to raise hell if they didn’t let you out… I thought that would work better than it did. It would have on three.”

I looked away in embarrassment, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” Her voice was soft, but insistent. “I would never leave without knowing you’re ok.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, too quickly. I glanced around letting out breaths like I’d been defeated. “Let's just… get out of here… ”

I didn’t know what time it was, but it was late or early. One of the two.

We moved through the quiet cobblestone streets, away from The Watch building, from the cold stone and the gleam of law. Eshlyn didn’t speak, but I could feel her watching me.

We passed shuttered shop fronts and sleeping taverns, the glow of enchanted lanterns casting soft halos along the cobbled path. The city felt hushed as if in the low hours before dawn, like the city was holding its breath. A nearby fountain trickled steadily, the water glittering in the lamplight like a secret. It felt too peaceful, too clean, like the streets didn’t know how close I came to being locked up for good. Like they didn’t know me.

I tried to hold it in. The boiling thing in my chest. The ache in my lungs. It felt like the guilt, fear, and embarrassment could consume me. It spilled out before I could stop it.

I finally turned. “You shouldn’t have waited for me,” I muttered, eyes on the ground.

Eshlyn slowed her pace. “Excuse me?”

“You should’ve just gone back to your room… you shouldn’t be here,” I said in a deflating voice.

She stared. “I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“Well… you should’ve.” I tried to speak firmly and hide everything that was creeping up from within.

“Remy…”

My voice began to crack.

“You don’t get it. You can’t get it.” I held my arms out helplessly. “You saw what happened. I wanted to run. Every instinct I have told me to get out the second I saw those uniforms. But I didn’t… because of you.”

Her eyes softened, confused. “Because of me?”

“Yes! Because you were there… because I didn’t want you to see that side of me… because I couldn’t risk them blaming you or arresting you just for being near me!” My hands clenched. “That’s what my life is, Eshlyn. That’s the world I come from, and I dragged you into it.”

She stepped closer. “Remy, stop. You didn’t drag me into anything. I wanted to see you. I had a great time today. The training, the dinner, all of it.”

“I’m a fugitive, Eshlyn…” The words hit me harder than I expected. “ I’m not just someone with a shady past. I’m a criminal. On my floor, I’d be in prison… and I didn’t tell you, because I wanted to pretend that… maybe I could be someone different for the day.”

Eshlyn froze, but it wasn’t out of judgment. It was something else. Processing.

I kept going, the words fumbling out. “We come from different places. Unimaginably different. I grew up stealing food to stay alive. Just about everything I’ve ever owned has been stolen. I met Dent because I swore I wouldn’t steal anymore, so I went out into the woods to try and hunt for food. I did that for weeks. I signed up for the Ascension Challenge under my chosen name because it was the only way I could stay out of prison.”

Eshlyn looked at me with sorrow in her eyes. “... Remy… I… ”

I looked away, blinking fast. “This could never work.”

“What could never work?” Eshlyn questioned.

“Anything!” I exclaimed. “Anything between us.”

I couldn't look at her, “I thought I could start over. That maybe if I made it to a new floor, with new people, new space, things could be different. I could just… be someone else. Start new. Be… better… but I spend one afternoon with you and it all comes crashing down around me… around us.”

Eshlyn interrupted. “Remy… I judged you long before I got to know you, and I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but that time has been… life-changing. You are not dragging me down anywhere… You have changed me for the better.” Eshlyn said firmly.

“You don’t mean that.” I retorted.

“Yes, I do.” She responded, stepping closer to me. “I certainly didn’t expect The Watch to swoop you away, but besides that, I had a wonderful time.”

“... Eshlyn… this is the first dress I’ve ever worn.”

Eshlyn’s lips parted slightly. “I might have figured. ”

I sighed in embarrassment. “What gave it away?”

Her voice cracked into a smile. “I just felt like it might have been… But it doesn’t matter. You look… amazing. I love those polished boots that are so you. I love that you stayed with me. That you tried for me even when you were so far out of your element. Sure, you didn’t fit in perfectly, but I liked it. I like that about you, Remy. You're like a red rose in a bushel of white. You're unusual… and perfect.”

I looked back at her, surprised. “You liked it? …I couldn’t even figure out the forks… ”

She stepped closer with a laugh. “Remy, you looked beautiful. Nervous, awkward, underdressed? Maybe. But beautiful.”

My heart ached at that. “I just… wanted to be enough for you.”

“You are enough,” she said softly, firmly, but I knew it wasn’t true.

“You still don't get it. I’m not a good person, Eshlyn,” I whispered. “Not for you. Not for anyone like you. We couldn’t even begin to understand each other, but it's more than that. I don’t deserve someone like you.”

Her brow furrowed, her voice steady but quiet. “Deserve? Remy, doing what you have to in order to survive isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” I looked down again.

“Maybe I don’t,” she said honestly. “But I know what it’s like to be trapped in a life that isn’t yours. To be told who to be, how to speak, what to wear. I know what it’s like to feel like the world decided your worth before you ever had a chance to and to desperately want something better for yourself.”

I blinked at her while shaking my head slightly. “It’s not the same.”

“It’s not,” she agreed. “But it’s also not a reason to keep pretending you’re beyond saving.”

“I’m not pretending,” I interrupted before continuing. “But even if I could change… You live in rooms that smell like fresh-cut flowers. I sleep above bakeries and listen for footsteps in the night. You order wine with words I can’t pronounce. I spent half my life stealing bread. I don’t want to put that on you, Eshlyn.”

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away. She just reached out to clasp my hand in hers.

“I don’t have all the answers,” she said quietly. “But I want to try.”

“Eshlyn, I could ruin everything for you,” I said in warning.

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s just try.”

I stared at her, unsure of what to say. My chest felt too tight to speak, but something in me cracked open at the warmth in her eyes.

“I almost got caught tonight.” I turned my eyes away for a moment.

“You didn’t get caught tonight.” She stole my gaze back.

“I could have,” I whispered.

“And I still would’ve been there.” Voice low but steady. “I would’ve fought for you. I will fight for you, Remy.”

“I don't want you to.”

“I don't care.”

We didn’t speak after that. Not for a while. But we didn’t let go, either.