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Once we were the only two in the tent, Furuya returned to his seat with a weary groan. Then, he flashed me a grin and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"Please, I insist," he said. Though he was asking, I could tell it wasn't a request. Instead, it was a nicely-toned order. It was also one I wouldn't refuse.

Especially after the stunt I pulled with Mizuno, I needed to build a foundation of trust with these people to protect my place here.

Plus, this was clearly a militant camp, and this man was at the peak of the hierarchy. If there was anything a soldier knew to respect, it was the chain of command.

"Understood," I responded flatly, pulled out the chair, and took my seat.

Furuya inhaled a light breath and stretched his fingers. Each pop within every joint was emphasized within the silence of the tent.

The tension between us was mind crippling, leaving me in dread of what he wanted to discuss. I frequently had to remind myself this man could be trusted...probably.

After traveling for half a week with Mizuno and the other two and learning of their former occupations, I held a small modicum of trust for them. By extension, I had a degree of faith in their allies, though it took an active effort to maintain.

'This man says he was the captain at their precinct, so I can trust him, too, right?' I tried reasoning with myself, but it took increasing effort when he inched a hand beneath his desk into a drawer.

My breath quickened, and my muscles tensed upon seeing his suspicious movement. I readied myself to pounce on him if he tried anything hostile.

He rummaged loudly, then slowly removed his hand, furthering my anxieties. As more of the object was revealed, my speculation only became worse.

'A knife? A baton? A gun?!' I held my breath, and my palms tightened around my chair's armrests. The chair's wood creaked under the pressure of my grip.

My mind raced as I considered subduing him before he could finish whatever he started, but I stopped myself. 'Just relax, just relax,' I internally repeated this phrase, though it hardly did any good.

Just as my unease peaked, his hand was lifted free from the desk, entirely in view.

In his clenched palm, rather than a weapon for a fight, was the elongated neck of a burgundy-colored liquor bottle. Then, he proceeded to utter the last words I expected to hear.

"Want a drink?" he gave a juvenile smile and chuckled. "It's good stuff! And...it's from my secret stash," he winked.

'What?' is what I responded inwardly. I couldn't speak; my tongue was caught up by the surprise question.

After seeing he wasn't reaching for an object of murder, my anxiety was released in a visible burst at the anticlimactic turn of events.

I let out a tired exhale, and my muscles slackened. Much to my dismay, his aura of control and order was nowhere to be found. It was replaced by carefree immaturity.

"It's alright, buddy; I'm off duty now. " No need to be so standoffish," he slammed the bottle onto the desk. Then he removed two stainless glasses from the same drawer he retrieved the booze from.

"You a drinker? I'm not supposed to be..." he leaned in and gestured a finger for my ear. I brought it to him, and he whispered, "Yuuki would kill me if she found out about this. So let's keep it a secret between us, okay?" he finished with a sly smile.

Still confused, I settled back into my chair and blankly nodded while he popped the cork from the top.

After it burst out, he poured a smooth, chestnut-brown liquid into both glasses and slid one toward me. Though I hadn't picked it up, the earthy aroma of the liquor permeated my nose. I could feel my brain tingling just from the smell.

I stared at him, still in disbelief at his attitude shift, then moved my gaze to the booze before me. The liquid shimmered beneath the glow of torchlight.

"What? Not drinking?" he questioned. "Oh, I guess maybe you're just nervous. Here," he took hold of the glass in front of me and gulped down half.

Furuya exhaled satisfactorily before placing the glass back where he had taken it from. "Man... That's good stuff! You gotta try it! C'mon!"

After confirming the drink was safe for consumption, I took it in my hands and repeated his motion. With a decisive gulp, I guzzled down the final half. Unlike how unfazed he reacted to the alcohol, I greatly regretted drinking it.

I was never a booze man; I liked to keep a clear head in case of an ambush. That was why the burning sensation flooding my throat nearly knocked me to my knees.

A violent fit of coughing and retching wracked my chest, and I hunched over onto the desk. My face was firmly planted into the smooth wooded top as I held my sides.

"Ohhhh, my bad, I never..." he chuckled loudly, "I never would've thought you'd be a lightweight!" his laughter grew even louder as he taunted me. "I can't believe it!"

After several moments of my coughing and his cackling, I managed to squeeze out a few words. "W-What the hell? What the hell is that?" I pointed to the bottle.

He emerged from his laughter and wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, that?" he pointed to the bottle. "That's firewine. I asked our chemist to make me something for the cold and dull nights. It packs a hell of a punch, but I guess you already know that!" he started chuckling again before pouring another serving into my glass.

When the searing sensation finally dissipated, I wiped my mouth and straightened my posture.

My words were hoarse from the pain, but I managed to speak. "W-What did you want with me, Sir? I'm guessing you aren't just looking for a drinking buddy."

His laughter ceased as he took another swig of firewine, this time from his own cup. He gruffly grunted in approval of the burn and slammed the glass down.

After a deep breath, he matched my gaze and smiled. "Don't worry about it, buddy. This is just an interview. There's nothing at all to be worried about!"

'An...interview?' I didn't know how to respond, so I said nothing. I understood vetting your personnel. After all, one had to be careful about letting a traitor into their camp. But still...an interview?

Even if I wanted to speak up, there was no time to talk. Not before he started again. "You know, Mizuno told me a lot about you few. She told me you all survived that hell of a city, Blackwood."

He took another sip before narrowing his eyes. "She also told me about how she recognized you, in particular. She said you wore a soldier's uniform during your ride to the city."

'She knows me? And she saw me in my uniform?!' More confusion filled my mind, but also understanding.

I recognized her from somewhere, too, but I couldn't figure out where. Not with everything else that had happened. But, if she knew me already, my feeling of deja vu with her was justified.

"Sir, could I ask where she recognized me from?" I wanted to sate my curiosity once and for all.

"Oh, you might've not seen her. But she led the assault on your carriages to liberate you. Sadly, we overestimated our weapon's capabilities and underestimated the strength of theirs."

That's when I remembered her, and the veil of confusion plaguing me finally vanished.

Mizuno was the bow-woman. The one that mouthed "run" in trying to convince me to get out of there.

I clenched my teeth and grimaced while averting my gaze downward. 'Easier said than done,' I angrily griped to myself.

Furuya must've spotted my frustration as he spoke up cheerfully. "Chin up and keep drinking, buddy! Alcohol is the best remedy when you're down! Well, at least that's what I say," he laughed again.

I looked at the gut-burning liquid with distaste, but I also wanted this feeling of crushing regret to cease. So I took up the glass and lit my throat ablaze.

After chugging every drop, I placed the glass back on the desk and desperately tried clearing my throat to no avail. I was stuck with the burn, but that was fine with me; the pain replaced the mental anguish I felt over my countrymen's deaths.

When I finished coughing, he asked me a series of questions over the next few hours, from before I was summoned to when I was gutted.

He asked me about things like my thought processes, what actions I took following them, what information I learned, and...who I killed. He wanted to know everything.

When the curtain finally closed on my recollection of events, he set down the glass he drank from and shook his head. "You definitely had some choices to make. Failure is always a tough pill to swallow. It hurts even more than this booze," he chuckled forlornly.

His words were like daggers, twisting and tearing apart my heart. I already knew I messed up; his reminding me of it only salted the wound.

"Beyond that," Furuya continued, "you managed to escape without a collar, through a horde of guards, and with a rune-coach to boot! I also heard you attacked Mizuno..."

Furuya's cheer ceased, and his eyes went cold. As he stared deep into my eyes, he uttered a phrase out of the blue. "You're working with them, aren't you? The vampires."

His words shocked me to my core. Of all my years of service, never had my loyalty been questioned. From flaming shores to blood-soaked battlefields, I was always the most loyal of them all.

But now...now... 'I'm a...traitor?'

Furuya stood up from his desk and glared at me. Was this turning into a fight?