South Tori High

September 19^th X288

The next day, Choco and Sticks’s friends were questioned about his whereabouts.

Three boys admitted to having a brawl with a tall crimson-haired man, calling him a monster. They said he picked up a car and hurled it at them, informing them it was past their bedtime. The only one actually willing to fight back was Sticks himself, lasting no more than six seconds.

After the fight, Sticks disappeared, telling them to look after his girlfriend Choco.

Whenever Choco was approached for questioning, she fled. The police questioned her guardian, a grandmother too old to understand what was going on. They did discover the family had financial issues as her biological parents had abandoned her.

Sticks’s parents were registered in the city, but they found only one bed when the police searched the address. The parents were not living in Tarot Tori City, taking advantage of the city’s People Priority Policy. By falsifying their residential status and enrolling their kid at Tarot Tori City’s prestigious school, they were able to take advantage of the residential flex spending to pay for their kid’s entire enrollment costs.

This was against the rules; thus, the parents were cut off from the program. The only one affected by this was Sticks, as his enrollment would then be revoked.

Only the mayor would have the final say.

“If the boy named Styx will attend classes and be a model citizen, then I see no problem in addressing him as a resident and waiving the age limit for his monthly flex spending. The only question is, what does Styx want?” Banquet smiled.

-POP-

The police continued their search for Sticks’s whereabouts.

🙠🙢

Two days before the unwanted award, Florian checked the paper. The news finally reported no deaths; the two officers in critical condition survived and were on their way to a full recovery. It had no mention of Clarissa Lantern’s dead body found at the crime scene.

Does Banquet have anything to do with this?

Later that day, Florian got a message from Miss Fumblehouse that Dr. Ronaldo was out of the hospital. Florian begged her parents to let her see him.

They agreed to ask Dr. Ronaldo to reconsider his decision of releasing Florian from his counseling. Her mother accompanied her.

Upon arriving at the clinic, they found Miss Fumblehouse outside with her embroidered parasol and plush turtle soul.

“I was so worried! You have no idea!” She hugged Florian tightly and spun her around. “If only I called the police sooner.”

“No, you saved us, Miss Fumblehouse. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I saw what happened on the news. It drove me crazy. I’m so relieved you both are all right.” Miss Fumblehouse welcomed Florian and her mother into the clinic.

Sergeant Honest was waiting inside, in his military fatigues. He stood up and immediately lowered his head to Florian; his slender spike spirit bowed its tall demonic body.

“I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” Florian asked.

“You went through so much trouble to clear my name. If only I communicated more. Deep down, I believed in keeping my struggles private to make others not worry about me. I was wrong. My past caused more trouble, enabling the police to suspect you as an accomplice. Please forgive my misjudgment.”

The sergeant sat down and told Florian about his daughter who had passed away about nine years earlier. He had rarely gotten the chance to see her because he had been abroad in the line of duty. After losing his leg, he could finally be a father.

She was five years old when she died in a boating accident. Sergeant Honest said he could have saved her if it weren’t for his prosthetic. His ex-wife accused him, but it was genuinely an accident.

Ever since the lawsuit, Honest had a stigma over his name and inside his soul.

His slender spike spirit remained on its knees, head on the floor.

Florian could tell he was sincere and was there to heal. “Please tell me more about your daughter.”

“Sure thing, Little Liter.”

Miss Fumblehouse broke out in tears. “All this time? I didn’t know. We’ve known each other for so long, yet you didn’t tell me!” She sobbed.

“Sorry, I thought Ronaldo told you.”

“He’s stricter on himself than on others. You know how he is.”

“I know. Ronaldo believed I would tell you myself.”

“You did, but you took too long.” Her tears were like a fountain, a constant stream.

Sergeant Honest comforted Miss Fumblehouse, patting her on her back. His slender spike spirit did the same with her plush turtle soul, petting its shell.

Florian truly believed they made a wholesome pair.