Jurgen's expression shifted noticeably, settling into something tired and faintly irritated.
She can't be serious…
"…Skip the first three structures you see, and that's it."
Her voice steadied as she concluded, compressing the long sequence of directions into something far more manageable.
Jurgen drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly, his hands settling on his waist as he stared ahead at the path she had indicated.
…I'll just do it tomorrow.
The thought came easily, almost instinctive.
"Yeah, and don't even think about doing it tomorrow."
Her voice cut in without hesitation, sharp enough to interrupt the thought before it fully settled.
"KRM will be busy hunting waterflaws for the next six months… whatever that means."
Jurgen's expression flattened completely.
He glanced at her once, then shifted his gaze back toward the path ahead. A slow blink followed, carrying a mix of irritation and reluctant acceptance that bordered on something unintentionally comical.
There was no real choice left.
This was going to take longer than he wanted, especially after everything the day had already forced on him.
***
The sun had long since set, leaving the town beneath a calm night sky, and a cool breeze moved steadily through the air, brushing across rooftops and narrow streets where scattered lights now traced the quiet life of Mercedes. It was the kind of evening that would normally settle the mind, but for Nemesio, it carried no such effect.
He stood at the highest point of the city, positioned before a wide, open frame where a window should have been, his hands resting lightly against the stone as his gaze moved across the town below. From that height, everything appeared distant and contained, yet his thoughts remained anything but.
They circled back, again and again, to what had occurred earlier, each recollection refusing to dull and instead pressing more firmly against his focus.
He did not need to turn when the air behind him shifted. The presence was immediate and unmistakable, familiar in a way that required no confirmation.
Jovatis Truemann had arrived.
The old man stood at the opposite edge of the opening, his posture relaxed as both hands rested calmly atop his cane. He faced Nemesio's back without urgency, his demeanor untroubled, as though the events of the day had not disturbed him in the same way.
"Quite the irony, eh?"
His voice carried a refined, almost British cadence, moving across the space with quiet ease, the words not intended to prompt a response but to settle into the moment as they were. It was less a question and more an observation, one that acknowledged the tension already present without needing to define it further.
"Naoki, yes. I had the opportunity to observe him during his trials… quite exceptional, I must say."
"It is sad, really, losing someone so young before he even had the chance to prove himself. Such disregard for life."
Nemesio's eyes tightened as he shut them briefly, the weight of the earlier events pressing back in as if the memory itself had not settled.
"Gramps… I failed," he said at last, the words coming lower, strained at the edges. "I failed to save the boy, and I failed to stop the culprit. The only chance I had to make up for it, to honor his life…" His voice faltered slightly before continuing.
"I really am the worst. I am not fit to be an empe—"
"Oh, shut it already."
Jovatis' voice cut through cleanly, firm enough to stop the sentence before it could finish.
The old man did not raise his tone, nor did he move from his position. He simply remained as he was, leaning on his cane, his gaze steady.
"He lost his life, yes. People lose their lives every day. You could not do anything about that, that much is true," he continued evenly.
"But you tried, and you failed. That is what being an emperor means, not perfection, not control… but having the resolve to give it your absolute best, regardless of how it turns out."
"You weren't there, Gramps. He died right in front of me in the most brutal way I've ever seen."
Nemesio's voice tightened as he continued, the weight of the memory pressing into each word.
"I felt useless."
A soft, almost reassuring laugh followed from Jovatis, unbothered by the tension in the air.
"Then you must truly be as useless as you claim," he said calmly, his tone carrying neither mockery nor cruelty, but a grounded clarity.
"Standing about dwelling on what's already done and dusted, when what matters is what you choose to do now, in the present. If you want to honour that boy's life, then do it properly, through action, not regret."
Jovatis had not been present to witness the scene, yet the reality of death was not unfamiliar to him. What Nemesio described was not beyond what he had seen across his lifetime.
Nemesio's eyes opened slightly at the response — not from offense, but from the intent behind it. He understood what his old man meant more than anyone. As long as the one responsible still lived, he would not find peace.
That truth settled quietly within him.
He exhaled, allowing his eyes to close again as the words sank in, along with the faint breeze that he had not properly noticed since arriving there.
Jovatis continued, his voice steady.
"You must keep giving your absolute best for that boy. If you give up now, then perhaps you were never truly worthy of the title you carry. But if you keep moving forward, not in pursuit of perfection, but in pursuit of what a true emperor ought to strive to be… then that is enough."
He added one final piece of advice.
"Ironhead… there is no such thing as a perfect being. To be perfect is to please everyone, and that, I'm afraid, is impossible. There will always be those who are not, and never will be, pleased. Nor is it merely about wielding an Obscium. Mercedes has long placed its faith in crowning emperors through those who bear it… but tell me, is that truly what defines an emperor?"
Jovatis had already adjusted his posture as though preparing to leave, his grip resting calmly on his cane. It was clear he intended to depart, leaving Nemesio to decide for himself what kind of emperor he would choose to be.
"Ah… thank you, you old geezer," Nemesio said quietly, his tone now steadier, carrying a renewed sense of resolve.
He lifted his hand into view, studying it for a brief moment before closing it into a firm fist.
Jovatis gave a loud, hearty laugh in response, unbothered and almost amused by the exchange.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said in calmly just before departing. "You've finally stopped feeling sorry for yourself, haven't you? Good. About time you got on with it, then."
With that, he vanished without ceremony.
Nemesio remained still for a moment, the echo of the laughter lingering in the air.