Xavier took the elevator up to his apartment. When he entered, he noticed the lights were still on in the living room, and there was Lilia, curled up on the couch with a pile of notes spread all over the table. She looked up when she heard him walk in.

"Hey," she said, sounding tired but still flashing that small grin.

"Hey," Xavier replied, tossing his jacket over the back of the chair. "How're the exams going? Everything fine?"

Lilia groaned and dropped her pen. "I hate studying. It's like torture. But I gotta do it. Only thing troubling me right now is whether I'll actually pass."

He chuckled, walking over and leaning against the counter. "You'll pass. You're not dumb, you just hate the system."

She tilted her head at him. "That supposed to make me feel better?"

"Little bit." He smirked. "What do you wanna do though? Like, actually. What's the plan after all this crap?"

That caught her off guard. She blinked, eyebrows rising. "Why're you suddenly asking that?"

He shrugged. "Just curious."

Lilia sighed, her voice softening. "I don't know, Xavier. That's the problem. Everyone's got something they're chasing. I don't. I'm just… drifting. No dreams, no goals, nothing that makes me wanna wake up and run after it."

Xavier watched her for a second. The honesty in her words hit something in him. He pushed off the counter and walked closer. "You don't need to figure it all out right now," he said. "Just move. Even if you don't know where you're heading, it's fine as long as it's forward. Every decision's a good one if it takes you further than where you are now. That's all that really matters."

She looked up at him, half-smiling. "You make it sound easy."

He grinned. "It never is. But it gets easier when you stop expecting it to be perfect."

Her eyes lingered on him for a bit, then she laughed softly. "You should write a book or something. The Gospel of Xavier. Not to mention, you are a prophet, too."

"Hell no," he said, walking toward his room. "I'm too lazy for that."

He gave her a lazy wave over his shoulder before shutting the door behind him. The morning lights cut through the blinds, streaking faint gold lines across the room. He sank onto the bed, the quiet finally settling around him, and for once, he didn't feel the need to think about anything. The night had been long enough.

Xavier woke up to a racket that sounded like someone was tearing the place apart. His head was still heavy from the last night, and for a second he thought it was just construction noise from outside. But then came the thudding of boots, metal clanks, and a woman's voice—Lilia's—raised in panic.

He pushed himself out of bed, still half-dressed, and stepped out into the living room. The scene hit him like a brick.

Uniformed cops were everywhere, moving through the place like ants—rifling through drawers, scanning devices, opening panels. Lilia and Lyra were sitting on the couch, tense and silent, surrounded by a pair of officers who looked ready to pounce if either of them so much as blinked wrong.

Xavier's voice cut through the noise. "The hell's going on here?"

Every head turned. The squad leader, a tall woman with a hard stare and a badge glinting against her chestplate, stepped forward. "Sir, stand aside. This is official police business. Don't interfere."

Xavier frowned. "I asked what's going on."

The leader ignored him, lifting her wristpad and barking orders. "Sweep every corner. Check the terminals, subgrid, and the vents. No one leaves until we're done."

Xavier exhaled sharply and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You've got to be kidding me."

He clapped his hands once.

The sound echoed through the apartment. In an instant, every light went dead. The screens, the floor panels, the ambient glow from the glass—all vanished. A dull hum followed as the lockdown sequence engaged. Metallic shutters slid over the windows, sealing the place in with a hiss.

Red warning stripes crawled across the walls, bathing the room in an ominous glow.

The cops froze for half a second before instinct kicked in—flashlights flicked on, weapons raised, safeties clicked off. The leader shouted, "Get down! Hands behind your head, now!"

Xavier didn't move. He stood leaning against the wall, calm as ever, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. "You people don't pay attention well, do you?"

"Last warning!" the leader barked. "You're obstructing a lawful search. We have a warrant, and your actions are grounds for immediate arrest."

Xavier tilted his head slightly, voice calm but cutting. "You're in my place, tearing through my things, pointing guns at my people. I don't care what piece of paper you're waving—none of you are staying here another minute."

He flicked his wrist, a faint pulse of light rippling through the air as the system responded to his command. "So here's what's gonna happen," he said, eyes narrowing. "You're going to lower those toys of yours, walk out that door, and pretend this was just a false lead. Otherwise, I'll have this lockdown turn a little less comfortable for you."

The leader's jaw tightened. "You're making a mistake, Xavier."

"Maybe," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "But it's my mistake to make."

The tension in the room thickened. The officers exchanged uneasy glances, the hum of the locked systems filling the silence like static.

That's when one of the cops spoke into his comm, whispering something to their leader. Whatever it was made her expression shift slightly—not fear, not quite anger either, but caution.

She turned back to Xavier. "Stand down the lockdown. Now. Or we escalate."

Xavier didn't answer. He just stared, the faint red light flickering across his face.

Xavier let out a long, tired sigh and rubbed the back of his head, muttering under his breath, "You're just doing your job, huh? Alright, fine." He pushed himself off the wall and looked around at the cops who were still tense, still pointing lights and barrels at him. "So, what exactly are you people looking for? Maybe I can save you the trouble and help you find it faster."

The leader didn't answer right away. She motioned for the others to lower their weapons—slightly—and then stepped forward. Her expression stayed cold, professional, but her voice carried a bit more weight this time. "Ethan Sterling's head was found this morning."\\