#confrontation

"You got some nerve, showin’ up here after all these years," Boothill drawled, twirling the bullet before snapping it between his fingers. "What’s the play, huh? You waltz in, say a few pretty words, and think you can take ‘em back like nothin’ happened?"

Your father sneered. "I don’t need to justify myself to some gunslinger freak."

Boothill’s grin widened, sharp teeth flashing like a predator scenting weakness. "See, that’s where you’re wrong. ‘Cause you ain't talkin’ to just me. You’re talkin’ to the one who made sure they never had to go back to you. You’re talkin’ to the man who sees right through your lies."

You stood behind Boothill, fists clenched, emotions tangled. He had always been the first to step up when you couldn’t, shielding you from the past you’d tried to escape.

"You killed their mother," Boothill continued, voice devoid of its usual humor. "And now you think you can come back, like you got some kinda right?" He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You lost that right the moment you pulled the trigger."

Your father scowled but didn’t move. Boothill stood up, slow and deliberate. "Now, I ain’t the law. I don’t got a badge. But I got my own way of dealin’ with muddle-fudger like you."

The mechanical plates in his fingers shifted as his hand hovered over his revolver.

"You best turn ‘round and leave, partner. Before I put you in the ground like the outlaw you are."

Your father took one last look at you. You felt the weight of his stare, the years of pain he’d inflicted. But with Boothill standing beside you, unwavering, you knew—you were never going back.

And your father knew it too.

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head as he regarded the man before him—your father. His signature smirk was in place, but his eyes were cold, calculating.

"Ah, family reunions. Always so dramatic," he mused, adjusting the golden rings on his fingers. "But you see, I have a rule against bad investments. And you, my dear sir, are the worst kind."

Your father scoffed. "This is none of your concern. I came for my child."

Aventurine exhaled, feigning disappointment. "So predictable. You don’t actually care about them, do you? No, no, you just don’t like losing something you think belongs to you."

You stiffened beside Aventurine, but his presence was like a wall between you and the man who had haunted your nightmares.

Your father’s lips curled into a sneer. "What do you even know about it?"

"Oh, plenty," Aventurine replied smoothly, swirling the wine glass in his hand before setting it down with a clink. "See, I know the type. Men who think they own what they destroy. Men who kill and expect forgiveness. Men who show up after years of absence and think they still hold the cards."

He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "But here’s the thing—I rigged the deck before you even sat down."

A tense silence filled the air.

Aventurine smiled. "They’re not going with you. And I suggest you leave before the stakes get... lethal."

Your father hesitated, but there was something in Aventurine’s gaze, something dangerous beneath the charm. He knew when he was outmatched.

He turned sharply and walked away.

Aventurine leaned back, sighing theatrically. "Honestly, predictable men bore me."

You exhaled, tension leaving your shoulders. "Thank you."

He winked. "What are friends for, if not for running conmen like him out of town?"

Ratio stood between you and your father, arms crossed, his piercing gaze unwavering. His alabaster mask rested on the table, revealing his sharp eyes—the kind that saw through deception with ease.

"I fail to understand the logic in your request," Ratio said coolly, tilting his head. "You claim to want them back, yet you were the one who ensured they had no home to return to."

Your father clenched his jaw. "They’re my blood."

Ratio’s lips curled slightly in amusement. "Blood is merely biological happenstance. It has no bearing on worth or responsibility." He took a step forward, and though he did not raise his voice, there was an undeniable weight to his words. "You ended their mother’s life. And now, you dare demand theirs?"

Your father’s expression twisted in frustration, but Ratio’s calm, intellectual disdain was an impenetrable wall.

"Pathetic," Ratio remarked. "Your mind is so small, so desperately clinging to control you do not have. Tell me, have you truly convinced yourself that you deserve their forgiveness?"

Your father flinched.

Ratio smiled, but it held no warmth. "You are nothing but a relic of a past they’ve outgrown. Be grateful for that mercy and leave before I decide to educate you in a more... permanent manner."

Your father hesitated for only a moment before turning and vanishing into the night.

Ratio glanced at you. "Are you all right?"

You nodded, exhaling shakily. "I think so."

Ratio adjusted his cuffs, his sharp gaze softening just slightly. "Good. Then let us never speak of that fool again."

Jing Yuan sat, eyes calm but unreadable as he regarded your father. The General’s fingers drummed softly against the wooden desk, the only sound in the otherwise suffocating silence.

"You are asking for something that is no longer yours," Jing Yuan finally said, voice smooth yet firm. "And after what you have done, I wonder… do you truly believe you deserve it?"

Your father sneered. "This is none of your concern."

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, though there was no amusement in it. "You are mistaken. Everything concerning their safety is my concern."

Your father’s confidence wavered.

Jing Yuan leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand. "I have led armies, quelled rebellions, and negotiated peace among the stars. I have seen men like you, men who believe power grants them ownership over others." His gaze sharpened. "You are mistaken yet again."

Your father opened his mouth, but Jing Yuan’s next words left no room for argument.

"They are under my protection. I do not take that duty lightly."

The weight of authority in his tone was absolute. A silent warning.

Your father stiffened, realizing he had lost. Without another word, he turned and left.

Jing Yuan sighed, looking at you with a faint, knowing smile. "A shame, really. I had half a mind to throw him in a cell."

You chuckled weakly. "I wouldn’t have stopped you."

Jing Yuan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You are safe now. That is all that matters."