Wayne visibly relaxed, his tense demeanor easing slightly. He chuckled, patting Arnold on the shoulder. “You're overthinking it. That was merely a stall tactic. We were backed into a corner with no other option but to say that. We've worked together many times. You should understand this better than anyone else.” “So that's how it was.” Wayne picked up the champagne bottle from the side, filling his champagne glass. “Your return has made things a lot easier for me. The Yowell family is now completely tied to us. They hold the military power in their hands. If we want, taking down Dexter and seizing Wavery will not be a problem.” Arnold watched the bubbles rise in his drink, choosing not to respond. “What's wrong? Taking revenge on Dexter is your dream, isn't it?” “My dream?” A sense of bewilderment seeped through Arnold's stern demeanor. Wayne's voice was deep as he asked, “Isn't it?” “Perhaps.” Arnold lifted his champagne glass and drained it in one gulp. If he could see, he would have noticed the worry etched on Wayne's face beneath his mask. “Arnold, I don't like it when you hesitate. It's unlike you.” “Indeed, Arnold never hesitated. No matter what happened, he wouldn't concern himself with the outcome, only caring whether he enjoyed the process or not.” “You're not like that now.” After a few drinks, Arnold's eyes shone brightly. His slimmed-down face added an edge to his features. “Five years ago, when I first met you, you had this same guise. Five years have passed, and you haven't changed at all. I've been wondering, when will I get to see you without your mask?” Wayne turned his face to the side. “I was caught in a fire and it disfigured my face. You know that.” “Then why do you keep using a voice changer?” “Arnold, you don't trust me.” “No, it's you who don't trust me.” Half of Arnold's body was bathed in sunlight. “If you trust me, you'll shed these disguises.” “I believe our discussion on this is pointless.” “Do you have any idea what I've been through these past few months?” “They told me. I've been waiting for this opportunity for a long time to bring you back home.” “What if I, a wanted fugitive, get caught?” “What if? Arnold never talked about what-ifs. I'm giving you two days to rediscover who you truly are,” Wayne said, not wanting to elaborate further. “When you've figured things out, come find me. I'll tell you how to save your father.” He turned and walked away, an element of displeasure evident in his actions. The attendant carefully remarked, “Mr. Carter, you're being foolish again, opposing Mr. Dalton.” Arnold looked up at the sky, his lips pursed. “I was just thinking, so what if I get caught?” “Mr. Carter! You've gone mad!” The days of fleeing left him suddenly adrift, questioning if this was to be his life forever. Edward had only been sentenced to life imprisonment, not death. It was indeed his past mistakes that led to their current predicament, so was there truly any value in obsessing over the past? Morgan left La Oriele, got into his car, and removed his mask. His face was extremely grim. “How did Arnold manage to escape from South East Aploth?” Ryan turned from the front seat. “When our people found him, he was already within Rivodia's borders. Is there something wrong?” Morgan's gaze was filled with intense hostility. “He's changed. Have someone keep a close watch on him.” In the corridor, Arnold sat alone at the far end. His phone, resting on the table, began to vibrate. He picked it up, waiting for the other party to speak first. The person on the other end said something, and Arnold asked, “Why are you helping me?” “If you were to die, I'd have one less rival. That wouldn't be interesting.”