People like to believe debts get settled.

A wrong paid back. A sin atoned. A balance restored.

That’s the lie, isn’t it? Because debts don’t disappear.

They get carried. They grow interest. And sooner or later, they weigh so heavy that no one can afford the cost.

I know because I’ve been carrying mine for years. The bomb in the Red Light District. The pain that rippled out like a stone in water.

I didn’t choose it, but I live with it. And I’ve learned: debts don’t vanish.

They only get passed from one set of hands to another.

That’s where the three of us stand now.

Night wants vengeance. Attano wants redemption.

And me?

I’m done being collateral.

Harold Attano. You talk about redemption like it’s a payment plan.

You save me, you save anyone, and you think the world should forgive you. But redemption isn’t a coupon you clip. It’s not a favor you cash in.

It’s work. It’s sacrifice. It’s blood on the floor that you don’t get to walk away from.

You abandoned Michaela long before Klaus locked her in his circus. And now you want to stand beside me as though protecting me balances the scales?

You want redemption, Harry? Then stop asking for it. Stop trying to buy it.

Because the ledger you’ve built won’t ever turn green.

And Peter, you don’t believe in redemption at all. You believe in vengeance.

You believe the only way to balance the books is to tear them up, to cut and burn and bleed until the numbers stop mattering.

But vengeance is just another kind of debt. It doesn’t erase what was done to you. It chains you to it.

Every slash of your blade, every ghost you chase… you’re not free. You’re in deeper.

You keep asking “why couldn’t you have told me the truth?”

Because you don’t want truth. You want someone to blame for the weight you carry. But blame doesn’t balance the books either.

It just makes sure you never stop paying.

So here we are. Redemption on one side. Vengeance on the other. Two men clawing at debts they can never settle.

And me? I’m the one stuck between. The one you both used as your proof, your excuse, your scapegoat.

Attano shielding me like it absolves him. Night hunting me like killing me will free him.

Neither of you have looked at me as anything but your debt to collect.

At Ring King, that ends.

Because I’m not running anymore. I’m not hiding. I’m not letting you write me into your ledgers like I’m the thing that clears the balance.

I’ll take your redemption, Harry, and rip it up in your face.

I’ll take your vengeance, Night, and turn it back on you until you choke on it.

And when the two of you are bleeding, broken, staring at me like you don’t understand how you lost, I’ll tell you why.

Because debts don’t vanish.

They don’t balance.

They get collected.

And at Ring King, I’m the collector.