So it is done

...the saddest day...

The minutes dragged on and on, meaningless compliments turning into a molasses of futile words. Talks about new projects, dead relatives, and weather forecasts passed Jonathan's mind, disappearing between the third and fourth drink. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, his metabolism, restored and strengthened by the ritual, didn't even allow him to feel the pleasant warmth of the alcohol, forcing him into his own thoughts.

There's really no reason to not draw a line here, Jonathan. Every idealist who follows any philosophy has to draw a line somewhere, to mark the final boundary of his ideals. It is unlikely that even the greatest philosophers of the past, when they came up with the next theory explaining the whole underlying nature of the world, would plunge into it so abruptly. They would not forget all their previous learning, attitudes and morals they had learned over the years. That's normal, Jonathan, isn't it?

Of course, it's normal. It's perfectly normal, it's just...

Just what, Jonathan? Just what?

Jonathan realized with a rational part of his mind that there was nothing unusual about the current situation. Moreover, his desire to stop now, not to cross some invisible line beyond which there was no more morality but his own, was in general a highly moral action, a positive one, something a good man would do... Sacrifice one to save ten.

Wouldn't it be immoral instead to do it the other way around, killing ten to save one?

And yet it was as if something was clinging to his mind, as if something was interfering with his consciousness, something undeniably unpleasant. Jonathan could not understand what it was that was preventing him from taking that next step, or even just standing still.

Wasn't it good to stop before, in the pursuit of his own ideology, he would have violated something else. It was so easy to give out that order, so short, already prepared, and only waiting for the right hour.

Jonathan knows all this, and yet he could not put his mind at rest.

Why, Jonathan? Why?

Was there anything wrong with stopping now? Certainly, there was. Left unsupervised, Ghira, especially being in Ozpin's orbit of influence, would pull away from Glenn in the near future. The consequences of such a move would have economic, military, political results, a multitude of them, and for both sides, each of them very negative in nature.

It might not be fatal, but it would be extremely unpleasant.

And Jonathan needed nothing more to prevent this problem than to give Ghira Belladonna a... 'firm warning' on the subject. In fact, he didn't even need to perform any actions leading to any harm, except for moral or emotional ones.

But Jonathan didn't want to do that.

Which, also, in and of itself, was nothing incredible, Jonathan never wanted to have that kind of dialogue at all, let alone subject his 'friend' to it.

But something kept scratching Jonathan's mind.

Something inside him was stirring with doubt and indecision, something extremely unpleasant for his mind, and Jonathan couldn't get a hold of it.

So, he apologized to the horde of guests crowding around him, who had come, at least formally, to meet Kali Belladonna, not him, but were bothering him anyway. He left the gathering to go to the bathroom, citing the alcohol he had drunk earlier to freshen up, a reason as good as any.

However, having made his way to the bathroom and closed the door behind him, he made his way to the sink, leaning his cane against the wall before leaning himself on the sink with his hands. His body bending slightly, as if it was pulled to the ground by the weight of his reflection. Before, almost forcibly, pulling his face away and raising his gaze, facing his doppelgänger in the mirror in a mute struggle.