A lone Gophersquirrel squirmed restlessly, its small limbs thrashing against the tightly bound rope. Its beady eyes darted wildly in panic as it squeaked and kicked, sensing the cold promise of death looming barely six meters away.
Stynx stood on the other end of the crude shooting range, gripping a crossbow. He adjusted his stance, squinting one eye down the iron sights, trying to still the anxious rhythm in his chest.
Beside him, Lord Vaerythos hovered with a smile carved from honey and poison, his hand resting lightly on the boy’s shoulder. “Calm yourself,” he murmured smoothly, his voice warm and fatherly. “Inhale… hold… steady. Patience and precision. That’s the difference between a future king and a forgotten name.”
To the untrained eye, the man looked every bit the doting mentor. But beneath the warm timbre of his voice and the softness of his touch lurked something colder. His smile was practiced, his eyes far too calculating.
This wasn’t love—it was an investment.
And Stynx, wistful and eager, drank in every word like it was gospel.
Vaerythos’s expression hardened. “You’ve done well, Stynx,” he said affectionately. “But the next step is crucial. If you want the council to accept your rightful claim to the throne… if the crown is to grace your mother’s brow… then the next task cannot be fumbled. There are no second chances.”
“I won’t fail,” Stynx vowed, his voice brimming with conviction. “I’ll make them see. I’ll prove I deserve it.”
“Good,” Vaerythos said with a faint nod before stepping back. “Then show me.”
Stynx inhaled slowly. Then he steadied his stance again, anchored his breath, and exhaled as his finger lingered on the trigger.
At the target, the Gophersquirrel shrieked and flung its body wildly.
TWANG!
The crossbow snapped.
The bolt streaked across the clearing, and in the final second, the rodent broke free, darting down the post just as the bolt slammed into the dead center of the bullseye.
Stynx grinned, proud of his precision. But beside him, Vaerythos remained still, his expression unreadable.
Then he leaned in close, lowering his voice until it was barely above a whisper. “The bullseye,” he murmured, “means nothing if the target escapes.” His hand fell away from Stynx’s shoulder. “Next time… make sure the true target doesn’t get away.”
Stynx said nothing, his eyes fixed on where the rodent had vanished into the dark.
***
Night had fallen over Lunarel like a velvet curtain, the streets pulsing with light and life. Daisuke and Lumielle moved through the city, guided by instinct and the vague promise of a lead. Their destination loomed ahead—a building of dark stone, wood, and glass. Crimrose, one of the most exclusive nightclubs in the capital.
“What do you think our chances are of finding her?” Lumielle asked softly, her voice partially muffled beneath the sheer veil that covered the lower half of her face.
Daisuke gave a sideways smirk, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Fifty-fifty, I guess. Though, if I were an information broker trying to get close to high-profile individuals… I’d set up shop right in the middle of their playground.”
Lyndoria remained behind at the tower, tasked with covering for them should anyone—especially Captain Hynes—came by seeking an audience. Naturally, she was less than thrilled with the arrangement and cursed Daisuke’s name under her breath.
But more than being left behind, what truly enraged her was the fact that Lumielle had to dress as a courtesan, putting her delicate beauty on display for those wretched vultures at the brothel. And now, to make matters worse, she’d be entering a nightclub—a place that would undoubtedly stain her innocence further.
Daisuke hadn’t said it aloud, but Lyndoria was probably more right than she realized. He didn’t even want to imagine the kind of depravity and vice the upper class indulged in behind closed doors.
They’d probably need to scrub their eyes with soap by the end of the night. Still, Lumielle had chosen to make the sacrifice for her kingdom, no matter the cost.
Lanterns floated like fireflies above the entrance of the nightclub, casting hues of crimson and indigo across the cobbled path. A low thrum of music pulsed through the walls, luring nobles, merchants, and criminals alike behind its gilded doors.
Standing a short distance from the entrance, Daisuke let out a quiet breath, his eyes sweeping over the decadent structure appraisingly. Beside him, Lumielle gazed up at the glowing sign overhead that was carved from a large chunk of mana crystal. Her gown shimmered faintly in the light—modest, yet alluring. Just enough to draw a man’s eye without demanding it.
Daisuke glanced at her. “You sure about this?”
“…I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.” Her voice was even and resolute. “If this is where we find her, then I’ll play my part.”
He didn’t say it, but Lyndoria’s voice still echoed in the back of his mind, spitting fury and indignation:
— “You let her dress like that just one more time and I’ll flay you in your sleep, Starfrost!”
Daisuke had laughed at the time, but only half-heartedly. He knew better than to take her words likely.
He offered Lumielle a wry grin. “Let’s just not get kicked out in the first five minutes.”
As they climbed the stairs leading toward the door, the massive bouncer—an imposing bear demihuman with arms like tree trunks and a jaw set in stone—stepped forward with a grunt. His eyes narrowed beneath his brow as he scanned the two.
Before Daisuke could speak, Lumielle stepped ahead. “Allow me.”
She moved close—closer than propriety would normally permit—and rose onto the tips of her toes, leaning into the bouncer’s ear. Her breath was a whisper, soft as snowfall. And then… a hum. A delicate, haunting melody, one that trembled with magic laced into every note.
The bouncer’s body stiffened, then slackened. His eyes glazed over, the hard lines of his face melting into a blissful smile. He blinked. “R–Right this way, My Lady. Sir.” He stepped aside as if commanded by divine decree, holding the door open with a slight bow.
Lumielle walked past without a word.
Daisuke raised an eyebrow. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“You already do,” she murmured with a faint blush, her eyes forward as they slipped into the crowd.
Inside, Crimrose was a world apart from the sheltered life the princess knew. Mana crystal chandeliers floated above the dance floor, refracting light into shimmering fragments.
Perfumed air mingled with incense and spilled wine. Nobles and masked courtesans lounged across velvet booths, whispering secrets and scandals. This was a nest where appearances mattered and truth was currency.
Daisuke leaned close, golden eyes smoldering. “Alright. Keep your eyes peeled. She’ll probably be watching us before we even spot her.”
Lumielle nodded, trying to ignore the many hungry eyes that followed her. “What’s our approach if she’s surrounded by people?”
“Act like we belong here… and talk our way in.”
They moved forward, slipping between velvet curtains and golden staircases, searching for the one person who might know enough to help save a kingdom.
But as they delved deeper into the club, the lighting grew dimmer, heavier—like the air itself had become draped in velvet. The music shifted. Gone were the lively rhythms. Instead, a slow, sensual melody pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat.
Daisuke paused, brows narrowing. “…This part wasn’t on the brochure.”
The chandeliers above had vanished. In their place, naked women hung in suspended poses, bound in crimson rope. Their movements were deliberate and enticing, their silky skin shiny with oil.
On ground level, silhouettes of bodies writhed behind silken curtains. And through the veil of cloying incense that now blanketed the room, moans whispered like prayers.
In one booth, a woman lay sprawled naked across a table, massaging her breasts as a group of men inhaled small mounds of pixie crystal from her body. In another, a couple twisted in a rhythm of passion, bodies moving like shadows in firelight.
Lumielle’s steps faltered.
Her breath caught as her eyes widened in horror—no, fascination. “I… didn’t expect…” Her voice trailed off, unsure where to look, where to not look. She averted her gaze to the floor, but the incense curling in the air seemed almost sentient, wrapping around her limbs and nuzzling her skin.
It beckoned. It seduced. And a fluttering heat bloomed low in her stomach.
She gasped quietly, her hand brushing her chest. Her body tingled, each step more languid than the last. Her breathing grew shallow. A flush climbed her neck.
Daisuke turned, noticing her wavering posture.
DING!
[You were subjected to a mental attack. Αφινίτη’s Blessing has countered the threat and preserved the sanctity of your mental state.]
“Lumielle?” he called softly.
She glanced at him and froze.
Her breath hitched.
Sophia.
In a haze of incense and desire, she saw not Daisuke but Sophia—ethereal, untouchable, and achingly close. Her lips parted. Her thighs clenched. Her eyes burned with a need she didn’t understand, couldn’t control.
His voice reached her again, low and velvety. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
She trembled. The ache inside her twisted, spiraled. Words—unspeakable, dangerous words—poised at the edge of her tongue. Take me. Touch me. Please—
“No!” she gasped.
Spinning away, she fled through the smoky haze, weaving past painted bodies and half-lidded stares. She pushed open the nearest door and slammed it shut behind her.