The capital's shopping district: Tonia Street.

  While some people were still panicking after recent events, one person seemed perfectly calm.

  Long brown hair fell freely around his face, partially concealing it. An athletic figure was accentuated by a long crimson coat, worn open over a black shirt that matched his trousers. A gold necklace around his neck and a bracelet of the same metal on his right wrist: everything about him exuded luxury.

  His gait was confident and fluid, weaving between passersby like a living shadow.

  He darted into a dark alleyway—shhh—before disappearing, literally swallowed up by the darkness.

  He reappeared further on, in a narrow corridor lit by candlelight. The walls, covered with red wallpaper with gold patterns, were adorned with several antique paintings. Beneath his feet, a long red carpet led to a richly decorated black door, guarded by two men in scarlet robes.

  As he walked down the silent corridor, a female voice called out behind him:

  “Loria! Wait for me!”

  Loria turned around. Her fringe moved, revealing a fleeting glimpse of a green glow in her eyes.

  The voice belonged to Selene Astovar: her hair was loose, she wore black lipstick and a luxurious, deep purple dress with lace detailing that left her shoulders bare. The bustier highlighted her chest, while a side slit revealed a slender, pale leg.

  A vivid picture of seduction and power.

  Loria spoke in a calm, almost mesmerizing tone:

  “Still as elegant as ever... and ravishing, I see,” he said with a slight smile.

  “Oooh~ What a charmer you are,” she replied with a discreet laugh.

  “So, what's new since we last met, Selene?”

  “Nothing else... except paperwork, hmpf...” she sighed.

  “Still as busy as ever, I see.”

  “Without me, nothing gets done, and the documents pile up like a mountain. But hey... luckily, I get a little entertainment sometimes,” she continued mischievously.

  “I see you haven't changed in that regard.”

  “To each their own little pleasures~”

  “Ha ha ha...” laughed Loria, slightly embarrassed.

  They walked together to the large door. Creak—The guards opened it immediately, letting them in.

  Inside, the room was bathed in a warm glow: a large chandelier, candles, and moving shadows on the walls.

  In the center was a long table covered with a dark red cloth embroidered with gold. Around it, four people were already seated: three on the left, one on the right.

  The first on the left was a man in imposing, sophisticated, angular obsidian armor, wearing a helmet shaped like a dragon's skull. To his right, his two-handed sword rested against the table—a weapon with strange engravings resembling brambles.

  Beside him stood a nobleman with short green hair and a trimmed mustache, looking irritated, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

  Then there was an old witch with gray hair and a worn dress, sighing softly, her eyelids half-closed.

  Opposite her on the other side, alone, sat a woman hooded in a torn gray cloak, from which a few blue strands of hair escaped.

  Loria and Selene took their seats without a word. A heavy silence fell.

  Then, tap... tap... tap... footsteps echoed.

  A man emerged from the shadows and stopped at the end of the table.

  Everyone rose at the sight of him.

  “We salute you, Master Felnis,” they said in unison.

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  Felnis.

  A man in his thirties, with a young, almost androgynous face. His features were almost unreal, almost angelic in their beauty.

  His long, curly, light blue hair contrasted with his light, midnight blue armor, sculpted with silver roses on the edges, gloves, and boots. His violet eyes, piercing like those of a lynx, shone in the flickering light.

  He smiled gently.

  “Thank you for coming. You probably already know why I summoned you.”

  A heavy silence followed. Everyone knew.

  Then Felnis continued:

  “Today, at the prince's birthday party... Ashréa made her appearance. And you know what that means.”

  “She broke her seal,” said the man in obsidian armor in a hoarse voice.

  “The problem is figuring out how she did it,” added the old witch. “And we already know who she was looking for.”

  “Of course we know, that demon! We should have eliminated him from the start!” snapped the green-haired nobleman.

  “Stop it!” interrupted Selene. “We've already discussed this, Alkyr. Let's not bring it up again.”

  “Always defending him, I see... You'll never change,” he scoffed.

  “That's enough!” Loria growled. “Don't forget who you're talking to.” THUD.

  “It's nothing, Loria,” Felnis said calmly, the smile still on his lips. "Disagreements fuel progress. And besides... I'm the one who chose to spare him. If Ashréa came looking for this 'demon,' it's my fault.”

  “I... I'm sorry! That's not what I meant, Master!” exclaimed Alkyr, pale.

  Felnis slowly turned his head toward him, his eyes closed, still smiling.

  “Why are you apologizing, Alkyr?”

  That smile, though gentle, seemed to hide something else.

  At that moment, the air seemed to freeze.

  Alkyr felt an overwhelming pressure envelop him. His breath caught, and his body began to tremble.

  The world around him seemed to twist and distort.

  He felt as if his very soul were being torn from his flesh.

  “Alkyr?” whispered Felnis.

  The mere utterance of his name caused something inside him to snap—crack!—bringing him back to reality.

  His eyes wide, he stammered:

  “I... I... forgive me... You may continue, Master...”

  No one dared speak. No one had noticed the strangeness of the moment.

  The meeting ended later in heavy silence.

  The orders were given: find Ashréa, seal her again.

  But the atmosphere remained heavy, almost unhealthy.

  Main street of the capital.

  This atmosphere... this pressure... this aura... none of it was normal! thought Alkyr, walking hurriedly, his heart pounding.

  He bumped into passersby without realizing it. Thud, thud, thud...

  That power... No, it's impossible! His energy was almost like that of As—... no. No, I have to calm down. Breathe, Alkyr, breathe...

  His silhouette faded into the crowd, swallowed up by the night.

  Above, the moon watched over him—pale, cold, a silent witness.

  Midnight – Palais-Royal, north corridor.

  What happened... is unprecedented. And Kael... he's connected, somehow.

  The king walked slowly, accompanied by his two most loyal guards.

  Their silver armor gleamed faintly, engraved with golden lilies. Long feathers adorning their helmets swayed silently with each step.

  One carried two swords, the other a huge halberd, all decorated with the same royal symbol.

  This is not the time... a war against Valdys could break out at any moment... thought the king, worry written all over his face.

  He entered his chambers, left the guards at the door, sat down on the bed, and sighed.

  Haaaaa...

  “So there you are.”

  The curtains rustled. Fshhhh...

  A soft, almost muffled voice replied from the shadows:

  “You called me; it is only natural that I respond, my king."

  “You can probably guess why I summoned you.”

  “Of course. But... that's not the only reason, is it?”

  “As cunning as ever... Hmph. Fine. I have no evidence against Kael, and I doubt he's behind all this, but I want you to keep an eye on him. Report only what is essential.”

  "Of course."

  "Before that, investigate the dead assassins and the kingdom of Valdys. Find out if they are connected in any way."

  "Consider it done, my king."

  "Good. You may go."

  The window opened. Clack! A gust of wind blew the curtains open. When the king looked up, the presence had disappeared.

  I cannot... let such things happen again.

  He frowned, staring blankly at the moon.