she calls me a god.

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/41869863.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: F/F
Fandom: Aespa (Band)
Relationship: Kim Minjeong | Winter/Yu Jimin | Karina
Character: Kim Minjeong | Winter, Yu Jimin | Karina, Uchinaga Aeri | Giselle, Ning
Yizhuo | Ningning
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe -
Fantasy, Romance, Sexual Tension, Villains, villain!karina, hero!winter,
POV Multiple
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-09-22 Updated: 2023-03-10 Chapters: 13/? Words:
61485

she calls me a god.

by ElleKing27

Summary

Being branded as society's number one menace, Karina lives her life as a Villain and she
loves it. However, on her most recent outing, she didn't think she would encounter her
nemesis like this.

"Please," Winter, the girl branded as a hero and the saviour of Elysium, begs. "Make me
yours."

Watching her on her knees, Karina feels a type of pleasure she hasn't felt for a long time.

She licks her lips.

Or

Where Winter becomes the Villain's possession in the name of revenge due to
circumstances, and Karina is just thrilled to finally have the Hero in her hands. Willingly as
well.

Notes

Hello!

It's been a while, but I finally have another winrina/jiminjeong fic! The story is superhero
fantasy with a little bit of sci-fi. Note! There will be some bdsm tones within the story. But
there won't be anything explicit, so you don't have to worry about that. There will also be
 lore and world-building!

The POV will change depending on the chapter!

Also, English isn't my first language!

Now, with all of that out of the way, happy reading! :D

Follow me on Twitter for more of my stuff @cheesyisthyname

or support me at https://ko-fi.com/cheesyisthyname

See the end of the work for more notes

 Desperation
Chapter Summary

“Please,” you beg, short of breath. “Make me yours.”

“I’m not sure if you even understand what you’re saying.” Karina tilts her head. A
finger hooks under your chin. “Do you know what it means to be mine?”

Chapter Notes

Winter's POV

//

What makes a villain?

According to definition, they are entities with supernatural abilities responsible for specified
trouble, harm, or damage. They steal money, destroy property, kidnap and assassinate important
figures, endanger innocents, and raise chaos wherever they appear. Villains are the enemy of
heroes. Whether in fiction or reality, they are the ones who the people love to hate and blame.
They are the actors of evil.

And yet here you are on your knees in front of one such villain.

In the middle of all the rubble and debris of a ruined factory, you kneel before her. The damp soil
dirties your pure white pants, and the coldness seeps through the fabric. Fingers clutch onto her
dark skirt as desperate grey eyes look up towards her figure. You still taste the iron on your tongue.
You still feel the wound on your side. The cloth of your stark white uniform clings to your skin as
sweat and blood taint it. Quick and heavy breaths. Bruises and cuts wreck your body, and yet you
pay no attention to them. Broken bones are nothing compared to what you feel in your chest. It
sears with a desire. One you can’t contain. One you can’t control. It drives you mad.

The flare of fire roars in the background, and the flames paint the world in crimson. You don’t
care.

You are a hero. A guardian of humanity. Some put you among the greatest of all of them. Some
may even call you the best of the current generation. While you disagree with the sentiment, you
do acknowledge the work you have done to protect the people—to keep them happy and safe.
You’re not the best, but you are unequivocally a hero who strives for justice and peace.

However, at this very moment, you don’t give a fuck about being a hero.

You don’t care.

Right now, you have only one desire, and you are willing to do whatever it takes to make it come
true. Even if it means begging on your knees towards the devil. She’s the only one who can make
it happen.

“Please,” you say, short of breath. “Make me yours.”

The devil’s golden eyes curl into crescents. You know she enjoys watching you like this. Whether
it’s then or now, she has always liked seeing you in pain. Her flawless face draws near, and a finger
hooks underneath your chin, forcing grey and gold to meet. The snake watches you in amusement.
Red, red lips turn up in a smile. Her long inky hair flows down to engulf your vision. Her words
come out in a drawl, and her voice enchants all those who listen.

“I’m not sure if you even understand what you’re saying.” She tilts her head. “Do you know what
it means to be mine?”

“Karina,” you beg. You beg to the devil, to the Black Witch, and to your nemesis.

Screams and shouts come from behind you along with the crashing of blades and the roars of
explosions. The darkened heavens roar behind her. Powdered ether and burnt flesh arrive with
every breath, and yet honey and nectar seem to overpower them. All of your senses turn blind
towards all except for her. Grey eyes only display one person.

A chuckle leaves her lips. Is it mocking? Is she amused? You don’t care either way.

“Make me yours,” you beg again.

Her finger retracts, and her touch lingers on your skin. Somehow, you feel her much more than the
bleeding wound on your body. She pulls away and stands up to her full height. One step backwards
and the fabric of her skirt slips between your fingers.

“Try asking again when you’re of sound mind, Winter.” She walks away.

And suddenly, you care.

Your heart drops to your stomach, and you urge your body—your legs to chase after her. However,
they refuse to listen. Hands claw against the muddied ground, and you crawl forwards. Words rip
out from your throat, begging her to wait—begging for her to listen to you. The crimson skies roar
once more, and they deafen your voice. She doesn’t stop for you. She doesn’t spare a glance for
you. Karina only walks further into the depth of chaos.

Amidst the rubble of destroyed buildings, shattered crates, and fallen trees, dozens are harmed by
countless people in black and gold. Their blood paints the concrete floors and dyes them anew.
Canisters of liquid ether are hauled away into trucks. Despite being a hero, you couldn’t have
stopped this even if you wanted to.

Fingers bleed as the rocks cut through your flesh. Your breath becomes heavier and heavier. You
watch as she calls toward her people—towards the soldiers of Legion. The bloodshed ceases, and
the vehicles turn on. The rest leave, while she remains. Her gaze meets yours.

Move faster, you idiot. Move!

The flames flicker and dance around her figure.

Hands grip the soil. Your veins become apparent, and your knuckles turn white. You bite down on
your lip. Hard enough to bleed. Your face twists, and you can’t imagine what you look like at this
moment. A hand reaches out towards her. You hear a breath. Heavy and laboured. It’s yours but it
doesn’t sound like it. More like a stranger. More like a beast.

Thunder roars and rain pours from the heavens above, soaking your body in its coldness.

Then nothing.

The world fades. Only a whisper of her smile and golden eyes linger in your mind.

//
 Allegiance
Chapter Summary

Karina walks inside the room carrying the scent of iron and hands dipped in blood.

Grey eyes stare.

“You have blood on you,” you say.

“Hm?” A glance down. She shrugs and snaps her fingers. The blood turns to smoke
and fades away. Red lips smile as they always do. “Oh, well, it isn’t mine anyway.”

Chapter Notes

Winter's POV

//

Fire.

Smoke and ash burn your lungs. An invisible hand chokes your neck, and a searing pain comes
from your side. Iron bile rises from your stomach. From somewhere in the distance, a thunderous
drum repeats in your ears. It’s everything you can hear. A broken sword lies in your hands, and a
ruined uniform hangs on your figure. Your shoulders slump as if burdened by a thousand rocks.
Fingers claw where the pain originates, pressing and praying it doesn’t worsen.

You look around and all you see are the flames of chaos. With every breath, you inhale gasoline
and burnt ether. The ground—the dirt becomes stained by the ravages of mankind. Behind the
smoke, you see nothing but darkness.

Then a girl.

Standing by the debris and smoke. Older than you but not by a lot.

Blood drips from her hands. Cuts and bruises litter her body. Her eyes, much similar to yours, spill
with tears.

Her lips move. Despite the deafening drums, you hear her as clear as day.

“Run.”

A gasp.

Grey eyes snap open. You sit straight up and grasp your neck. Cold sweat drenches your body, and
the fabric clings onto your skin. Your chest heaves, trying to get as much oxygen as you can. There
is no pain or blood. Neither is there fire or smoke in your lungs. If anything, there is only comfort
from the soft bedding underneath you and the thick quilt on your lap.

You blink.

Where are you?

Looking around with haste, you find yourself in an odd and unfamiliar room. It’s spacious with
very high ceilings. The bed you occupy lies at the very centre of the otherwise empty space. On
both sides of it, there are two small nightstands. A small round dining table and a sofa sit near the
enormous window to the right. Everything within the space is white with a few exceptions. The
windowsill is wood and the sofa is dark grey.

The room is too sterile to be called a bedroom, yet too welcoming to be a prison.

No sight of your sword nor your tattered uniform. None of your belongings—what little remains of
them—are here, and you can only guess they, whoever ‘they’ are, must have taken it.

A hand pulls the blanket aside. Bare feet land on the white floor. You leave the bed and catch a
glimpse of yourself in a mirror. Neat and clean. Long silver hair and grey eyes. A simple t-shirt and
a pair of pants replace your previously bloodied hero’s uniform. Pain comes from the side of your
ribcage, and pulling up the hem reveals the bandages wrapped around your torso.

You release the t-shirt and head towards the broad window. Fingers touch the wooden sill. The
sunlight pours inside, lighting up the room in a bright glow. The view outside is unfamiliar as well.
However, you have heard of it before in the whispered tales of veterans and within the written
books of the Archives. A vast expanse of yellow—almost golden—grasslands stretch for as long
as the eye can see, and a mountain range lies far beyond the horizon. The verdure of the Elysian
Union is nowhere to be seen.

You are within the Perishing Lands.

As you turn your gaze down, you see the huge structure beneath you. A sprawling city made of
separate yet connected buildings is built in the shape of a spire—as if an amalgamation of different
constructs stacked one on top of the either. Crowded, yet orderly. Dense, yet spacious. From where
you stand, you cannot fathom how tall the spire city is. Perhaps it is enough to reach the heavens.

“Where is this?” You should have heard of such a city within the Perishing Lands, and yet nothing
comes from your memory. You have heard of a few criminal and villainous hideouts inhabiting this
region, but nothing of this size.

“Pride.”

A voice comes from the left, and your gaze snaps towards them. A woman walks towards you, and
the door slides to a close behind her. She has long brown hair and verdant eyes. A bright red suit
and a matching skirt frame her figure, and her heels click with every step. She holds a thin tablet in
her hand. An orb of light with a glowing ring and a cube of light with golden circuits float around
her. Scarcely an emotion is displayed on her face.

“This is the city of Pride.” She stops a few metres away from you. “The capital city of the Golden
Plains—or the Perishing Lands as you Elysians call it. It is also the home of Legion.”

Then that means—

“How are you feeling, Miss Winter?” she asks.

“I’m” —you regard her for a second— “fine. Who are you?”

“You can call me Giselle. I manage a lot of things in this place. However, for now, you can think
of me as a healer as well as the one in charge of your well-being.”

You walk towards her with quick steps.

“Where is Kari—”

“I would advise you to stop right there, Miss Winter.” Holding her hand up, she touches the air and
it ripples in a faint glow. She glances down at your feet, and you follow her gaze. A white line
glimmers in the space between us. One you did not notice earlier. “Forgive me for the barrier.
However” —verdant eyes flicker up to meet yours— “Her Grace wants to keep you here for the
time being.”

“Karina?” Eyebrows furrow.

“Yes.” Her hand retracts, and she types on her tablet. “She had ordered me to erect such a barrier
and so I did.”

“Is this a prison? Or is this an infirmary?” you ask.

“That depends on you, Miss Winter.” With a wave of her hand, the ringed orb of light flies over to
your side. “Either way, you won’t be staying here for long. As for your earlier question, Her Grace
is busy right now.”

It circles around you. Twisting and spinning. It projects its light onto your arm. At the same time, a
screen appears above the white cube and her gaze shifts toward it. Your shoulders tense, and you
lean away from the orb.

“No need to be so cautious,” she says without a glance. “I’m only checking your vitals.”

“When can I see her?”

“Well, seeing as your co-workers from Visage are causing trouble for her, I would say it’ll take a
while.”

“Oh.”

You clench your fists.

Her eyes flicker up for a second before returning to the screen.

“Do you still feel pain? Any discomfort?” Her fingers type against the holographic screen. You
watch as the numbers change and graphs shift as the orb continues to analyse you.

“No, I feel fine.”

“Odd.”

“What is it?” Your eyebrows furrow.

“Nothing.” The cube stops projecting the screen, and the orb floats back to Giselle’s side.
“Everything is in order for the most part. Well, it should be expected of a hero. Although” —she
glances at you— “I would like to ask where you sustained such injuries in the first place. Legion
doesn’t have the type of ether weaponry to make those sorts of wounds.”

A pause.

“How long will I stay here?”

“As I’ve stated previously” —she tucks her tablet by her side— “not long.”

“Why did you heal me? Am I not your enemy?”

“I did so simply because Her Grace told me to. And considering what she had said about you, Miss
Winter, perhaps you won’t be soon,” she says. “Any more questions?”

“What trouble are they causing?” You frown. “The heroes.”

“They crossed the border,” she says. “Intruding on our territory in, what I can only guess, the name
of searching for their runaway hero.”

You take a moment.

“Do they know I’m here?”

“Impossible,” she dismisses the idea. “It is more likely the case of a blind search instead of a
targeted one. From what I have heard, there have been searches in multiple regions within and
outside of Elysium. They do not know a thing about your whereabouts. We made sure of that.” Her
body turns to the side, and her heels click. “In any case, I have other things to attend to. Your meal
and medication will be delivered here soon. I’ll see you at another time, Miss Winter.”

Grey eyes watch as she walks away. The ringed orb and cube follow her. The white door slides
open to the side before closing once again with a soft thud.

A sigh escapes you.

Returning to the bed, you plop back down. Silver hair scatters over the white sheets. An arm rests
on top of your forehead. You suppose you should be glad Karina took you back to her base—
despite looking as if she was about to abandon you back then. It’ll make it easier for you to become
hers. However, you can’t help but wonder. Is it pity? Is it something else?

The day passes by like a slug. There isn’t much to do inside the room except watch the outside.
After opening the few available drawers, you do find a book. A novel titled “Lilith, Eve.” by an
author you’ve never heard of before. Perhaps Giselle or someone had placed it there, thinking you
might get bored.

Lunch arrives after you finish the first chapter of the book. It is a simple meat dish with vegetables
and bread on the side.

When night-time arrives, the two moons—Loran and Cerise—hang high up in the heavens above.
Compared to your time within the Elysian territory, the stars shine far brighter here than there.
From what you can see, Pride barely emits any light pollution. Regardless of the time, the cities
back in your homeland seem to always glow like the stars themselves. It was a sight in its own
right. Although, you doubt you would ever come to enjoy its sceneries ever again.

Dinner consists of more or less the same meal. The only difference is the added cheese on top of
the meat.
Then back you go, reading the novel and watching the outside world to pass the time. Every so
often, you glance at the clock—spurred by a growing sense of impatience. You used to loathe
seeing Karina. No one would want to see their nemesis over and over again. Her existence has
given you more headaches than you can count. However, right now, you want nothing more than
to see her face.

Sitting on top of the wooden sill by the window, you watch a small cargo ship leave the city of
Pride. Without the sun, the room turns dark. A small table lamp by the bed lights the space
decently enough, and the moonlight from Loran and Cerise pours through the glass. You bite the
nail of your pinkie finger.

Karina is someone you need.

Click. Click. Click.

Muted footsteps echo from beyond the door. You cast your gaze towards it, wondering if Giselle
needs to check up on you again. However, when the door slides open, a different face greets you
instead. A long black dress with a high collar and slits on its sides hugs her figure. A black snake
tattoo slithers by her leg, and inky hair falls down in cascades down her shoulder. Golden eyes
regard you up and down. Karina walks inside the room carrying the scent of iron and hands dipped
in blood.

“Still awake, are you?” She passes through the barrier and the air ripples along with her.

Grey eyes stare.

“You have blood on you,” you say.

“Hm?” A glance down. “Oh, well, it isn’t mine anyway.” She shrugs and snaps her fingers. The
blood turns to smoke and fades away. Red lips smile as they always do. “Forgive the appearance. I
didn’t stop to clean up once I heard you were looking for me.”

“Should I say I’m honoured?”

“It would certainly make me happy.” She stops two steps away from you. “You’ve had plenty of
time to think. Have you cleared your head yet?”

“Does it matter? I’ll ask you the same thing regardless,” you say, and she hums. “Giselle said I
wouldn’t stay here for long.”

“If we come to an agreement, then you’ll have your own room. Rather than” —she glances about
the space— “this”

“If we don’t?”

“Then I’ll send you back to Elysium.” A shrug. “Simple as that.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You frown.

“If I keep you here against your will” —an eyebrow rises— “you’ll just find a way to escape. Even
this barrier can’t keep you here for too long.” Her eyes narrow, and she takes a step closer.
“Although, I do wonder where you’ll go, especially when you’ve been abandoned by Visage.”

Fists clench.
Visage are a part of the Elysian Union, but they also operate independently from it. In their
essence, they employ heroes and other capable people to maintain peace within the union. Due to
their popularity and significance within the general populace, the power they hold cannot be
compared to any other body of governance. There is an unspoken notion of how they are the true
rulers of Elysium.

You never really tried to understand where the term ‘Villains’ came from. For most of your life,
you assume it just means people who are evil and try to harm others by breaking the established
peace—most others think the same way. Alas, the world doesn’t stop with black and white
definitions. Now, you have learned a ‘villain’ is someone who opposes Visage. Any and all. It
doesn’t matter who. It doesn’t matter the intention. As long as they are in the way, then they are
‘evil’.

Including you.

“What did you do to piss those swindlers off?” A tilt of her head. “Did you go against your orders?
I can’t imagine why they would cast away such a loyal dog.”

“I just” —eyebrows furrow— “knew too much.”

“About?”

A second passes.

“They say corruption doesn’t exist in Elysium,” you say.

“It’s a lie.” She scoffs.

“It’s propaganda.” Your tongue tastes bitter. “And one day I became smart enough to look past it.
So many things were done in the name of Elysium—in the name of peace.” As if a sword plunges
itself into you, your chest twists. You cast your gaze downwards, staring at your own hands.
“People started disappearing. People close to me.”

“So, you rebelled?”

“Not at first,” you whisper. “But then I started asking questions.” You bite your lip. “They knew I
wasn’t going to be loyal anymore.”

“So, they threw you away.” She crosses her arms. “And now you want revenge.”

A nod.

For them. For you. For her.

“And you thought to achieve that by coming to me? A supervillain deemed the literal worst by
Visage?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Are you mocking me?” You frown.

“No, if anything, it’s the smartest thing you could have done. I’m happy to see our little miss hero
still has her wits about her even in a life and death situation.” She smiles. “After all” —golden eyes
narrow— “no one hates the entirety of Elysium more than I do.”

“So, help me and make me yours,” you say. “I know how much of a valuable asset I can be. I can
fight. You know that. I also know things that Legion doesn’t.”
Her head shakes, and laughter escapes her.

“Winter. Oh, Winter. Of course I know how valuable you are.” She takes a step closer. “Who has
been on the receiving end of your blows for years if not me?” Her red lips turn to a smirk.
Condescending in a way. Arrogant in another. “But I don’t think you understand what you’re
saying.”

“I know what I want.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Another step closer.

“What do you—”

A hand pushes on your shoulder, and your back hits the glass of the window. She leans down and
you feel her breath on your lips. Her thighs wedge themselves between yours. In a split second, the
entirety of your mind empties. As if you have been bewitched.

“This is what it means to be mine, Winter.” Shadows slither up around your wrists, pulling and
tying them behind you. Her tattoo snakes up her torso before settling on her arm. With a hold on
your neck, she forces you to look up. Golden eyes stare down. “I’ll ask you again. Do you want to
join Legion and work for me? Or do you want to be mine? Because those are two very different
things.”

A breath.

“Which one do you prefer?” you ask.

Her smile widens.

“I’ve always been fond of you, Winter.” Honey drenches your lungs, filling every corner of them
and drowning you on land. Poisonous. Alluring. “Despite your rotten surroundings, you’ve always
tried your best to do the right thing. I admire that. And” —as the shadows tighten their hold on your
wrist, a stinging pain comes, and your eyebrows furrow— “I find the face you make while in pain
is adorable.”

You clench your jaw.

“What do you think, Winter? Which one do you think I prefer?”

A bout of silence ensues.

Some parts of you have always known how she felt about you, and perhaps it is the reason why
you sought after her for help among the countless others. While you know she is the only logical
choice in this matter—as she is the only person who can feasibly destroy Visage—deep down, the
reason for choosing her is far more selfish than you would care to admit. Once you are within her
grasp, she would do anything to keep you close. Once you are with hers, she won’t betray you.

There is something to be said about blind faith, and yet—

“Looks like you need more time to think.” As she pulls away, she releases you from her grasp, and
the shadows return to the darkness. “I’ll come again tomorrow.”

Weeks ago, you would have been content with simply working for her. Now, after what you’ve
been through, you would only ever be satisfied if you were something more. Higher. Closer.
Somewhere along the way, you think you also became twisted.
A hand holds onto the fabric of her clothes, and she stops.

“Wait,” you say. Fingers tighten their hold. “If—If you promise to never betray me, then I’ll be
whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Golden eyes glance at you.

“You’re not going to ask me to get rid of Visage for you?”

“You’ll do it even if I don’t ask.”

“Hah.” She chuckles. “All right then. Don’t tell me I didn’t try to stop you later.”

“I won’t regret it.”

She hums.

“We shall see about that.” Taking your hand, she bends down and holds it up against her red lips.
They smile against your fingers, and you can’t shake the tingling feeling it brings. Golden meets
with grey. “Then, from now on, you’re mine.”

And the devil presses a kiss against your knuckles.

//
 Lover
Chapter Summary

“So, not a toy then?” Giselle asks.

“I’m not enough of a bastard to manipulate her. At least, not towards the people I care
about.”

“And you claim to care for Winter?”

“I do.”

Chapter Notes

Karina's POV

//

In a land where gold becomes poison, would people still live there?

Of course.

There is no shortage of desperate people in this unbalanced world. The exiled, the poor, the
wanted, and the shunned. All of them gather and live here in the Golden Plains along with their
natives. Either to find a new home or to temporarily escape the eyes of Visage. Regardless, for the
desperate and the damned, the perils presented by these lands serve little deterrence.

Golden eyes gaze at a faraway place.

Approximately a dozen kilometres away from the edge of Pride, a beast—the size of a two-story
house—bellows at the soldiers of Legion. With thick limbs yet a slim body, it manages to dodge
the attacks from your men. Fur peeks from underneath its armoured hound-like body. When the
bullets do impact its body, those plates—harder than steel—shrug them off with ease. Except for
its mouth, the material covers the creature's head, creating large horns.

Defeating such a creature is no easy task. However, your men are experienced, and you have no
doubt this incident will settle by itself soon enough. After all, this is but one of the many dangers to
be dealt with within these plains.

Turning around, a gust of wind passes by the wide balcony, and your black hair flutters. You walk
past the glass windows and doors leading to your office.

The room is quaint and much more darkly coloured than the white stone of the spire city. A rug
covers the wooden floors, and the walls are lined with bookshelves—filled to the brim with books
and scrolls. A mahogany desk sits in front of the balcony to capitalise on the sunlight pouring
through the glass doors. For now, you keep them open. The breeze feels nice. Sitting down on a
leather chair, you reach out for a scroll and open it.

It splits into two halves and slides apart. A translucent screen appears between them, and you read
the contents, occasionally swiping with your finger to scroll down.

You wear a dark shirt with a deep collar and a pair of slacks. Your suit jacket hangs by the side of
the chair. Black fingernails and long earrings. As if interested in your actions, your snake tattoo
slithers up to your neck from its previous position on your back.

However, you know better than to assign any sort of sentience to it. After all, it is nothing but a
side effect from when you gain your power and a sign it still exists inside of you.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You flick your gaze towards the door of your office before returning to the scroll.

“Come in,” you say.

The door slides open, and high heels click as someone steps inside your office.

“Your Grace,” she greets.

“What is it?”

“There is a slight delay in the shipment of the supplies to Neverrun,” the voice informs. “The
transport team has encountered an Amarok along the route. They are in the middle of—”

“I am aware.”

The scroll slides to a close with a click. Leaning back against the chair, hands fiddle with the
cylinder. Golden eyes glance up to find verdant ones staring back. Giselle stands in front of your
desk with her ringed orb and cube of light orbiting ever so slowly around her. Thin framed glasses
hang from her nose, and she wears her white suit with a matching fitting skirt.

“You are?”

“Considering how their battle is right outside my window—Yes, I am aware.” You raise an
eyebrow at her. “It’s unusual of you to report matters such as this. Usually, you would have
handled it by yourself.”

“And I already have. It’s just that the shipment this time contains large amounts of ether
apparatuses. If they were to be destroyed—”

“Then I can just steal more from those Elysian fools.”

“Legion already has a shortage of ether as it is. We barely have enough to maintain Pride, much
less for the outer villages.” She sighs. “I’d rather have none of them get destroyed in the first
place.”

Ether is a powerful substance. One capable of being used to both improve lives and destroy them at
the same time. Many of the higher-tech devices either use it as a component or as fuel. Needless to
say, your organisation needs a significant amount of it to survive within the Golden Plains.
Unfortunately, there is scarcely a place where we can obtain such large amounts of it.
Well, at least, legally.

Elysium condemns Legion to be an evil and immoral organisation with nefarious intentions
precisely because we steal their ether so often. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes every time
you’re reminded of it. However, you don’t have any qualms about the labels. More than anything,
you want to laugh. If they don’t want it to be stolen, then maybe they shouldn’t have monopolised
it in the first place.

“When are we not short on it?” You chuckle.

“True.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes, two more things actually.” Giselle holds her tablet and swipes her finger up on its screen.
Two white holograms appear in the space above, taking the form of rectangles the size of an A4
paper. She flicks them, and they fly over to your desk before stopping to float in front of you. “The
first is regarding the movements of Visage—that’s the right one.”

Your gaze shifts right and left, reading the information.

“You ordered me to ‘take a good look’ at them, and here are the results. We’ve noticed more and
more heroes snooping around the edges of our territories, still searching for our runaway hero. I’m
afraid we will have to reinforce our defences at the border. I suggest sending one higher level
ability user along with the tighter defences.”

You scoff.

“I’ll allow it. Send Ryujin over there until things calm down. Tell her to make them never want to
set foot in our territory ever again.”

“I understand.” She nods. “And the next is about your” —a pause— “pet. She—”

“And lover.”

She regards you for a second.

“So, not a toy then?”

“What do you think?” A smile on your lips.

“Jimin.” Her tone changes. Gone is the High Chancellor of Legion, and in her stead is your friend
of many years. “I need to know. What are you planning to do with her?”

“Aeri, I finally have her. I’m not going to do anything to scare her away.” You chuckle.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then?” You tilt your head.

“The poor girl is traumatised, in bad health, and has no support to rely on. She just survived being
hurt—hunted—assassinated by the people she thought were her allies for her whole life. You say
she’s not a toy but” —a sigh— “frankly, I’m just worried about what you’re getting yourself into—
what you’re subjecting her to. What are you planning? What if she becomes dependent on you?
What then?”
“Is that necessarily a bad thing?”

“Jimin.”

“I’m not a psychopath, Gi.” An eyebrow hikes up. “And I’m not enough of a bastard to manipulate
her.”

“Says the world’s most manipulative villain,” she retorts.

“Not towards my own people,” you argue. “And certainly not towards the people I care about.”

“And you claim to care for her?”

“I do.”

Another sigh leaves her. She brings her hand up and nudges her glasses aside, pinching her nose
bridge.

“Just behave around her, okay? I don’t want to deal with what happens when things hit the fan in
your relationship.” Verdant eyes glare.

“I will.” You smile.

“Not exactly reassuring, but I’ll take it for now.” She fixes her glasses.

“It looks like my best friend is slowly becoming my love counsellor and therapist. No unhealthy
relationships under your watch? Is that it?”

“We’re not savages.” She scoffs.

“I thought you would be more worried about Winter betraying us.”

“I thought of the possibility.” Her eyebrows furrow. “But I changed my mind. You’ve seen the
wounds on her body. It’s a miracle she even survived long enough to find you. Even though” —
verdant eyes narrow— “you almost sent her away.”

“I didn’t think she would collapse like that,” you say. “A miscalculation on my part, I admit.”

She lets out another sigh.

“I did another check-up on her yesterday. Her ribs are still broken, her bruises haven’t healed, and
her cuts haven’t closed. Yet she dares to tell me that there’s no pain or discomfort.”

“Blasphemous, isn’t it? To lie to a holy woman.”

“And yet you seem to do it every day.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, now that we’re here, let’s talk
about Winter’s health.” She directs your attention to the other hologram in front of you. “We
already knew the injuries she sustained were from Visage's armoury. However, further analysis has
shown the impact of other heroes’ powers. Mainly, Falcon Spectre, Liquid Steel, and Fire Flower.”

You frown and click your tongue. They’ll suffer under your hands sooner or later, but it seems
they’re desperate for the former.

“And?” you urge.

“Her wounds. They’re healing fast. However, not as fast as they should be, especially not for a
hero of her calibre. Something is hindering and limiting her healing factor. That said, I couldn’t
find anything wrong with her body. We will have to continue to observe her for the time being.”

You hum.

“Looking at the rate of recovery” —her finger pushes her glasses up, and she looks at her tablet—
“I’d say she’ll regain her full health in two weeks. Although, normally it should only be a few days
for her. I can accelerate it to only a day or two if I treat her again.”

“No need. I know you’re busy, Lady High Chancellor.” Standing up from your chair, you set the
scroll down on your desk, and it creates a low metallic thunk. “Compared to you, I have more free
time. I’ll do it instead.”

“Is that an excuse to get closer to her?” Verdant eyes look up and narrow. She knows you so well.

“Maybe.”

Grabbing your suit jacket, you walk across your office to the door, and it slides open. As you leave,
your office locks itself secure. Walking down the long ivory corridor, high heels click and echo
against the stone walls and floors. Giselle follows you by your side.

“Didn’t we just talk about—Whatever, I don’t know. I don’t know.” She groans.

“Nothing is going to happen.” You roll your eyes.

“With your self-control?”

“Excuse you, but I have excellent self-control.”

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve heard this year,” she scoffs, “and I heard Ning say she didn’t eat my
chocolate while literally holding the wrapper.”

A short chuckle escapes your lips.

We pass through the winding hallways of Pride before stopping at an open space. It is a room
placed high in the sky and connected to several other corridors. An intersection of sorts. Circular in
nature, a series of arches and pillars replaces half of the room’s walls, allowing the wind to weave
in and out of the space. Peering down beside the balustrades, you see a small plaza occupied by the
denizens of your city.

Much like everything else in the city, everything here is made of ivory stone.

Passersby greet us when passing us, bowing their heads and giving a short but polite sentence. All
of them wear light-coloured uniforms with differences depending on their place of employment.

Giselle faces you.

“I shall make another report if something needs your attention.” She returns to her formal tone as
she tends to do so when there are others around. “Pride cannot run by itself, and there are many
matters I must attend to. Take care, Your Grace.”

“Until next time, Chancellor.”

With a nod, she turns around and walks into another corridor. Her ringed orb and cube of light
follow her. The latter immediately displays an ensemble of holographs around her—filled with
information and reports. You notice several of them to be communications arrays, vying for her
attention simultaneously. She accepts one and pulls up a particular set of documents.

“Speak quickly and concisely, Sir Gideon. I have little time to spare right now,” she says. Her
voice becomes fainter and fainter with the growing distance.

On the other hand, you continue down a different corridor to a different section of the main palace.
This path leads you up to a certain room. It is rather isolated from the rest, requiring you to pass
through several locked doors and security checkpoints.

The further you go, the lower the sun sets. Its amber light fills the halls of Pride and paints the
building walls, turning the ivory city into one of gold instead.

At the end of the hallway, you find a man standing in front of the door you’re looking for. He has
black and white hair along with a salt and pepper beard, indicating his older age. He is tall with
broad shoulders. Wearing a crisp and neat suit, he presents himself with a well-groomed
appearance. White eyes with slits for pupils. Similar to a feline. Above his gloved hand is a tray,
floating just a few inches away from his palm, and steam rises from the hot dishes.

He stands there with a troubled face. A slight frown lies behind his beard.

“Baekho,” you call out to him.

Noticing your approach, he courtesies you with a small bow.

“Your Grace.”

“Standing in the hallway?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. “One might think you were rejected by
how miserable you look.”

“I was” —he straightens his back— “supposed to deliver dinner to Miss Winter. However, she has
been sleeping since this afternoon, and currently, shows no sign of waking up any time soon.”

“The Grand Chamberlain of Pride is delivering dinner himself?”

“Well, I can’t let some random lad take care of Your Grace’s mistress, can I?” A small smile
appears on his face.

“Charmer.” You smile. “Give it here. I’ll deliver it to her myself.”

He nods.

The tray flies over, and you take it from the air. Dismissing him, he excuses himself and walks
away.

Once you enter the room, the silence is noticeable. There is nothing except the muffled hubbub
from the city below. You glance about the spacious room, and the dying sunlight falls through the
large windows onto the white floors, reflecting the amber hues to the ceiling. A small bump lies on
the bed.

You step past the barrier Giselle had erected and the air ripples around you. Only to pause once
you’re through.

Ah, right. This won’t be needed anymore.

You turn towards it.

As golden eyes glow brighter, the tips of your fingers become engulfed in dark ichor, creeping up
until your forearm is covered in darkness. Veins of gold replace where your blood vessels once
were. The palm of your hand becomes flush with the transparent wall. Curling your fingers inward,
ripples of light emanate from the contact points and white cracks start to appear in the air before
webbing towards the walls. The sound of glass shattering. Crisp and high-pitched.

Once it shatters, the barrier disintegrates into flecks of white dust before disappearing entirely.
Almost immediately, your right earring—one made of gold and crystalized ether—hums. An
incoming call. You accept it.

Your arm returns to normal.

“Did you just destroy my barrier or did Winter just escape?” Before you utter even a single word,
Giselle’s voice rings inside your mind. A hint of annoyance in it.

“I did,” you say, hushed. A small chuckle escapes you.

“For God’s sake—Karina! You need to tell me before you do shit like that! You almost gave me a
heart attack,” she exclaims. “Also, there’s also the option of me just dismissing the barrier?
Hello? Where did the brains of our esteemed leader go?”

“Well, you’re in a bad mood.” Raising an eyebrow, you walk towards the round table by the
window. “Did something happen in the few minutes I didn’t see you?”

“Maybe it’s because a certain someone gave me the shock of a lifetime.” She sighs and her voice
softens. “Just another asshole who’s demanding more than he’s entitled to.”

“You’ve dealt with him?” You place the tray down on the table and hang your suit jacket by the
arm of the sofa.

“Of course.” She scoffs. “Anyway, I have another call to take. Talk to you later.”

You hum.

The connection severs.

You turn and walk towards the bed.

With silver hair scattered above the white sheets, Winter lies on it motionless, save for the slow up
and down of her chest. Her lips are parted ever so slightly. The sound of her breathing is rhythmic.
Gentle. You’ve seen her unconscious before when she had collapsed on the ground and when you
had carried her all the way here for Giselle to heal her. However, those times weren’t as peaceful
as it is right now.

You sit by the edge—next to her. A hand reaches out to her face, and the tips of your fingers brush
against her cheek. They glide over her skin, and black fingernails sink into her soft hair, pushing
them out of the way. Your palm cups her jaw and your fingers settle behind her ear. She stirs from
her slumber—if only a little bit—before returning to her dreams.

“Winter,” you call her.

Her eyebrows twitch, and she grasps her blanket tighter. You trap her ear between your thumb and
index finger, rubbing her earlobe.

“Yesterday, you were so eager to see me. Have you gotten tired of me already?” you ask.
Her eyelashes flutter open. Grey eyes—clouded with haze from her sleep—stare into nothing. She
blinks. You pinch her ear. Her gaze lands on you. Then, as if something clicks in place, her eyes
widen. You watch as she rushes up and snaps to the other side of the bed, clutching onto the quilt.
With tense shoulders, she presses her back against the headboard.

“Are you that scared of me?” One eyebrow hikes up. Without anything to hold, you let your hand
drop down.

“How—How long have you been here?” she asks in return, glaring.

“Hm, five minutes?”

Grey eyes stare. Despite having just woken up and sitting on a bed, you can’t find an opening in
her posture. Defensive. Her muscles are taut, readying herself to either fight or flight depending on
the situation. It’s almost as if she’s a cornered pup. Although, in reality, you understand she’s far
more similar to a wolf than anything. You smile.

“Do you feel safe when you’re alone here? Or does being in your nemesis’ lair not bother you?”

“I was” —gradually, she lowers the blanket— “I was tired.” It makes sense. It would be stranger if
she wasn’t. “And you’re not my nemesis. Not anymore. I don’t think you would go back on your
word.”

“So trusting.” You glance over to the small round dining table by the window before looking at her
again. “Dinner is here. Do you want to eat it now or later?”

“Later.” The tension leaves her body, and her guard lowers.

A hum.

“Come here,” you say.

She regards you for a second. Her hand pulls off the quilt from herself, and she scoots over to your
side. Though, a small distance still remains between us. Much like yesterday, she wears a loose t-
shirt and a pair of pants. The white bandages peek from underneath the fabric, extending out to her
shoulders and arms. A slow breath leaves you. It’s not a sight you like to see on your lover.

“Good,” you praise her. “Now that you've had a good sleep, you haven't regretted your decision,
have you?”

“No.”

“Do you know what this is?”

Opening your hand in front of you, black mist rises from your palm, and it condenses and
assembles into a single long earring. As it hovers in the air, its form fluctuates and its edges blur
from previous states of being. An artefact created from your power.

Winter shakes her head.

“This thing can tell me your exact location, your state of being, and whether you’re in danger or
not. It can also serve as a means of communication. Although telepathy is out of the question,
you’ll be able to feel when I’m calling for you, and vice versa, I’ll feel the same.” You place your
hand in front of her, allowing her to observe the earring. “Quite a useful thing, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” she says.

“For all intents and purposes, it is your collar, and I could make it look like one.” And the black
earring turns into a leather collar. You know you said you won’t do anything to scare her off, but
you have reasons for doing this. Some are more rational than others. “However, I don’t think you
would appreciate wearing it all the time.”

She frowns and coughs. The tips of her ears turn red.

You return it to its previous state.

“Once you wear it, you’ll never be able to take it off. That is unless I allow it.”

Golden eyes glance up.

“Wearing it will make it impossible for you to escape me.”

While you would like to believe Winter and her words, you’re not arrogant enough to think she
doesn’t have any doubts. If she does, then it’s better to be rid of this arrangement before it becomes
permanent. You aren’t a fan of dealing with messy situations.

“Last chance to change your mind,” you tell her. “It’s perfectly fine to just work for Legion.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“I already told you, Karina.” Her hand reaches up to hold yours. It’s colder than you expect it to be.
“My decision isn’t going to change no matter how many times you ask me. And besides” —she
meets your gaze— ”I’m already yours. What difference will it make?”

You consider yourself to be intelligent. Perhaps even wise. However, at the same time, many
subjects escape your comprehension. You will be the first to admit it. You still don’t understand
why she is so desperate to be yours. Have the years of flirting finally paid off? You have been
seducing her since the moment we first fought. Is it your face? Many people have complimented
your looks before. While you don’t disagree, you doubt Winter has such shallow reasons in mind.

“Why me?” For once, your voice is solemn. For once, you don’t smile.

“All things considered, you’re not as bad of a person as people say you are.” She glances down at
the earring, and fingers grasp around it from mid-air. “Especially compared to them.”

“I’m not a good person,” you remind her.

“I never said you were.”

“The lesser of two evils then?” You watch as she tucks her silver hair behind her ear.

“Maybe.” Winter wears the earring without a single doubt in her actions. Grey eyes meet with
golden ones. A connection forms between us as a result of the artefact. “At the very least, you’re
the only one who’s been honest with me. From the beginning till now. I’m satisfied with that.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“And yet I am.”

The last vestiges of the dying sun dye the white walls of her temporary room in red amber. The
light glimmers against her eyes, and you can’t deny the clarity within them. She knows what she
wants. There’s no more point in arguing the matter for she will get what she desires and you can do
nothing but give in to her demands. Somehow, from this moment, you catch a glimpse of your
future.

You exhale.

“Very well,” you concede.

She glances over towards the door.

“The barrier is gone,” she remarks.

“I broke it,” you say. “It has served its purpose.”

“Of keeping me here?”

“Well, I couldn’t just let you leave that easily.” The smile returns to you. ”You should know I’m
very possessive.”

“I can tell.”

“That obvious?”

“Yes.”

Laughter bubbles up from your lips. You suppose it is.

“Sit here,” you say while patting the space directly next to you—the place where she was sleeping
earlier.

“Why?” she asks but moves closer anyway.

“There’s another thing we need to take care of. But I’ll have to touch your body.” A finger hooks
underneath the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it up ever so slightly. However, she snatches it away from
you in an instant.

“E—Excuse me?”

“If I don’t touch you, I won’t be able to heal your injuries.” Your head tilts to the left. “I’m not as
proficient in healing people as Giselle unfortunately.”

“I don’t—I don’t have many injuries left. You don’t have to do this.”

“You seem to have already forgotten something.” Leaning closer, an eyebrow hikes up. She tries to
avoid you, pressing her hands against your shoulders, but it doesn’t work. An arm slithers around
her waist, and your other hand rests beside her thigh. There’s no place to escape. “I told you I
would be able to know whether you’re hurt or not. So, don’t lie to me, Winter. Be good and let me
heal you.”

Red spreads across her features.

“You’re already touching me,” she mutters.

“So, do I have your permission?”

Grey eyes shift—unsure where to put her gaze. In the end, she settles on staring at your top.

She nods.

“Stay still,” you order.

“Okay.”

Slipping your hand underneath her t-shirt, the tips of your fingers touch the base of her ribcage. She
flinches. Fingers slide across the bandages, and your palm becomes flush with her skin. Winter
exhales. Soon, your hand glows gold and the light spreads throughout her body. As she absorbs the
energy, it heals her injuries, closing open wounds and stitching her fractured bones together.
Granted, at a much slower pace when compared to Giselle.

Your hand moves, and she sucks in a sharp breath. Her arms jerk to push you away, but you only
pull her closer.

“I told you to stay still.” Bending down, you bury your nose into her silver hair and whisper to her
ear. Your thumb caresses her ribcage. You’ve noticed it before, yet the powdery scent she carries
continues to draw you closer. “You need to get used to this—to me touching you. Especially now,
when you’re my lover.”

“It’s—It’s difficult.” Her fingers clutch onto your shirt. Her jaw clenches. “For the past few years,
we’ve been trying to kill each other. I can’t help it, Karina.”

“I won’t hurt you anymore.” Your voice drops. “Not unless it’s the kind which you’ll find
pleasurable.”

She covers her face with one hand.

“Please don’t speak.”

You chuckle.

From her ribcage, your hand slides down to her side. Her shoulders twitch. You wonder. Is she
always this sensitive? Is it because of the unfamiliarity of your touch? Or is it because your hands
are warmer from healing? All of the above? Perhaps you should conduct research on this subject
by touching her more. For science, of course.

Your thumb rubs circles against her skin.

Perhaps it is a little mean of you to touch her like this, especially with how her breath seems to
hitch every time your hands move even a tiny bit. However, you can’t help yourself. Because of
her fair skin, any sort of blush becomes much more visible—more vivid on her. Crimson burns
across her neck, nape, and shoulders.

“Do you feel better?” You already know the answer from the earring, but you want to ask her
anyway.

“Mm.” She hums.

“Come to me the next time you get hurt. I’ll heal you again.”

She takes a breath.

“Your answer?”
“I will.”

You smile.

“Good girl,” you purr.

//
 Name
Chapter Summary

“You know, I never did find out your real name no matter how deep I dig.” Karina
hums.

“You dug into my background?”

“Of course, I did. I’m well aware you did it too. After all, weren’t we desperate to get
the upper hand on each other? Obtaining blackmail and such. You wanted to ruin me
as much as I wanted to ruin you.”

Chapter Notes

Winter's POV

//

Blue skies and white clouds.

A girl sits by the balustrades of a balcony. Her silver hair flutters with every breath of the wind,
and her lungs fill with an unfamiliar air. She wears a white turtleneck—cropped and sleeveless—
and loose beige pants. A white shirt serves as her outerwear, but it does very little when it slips
down to her elbows. Her left ear adorns a single long black earring. Hands rest against the stone
fencing.

Days have passed, and the injuries—the broken bones, the bruises, the cuts, and internal bleeding
—marring her body have disappeared. Courtesy of the Black Witch. Hours have been spent on
healing them.

Underneath her feet, the spire city conducts its daily activities.

Grey eyes observe.

A handful of flying cars flies about the city. Some of them seem to be cargo trucks, while others
look more to be for public transport. Airborne vehicles have been a common sight in your
homeland. Within the capital city of Temperance, you see more of them than birds. However, it
seems to be different in Pride. Rather than the hundreds of cars, you only see a dozen or so.

You suppose there isn’t enough ether to be wasted on them.

“Enjoying the view?”

An arm slithers around your waist, and your shoulders flinch. Your muscles tense. Catching an
ever-faint whiff of honey and nectar, you turn your gaze to the side. Golden eyes and red lips smile.
A loose shirt adorns her torso, while black pants fit her lower half. The uncovered collarbone
reveals the black snake tattoo coiling around her shoulders and neck. Unmoving.

Karina joins you at the balcony, and yet you didn’t hear a coming footstep earlier. The hand
resting on your hip holds you with no ill intent—if anything, it prefers to caress you instead. You
have to remind yourself. She is your owner. She is your lover. She isn’t going to hurt you.

You force yourself to relax, and a thought passes through your mind. Will a day come when you
don’t flinch away from people’s touches? You muse to yourself. Perhaps a day may come where
you seek her first. You have a feeling that day isn’t far away.

“I’m not going to push you off the balcony,” she says out of nowhere.

Oh, she felt it.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if you did. I could have just come back here.” You pause. “I wasn’t
afraid of that.”

“If you say so.” She hums.

As if to prove her point, her arm pulls you closer. Pressed against her front, the heat from her body
warms your back. Grey eyes look down to the city below, and her chin rests on your shoulder.

“How long will you continue to confine me up here?” you ask. In the days you have been here, not
once have you ventured beyond the upper floors of the spire tower.

“You could just go down there by yourself.”

“But you told me I couldn’t.”

She chuckles.

“It’s nice to have a puppy that’s so obedient.” Another hand holds your chin and makes you look at
her. “Do you want to go down there? To explore?”

“Are you making fun of me?” You push it away and create distance. Eyebrows frown. She doesn’t
put up much resistance, preferring to take a step backwards with a smile.

“Not at all.”

“You sound like you are.”

“Perhaps a little?” she says. “Don’t worry. I have something arranged already. You’ll get your tour
soon.”

A short huff escapes you. You try to continue to observe the city below as you have been for the
past few hours before being interrupted. She brought you here. Her office. Thinking you would be
bored staying inside your room all day—not the prison, but a new one she gave you. She’s been
stuck at her desk this whole time, while you’ve been watching and reading on the balcony.

You wish she would go back to her work.

“Have I upset you?”

“No,” you say, keeping your expression flat.

She hums.

“You know, I never did find out your real name no matter how deep I dig.”

“You dug into my background?”

“Of course, I did. I’m well aware you did it too. After all, weren’t we desperate to get the upper
hand on each other? Obtaining blackmail and such. You wanted to ruin me as much as I wanted to
ruin you.” A step forward. She leans against the balustrades. “Were you frustrated when you found
out it was in vain?”

“Maybe,” you say.

“So?”

“Would you tell me yours if I told you mine?” you ask. She won’t tell you.

“Why not?”

You blink.

“What?” Grey eyes look at her.

“I don’t mind telling you my real name. It’s not like I have anything to lose.” She smiles. “If
anything, I have more to gain.”

“Such as?” You frown.

“Hearing you say my name?” She tilts her head. “Karina is also nice, but—”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound comes from her office. Someone is at the door.

“Ah, Giselle is here,” she remarks. Turning around, she walks away. “We’ll talk again in a
moment.”

You don’t reply to her. You return to your observation, but none of it registers inside your mind.
While there are a few things you know to be true, there is little you know about Karina. She guards
any information about herself like a dragon to their gold. Despite blatantly showing her face to the
public, no one in Elysium recognizes her. She leaves no trace of her past. A ghost, so to say.

And yet she was about to tell you her real name so willingly had we not been disturbed. You don’t
understand her.

“And what of the court?”

“They have not made any movements. At the very least, they haven’t filed a complaint just yet. As
for the soldiers, they seem happy to welcome a new high-ranked ability user.”

“Good.”

Their voices come from inside the office behind you. She doesn’t seem to mind you hearing all of
this either. Fingers touch the black earring. Is it because of this? Because of your ‘collar’?

“Winter.”
Your gaze sweeps toward her office. Aside from hearing her voice, you also feel a tug in your chest
—one pulling you to her.

In a snap, your body disappears from the balcony’s edge in a blur, and a low thump sounds in your
ears, leaving only flakes of snow behind. You reappear next to her. Karina sits on a leather chair by
her desk, and a holograph hovers by her. The leisurely smile on red lips widens ever so subtly,
seemingly pleased with your arrival. Her legs cross, and she props her chin up from the chair. You
feel a touch on the back of your hand. Fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Did you call?” you ask.

“I did.” She glances at the front of her desk. “You’re familiar with Giselle, correct?”

Grey eyes follow her gaze. Giselle stands there with her ringed orb and cube of light. She carries a
thin tablet in her hand. A black suit adorns her figure with a fitting skirt. You notice she isn’t
wearing her glasses. Unlike the last time you met her, her face is no longer devoid of all emotion.
You nod to her in a greeting, and she gives you a small smile in return.

“I am,” you say.

“She will be showing you around,” Karina says. “The tour I promised.”

“I will show you all the facilities within the tower today,” Giselle explains. “We may have another
tour for the rest of the city on a later date if you wish.”

“You should be introduced to the rest of Legion. But before that, you should become familiar with
this place first.”

“When?”

“Soon.” Karina’s thumb caresses your inner wrist. Golden eyes narrow. “Be good, Winter. Don’t
cause any trouble for our dear chancellor.”

“As long as there isn't a reason for it,” you say.

“Fair enough.” A chuckle. She releases your wrist and pats the small of your back. “Off you go
now.” She directs her gaze to Giselle. “You too, Chancellor.”

“Until next time, Your Grace.” She nods.

With a small hum, you leave her side and follow Giselle out of the office. The doors slide open.
Once we step into the corridor outside, they close automatically behind us. The Chancellor doesn’t
speak much, only telling you to follow before proceeding to walk away. In an instant, holographic
screens are projected by her cube of light. You fall into step next to her. Besides our footsteps and
the beeping from her cube, the air remains silent between the two of us.

We turn another corner. The sunlight shines through the tall windows, and it reflects off the white
walls and polished floors. Your gaze flickers to the side. Verdant eyes never leave the numerous
screens surrounding her, and her hand would type on the screen or the tablet in her hand. The
brightness of the hallway makes it hard to make out what she’s doing.

You direct your gaze elsewhere.

Seconds later, she lets out an exhale.

“Apologies for that, I suppose I should properly introduce myself now,” she says. Halfway down
the hallway, she stops and turns to face you. The screens all disappear with a swipe of her hand.

You stop as well.

“As you already know, my name is Giselle. I work as the High Chancellor of Legion. The one in
charge of managing the organisation per Her Grace’s will. In short, I do all of the behind-the-
scenes work, which means I am usually very busy,” she explains. “However, if you need
something or encounter a problem, I implore—strongly implore you to tell me instead of Her
Grace.”

Despite her smile, you understand it isn’t a request.

You nod.

You ask her whether it’s okay for the High Chancellor to be giving a tour. Surely, she must have
other things to do. However, she only chuckles. She doesn’t deny your assumption. Rather, she
calls it a short break for herself.

“God knows I need a vacation,” she mumbles to herself.

You pretend you didn’t hear it.

“Now, before we go, there is something I must give to you.” Giselle glances at the glowing cube
by her side, and it flies over to you. The air above it distorts—light bends in ways it should not
have. In a blink, the space twists and an object apparates.

A black mask.

Meant to be worn over the upper half of your face, it is featureless and smooth—not even holes or
slits for vision. Your fingers grasp onto it as you take it. Matte and soft in appearance. The material
feels velvety to the touch.

“A mask?” you ask.

“A temporary one. It can attach to your face by itself, but it can still be removed with enough force.
So, best be careful with it,” she says. “I” —she hesitates for a second— “should not have to tell you
why you should wear it.”

“Some have already seen my face. What will happen to them?” you ask.

“They have been taken care of,” she sighs. “I apologise. The others may be able to accept you
given some time.” You doubt it. “However, for now, you should wear it.”

“If I use my power—” you don’t finish your sentence.

“Other ice ability users exist.”

“Even so.”

“There is no need for such worry. We will handle it,” she says. “Furthermore, your future missions
will have you going alone or with a small team filled with trusted personnel. I shall brief you more
about the matter at a later date.”

A hum.
“I understand.”

As you don the black mask, it glues to your face as if magnetised. Your vision remains unimpeded.

“From now on, we shall also be calling you ‘Wolf’ in public. For the same reason as before.”

“Why ‘Wolf’?”

“Her Grace said you looked like a puppy.” She shrugs while heat gathers at your ears. “However,
calling you ‘Puppy’ out in public when you will be one of our deadliest agents is a little—” She
clears her throat. “Thus, I took the liberty of changing it to ‘Wolf’. Do you mind? If there is
something you’d like us to call you with, please do tell me.”

“No.” You shake your head with haste, coughing into your fist. “‘Wolf’ is fine.”

“Then it is decided.”

We continue our path down the corridor, and she leads you through the many paths within the
structure. As we pass by rooms, balconies, open courtyards, and many more, she explains to you
about them—their names, purpose, and perhaps a little bit of their history depending on their
significance.

The architecture in this city is curious. Much like how the city is an amalgamation of different
structures, the design seems to be a mix of old and new. Yet, perhaps as a result of conscious
design, they fit together.

As you have come to know, the central structure—the enormous spire tower reaching the heavens
—is called the Ivory Tower. It is where most people work as the various workshops, research
facilities, and offices are located within the tower. While some live here—it also serves as the main
barracks for Legion—most live in the city attached to the tower.

People steal glances at us every so often. The High Chancellor attracts attention wherever she goes,
but a few of them are directed toward you. With your senses, you could hear them talking even
from afar. They’re confused. Intrigued. Who are you? Why are you walking with her?

You pay them no mind.

The tour continues to a more high-tech and sterile environment. Giselle explains this section of the
tower is where the scientific fellows conduct their work.

“May I ask you something?” Giselle glances.

“Yes?”

“Despite coming here for revenge, you do not seem to be in much of a hurry.”

“There isn’t anything or anyone left there,” you say. “It would have been a different story if my
sister was still alive.”

“I’ve heard about her before,” she remarks. You don’t doubt her. After all, your sister was the head
researcher at the Central Research Centre. The CRC for short. A lot of people have heard about
her and her innovations in biochemistry. She was featured in a lot of newspapers and magazines. It
would be hard not to. “Kim Chaewon, was it?”

“That’s her.” You nod. “Besides, I know taking down Visage isn’t an overnight job. So, I’ll just do
my best to help Legion in the meantime. The more we flourish, the less they will.”

A short chuckle leaves her.

“I’m glad you still have your wits about you.” She smiles.

Karina said the same thing.

“Where are we heading next?” you ask her. You don’t want to talk about your sister anymore.

“Well, seeing as you have a distinct lack of equipment—all your belongings are, after all, beyond
use—our next stop will solve that problem for you. This shall be our last stop in the tour,” she
answers.

Leading you further into Section 07, we stop at a certain door among many within the corridor.
Even from the outside, the ticking of mechanisms and the whirling of ether enters your ears along
with the tapping of a keyboard. A metallic plate hangs on the wall next to it. ‘Lab 04’, it says. A
sheet of paper is taped underneath it with neat handwriting on it, saying ‘Please KNOCK before
coming in!!!’. In smaller writing beneath, it says ‘Not my responsibility if you lose a limb for
ignoring me’.

With a slight frown, muscles tense by a fraction. Just enough to be ready for whatever is on the
other side of the white door.

Giselle reaches out and knocks on it. A metallic thunk rings out with every tap of her knuckle. For
a second, the typing stops. Heavy footsteps come near, and the door slides open. Cold air seeps out
from the room and into the corridor outside.

A girl stands before us, wearing thick boots, cargo pants, a tank top, and a military jacket.
Headphones hang from her neck. Dirty blonde hair falls down to her bust, and light blue eyes look
at Giselle.

“Gi, you’re here.” She smiles before glancing over at you. “Is this her?”

“She is. Let us talk inside, shall we?”

“Oh yeah, yeah! Sure, come inside!” She steps aside and allows us to walk inside the room.

The laboratory is a sizable space but not large. On the right side of the room, there are six monitors
and a single wide desk in front of it with a big comfortable chair. Six screens display lines of code,
blueprints, 3d models, and other things beyond your comprehension. Some of it looks like maths,
but you’re honestly not too sure. On the other side, there is a work table filled with half-finished
prototypes, tools—both mechanical and arcane in nature—bits of plastic scraps, shards of ether,
and scrolls.

A square table lies at the centre of the room, and a stylus lies on it. Hovering above it, a holograph
of a device with its inner mechanisms exposed is displayed. At the far back of the room, large
machinery sits there—their purpose currently unknown to you.

The door slides close, and the girl walks to the front of the centre table, leaning against it.

“So?”

“This is Winter.”
Eyebrows furrow behind the mask. Didn’t we just agree to call you ‘Wolf’?

“This is Ningning. One of our trusted personnel,” she introduces her. “She already knows about
your situation.”

“Hi! Sorry to hear about what happened by the way. Must suck. Though I’m glad you came here
out of all the places. I’m sure it beats that place by a long shot. Anyway, you can call me just Ning
for short. Though my first name is Yizhuo, but—”

“She is our best engineer—artificer—whatever you want to call it,” Giselle interrupts her with a
smile.

Is Yizhuo her real name?

“Excuse you, my formal title is Architect of the Arcane and Cyber Infiltrator.”

“Basically, she designs ether things and hacks things.”

“Design?” you ask.

“Oh yeah, I make the plans—the blueprints, and then I send it off downstairs to the forge, jeweller,
atelier, or whoever can make the thing I want.” She grins. “Although, I design ‘ether things’” —her
hands make quotation marks— “as Gi calls it. I’m more geared towards things that can be used in
the field if you get what I mean. Although these days, there are more things to hack than there are
to design.”

“So, you can fix my blades?”

“Fix?” Her eyebrows furrow, and an immediate frown makes its way to her face. “Why in Pride’s
name would you want to use those pieces of junk again?”

Giselle clears her throat.

“I mean, I guess I could fix them.” She rolls her eyes. “But why would you want me to do it? I
could design something way better! In fact, I already have a few things planned out. I’ve been
thinking about it ever since Rina told me—”

Verdant eyes give her a look.

“Um, well, I mean, unless they’re important to you or something like that,” Yizhuo mutters.

A sigh escapes the chancellor.

“As you can see the choice is up to you.”

You suppress the smile trying to make its way to your lips. Yizhuo seems to be a nice person. You
like her.

“I suppose I’ll have to trouble you with designing new ones,” you say.

“Okay, great! Because I may or may not have sent your old swords downstairs to be recycled.”

“Yizhuo!”

“What? It was made out of cold iron and I needed it!”

“I told you Karina would be getting you some of it the next time she—”

Beep!

The cube of light makes a noise and flashes blue before returning to its previously white
colouration. Giselle takes a breath.

“Never mind, I need to take this call. You two can continue without me.” She walks outside of the
room.

“So,” she starts. You look at Yizhuo and find her grinning. “Twin katanas?”

You nod.

“Great! For now, I’ll need to get a sample of your power.” Walking towards the monitors, she
types something on her keyboard and the screen changes. One of the large machines at the back of
the room hums alive. “I have years of battle data between you and Karina to reference, but it’s nice
to get a direct data sample. Depending on the design I settle with, it might take from a week to a
few months to make it.”

“That long?”

“Hey.” Yizhuo turns to look at you. “Works of art need time.”

“I see.” The smallest of smiles appears on your lips. “So, what do I need to do?”

“Just hop inside that thing.” A finger points to the humming machine.

You walk to the back of the room. It looks similar to a scanner but modified. A circular metal
platform lies on the floor with railings on two of its sides. Cables are connected to the bottom of it
and a small panel is attached to the railing. There is a spine at the back of it, holding up another
circular plate from above. You step onto it, and the grooves in the platform glow cerulean.

“Also, Giselle will probably give you some temporary swords to use in the meanwhile. Y’know,
just the standard stuff.” She walks over with gloves, a glass ball, and cables in her hands. She plugs
them into the panel. “I just need you to use your power. Make ice or something—I don’t know. I
just need to get a hold of your data.”

“Do I make it as cold as possible?”

“You don’t—actually, now that I think about it, that’s a great idea. I’ll need to know what material
can host your power the best.”

“Cold iron seemed to work well enough.”

“Keyword is ‘seemed’.” Excitement glints in her eyes. “I’m also in the middle of designing your
mask—one specialised for the field. There’s also your armour. So, look forward to that.” She
winks. “Anyway, I need you to wear this and hold this.” She hands you the pair of gloves and the
glass ball, now connected to the panel. You do as instructed. “I’ll also need to put this sensor
around your wrist.”

The tips of her fingers touch your arm, and you yank it away. Quick and harsh. Your heart rate
skyrockets and your skin crawls.

You blink.
“Oh, um, sorry.” This—This is odd. You know you had an aversion to touch ever since the attempt
to—but not to this—

“No, no, I’m the one who should apologise.” Yizhuo puts her hands behind her back and takes a
step back, giving you space. She keeps her smile, but you notice her body language changing.
She’s trying to make herself look more harmless. “We can just use another method.”

“R—Right.”

“Hey, I told you to not worry.” She grins. Unplugging one of the cables, she discards the sensor on
her desk. “Let me just get Giselle. I’ll need her for this.”

A breath. You nod.

She walks across the laboratory, and the door slides open. You watch as she calls for the
Chancellor outside. After a minute, they’re both back inside the room, standing in front of you.
Yizhuo holds the ringed orb usually at Giselle’s side, and she connects a cable from it to the panel
on the machine. The replacement for the sensor, you guess. She goes back to her computer and
types on her keyboard.

“Get ready, Gi,” she says.

The ringed orb floats near you, and it projects a laser grid onto your body. Similar to the time when
you first met the woman.

“Ready here.”

“All right, Winter. Go and freeze the glass ball.” She swings her chair to face you.

“Okay.”

Within a second, frost covers the entirety of the surface of the ball and the gloves. Icicles form with
your hands as the origin point. The temperature of the already cold room drops even further. With
every breath Giselle and Yizhuo take, they leave a trail of white clouds. You’re the same as before,
however. The cold doesn’t affect you as much as it does other people.

“I mean, I kind of expected it, but holy shit, Winter.” Blue eyes are plastered to the numbers on her
monitors. “They really chose the fitting name for you.”

“I was born with it.” The small smile from before returns.

“Well, this is the woman who made it snow in the middle of summer,” Giselle remarks.

With enough data gathered, Yizhuo ushers us away from her laboratory, citing how she has a lot
more work to do. The excitement doesn’t leave her face until the end.

The tour around the tower is finished, and the Chancellor offers to escort you to your room or
wherever you want to go. However, you decline the proposition. You have taken enough of her
time as it is, albeit a part of you is suspicious whether she’s using you to not work for a little
longer.

At the end of the day, you retire to your bedroom. Higher in the spire.

When the doors open and you step inside, a dark room greets you. Compared to your ‘prison’, it’s a
much smaller space. The kitchen is by the entrance, placed in the corner with a small breakfast bar.
Your bed lies past it, pushed against the side of the room. A long rectangular window dresses the
wall in front of it, and a sofa sits in front of it. The sun has died, and the cold city lights pour in
through the gaps of the blinds. The bathroom lies behind your bed at the far end of the space.

Karina tried to give you a bigger place, and admittedly, a more luxurious one. However, you
refused the offer. Not from humility, but rather simply because you find small and intimate places
to be more comfortable. It’s cosier.

You walk over to your bed. Reaching out, the lamp turns on with a click, and a soft light paints the
room. Fingers grab the mask on your face, and you take it off, placing it on the bedside table. You
discard the white shirt on top of the sheets, and you’re left wearing your white crop top. But then
the lamp flickers. The shadows seem to grow deeper at the edges of your room.

She’s here.

The space by the sofa distorts. The lamp flickers off once more. When it turns on, a figure sits
there. Legs crossed and head propped up with a hand.

“Puppy, huh?” you say in lieu of a greeting.

“Well, it isn’t as if it’s your first time hearing it.” Karina chuckles. Golden eyes glow in the
darkness. “I do love seeing you get so worked up whenever I call you that.”

“While we were trying to kill each other,” you remind her.

“Oh, that makes it even more thrilling, doesn’t it?” She holds a hand out to you. “Come here.”

A tug in your chest pulls you to her. You walk closer. Once near enough, she draws you by the
wrist, and she makes you sit on her lap. Arms slither to your back. Muscles tense. From this
distance, inhaling the scent of honey is easy. Heat gathers at the tips of your ears. Red lips smile.
She raises an eyebrow.

“Had fun on your tour?”

“Plenty.”

“And the jolt of discomfort? Fear? I felt it earlier,” she refers to the time when Yizhuo touched you.
You had hoped she didn’t notice it through the earring, but things don’t always go the way you
want. Fingers brush against your cheek before tucking away stray strands of hair from your face.
“Did someone bother you? Is there someone I need to quietly ‘take care’ of? Don’t lie to me.”

It’s odd. You don’t reject her touch as much as you do others.

“I was just surprised,” you say. She won’t believe you. You don’t even believe in yourself.

“Really now?

“Do you only talk in questions?” You frown.

“Do I?” Okay, now she’s just being annoying. You roll your eyes, while she chuckles. “Is the
puppy upset?”

“Are you really going to keep calling me that? I have my name.”

“One you still haven’t told me yet.” She stares for a second. “Yu Jimin.”
“Hm?”

“That’s my name,” she explains. “It’s Yu Jimin. What you use to call me is your choice. However,
I would prefer it if you called me ‘Jimin’ in private.”

“Oh.” You didn’t think she would really tell you. “Okay.”

“Come on. Try it.”

Your lips part. Grey eyes turn their gaze away. It’s just a name. Why is it so hard to say?

“Jimin,” you mumble rather than say.

“What was that? I didn’t catch it.” Her smile turns into a smirk and you have half a mind to stab
her. But you don’t. Instead, you take a breath.

“Jimin,” you say a bit louder.

“Say it again.” While pulling you closer, she tilts her head.

“Jimin.” This time, you say without a mumble.

“Good job.” Leaning forward, she nuzzles her nose into silver hair, and you feel her lips brush
against your ear. Red spreads to your cheeks. A hand on her shoulder. It’s a habit you developed
over the past few days. Whenever she touches you, you always feel the need to cling to a part of
her. You find this odd as well. “Was it so hard?”

Against the small of your back, her palm presses up against your skin, dragging up and up
centimetre by centimetre. It’s slow. Painfully so. Reaching the bottom of your crop top, a single
finger slips under the fabric. Red lips hover by the pulse on your neck. Despite being able to stand
the cold, you seem to not do as well with the heat. Strange. Aren’t snakes supposed to be cold-
blooded?

You grab her arm, stopping her from moving.

“Do you have a sickness where you die if you don’t constantly touch me?” Grey eyes narrow.

“Oh, yes. I thought you already knew about it.” A chuckle.

“I didn’t.”

“Well, there’s time to learn.”

Despite her words, Karina doesn’t do anything more. Instead, she just settles on hugging your waist
and resting her chin on your shoulder. You can handle this. This doesn’t make you feel as if you
can’t breathe—as if you’re being burned alive. Your heartbeat slows. Dare you say this even feels
comfortable? Although, you would rather not think of the implications behind the comfort.

A minute passes.

“I” —a pause— “don’t have one.”

“Don’t have what?”

“A name,” you admit. She pulls away and looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. “My sister and I
have been with Visage ever since we were young. Orphans and all that. My sister was old enough
to be named by our parents before they died. I was just a new-born. Visage saw my powers and
codenamed me 'Winter',” you explain. “I suppose technically it is my real name. My Elysian ID
card says Winter Kim.”

“Those assholes didn’t even bother to give you a name?” she scoffs in disbelief.

You shrug.

“It doesn’t really bother me,” you say. “Winter is good enough for me.”

She sighs. Frustrated? Annoyed? Perhaps a mix of both.

“You’re really indifferent towards a lot of things, aren’t you?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

You leave her lap, and she lets you. Instead, you sit beside her on the sofa. Golden eyes follow
your movement. Her arm holds your waist again, and you let her. Grey eyes wander your bedroom.
A memory of your sister resurfaces in your mind.

“Actually,” you start.

“Yeah?”

“I might have a name. Though it’s not official and not exactly my birth name either,” you preface,
fiddling with your hands. “My sister gave it to me on my fifth birthday.”

“What is it?” she asks. More gentle than usual.

“Minjeong.” You notice your voice turning softer as well. “She called me Minjeong,” you tell her
with a hush. “The only one who did.”

The ticking of an analogue clock fills your bedroom. While, at a distance, the whirling of a cargo
ship travels all the way here. You take a breath. Thinking about it, this must be the first time
you’ve told someone else about this fact.

“That’s a pretty name,” she whispers.

“Thanks.”

“Can I call you that?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“Your sister wouldn’t mind?”

A moment passes.

“You are my girlfriend. Technically,” you say. “I don’t think she will.”

“Can we remove the ‘technically’ part?”

A small chuckle escapes you. How long has it been since you last laughed?

“Maybe.”

She tugs you closer, and you lean against her side.
“Minjeong,” she says.

“Feels weird.” You smile. “Haven’t heard that in a while.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you whisper. “It’s nice.”

//
 Order
Chapter Summary

“Come to the throne room once you’re done,” Karina says.

“Is this the introduction you talked about?”

“In part.” She pulls away, and you find an oddity in her gaze. Her smile twists. It
reminds you of the time when we were enemies instead of lovers. “There will be a
show later, and I’m sure you’ll find it entertaining.”

Chapter Notes

Winter's POV

A/N: Wow, this chapter is much longer than usual. 7k words! Well, consider it a treat
for all the hard work you did during the week haha

//

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The fall of footsteps echoes down an empty corridor, where the walls are white and the floors are
stone. The sun is still in the middle of its journey to the peak. Its light penetrates through the large
embedded windows. Grey eyes, covered behind a velvety black mask, glance past the transparent
glass before returning to the path ahead at the sound of chatter.

As it often does, a loose white shirt adorns your figure and a black earring hangs from your left ear.

Walking down the long hall, a group of people passes through the intersection ahead from another
hall. All in a uniform. A few notices your presence, while the others continue their discussion in
ignorance. The former of which nods a greeting in your direction. You are sure they know nothing
of your identity, but they must have presumed your importance based on how you’re always around
Karina.

You don’t respond. You’re not sure how to.

However, once they pass the intersection into another corridor, you hear them whispering and
passing gossip amongst themselves, trying to decipher who you are. Ignorant of your heightened
hearing.

“Did you see her?” “Who?” “The woman—” “They say—” “Wolf?” “That’s what they call her.”
“What is she—” “Some say she’s—” “We shouldn’t talk of—” “Her Grace—” “Mistress?”
“Shh!” “No one knows—” “The High Chancellor had—” “Truly?” “Apparently so.”
A small exhale escapes you.

It seems you cannot escape the hushed hearsays of people whether it be in Legion or Elysium. You
have grown used to hearing such things from a young age, and they’re not going to start affecting
you any time soon.

“Going somewhere?”

Your step comes to a pause, and you turn around to face the voice. Karina stands at the other end
of the corridor with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. She wears a fitting black dress with
slits cut at the side and long enough to reach her ankles. Her high heels click against the floor as
she nears you.

Grey eyes look to the left and right, scanning the area for others who may be nearby. The earlier
group is long gone. There’s no one around.

“Jimin,” you say.

“I haven’t seen you all morning.” Her hand touches the back of yours. For a second, your muscles
contract before relaxing again. You hold onto her finger. Perhaps it’s because of her heels, but you
feel as if she’s far taller than usual, needing to look up to face her.

“You were busy.”

“Yes, unfortunately, today is one of those days. It would have been better if I used my time to spoil
you instead. But alas.” She smiles, and you try to ignore the connotation behind her words. “So?”

“Ning’s lab,” you say. “She messaged me to come over earlier.”

Earlier in the week, Giselle had given you a thin bracelet made of pure silver carved with runes and
a single round gem of crystallised ether. It is a utility device with many uses, but it is mainly used
for communication. You used to have one yourself. Unfortunately, it was destroyed in the middle
of your escape.

“Ah, so it’s done?”

“Apparently so,” you say.

Karina hums. Her golden eyes curl into a smile. An arm snakes around your waist, and she bends
down, burying her nose into silver hair. You press your lips together and the tips of your ears turn a
dusty pink. Perhaps this is the reason why those rumours surfaced in the first place. Rather than a
lack of self-control, you suspect she simply does not care who sees us.

You try to care. Yet reasons of whys and shoulds escape you when she’s this close. The scent of
honey and nectar always seems to beckon you so.

“This is good timing,” she says. “Come to the throne room once you’re done with Yizhuo.”

“Is this the introduction you talked about?”

“In part.” She pulls away, and you find an oddity in her gaze. Her smile twists. It reminds you of
the time when we were enemies instead of lovers. The time when she stood and watched as you
bled because of her. The time when you pressed a blade against her throat. Your pulse quickens.
She tilts her head and leans closer to your face. Golden eyes stare through the black mask into grey
ones. “There will be a show later, and I’m sure you’ll find it entertaining.”
Your grip on her finger tightens. A small frown makes its way to your lips.

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing. Just a few guests have come to our city.” She sneers. “If you can even call them that.”

A breath.

“You’re not going to let them leave.”

“Oh, I will. They’ll just go in a different state of existence than when they came in,” she says as
she backs away, releasing you from her hold. “While this place is thousands of times better than
Elysium. You’ll quickly find these types of schemes to be everywhere, and it’s my job to clean up
the rats. Though, I may leave the honours of exterminating them to someone else this time.”

You stare at her.

“Regardless, it’s high time for you to show your face in court.” Her smile returns to normal.

“I thought the point was to not show my face?”

She chuckles.

“In due time, Minjeong,” she promises.

“You say as if they’ll ever accept me,” you say.

“I’ll use a little force when that happens.” A shrug. “Now, off you go. I should be on my way as
well lest our dear Chancellor suffers a migraine.”

“You should give her a vacation one of these days.”

“I have given her plenty. She’s the one who always refuses them, citing how we’ll burn to the
ground without her. Though her words aren’t unfounded.” She shakes her head. “In any case, she
manages her time well enough to fool around with our Architect Arcane. Worrying about her is the
least of your priorities.”

“Do you mean to say they’re—”

“Often entangled on top of bed sheets together?” Her eyebrow hikes up.

“Oh.”

“Indeed.” A chuckle. Her hand holds yours and brings it up against her lips. Red lips press a kiss
against your knuckles. “Then, until later, Minjeong.”

“Mm.”

Separating from Karina, you continue to make your way towards a certain artificer’s laboratory.
The walk there is unremarkable, and you quickly find yourself within the premise of a familiar
area. Sanitary and high-tech. You stop in front of a metal door. The handwritten notes, filled with
warnings and taped on the wall, are still there.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Knuckles rap against the heavy metal door, and the sound of weighty boots follows soon after. The
door slides open, and the cold air from inside drifts into the hallway. A woman greets you from the
doorway, wearing a tank top and a pair of cargo pants. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Ningning grins,
and you reciprocate with a small smile of your own.

“You’re here,” she exclaims. Her hand reaches out to you for a second before stopping. Instead, she
steps to the side and ushers you inside. “Come on in!”

A nod.

You step past her and walk inside her laboratory. There have been some changes from the last time
you visited this place. For one, there is a noticeable increase of scrolls and scraps of prototypes on
top of her desk and workbench. The holograph projected above the centre table has also changed to
show the workings of a lens. A spyglass? With the dissected model, you aren’t too sure of what
you’re looking at.

Furthermore, among the whiteness of her lab—white plasteel walls and tiled floors—a curtain of
black cloth covers a corner of the room.

“I assume you got my message?” she asks as the door slides to a close behind her.

“I did,” you say. “So, is everything done?”

“Well, not everything, unfortunately. But most of it is!”

She bounds over to her workbench where two leather boxes are stacked on top of each other.
Picking up the smaller of the two, she beckons you to come closer. As you walk closer, her fingers
open the metal clasp, readying herself to open it.

“Now, feast your eyes upon this!” The lid opens.

Grey eyes land on the object sitting inside, and a hand reaches out to hold it

A mask. Black and matte. Shaped in the image of a wolf, it covers the upper half of your face. Tall
ears and a long snout. The features aren’t detailed, and it goes for a more simplistic design instead.
Elegant, yet fierce. Two slits serve as eyeholes, and a thin line runs through it from the top to the
bottom. The eyes and the lines glow in white, exposing the ether mechanisms underneath the
simple exterior. You find it somewhat similar to the fox masks from the nation in the eastern
islands.

“Aside from keeping your identity a secret, the mask will also give you truesight for about forty
metres.” She puts aside the box and walks over to her desk, grabbing a small worn notebook.
“Which means you can” —she flips through the pages and blue eyes read written words— “see in
normal and arcane darkness, perceive invisible creatures or objects, and discern illusions.”

She snaps her book shut.

“The duration is only for an hour though. It can only be activated two times and then you’ll have to
refill the ether. So, make it count. You just need to pour a bit of your power into the mask to
activate it,” she says. “You can summon and banish it at will. Though it only works on touch. So,
theft is still a thing to look out for. In any case, you’ll have to attune to it before you can use it.”

“Honestly, this is beyond what I expected,” you say.

“I know, I know. No need to flatter me.” Her lips turn up into a smug smile. “But if you must.”
“Thanks, Ning.”

She chuckles.

“Anyway, I don’t really recommend wearing it all day though. Don’t get me wrong. I designed it to
be very fashionable and comfortable, but, um,” —she gestures towards the wolf mask— “it’s a bit
much for everyday use, isn’t it? Maybe wear it only on missions or when you need to be
intimidating?”

A small smile appears on your lips.

“I’ll just wear this one for daily use then.” You tap the simple and featureless velvety black mask
on your face. It is supposed to be a temporary mask, but it looks like it’s been promoted to a
permanent one now.

“A good idea.”

Ningning sets her book down and suggests you wear it to see how it feels. You use a couple of
minutes for attunement, connecting your mind to this arcane device and having it recognise you as
its owner. After doing so, you turn around to block her view. Taking the black one off, you bring
the wolf mask to your face. Similar to the former, the latter doesn’t need straps to attach itself.

You move your head. It seems it will take more force to knock it off of your face compared to the
other one.

She walks over to you and inspects the mask while asking you questions, trying to see if there’s
anything wrong or needing adjustments.

“Can you make the black mask like that too?” you ask her.

“What do you mean?” She looks up from writing in her notebook.

“Summoning and banishing it.”

“Oh, yeah that would be practical, wouldn’t it?” She scratches her head with the end of her pen. “It
wouldn’t take long honestly. Probably a few hours? Just leave it with me for now and I’ll send it
back to your room later tonight.”

“Thanks, Ning.”

“No prob. Just buy me lunch sometime.” She grins. You chuckle and nod. Without anything else to
improve, she gives you the other box on her workbench. “Now, this is your new armour, and
you’re going to love it.” As you take it from her, she points toward the black curtains at the corner
of her lab. “You can change over there.”

Entering the enclosed space, the first thing you do is banish your mask and test whether you can
resummon it directly on your face. As it turns out, you can. Convenient. This means you can
switch between masks without ever letting someone glimpse your face. Well, the upper half of it at
least.

Hands open the lid of the box, and you’re greeted with an array of monochrome light armour.

You step out wearing the new armour Yizhuo designed for you. Long black leather pants come up
to your waist, and dark boots, armed in mithril plating, come up to your knees. You adorn a white
turtleneck and a white corset—coming up only to under the bust. Black leather straps wrap across
your torso. Finally, you wear a white jacket—cut at the collarbone—and a pair of black gloves.

Holding her hand out, Ningning gives you thumbs up.

“It looks amazing! I mean, I did design it, but still!” She walks over with a grin and checks the
armour. “Can you move well in it?”

You try moving your arms and stretching your legs before going through the more complex
movements. Your movement doesn’t seem to be hindered in the slightest.

“Yeah, I can move,” you say.

“Great! Now, let me do my presentation on it.” She walks to the circular table at the centre of the
lab, and a holograph of your armour is projected above it. You follow her. Grabbing her stylus, she
flicks her hand and the projection is divided into several parts. “First is the pants!” she exclaims.
“It might just look like normal leather, but it’s actually from the hide of an Amarok! This means
it’s tough as nails and regular bullets won’t be able to pierce through it. You put a lot of emphasis
on speed and agility so it’s crucial to protect your legs.”

You nod. Makes sense.

“The boots are covered in mithril as well. So, you won’t hurt your shins when you kick something.
Additionally! There are some ether mechanisms in there. Although you won’t be able to see it
cause I hid it. They can give you a boost of speed. You’re already fast, but these will make you
even faster. To activate the boost, just pour a bit of your power into them. Use it sparingly though
because you only have five charges before needing to be recharged with ether.”

“Okay.”

“The corset, the turtleneck, and the jacket are all made from the same material, which is cadmium
cotton. Strong and comfortable at the same time!” She puffs her chest out. “Now, you might have
concerns about the corset, but I assure you it has a purpose alongside looking fashionable. First of
all, I just want to say that everything modern society has claimed about how corsets suck the life
out of you is pure misinformation! How do you think women of the past tolerated using it day in
and day out if that was tru—”

Upon seeing the expression on your face, she stops herself.

“Long story short, it’s there to support your back and protect your stomach.” She coughs.

“You sound like you’re a very passionate home-shopping saleswoman.” You chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She winks. “Anyway, there isn’t much to them except their
durability. Admittedly, I didn’t put much into the actual protection side in your armour. I mean, I
would but you don’t really need it when you literally dodge everything. So, I focused more on
keeping things light and manoeuvrable.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and the gloves are also made from Amarok leather as well. So, if you want to, you could
theoretically catch bullets with just your hands.”

“Is that the end of the presentation?” you ask.

“Yup. Now, for your swords.” Setting down her stylus, she walks over to her workbench once
more, and her hands grab a pair of swords before tossing them to you. You catch them easily
enough. “These are temporary. It’s just the standard stuff everyone uses here. They’re not katanas,
but I managed to get you a pair of backswords. Single-edged blades. The real ones will probably be
done in another two or three weeks. Hopefully, two.”

You pull one of the blades from their scabbards. It glints underneath the light. This will do for
now.

“So, you settled on the design?”

“When it comes to swords, especially katanas, simplicity is often the best. I wanted to design
something more elaborate. But in the end, I just drew up something simple and sent it off to our
best blacksmith. He’ll do the rest.”

“All right.”

“You don’t have to worry about the quality. He’s definitely better than any other in this whole
continent. Regardless, tell me if you feel something off about the armour.”

“I will.” You tuck away the two swords on your waist belt.

A knock comes from the outside, and we both glance at it. Ningning walks over to the entrance of
her lab. Reaching out to the wall, her hand hovers above the keypad and a small beep comes from
it.

The door slides open, and Giselle steps inside. Her artefacts—the ringed orb and cube of light—
orbit her without a sound. A red suit and a matching pair of pants adorn her figure, while a long
golden hair stick pins her brown hair into a bun behind her. Verdant eyes glance around the room,
almost ignoring the smiling woman next to her.

Yizhuo asks why she’s here, and she replies she’s looking for you. After knowing the true nature
of their relationship, you can’t help but observe their interactions more closely.

Giselle’s gaze lands on you.

“Ah, there you are,” she remarks before examining you for a second. “Your new armour has
arrived I see.”

You nod.

“It looks amazing, doesn’t it?” Ningning puffs her chest out.

“Indeed.” A smile plasters itself onto her lips. “You did a great job.”

Grey eyes watch as blue ones glimmer and shine from the compliment. You wonder if you had
been blind the last time. How could you not notice something this blatant?

Though you suppose you aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to matters of romance.
You blame it on the years you’ve spent dedicated to being a hero—life’s luxuries aren’t always
permitted for those like you. Albeit, your colleagues did date, and you were also once considered
someone else’s lover. It didn’t last very long. Regardless, those are days of the past.

You are Karina’s lover now. You hope it will last for a long time.

At the very least, you hope she won’t get tired of you anytime soon.
You ask why she was looking for you, and she explains Karina is summoning you to the throne
room. You feel bad as the High Chancellor really shouldn’t be doing menial tasks like this, but it
seems she was on her way there as well. She asks you to follow her as the Hearing will commence
in a moment. Ningning expresses her disgust over politics before ushering the two of us out of her
lab.

Giselle leads you to the throne room. Down further in the tower.

“The Hearing is a time where Her Grace’s vassals may report and consult matters with her directly.
The Court serving Her Grace will be there as well as other officials, dignitaries, and, on occasion,
distinguished guests. Generally, I serve as the overseer of this meeting and help Her Grace from
the side,” she explains.

We come to a brief stop in front of a room near our destination. Verdant eyes glance towards the
door before looking at you.

“This is one of the many parlours we have. There are guests inside. It’d be best for you to
memorise the location of this room,” she says.

You nod.

At the four cardinal directions of Pride, four gates serve as the entrance and exit to the city.
Whether it be people, merchants, or mercenaries, they must all pass through these four points to
enter. The only exceptions are authorised aircraft, and such airborne vehicles are hard to come by
in the Golden Plains.

However, the main gate lies at the east, and a long road cuts straight through the city from there to
the Ivory Tower, gradually sloping upward to meet the elevated entrance of the spire tower. From
there, a grand staircase leads to the interior of the structure. Visitors are first greeted by a large
vestibule. Past the room and a few staircases, there will be a grand antechamber with enormous
double doors at the end. One will often find officials and dignitaries here, discussing business and
politics as well as waiting to enter the room beyond those doors.

As Giselle walks towards the grand doors—heels clicking against the marble—many sought to
fight for her attention in hopes of having their problems or plans heard by the High Chancellor. She
keeps them at bay with only a raise of her hand.

“Not now. We can discuss this at a later date.” Her reply is curt, and her expression is cold.

A dozen eyes place their stare on you.

You pay them no mind.

The guards stationed at the entrance open the doors for us, and the throne room lies beyond. It is
large enough to be a ballroom in its own right—during certain occasions, it apparently does serve
as such. The ceilings are high and vaulted. Tall and broad stygian pillars line the walkway to the
sovereign seat, and tapestries hang from them. Menacing and imposing to those who dare to show
themselves to the monarch. Floor-to-ceiling windows are positioned in between each pillar. Panned
and arched.

White granite and ivory stones make the walls and floors of the hall. However, black granite is
used for the walkway from the door to the throne. Sconces and chandeliers serve to light the space,
but they remain unlit during the daytime. Instead, sunlight is the preferred lighting method for this
hour. As such, warm bright light pours in through the panned windows, and the shadows turn deep
in the places it cannot reach.

The Tenebrous Throne sits on top of a high dais from which staircases lead to. Various tapestries
and drapes of black and gold surround it, and another window lies behind it. With the silhouette of
a spire, the seat is constructed from gold and ivory stone. Black velvet covers the cushions, and
dark furs are draped over it. From the details and quality of the carvings and craftsmanship, anyone
could tell a master craftsman had created it.

Two paths diverge to the left and right from the walkway at the bottom of the dais. They lead to
two glass doors, which are currently open to the outside terrace.

The wind blows, and the tapestry sways.

Karina stands by the window behind the throne. At the sound of footsteps, she turns to face us.
Golden eyes observe you from head to toe. Her eyebrow hikes up. Red lips smile.

“Dashing,” she remarks.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

“So, is everything ready?” Her gaze turns to the Chancellor. Karina walks toward the throne and
sits down. Her legs cross. The movement rustles her long black dress, and it exposes much of her
skin. The black snake tattoo slithers down to her leg. She props her head with her knuckles. Chin
turned up. Condescending. Arrogant. There isn’t a crown on her head, but anyone could see she is
the sovereign. Grey eyes look away. You try to push away the tingling in your stomach.

“It is.” Giselle glances down at her tablet. “We just need to wait for him to bring it up.”

Karina hums.

“Bring them in.”

Giselle nods, and she walks towards one of the guards stationed around the room.

“Wolf.”

Grey eyes snap to golden ones. This is the first time Karina has called you something other than
‘Minjeong’, ‘Winter’, or ‘Puppy’. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

You walk closer to her.

“Hm.”

“Don’t be nervous.” She chuckles. “Just stand beside me and look pretty. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Nothing for me to do, is it?” you ask her in a hush. If possible, you don’t want to talk, but you
know you can’t avoid it every time. So, if you must, then you’ll soften your voice. Someone might
recognise your voice. The chance is slim but not null.

“Well, there might be something.” She smiles. “Don’t bite unless I tell you to.”

You regard her for a second.

A nod.

Giselle returns, and she stands to the side and front of the throne. Likewise, you stay only a few
steps away from it.

The grand doors open with a groan. Many of the officials and dignitaries step inside and stop right
before the dais. They make their greetings, and a few steal glances over at you. There are only a
dozen or so of them. All wear clothes of either a light-coloured uniform or a black and gold one.
You know those in the latter group belong to the army. While respectful, they seem to regard
Karina with more familiarity than others would toward a monarch. At least, a few of them do.

“And who might this be, Your Grace?” A man in black and gold looks at you. His voice rumbles.
He looks to be middle-aged. Battle-torn scars litter his face and his body—at least, on the parts not
covered by his clothes. Long and white against the brownness of his tan skin. An unruly beard
covers most of his face. He towers over most others in the room. A pistol and a shortsword hang
by his belt.

“She, Sir Gideon, is my dear Wolf.” Karina smiles. Her golden eyes glint underneath the throne’s
shadow. Quiet murmurs spread between the court. “A new recruit so to say. A very capable one, in
fact. Yes, perhaps one might say she surpasses the capability of even the strongest of those pesky
heroes.” Her gaze turns to you. “Loyal as well.”

“I see.”

“If she is as useful as you say she is, then would you perhaps lend her to me, Your Grace?” A
woman. Perhaps in her early thirties. A light-coloured uniform. “There are some matters that
would benefit from having a high-class ability user on hand.”

Karina continues to smile. However, the glint in her eyes turns dark. Despite the drafts of air
coming from the opened windows, the air feels stifled.

“You wish to use her?”

“Is that not why you introduced her to us? To be of use to the Legion?”

“And how urgent is the matter you speak of?”

“Not—not very—”

“It seems you have misunderstood me.” Her finger taps against the arm of the throne. It’s loud
against the silence in the air. No one dares to speak up. “Wolf belongs to me, and she answers only
to me. She is not a soldier I just picked off the streets, Ms Kang.” A chuckle escapes her, and your
gloved hands clench. Silver hair hides the light dusting of red on your ears. “Treat her as such, and
you will reap the consequences. Do you understand?”

“I—I understand, Your Grace.”

“Excellent.” She claps her hands, and the atmosphere returns to normal. “Now, let us go on with
the hearing, shall we?”

The court exhales. Seemingly used to it, they continue to discuss business without missing a beat.
The topic ranges from ether distribution to the situation of the settlements under Legion’s
protection. Of course, talks about Visage and Elysium are not left out either. The heroes have
interfered with the recent heists, and the requisite materials could not be obtained in full.

It seems while you were resting, Legion’s villains raided more of Nitro warehouses and Visage
supply chains. Money, ether, materials. All of them are valuable to steal.
“Next is a report from Ahn Yujin,” Giselle announces.

A girl steps forward. Clad in black and gold. Younger than you. Green eyes—similar to Giselle’s—
and long brown hair. If she wasn’t a soldier, you would have mistaken her for a model instead.
However, even from a glance, you know she isn’t to be underestimated. When one has been
fighting on the battlefield for as long as you, one will come to understand who is a possible threat
and who isn’t.

Ahn Yujin is the former.

“Your Grace.” She presents a scroll. Giselle’s ringed orb flies over to it, and it disappears
underneath its white light. The Chancellor inspects it before giving it to Karina. “As you have
suspected, Visage’s recent movements are suspicious, especially around the Ash Woodlands.
We’ve seen numerous trucks going in and outside of it. As for what they’re carrying and where
they’re being carried to, we don’t know. Our agents lost sight of them the moment they entered the
forest. Shall we continue our observations?”

Golden eyes read the holographic inside of the scroll.

“Continue. They’re planning something. The more we know about it, the better we can prepare.”

“Understood.”

“Next is—”

“My Lady,” a man interrupts Giselle.

Eyebrows frown. You cast your gaze towards him, and you find a lanky man with a perfectly
groomed moustache. You presume him to be similar in age to Sir Gideon, but you don’t find the
same august quality in him. He does, however, look to be proud. Very proud. His back is as straight
as a rod, and there isn’t a single imperfection on his black and gold uniform. He wears the clothes
of a soldier, but you don’t think he’s ever held a sword or gun in his life.

Grey eyes narrow behind the wolf mask. You glance over to the High Chancellor. Her expression
betrays nothing, but the tight grip she has on her tablet says otherwise.

“Sir Grumm.” Karina raises an eyebrow at him.

“I have brought good tidings,” he exclaims. Walking forward to the bottom of the dais, he opens
his arms wide and smiles. “I am sure you will be joyous to hear what I have brought you, My
Lady.”

“You sound confident,” she says.

“Of course.” He brings a hand up and brushes back his immaculate hair. “I have brought to you a
solution for the trouble at Neverrun. That settlement is running low on hands, are they not?
Located further north, they would need more protection than the others.”

“We have already decided to send Hwang Yeji’s squad to Neverrun, Sir Grumm,” Giselle speaks
up.

“I understand, but it would be more beneficial to send Mademoiselle Yeji’s team elsewhere, no?
For example, to the border? There has been trouble over there recently.” He clasps his hands
together. “Now, I have met with a mercenary band recently. Skeletal Hawk. I have confirmed their
capabilities. They have come to the capital and they may prove themselves useful to us.”
“Where are they now?”

“I have them waiting at one of our parlour rooms. With your command, I shall bring them here.”
He grins. Too white teeth sparkle from the sunlight.

“No need.” She waves him off. Instead, she turns her gaze towards the High Chancellor. “Giselle?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Snap.

Her cube of light flies to the front of the throne. A second later, bright holographic screens flash
and hover in the air above. There are dozens if not hundreds of them. Some are photographs, while
others are documents and reports. As you observe them, the frown on your face deepens with each
photo. Disgusting. It seems you aren’t alone in this as many of the others in court have a similar
expression.

“My—My Lady?” Sir Grumm stutters. Cold sweat forms on his forehead.

“You must think of me blind,” Karina smiles. “Did you think I do not know who those
‘mercenaries’ are? You can change their name, but you can’t change their past.”

“Human trafficking, slave trading, distribution of opium, murder, rape,” Giselle says one by one.
“The list goes on, Sir Grumm.”

“My lady, I—I assure you there has been a misunderstanding!”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“They are—They are no longer of that nature! Yes! Their leader has changed, and they have left
that life—lifestyle behind! Please believe me, My Lady,” he explains in a rush. “At—At the very
least, that is what they have told me. If this were to be wrong, then please trust in my loyalty to
you. I never had the intention of offending or soiling your name, My Lady.”

“Then you plead yourself innocent?” An eyebrow hikes up.

“Yes!”

Karina laughs. Golden eyes become stained with something twisted, and her black snake tattoo
slithers up to her face. The colour disappears from him. He walks backwards before stumbling onto
the black granite. He lands on his bottom, trembling uncontrollably. His breath is all over the
place. His eyes shift to the left and right, hoping to receive help from his colleagues. None of them
moves.

“You poor old fool,” she says. “You thought you could undermine my power?”

“I—I would never—”

She scoffs.

“Captain?”

One of them steps out. He looks different from the rest. He does not wear a helmet as the others do,
and his armour is distinguished.

“Your Grace.” He bows.

“Arrest Sir Grumm.”

“At once.”

“No, no, please. Is this—Is this really necessary, My Lady? Do you not believe in my integrity? I
have—I have followed you for years! I have followed you ever since you were just a bumbling
teenager!”

“I kept you around because you were useful to me,” she hisses. “However, your use has run out,
and I have grown tired of tolerating your schemes.”

“Wait, please—wait—”

She turns her head to the side.

“Wolf.”

Your lips part—ready to answer her—but you quickly close them again. It’s only now you realise
you don’t know how to refer to her in a more formal setting. ‘Her Grace’ is an option. However,
considering the nature of our relationship, it doesn’t seem appropriate. Then ‘Mistress’? You
quickly shove the thought to the back of your mind.

In the end, you opt to not speak at all. Taking a few steps, you kneel in front of her instead.

Golden eyes narrow, and red lips smile.

You can already guess the thoughts passing through her head.

“Has Giselle shown you the parlour room where our guests are earlier?” Leaning forward, she talks
to you in a hush. In an instant, the puzzle pieces click inside your head. Ah, so that is your role.
You place a hand on top of your twin swords. Then so be it. You would do anything she asks of
you anyway.

You nod.

“Good.” She returns to her previous position. Her next words are loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Now, be a darling and exterminate the pests. Oh, but leave their leader alive. We’ll have a use for
him yet.”

Another nod.

“Wait, My Lady! Listen to—”

Thmph.

With the muted sound in your ears, you disappear from the throne room and reappear in front of
the room Giselle showed you.

Gloved hands push against the white double doors. You observe the people inside. They all wear
leather and furs. The few who wear heavier armour have them nicked and worn down. Much of
their weapons are suited for close combat, but you do spot a woman carrying a crossbow. A much
wilder appearance than you would have guessed for those who claim themselves to be
mercenaries.

If anything, they resemble bandits more.

The door closes behind. Their eyes are trained on you, and one man walks to the front of the group.
He seems to be slightly shorter than Sir Gideon, but he is a hulking man in his own right. Broad
shoulders, and large muscles. A large battle axe hangs from his back. He seems to be confident in
his skills seeing as he opts to keep his chest exposed and discard any form of protection.

“Who are you?” he asks while keeping a distance.

“Are you the Skeletal Hawks?” Grey eyes scan the room. For a second, you contemplate using the
new feature of your mask. Truesight. However, you decide against it. You won’t need it.

“We are.”

“Is this all of you?” You register fifteen people.

“Yes.” He frowns. “Are you someone sent by the Black Witch? You haven’t answered my
question.”

“Are you the leader?” you ask.

“I am.”

So, he’s the one you need to spare.

A different man walks up to you, passing his leader and entering your personal space.

“Now, look here, Missy. Are you here to take us to the Black Witch or not? Cause you’ve been
awfully rude to us, and we may not continue to be as forgiving.” He smiles. “But hey, even from
underneath the mask, I can tell you’re a beauty. So, if you apologise to us now, we’ll let you go
with a small warning.”

A few snickers come from around the room.

Grey eyes stare at him. Your face is emotionless. A pair of daggers are holstered by his belt, and
you count several others hidden within his body. His black leather armour covers most of his vital
parts. However, unfortunately for him, the upper part of his neck remains exposed.

You place a hand on the hilt of your sword.

Suddenly, the smiling man takes a few steps back from you, eyes widening. The rest look at him
with confusion plastered on their faces. A thin red line appears underneath his jaw from one ear to
the other. Soon, it bleeds in waterfalls, and the man chokes from his own blood before—

Thud.

He falls onto the ground.

“Fourteen left,” you say with your blade in hand. There is a small trickle of crimson at its tip.

No one could register what just happened. When was the sword drawn? When was his throat
sliced? All they did was blink.

“Marcus!” someone shouts.

Grabbing his axe, the leader runs towards you with a scream. However, you dodge his assault
easily enough. One step to the right and the blade of his axe misses you by one centimetre to the
left. More of the mercenaries rush toward you with their weapons drawn out. You bend your body
downward and pour your power into your boots. Let’s see how your new equipment fares.

The soles push against the floor, and your figure blurs from their sight. You shoot forward and
duck underneath the leader’s arms, weaving your way through his subordinates. As you do, you
unsheathe your other sword and slash their bodies as you pass by. When they finally catch up to
you, six of their colleagues' bodies hit the floor. The energy dissipates from your boots.

“Eight,” you say.

A bolt shoots from the other side of the room. Lifting your blade, sparks fly as it blocks the
projectile. Your head turns toward the source—the woman with a crossbow. She takes another bolt
and reloads. Hurried. Panicked. The head of a spear comes from above as a man jumps high above
to the ceiling before coming down to pierce you. You flip backwards to avoid it. The floor caves
into a small crater as he lands with the spear embedded into the ground. You drop low once more
and rush toward him, kicking him right in the stomach. He flies to the wall and coughs from the
impact.

Flipping the sword in your left hand, you flick it towards him. Before his body could slump down
onto the floor, your blade pins him up by the chest. Ice grows from the wound.

Another blade swings toward you, but you catch it with your gloved hands. With the pommel of
your sword, you hit the back of their head, causing them to stumble onto the floor. Another bold
flies past you, cutting a few strands of your silver hair.

A small frown appears on your lips. You like your hair.

Your hand wraps around the spear, and you unlodge it from the ground. You spin it in your hand,
feeling the weight of it. After calculating the force needed, you throw it towards the crossbow
woman. It pierces her stomach, and icicles begin to grow from the spear. Blood spills from her
mouth and her scream of pain is interrupted by the ice engulfing her.

“Seven.”

The one on the floor scrambles up on their feet with the help of a man. They both surround you and
slash their swords—a falchion and a claymore. It cuts the air instead. Tightening your hold on the
hilt of your blade, you spin in place—as if dancing—and blood spurts from their chests. Crimson
stains the white of your armour.

“Five.”

Three people attack you simultaneously. However, you block their attacks with your blade before
hopping backwards to create distance.

Frost gathers in your hand, and a dagger made of ice forms. You throw it towards the man in the
middle. It pierces his skull right between his eyes. The dagger bursts into shards and they pierce
the body of the two others beside him.

“Two.”

You glance over the room. Only the leader stands amid the bodies of his dead subordinates. He
regards you with utmost caution. You grip the hilt of your sword and spin around, slashing the air
behind you. It should have been empty. However, you feel your blade cut through flesh. You face
him once more.

Thud.
A body falls on the floor behind you.

The leader roars at you from the other side of the room. Anger so clearly painted in his eyes. His
hands tremble as he grips his large battle axe. Muscles taut. He may be a large intimidating man,
but you can only see a rat trapped in a corner. Swinging your sword, the blood flicks off of your
blade and splatters over the white wall and floor. The uniform you wear has become stained with
scarlet. The white glowing eyes of the wolf mask pierce through him.

“One.”

//
 Reward
Chapter Summary

“A reward?” Grey eyes flicker to meet yours.

“Yes.” You smile. “Not only did you do a good job earlier, but you have also been
very good for the past few days, haven’t you? I’ll give you anything, and all you need
to do is tell me what you want. Money, power” —you direct your thumb lower and
lower until it reaches the bottom of her ruddy pink lips— “pleasure.”

Chapter Notes

Karina's POV

//

Thud.

With a heavy fall, a wet trail of blood smears the granite floor as a body is thrown at the bottom of
the dais. Moans of agony escape the throat while the scent of iron fills the air. He is still alive.
Barely conscious, but alive nonetheless. A multitude of lacerations mar his skin—most of them
concentrated around his legs. From the elbow below, his right arm is gone, and the bleeding is
staunched only by the icicles protruding from the wound.

The broken scraps of a man known as the leader of the Skeletal Hawks.

Per your orders, it seems as if she had tried to keep him intact. It should have been easy for her as a
former hero of the ever-peace-loving Elysium. However—

As you sit on top of the Tenebrous throne, your black serpent tattoo slithers across your shoulders
and up your neck, flicking its tongue. Your hand props your chin up. You cross your legs, and the
black dress you wear shifts from the action. Between strands of your hair, golden eyes gaze down
at the woman a few steps behind the broken man. One who is kneeling before you.

Murmurs come from the chattier members of the court—whispering about your lover and the half-
dead man on the floor—while the others observe in silence.

Her silver hair cascades down past her shoulders, and a wolf mask covers half of her face.
Unfortunately, the white opaque glow from its eyes obscures her real grey ones, and yet you can
still imagine their visage underneath it. Cold and emotionless. Blood drips down from its edges,
and scarlet soils the whites of her armour. Her two blades hum with death despite their sheathed
state.

Red lips curl up into a smile.

You gather the man must have put up quite the fight.

From what you can discern, she doesn’t look to be hurt. If she had been, you would have beheaded
him on the spot. There are other ways to gather more information after all.

Regardless, you should—No, you must reward her for this for doing such a good job.

“Very good.” You chuckle. “And it hasn’t even been ten minutes since you left.” You turn your
gaze towards the old lanky man held by two guards, the traitor who had decided to bite the hand
feeding it. Your eyes narrow. A sneer on your lips. “How is it, Sir Grumm? It’s laughable how you
thought those mercenaries could ever do something to me.”

“No, no, no, this can’t be,” he says to no one. He doesn’t try to prove his innocence as before. He
can only stare at the half-dead man on the floor. Dread fills his eyes. Words leave his mouth in
scrambled mumbles.

You scoff.

“Guards,” you call out.

“Your Grace.” Their armoured fists thump against their chest.

“Take Sir Grumm away to the dungeons. Make sure he never sees the sun for the rest of his
meagre life. This is my one last mercy for his damned soul,” you say. “Take that thing on the floor
as well. Heal it to the point where it can talk and interrogate him. Use whatever method is
necessary.”

“At once!”

As the guards heave the traitor and the half-dead man away from the throne room, the former’s
legs drag limply across the floor. Futility lies in his face. The members of the court watch in
silence. Some of their faces are sombre, while others show blatant hostility to the old vulture. Kang
Seulgi in particular. She doesn't bother to hide the animosity in her yellow eyes. You have known
the conflict between them for some time now, and you gather she must be celebrating inside her
mind.

“Wolf,” you say.

The room snaps its attention back to you.

“Come closer.” You smile. Minjeong stands up from the floor and climbs the dais. She stops in
front of you, and you resist the urge to reach out to her. Instead, you hold your hand up and snap
your fingers. The blood on her figure dissipates into smoke and ash, disappearing into the wind.
“There. You may return to your previous place.”

With a nod, she walks to the side and stands beside the throne.

“Now, let us resume the hearing, shall we?” Golden eyes look toward the members of the court.

Giselle steps out.

“The next to report is—”

The hearing goes on for another hour or so before the High Chancellor closes it. You dismiss
everyone from the room, except for your Wolf. They all bid courtesy and bid you farewell. Giselle
doesn’t miss the chance to remind you about the meeting you’ll have to attend later in the day. You
chuckle and shoo her away.

The grand doors groan and rasp.

Thud.

Without anyone else inside the throne room, the drifting wind, the swaying tapestries, and the
fluttering curtains only seem to sound louder in your ears. The distant hubbub of the city trickles
inside the space. Few clouds float across the heavens, and sunlight cascades down through the
windows. Bright. Intense.

“Minjeong.” Turning your head to the side, you call out to her. “Come here.”

She steps closer, walking to the front of the throne to face you better.

Red lips part.

“Kneel.” You smile.

She becomes frozen for a moment, and she should have known this would happen. It is only
inevitable after all. You relish the sight of her on her knees, and she had done just so of her own
volition moments prior. Golden eyes watch and observe as she lowers herself to the floor. Her
silver hair falls down from her shoulders, and a black-gloved hand presses against the granite as
she balances herself.

She kneels.

An exhale leaves you, and your smile widens ever so slightly. Delight swirls inside your chest.

“Closer,” you beckon. She scoots closer to you—right beside your leg—and you lean forward on
the throne. A hand stretches out, and a finger traces the edges of her wolf mask. While you
appreciate how good Minjeong looks with it, you prefer seeing the face underneath it more. “Off
with it.”

From right to left, the mask turns into snow before dissipating into thin air.

Grey eyes meet with golden ones.

Fingertips brush against her cheek, and you cup her face. Perhaps it is because of the frequency of
your touches. However, it looks as if she has become used to it, and she no longer stiffens. With a
minuscule amount of movement, she nudges her cheek against the palm of your hand. Subtle
enough to make you think she doesn’t realise she’s doing it herself.

“Did you get hurt while dealing with those pests?” you ask.

She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says. Her gloved hand reaches up to hold your wrist.

“Really?” You tilt your head. “I’ll have to take off your clothes if you’re lying to me.”

“I—I’m not.” She averts her gaze.

“All right.” You chuckle. A thumb caresses her cheek, and you admire the softness. Her skin is
pale enough for any hint of redness to become a vivid fire. As if to prove your thoughts, her ears
turn a rosy red. Faintly, you muse. Red really looks good on her. “Not much of a talker today?”

“They might recognise my voice,” she says.

“Hm, perhaps.” While you doubt it would happen, you don’t mind monopolising her voice to
yourself either. “What do you want as a reward, Minjeong?”

Her lips part.

“A reward?” Grey eyes flicker to meet yours.

“Yes.” You smile. “Not only did you do a good job earlier, but you have also been very good for
the past few days, haven’t you? A good wolf. A good girl. I would be a bad lover to not reward
that. I’ll give you anything, and all you need to do is tell me what you want. Money, power” —you
direct your thumb lower and lower until it reaches the bottom of her ruddy pink lips— “pleasure.”

Like fire, the red spreads to her cheeks, and the hold on your wrist tightens. She averts her gaze
again. The smile on red lips widens.

“Although, now that you’re mine, I suppose money is no longer a problem for you, is it?” You
raise an eyebrow. “Neither do you need more power.” Moving your hand, it reaches beyond her
cheek, and fingers bury into silver hair. Your thumb traces the outline of her ear. The one with the
black earring. The one with her ‘collar’. “Which leaves us with pleasure. Something I can give you
through the conventional way or” —you pinch her earlobe. Hard enough to sting. Hard enough for
her to take a sharp breath— “otherwise.”

“Jimin.” She pulls on the edge of your black dress. For a second, you focus on the connection you
have with her—the one facilitated by the black earring. It’s cute how flustered she is—how fast her
heart beats.

“Hm?”

“Please stop teasing me,” she says.

A short laugh leaves your lips, but you don’t withdraw your hand. Still caressing her ear.

“Of course, I can give you something else if you so wish. You like sweets, right?” It’s something
you have heard in passing in the past. You don’t remember exactly from where—was it a gossip
magazine? Was it from a television interview? Regardless, you had tucked it away inside a section
of your mind. One dedicated to Minjeong. “I could buy you a whole bakery for you. If it’s too
burdensome, then maybe just hire a personal baker for you? What do you think?”

“That—That isn’t necessary.”

“Then?”

A moment passes.

“You can decide.”

“You know what I’ll choose.” Golden eyes narrow.

No response.

“All right then. How about I come and spoil you tonight for your reward? I didn’t get a chance to
do so this morning after all. I’ll bring a lot of sweets with me as well,” you say. “Does that sound
good to you?”

“Mm,” she hums.

“Next time, tell me the reward you want with your own lips. Understand?”

A nod.

“What was that?” An eyebrow raises.

“I will,” she says.

“Good girl,” you purr. “I’ll look forward to what you’ll ask for next time. I have a feeling I’ll be
giving you another reward soon.” As you withdraw your hand, her hold on your wrist loosens. You
stand up from the throne, and your high heels click against the granite. Bending down a bit, you
offer a hand to her. “As much as I want to keep spending time with you, I, unfortunately, have to
keep labouring away.”

She takes it and stands up as well.

“Do you still need to go back to Ningning’s lab?” you ask.

“Yeah. I left my clothes there.”

“It seems I won’t be able to send you all the way back to your room then.” You sigh. Yizhuo’s
laboratory is on the other side of the tower. Far from your office. However, you may still be able to
escort her halfway there at least.

“You’re busy,” Minjeong reminds you.

“Unfortunately.” Adjusting the hold on her hand, you kiss her knuckles. “Then, shall we?”

“Mm.”

She wears her wolf mask once more. There are still remnants of a blush on her face, albeit very
faint. It seems as if she turns red fast and it fades equally as fast. You wonder. Is it because she’s
used to hiding her emotions?

We leave the throne room together. When the grand doors open, numerous eyes converge towards
us. A swarm of officials approach us—the list of things they need to talk to you about never seems
to end. Although, before you could do anything, she is already stepping away from you, giving you
a small glance before disappearing behind the tower walls.

A small exhale leaves you with a smile. So much for escorting her.

You turn your attention to your officials, listening to their troubles and giving your advice as you
walk back to your office. It is to be expected, but most of their issues are connected to Legion’s
lack of ether resources. There are several settlements without protective barriers against wild
beasts, insufficient materials for long-distance transportation, and the need to replace deteriorating
equipment. As the capital of the Golden Plains, Pride flourishes more than the others. However, it
isn’t without its own set of troubles.

Thankfully, the batch of ether you pillaged previously should be enough for most of these
problems. So, it isn’t a large problem right now, but you will have to raid another warehouse in
Elysium soon.
Entering your office, the officials withdraw, and you’re left alone.

With the curtains drawn and the balcony door closed, your office is cast in deep inky shadows. As
you sit on the leather chair by your desk, your clothes become swallowed by stygian dark smoke
and ash. No longer do you wear the black dress. Instead, a loose black shirt and a pair of high-
waisted slacks appear in its place. A few buttons are unfastened, and your collarbones lie exposed.
It’s a much more comfortable attire for you. A finger taps against the wooden surface of the table,
and golden eyes glow within the darkness, staring at the cold cerulean glow of a scroll.

Food, clothes, and building materials aren’t a problem. Only ether.

If only you could get your hands on one mine, then you could focus on strengthening Legion rather
than going on a constant errand to get more of it.

Curse those inhumane Elysium rats.

You click your tongue.

The grandfather clock, located opposite your desk, ticks by the second. You recline against the
leather chair and prop your chin up. Bringing your hand up, the black snake tattoo slithers up your
arm. Slowly, red lips curl into a smile. You gather your power, and golden eyes watch as the tattoo
morphs into a real serpent, coiling around your arm.

“Then again, we have her now, don’t we?” you ask. It doesn’t respond. It doesn’t have the
intelligence to do so. “I’ll have to ask her if she’s willing to take over a whole mine for me.”

It flicks its tongue.

“Don’t worry. She won’t be alone if she agrees to it. Yes, I should send a few of the others. The
ones with a tight lip. I should tell Aeri to start making plans,” you mutter. “Besides, I’ll be with her
the entire time.” Your eyes narrow and your smile widens. “I’m the only one allowed to hurt her.
She’s mine after all.”

You think back to her grey eyes—to the roses on her cheeks.

An exhale escapes your lips.

Why must you be so busy today?

A knock comes from the direction of your office door, and you glance over at it. Your serpent
morphs back into a tattoo, and you tell them to come in. With a wave of your hand, tendrils of
shadows emerge from the darkness and pull the curtains apart, letting the sunlight back inside the
room. You grab the pen on your desk and continue your work from where you left off.

The Grand Chamberlain of Pride, Baekho, enters the room. His salt and pepper beard and hair
indicate his age, and he has the well-groomed appearance of a butler. His white feline-like eyes
stare at you with respect.

“You asked to see me, Your Grace?”

“I did.”

You ask him to bring you high-quality dessert from the city. He furrows his eyebrows, and you
explain it’s for Winter, causing him to nod and chuckle.
“Understood.” He nods. “Is there anything else, Your Grace?”

Your hands pause midway through writing a sentence. A thought comes to your mind. You recall
more information about your lover from television and magazine interviews. There are so many of
them, and they have started to merge inside your head. Although, admittedly, you pick and choose
which ones you chose to remember. In particular, you try to not think of the numerous dating
rumours she had. All false. But they leave a sour taste regardless.

Although, you suppose one was true. You remember the ensuing battle with her after you came to
know about it. You remember how you pinned her against the floor as grey eyes glared daggers.
You remember how you taunted her. You remember how you kissed her hand with blood on your
lips.

Their relationship didn’t last long. You like to think it’s because of you, but who knows? It could
be your narcissism talking or it could be true. You suppose only Minjeong knows the answer to the
question.

“What will her dinner be tonight?”

“The same as yours, Your Grace. Roasted chicken with potatoes, cheese, and mushroom sauce.”

You hum.

“Change hers to steak for tonight.” You resume your writing. “She likes beef.”

“Any special orders?”

“No, I trust our chefs for the rest.”

“Of course.”

Baekho bows as he excuses himself, leaving to enact your order. For the better part of the hour,
you continue to go through the things needing your attention. However, as the long hand nears the
twelve number, your earring—your communications device—starts to hum with an incoming call.
Reclining against your leather chair, you accept it.

“Your Grace.”

“Need something, Chancellor?” you ask.

“Just an update on Grumm,” Giselle explains. “He has been locked in the dungeons down below.
He won’t breathe any fresh air or see the sun for the rest of his life as you have ordered. The
leader of the mercenaries is healed, and we’ll move to interrogate him soon. I’ll send a report if he
knows anything important.”

“Will you oversee it?”

“Of course.”

You hum.

A second passes and you hear a door closing from the other side of the line.

“Looks like your plan worked, Rina,” Giselle remarks.

“Did it?” A smile.

“You’ve seen their face.” She chuckles. “We managed to get rid of that old scheming vulture, and
the Court has acknowledged Winter as well. People call this killing two birds with one stone.”

“They won’t be able to recklessly move against her now.”

“Something tells me this was more about her than cutting off rotten ends.”

“Maybe.”

“Hah.” A short laugh escapes her. “Well, talk to you later, Jimin. I’ll call you again if something
comes up.”

“Later, Aeri.”

“Later.”

The connection severs.

Hours pass. The sun has long since retreated beyond the boundaries of the horizon, while Cerise
and Loran have come to play in the darkened sky. The moonlight from the two satellites pours
inside your office, illuminating it along with the warm light of the lamp on your table. A box of
desserts sits nearby. Ready to be delivered to its rightful owner. With your work done for the day,
you hum and tidy your desk.

A hand grabs the box, and you turn off the lamp.

Shadows gather at your feet, and the room grows dimmer and dimmer by the second. Bit by bit,
they start to engulf your figure. When you blink, you’re no longer in your office. Instead, you
reappear in the middle of your lover’s bedroom. It’s dim. Only the warm hue of the lamp on her
bedside table lights the space.

Golden eyes glance around, and you find her on her bed.

Minjeong sits on the far side. Multiple pillows lie behind her back, wedged between her and the
wall. Her hands hold a book, and her grey eyes shift from left to right, reading the lines within the
page. Instead of her usual clothes, she wears an oversized t-shirt and a comfortable pair of shorts.
Her silver hair is brushed to one side of her shoulder, looking softer than usual. Perhaps she had
just gotten out of the shower?

“Are you going to keep appearing in my room unannounced?” she asks without sparing a glance at
you.

“Yes?” Walking up to her bed, you sit down and place the dessert box at the foot of it. After all,
your lap is for her. “Do you hate it?”

She closes her book and puts it aside.

“Not really.” She directs her gaze up. “It’s easy to tell when you’re coming anyway.”

“Is that so?” You regard her for a second, and she meets your eyes easily enough. Red lips curl up
into a smile. “Come here.”

She scoots over. A hand stretches out to her, and she holds it. She stops just a short distance away,
but you pull her closer. Until her legs rest on your lap. Until her waist is in your arms. Pink dusts
her ears.
“How was your day?” You tilt your head. “Besides the whole killing fourteen people in cold
murder. Quite literally as well.”

“You told me to,” she shrugs. “And it’s been” —a pause— “okay I guess.”

“And dinner?”

“It was tasty,” she says.

“That’s good.”

You bend down to nuzzle the crook of her neck. Breathing her in, her sweet powdery scent fills
your chest, and your muscles relax. You feel her touch your shoulder and arm.

“What about you?” she asks.

“My day? It’s been boring.” You sigh. “Thankfully, I won’t be as busy after today, and I’ll be able
to spend more time with you.”

“You’re just trying to skip work.”

“Perhaps.” You drag the tip of your nose up her neck, and a hand slides up her back. Making sure
to catch the fabric of her t-shirt, you start to pull it upward bit by bit—spurred by the desire to feel
her skin underneath your fingertips. Her hold on your arm tightens. Your voice lowers. “But can
you blame me? It’s impossible to resist you.”

“Are you going to” —she hesitates— “spoil me now?”

“I am.”

With her t-shirt held up by you, a part of her back becomes exposed. You touch and caress her bare
skin with slow and deliberate movements, relishing how smooth it is. She twitches. You thought
she had gotten used to your touches, but it seems like you’re wrong. Although, our current situation
may also have something to do with her reaction. An unsteady breath leaves her lips, and you hear
it close to your ear. Her arms wrap around your shoulders. Much to your delight and surprise, she
pulls you closer. However, in this position, there is a limit to how close we can get.

Your right hand moves to her right thigh. Withdrawing from her, you push her knee to the side to
make enough room for yourself between her legs.

“Were you looking forward to it?” you purr as you lean forward.

“I—I wasn’t,” she stutters.

“Really?” As you move downward, her body lowers with you, and you lay her on the bed. Silver
hair spills on the white sheets, while your pitch-black locks cascade down your shoulders. One
hand presses down against it, propping yourself on top of her. You lean down and pause only a
short way away from her face. “But you like it when I touch you like this, don’t you?”

The one on her thigh slides up and slips a few fingers underneath her shorts. She doesn’t answer
you. Grey eyes prefer to avoid your gaze instead. Going further down, you speak in hushed tones
into her ear.

“Be good and tell the truth, Minjeong.” Fingertips draw slow circles onto her skin. She clutches
onto the back of your shirt, pulling on it.
There’s a pause.

Then a nod. Until she can tell you her preference herself, you will have to continue to ask about her
likes and dislikes in a similar fashion. You suppose this is the most you’ll get out of her for now. A
chuckle escapes you.

“Good girl.”

Red lips brush against her jaw.

So far, you haven’t kissed her, except for her hands. The reason is quite simple. You’re not sure if
Minjeong is comfortable enough with you to allow such actions, and you don’t dare to do so until
she initiates it or asks for it herself. However—

As you draw back, golden eyes observe the woman underneath you.

The warm light of the lamp kisses her body, and a haze settles upon her grey eyes. Her cheeks, her
neck, her shoulders, and her chest are all flushed with red. Ruddy lips part. She takes in her breaths.
Deep and heavy. A touch on her stomach. Fingers slide up as you push her clothes up, stopping
only once you reach the base of her chest. She shuts her eyes shut close. Nails drag over the skin of
her ribcage—faint and featherlight. Her shoulders twitch, and her breath hitches. So sensitive. So
vulnerable. An exhale. The smile on your lips widens. Your chest swirls with euphoria. Only you
can see this part of her.

Perhaps a kiss elsewhere is okay? As long as it’s not on the lips, it should be okay, shouldn’t it?

An arm slithers around her side, and the palm of your hand presses against the small of her back.
You pull her up. Closer and closer. While you bend down and bury your face into the crook of her
neck. Red lips brush against her skin. You press a kiss underneath her ear, and you worry she
might rip your shirt from how tight she’s holding onto it. Golden eyes curl. Amused.

She lets out a shaky breath.

You place another right below the previous one. Then again, again, and again. You leave a trail of
kisses down to her collarbone. Ah, this isn’t good. You’re supposed to be giving her a reward, yet
here you are, indulging yourself in her. Then again, this counts as a reward, right? Besides, from
the way she pulls you ever so closer, it’s safe to say she’s enjoying this as much as you are.

Little by little, she opens more of herself to you. She turns her head to the side, allowing you more
access. Yet her body remains tense. When you transition to giving her open-mouthed kisses, a
sound—somewhere between an exhale and a muted moan—escapes her lips.

She freezes, and you pull back to smile at her. Her hand comes over to cover her mouth.

“No.” You hold her wrist and take it away from her, pinning it against the bed instead. You purr. “I
want to hear your voice.”

You go back down and kiss her neck. Red lips part, and teeth bite. Red love bites litter her neck
and shoulders, while you continue to feel her. Even without her hand, she tries to keep her voice
muted. However, every now and then, a few escape. Whenever they do, pleasure swirls in your
chest. Your hip presses down against hers, and her legs wrap around your waist. Nails dig into her
back. Hard enough to make it sting—enough to make her hiss.

“Jimin,” she breathes out.

Shit.

This is bad. As the haze of desire turns thicker and thicker, you can feel your self-control fading. A
voice whispers in your mind. Just kiss her. Just take her. You know you want to do it. You have
always wanted to have her tremble underneath your hand—have her call your name as you bring
pleasure to her. Besides, Minjeong won’t mind, right? All signs point to her wanting you too.

However, you push the voice away. You grip onto the last thread of sanity you have. You tear
yourself away from her—slow and reluctant—and release her hand.

“Minjeong,” you whisper. “Minjeong, look at me.”

A ragged breath. Grey eyes—one staring to the side—drift over to meet golden ones.

“Say my name.”

“Jimin.”

“Good girl.” You smile. “Now, listen to me. I have a hard time stopping even when people tell me
to stop. I only get the urge to continue and keep doing whatever it is they wish I wasn’t. That word
never seems to work on me,” you tell her. “Which means if you want me to stop, then you have to
say something else. Do you understand?”

“Mm.”

“Good girl,” you praise her. “You can decide what the word can be. I’ll follow you. Do you need
time to decide?”

Her lips part. However, in the end, she only nods.

“Then for now, and only for now, I’ll stop if you say so.” You cup her face. She nuzzles into the
palm of your hand. “So, do you want me to stop?”

A pause.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” you ask. Soft.

Her gaze turns to the side. She holds your hand and shakes her head.

You hum.

“Then let’s stop.” You place a kiss on her cheek. You hold many desires, and you don’t bother
hiding their existence. However, you pride yourself on having patience. Self-control. Giselle might
laugh, but it is the truth nevertheless, especially when it comes to your lover.

For her, you can be patient.

Adjusting our position, you sit up against the pile of pillows beside the wall and place her between
your legs. Her head rests at the crook of your neck, and her hands hold onto the front of your shirt.
She takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. Admittedly, you feel proud for being
able to affect her this much, but she affects you just as much.

You grab the forgotten box of dessert and open it on the bed next to you. Two rows of macarons sit
inside of it in a variety of different flavours, and a sweet scent wafts over. From the corner of your
eye, you see her staring at them.

“Which one do you want?” you ask her.

She thinks for a second.

“That one.” Her finger points towards a red macaron with a light-coloured filling. You take it and
give it to her. She holds it, observing it for a second. Her lips part, and she takes a bite. A small
hint of a smile appears on her lips. As she chews, you notice how fluffy her cheeks become, and
there’s a sudden urge to bite them. She’s too cute.

You push the desire away.

“Does it taste sweet?” you ask instead.

She nods.

“Good.” You smile. “You taste sweet too. Very—”

A macaron is shoved against your lips.

“Please stop talking.”

You bite the sweet treat and chuckle.

“All right.”

Finishing her first macaron, she moves on to her second one. Our conversation returns to the
happenings during the day, but we soon start to reminisce about our past. She admits to thinking
how annoying you were back then, and you tell her how much you liked riling her up during our
encounters. To which, she replies by giving you an eye roll.

It’s then you ask her about her ex—about why they broke up. A question fuelled by your curiosity
and narcissism.

“There were a few reasons. She wasn’t really the person I thought she was, and I just didn’t” —she
pauses— “feel anything for her either. I thought I might if we started dating, but I was wrong.”

“Did I play a part in it?”

She regards you for a second.

“Why do you look so happy while asking that?” she asks and you shrug. “I guess a little bit?”

“Wait, really?” Your smile widens.

“Well, I—” she stops herself and her ears turn red. “Never mind. You don’t need to know.”

“Why not? I’m your girlfriend now.” An eyebrow hikes up.

“Anyway, for the word.” She presses her macaron against your lip again. You bite it. “I thought
about it.”

“That fast?”

“It’s not that hard.” A shrug. “You just make it hard to think when you’re, um, you know.”
“So?” You tilt your head.

“Red light.”

//
 History: Temptation
Chapter Summary

With her bare hands, her fingers catch your blade. Standing less than a metre away
from you, her red lips smile, and her golden eyes curl in amusement. As usual, she
never wears armour. Always with her dresses or shirts and trousers. Then there are
those goddamn heels. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Trying to kill me already, Puppy?” Karina tilts her head as she mocks you with the
nickname. “I haven’t even said hi yet.”

You click your tongue.

Chapter Notes

Winter's POV

A Flashback Chapter

//

Youth.

What does it mean to experience it?

Is it to go through high school? To bond with friends over egregious assignments while hanging
out after class? To experience a first crush? To have hearts flutter and break over budding
relationships? To sneak out after curfew to meet with your friends? To bumble through all the firsts
and beginnings? Is it only some? Is it all?

You don’t know the answer to the question.

You don’t think you’ve ever experienced the so-called ‘youth’.

Being identified as an ability user by Visage as an orphan baby, you were brought into a working
environment much quicker than your peers. When the others were learning how to write, you were
learning how to create ice from thin air. When they were experiencing their first school trips, you
were training to fight villains. When they had their first relationship, you had your hands stained
with sinner’s blood.

Your sister, Kim Chaewon, is only one year older than you. She experienced more of this ‘youth’
than you did because she doesn’t have abilities like you. Even then, it isn’t as if she experienced a
lot of it either. When a hero organisation serves as one’s guardian, there are a lot more hoops to
jump through.
However, she has made efforts over the years to at least give you some semblance of normalcy.
While neither of us could go on a school trip, she took you to an amusement park over the
weekends. You never got the joy of being rewarded sweets by your parents, so she always brings
around a handful of candy in her pockets for you. Birthdays would have come and gone in a blink
without her insistence to always celebrate them with cake and presents.

As it stands, you don’t have any fears of missing out nor do you have a particular need to
experience ‘youth’. You think it’s thanks to your sister, but it’s also because of your sense of duty
towards Elysium. You fight as their hero to protect the lives of everyone—to protect their youth. If
you didn’t, then they would all be the same as you.

However, as grey eyes observe the group of teenagers fooling around in the streets below—
laughing and chattering—you can’t help but feel curious every once in a while.

You think of red lips and the mole underneath them. You think of a grip on your wrists and the
words she whispers into your ears. You think of her golden eyes staring down at you, filled with
arrogance and amusement. Your eyebrows furrow, while your chest stirs from annoyance and
hatred. Clenching your teeth, you push away all thoughts of her. Why must she bother you even
during your break?

“Minjeong.”

You snap your gaze back to the woman in front of you.

“Hm?”

“Were you listening to me?” she asks. A smile on her reddish pink lips. Kind. Gentle. It’s one
reserved for you. The palm of her hand props her chin against the wooden table. As she tilts her
head, her short black hair—cut into a bob above her shoulders—sways from the action. One
eyebrow rises up into her thin bangs. Her grey eyes stare, and the shade of her irises is the exact
same as yours.

Your hair used to be dark too.

She wears an oversized blazer with a black camisole underneath, trimmed with lace and tucked into
her pants. An ID card hangs from her neck, and her communications device wraps around her
wrist.

It’s your sister.

On the other hand, you don a black cap and a pair of round glasses. Being one of the more known
heroes, people know your face. You are thankful for their gratitude toward you, but you’d rather
not be swarmed by people. It’s a lazy attempt at disguise, but it’s better than nothing at all.

Silver hairs spill forth from underneath the hat onto your shoulder. A light grey hoodie, black
pants, and sneakers. You look as casual as you can be.

We sit in a corner of a cafe on the third floor. It’s an open space with wooden floors and white
walls with wallpaper accents. Cushioned metal chairs and soft sofas accompany the tables for the
customers. You on the latter, while she on the former. Large floor-to-ceiling windows lie next to us
with the view to the streets of Temperance, the capital of the Elysium Union. Sunlight passes
through them and hits the polished surfaces, scattering the light.

“Oh, sorry,” you say. Grabbing the tall glass of lemonade, the ice inside the drink clinks against
each other. You sip on the straw. It’s sweet and refreshing. “I was distracted.”
“You’ve been more and more distracted lately,” she remarks. “Something on your mind?”

“I guess.”

“Which is?”

Eyes glance down towards the yellow-ochre hue of your drink. Fingers fiddle with the straw, and
you mix the melted ice on top with the rest of the liquid. Gold returns to the forefront of your mind,
and your chest stirs once more. You hold your drink a bit tighter. The colour has been haunting you
more and more as of late, and you don’t understand why.

Though, you have a guess.

You think of your last encounter with the Black Witch—how you had lost against her. Despite
being healed, you still feel the sting on your shoulder. She had pressed her high heel against it in
the last moments of the encounter with a smile, relishing her victory over you. The pointed end of
her heels had dug into your skin, and you hissed from the pain.

To say you were angry would be an understatement. She is dead the next time we meet.

A small huff escapes you.

Who the hell even wears high heels on a battlefield?

“Someone annoying,” you say.

“Ah.” Chaewon chuckles. “Is it because of the articles that came out between you and Seolhwa? Or
did she do something to annoy my baby sister?”

Shin Seolhwa. Otherwise known as Owl. A hero of Visage and your co-worker. With the ability to
transform into an owl, hence the codename, and manipulate the winds, she is most effective for
aerial combat. Often seen in the skies, she acts as both a protector and messenger. However, outside
of work, she is most known for her mild, if a bit cold, temperament.

She is also your girlfriend.

One Chaewon had set you up with.

Your sister claims your whole life essentially revolves around your role as a hero, and she doesn’t
like it. She wants you to live your life like any other girl in their twenties. So, she made another
effort. An effort to make you date someone. Granted, it was more like a suggestion rather than an
urge—the last thing she wants is to force you into something.

But you accepted her idea and started seeing Seolhwa. You’ve known the older woman for a while
now, and she seemed nice to be around.

Admittedly, you were also a bit curious about the dating thing.

“Neither,” you say. You turn your gaze to the plate in front of you. A heap of french fries rests on
top of a napkin—at least, there used to be a heap. You’ve whittled it down to a few scraps at this
point. Still, your hand reaches out to grab another piece, and you eat it. “Though the article is also
annoying.”

You don’t even know when they found out. Sometimes, the nosy reporters do stealth better than
the heroes or villains with it as their ability. If you have to guess, then it might have been when you
went on a date with Seolhwa last week.

It was fun you suppose, but you wonder if dates are supposed to be the same as hangouts with a
friend. It didn’t feel much different to you.

Movies and songs make them out to be special, and yet—

You wonder if you’re doing something wrong.

“So, what is on your mind then?”

You pause.

Should you tell her?

“The Black Witch,” you admit. You don’t like lying to your sister.

“Her?” Her eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

“Like I said. Annoying,” you say.

“Okay, I get that part. But what did she do?” she asks, reaching out for your french fries.

“Be annoying,” you deadpan.

She rolls her eyes.

“Minjeong.”

A shrug.

“She usually leads another warehouse raid around this time, but it’s been radio silent. No
movements or any other intel about her,” you say. “It’s suspicious.”

“Maybe Legion is being more careful this time.”

“Which is why I’m more worried.” You sigh.

“Okay, enough talk about work. I’m sure Visage will call you if something does happen.” She
smiles.

You hum.

“So, anything new happened recently?” she asks. “You’re so busy these days it’s hard to see you.”

“Nothing much. Just the same,” you say.

“And Seolhwa?”

You take another sip of your lemonade.

“What about her?”

“What do you mean ‘what about her’? My sister just started dating someone and you’re trying to
tell me nothing happened between the two of you?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Is something supposed to happen?”

“Kim Minjeong, how many dates did you go on with her?”

“Two?”

Chaewon only sighs and shakes her head.

“What? We were both busy,” you defend yourself. “We didn’t have time.”

“No, I guess you’re right. I guess this is the result when both of you are heroes. Maybe I should
have set you up with a normal civilian instead.” Her finger taps the table, thinking. “Huh Yunjin
from the other department might also be a good match for you.”

“Are you trying to make me date someone else? When I already have a girlfriend?”

“It’s called having a backup plan.” She chuckles. “I’ll have to ask round and see if she’s single or
not.”

“Please don’t.”

“Why not? It’s not like—”

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

A sharp sound comes from your communications device on your left wrist. Tapping on the screen,
you’re greeted by a message from your superior. You frown.

“I have to go back,” you say, standing up from the sofa.

“That’s fine. I also have to go back soon. I have to do a presentation.” Chaewon sighs. As her hand
rakes her hair back, she gathers her belongings and stands up as well.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need it when those geezers are around. Talking as if they know about Nova
better than me. Who’s the researcher here?” She clicks her tongue. “The only thing they can think
of is how to make more money out of it.”

Nova is a new type of substance created by Chaewon and her team. While you don’t know the
exact details of it due to the confidentiality of her work, it is said to accelerate and boost the
healing of normal people. Capable of even restoring significant losses in tissue and perhaps whole
limbs when it’s complete. Her hope is for it to lessen the casualties among heroes and to improve
the lives of normal civilians.

You let out a short laugh.

“Try to not kill them,” you tease.

“God knows I’m already trying my best,” she scoffs. “I swear, they should be thankful I’m not as
strong as you. Otherwise, they would’ve been six feet under already.”

“Not as tall either.”

“Shushush! We are not here to discuss my height, Kim Minjeong.” Her grey eyes narrow at you.

But you only let out another laugh as a response.

As we walk away from the table, she slaps your arm. It doesn’t hurt at all. If anything, it feels more
like a gentle tap. Partly because of your constitution, and partly because of her reluctance to hurt
you.

Chaewon pays for our lunch, and we say our goodbyes before separating. She returns to the CRC,
while you go back to Visage headquarters. However, you don’t walk back nor do you take one of
the airborne public transportations there. Instead, you ride your motorcycle there.

It would be nice to teleport all the way there, but your ability has its limitations. It has a cooldown
and a maximum range. Your bike is more convenient for longer travel distances.

Zooming past the other vehicles, you reach your destination in no time.

The HQ is a large complex with several office buildings, training areas, living spaces, etc. for the
heroes and employees under Visage. Parking your motorcycle in front of one of such buildings, you
walk inside and guards at the door nod in respect. You go to the glass door at the end of the lobby
and place your hand on the panel beside it. A line of light traces your palm, scanning you.

Beep!

The glass doors slide open. You walk into the plain corridor on the other side. Small circular lights
illuminate the space from the ceiling, and vents could be seen on the bottom of walls every now
and then. No other decoration. Rather than aesthetic, this place is designed for practicality. You’ve
never really liked being here despite needing to come so often.

There are a few guards here and there, but they pay you no attention as you walk deeper into the
halls, stopping only at a particular door.

Your locker room. Casual clothes aren’t appropriate for your duties.

Stepping out of the room, your previous outfit has been replaced with a stark white uniform. One
made of a high-collared outer, thick boots, gloves, and fitting pants along with multiple belts for
your twin katanas and other devices. Not all heroes wear the same uniform—often they would
have different designs depending on their personalities and needs. Yours was given to you by
Visage. It’s good enough, and you don’t really have the need to change it.

You continue to move through the corridors and up the floors of the building.

As you near the office of your superior, you see two women speaking in the middle of the grey
halls.

The tallest woman speaks with a smile. Long straight hair with dark brown eyes. She wears an airy
outfit with a loose blouse and pants. A dagger is strapped to her thigh, but otherwise, she carries
nothing else.

It’s Seolhwa.

The other woman is shorter but only by a few centimetres. She has lilac eyes and a beautiful face.
One you try to avoid. She wears a short dress with a suit jacket hanging from her shoulders, and her
dark hair falls down in soft waves. Kim Minju. Another hero. Though one most people have not
heard of. Not from the lack of ability, but because of the fact she works mostly behind the scenes.

There’s always a sense of unease whenever you’re in her presence. Perhaps it's the way she smiles.
Perhaps it’s the way she can read everyone like a book.
They notice you as you walk closer.

Minju only smiles at you before whispering to Seolhwa and leaving.

“Winter,” your girlfriend greets you. “Going on patrol?”

“No, I was called for a mission.” Grey eyes see her lips parting. You suppose she has something to
tell you, but you don’t want to keep your superior waiting. So, you tell her sorry and you need to
get going. Just as you are about to pass her, she holds onto your arm. You glance at her with a
silent question in your gaze.

“Be careful,” she says.

You nod.

Leaning down, she presses a kiss on your cheek and releases her hold.

“Thanks.”

Without another word, you resume your path to the office.

Hands push against two heavy wooden doors. A large room lies beyond it, where bookcases line
the walls and stacks of papers fill the menacing desk at the centre. With a cold gaze, a man sits
behind it. He tells you to come in and you do so—the doors closing behind you with a thud. He
relays to you new intel on Legion. Oh, finally. It’s been too quiet with them.

Nitro is the largest tech company in the Union, and they also possess the most state-of-the-art
technology in the generation with their advanced R&D team. Due to this, they are often rich in
ether. There is speculation the Legionnaires will be ambushing their cargo train tonight.

He instructs you to leave immediately and escort the freight to its destination. You accept the
mission and depart without wasting another second.

At the airfield, an aircraft readies itself to transport you over to the eastern region, and you board it.
As it takes off, the loud whirring of its propellers overwhelms every other noise. The metal doors
close, and the sound becomes a bit muted. Grey eyes glance out the circular windows of the craft,
and you watch as Temperance becomes smaller and smaller.

Instead of a cityscape, the verdant greens of nature run underneath the fast-moving vehicle.

The Elysian Union is divided into seven regions, which are the Western Forests, the Northern
Hills, the Central District, the Eastern Plains, the South Eastern Lowlands, the Southern Coast, and
the Scillian Islands. On the other hand, the Perishing Lands are located northwest of the union.

Nitro’s warehouses and ether storage are located everywhere within the Union. They would have
concentrated them somewhere far away from Legionaries due to their penchant to steal mountains
of their ether, but no one knows where their base of operations is. They appear from nowhere and
disappear into thin air once they're done.

All thanks to the Black Witch’s ability for long-distance teleportation.

It takes you a few hours to reach the Nitro warehouse in the Eastern Plains, and the people there
welcome you with open arms. Perhaps assured nothing bad will happen with you here. However,
they shouldn’t be jumping the gun. It’s Legion we’re talking about. You don’t have any plans of
letting your guard down and neither should they.
Currently, they’re still in the process of loading the ether—both in crystal and liquid form—inside
the cars. There are a couple of hours until nightfall, and you use the time to inspect the cargo train,
looking for areas of interest, entryways, and possible points of sabotage.

The train’s front is bulky armoured plates and grilles for the heat from the engine to escape. A
bright blue light emits from the vents at the top, and the air distorts from the intense temperature.
Coated in black, a large number is painted at the side in white. Every once in a while, you hear the
release of steam from somewhere. In between a set number of cargo cars, there is a passenger car
where guards will be stationed.

You jump onto the roof of one, creating a heavy thud. The palm of your hand presses against it.
Thick black plasteel reinforces the walls, and very few things can penetrate such defences. Grey
eyes observe the lengthy train. It will be difficult for you to notice if something goes wrong at the
very back or the very front. You’ll have to check them at regular intervals.

When the sun sinks at the horizon and the two moons come out in full, the train departs.

You stand at one of the guard stations in the middle, leaning against the wall. It has less seating
and more protection from a standard civilian passenger car, but otherwise not too different.
Wooden floors and green cushioned booths. A line of lockers lies in one corner, filled with
standard weaponry. A few other guards are in here with you, waiting for their shifts.

A glance outside.

Compared to other types of trains, this one moves slower due to the volatile nature of ether. The
grassy plains pass in a blur, while the distant scarce trees shift slower. Loran and Cerise hang in the
background, lighting the land with their moonlight. Your finger taps against your arm. Impatient.
The journey will take several hours and you have no clue when they’ll decide to appear.

An exhale.

Pushing yourself off of the wall, you leave the car. It’s better if you just start your patrol now.

One hour passes, and nothing has happened as of yet.

Thud.

The door closes behind you, and you stand in the open air between the cars. A hand rests against
the railing on the metal platform, and your silver hair flutters in the wind. Grey eyes observe the
surrounding land, and all you can see is grass, grass, and more grass.

Doubt fills your mind over the information you were given. No matter how you think about it, the
terrain is far too disadvantageous for ambushing. Even if they were to teleport somewhere near, we
would be able to see—

Boom!

A loud explosion comes from the front of the train, and sounds of combat come from every
direction. Your eyes widen. It seems you have spoken too soon. How the hell did they even get
onto the train?

Without an ounce of hesitation, you phase to the front. Your body disappears into thin air, leaving a
thin trail of snowflakes, before apparating at the locomotive. Just as you suspect, the engineer lies
lifeless on the floor and the engine is in disarray and quickly overheating. A couple of legionnaires,
clad in black and gold, rush towards you with their weapons in hand.
Unsheathing your twin katanas, you drop low to the ground and slide below their attacks. You
bring yourself back up with a twirl behind them, and your blades slash at their backs. They drop
dead next to the engineer.

You place the palm of your hands on the floor. While you don’t know the first thing about driving
trains, you can prevent it from overheating at the very least. Frost spreads out from your hands. It
covers the entire surface of the locomotive, and the heat from the engine tries to melt it. A second
later, large shards of ice shoot out from the upper half of the vehicle on the outside. You make sure
to not hinder the movement of the wheels.

This should suffice for now.

However, just as you’re about to move to subdue the legionnaires plaguing other parts of the train,
a serpent’s hiss can be heard from somewhere.

Your body stiffens.

She’s here.

It’s then the scent of nectar and venom enters your lungs. It’s then her voice whispers in your ear.

“Boo.”

You snap your head around and bring your blades around to slash at her. However, they stop
midway. With her bare hands, her fingers catch your blade. Standing less than a metre away from
you, her red lips smile, and her golden eyes curl in amusement. As usual, she never wears armour.
Always with her dresses or shirts and trousers. Then there are those goddamn heels.

Tonight, it seems her choice of outfit is a loose crimson shirt with black slacks and stilettos. A suit
jacket hangs from her shoulders, fastened with a thin leather rope and brooch. You resist the urge to
roll your eyes.

“Trying to kill me already, Puppy?” Karina tilts her head as she mocks you with the nickname. “I
haven’t even said hi yet.”

You click your tongue.

The grip on your katanas tightens. Lifting your leg up, you kick her stomach. In an instant, she
releases the hold on your blades, and black tendrils appear from the shadows to protect her. Using
the momentum, you use it to perform a backflip and send yourself back a distance away from her.

Icicles accumulate at the back of your swords, and the temperature lowers even further down. Grey
eyes glow a faint white. Dragging the tip of your blade across the floor, you flick it towards her
direction. Large shards of ice rush forward, forming from the floor and growing up to the ceiling—
as if a wave crashing against a cliffside.

Shadows engulf her arms up to her elbows, and they become stained in black. Where her fingers
used to be, there are claws instead. Golden veins appear on the blackened skin, and her eyes glow
brighter as well. Before the ice could obscure her figure, you watch as she brings her hand up with
a grin. You run forward and ready your weapons. The ice won’t stop her for long.

Right on cue, the frozen wave cracks and shatters into tiny pieces. Amidst the falling glittering
white dust, you jump and swing at her. A black arm stops them, and she pushes you back. Your
boots slide against the metal floors of the car, and your gloved fingers press down against them to
slow your momentum.
“Winter. Oh, Winter.” She chuckles. “You should know petty tricks like that won’t get you
anywhere.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

Rushing forward once more, you bring your right blade down. But it catches on the many panels
and cables within the engine room. Your eyebrows furrow. Before you could even attempt to
dislodge it, her hands claw at your chest, and you abandon it, dodging away with a roll. You stand
back up a few metres away from the impact where the shard has imploded into countless thorns.

A small huff leaves you.

Annoying.

You sheathe your remaining katana. Frost gathers in your hands, and two daggers made of ice form
in your palms. Long swords won’t work in this tight space.

“How about we go somewhere else a bit nicer?” She raises an eyebrow. “It is a bit cramped here, is
it not?”

Shadows gather at her feet, but you ignore her words and attempt to slash at her with your daggers.
Instead of dodging you, she grabs both of your blades in her hand and pushes them downward. Her
hand slithers around your waist. With the lack of distance, she leans close and whispers into your
ear.

“Be patient now,” she purrs.

The lights inside the engine room blink and flicker. Darkness descends upon us. When you blink,
you’re no longer indoors and the great outdoors greets you instead. The landscape blurs around us.
The wind howls and our hair flutters behind us. You’re on the rooftop of the train.

“Now, isn’t this better?”

You elbow her stomach, and she lets out a small grunt. As she lets go of her hold, you jump several
steps back.

“Ow,” she says. Although, with the grin on her lips, you doubt it actually hurts. “That was rude,
wasn’t it?”

No response.

“It’s my turn, Puppy.”

Her claws snap, and a myriad of black and gold bolts of energy flash into existence in the air
around her. With a flick of her finger, they shoot towards you.

Rolling forward, you dodge a few of them, and they embed themselves onto the roof before
disappearing. However, there are still more chasing after. You get up onto your feet and rush
toward her in a zig-zag pattern. Most of them miss you, but one manages to scratch your cheek.
Ignoring the slight sting, you slash your right blade at her and she deflects it away with the back of
her hand.

Once covered in black ink, her skin is as hard as plasteel.

“Have you seen the news recently, Winter?” She tilts her head. “Because I have.”
You bring your left blade from the other side, and she deflects it away. For every swing of your
weapon—every shard of icicles—every wave of ice you throw at her, her claws—her bolts of
shadow and gold—her black tendrils reach out to hurt you as well. As it often ends up being, we
come to a stalemate.

However, you feel something is different tonight about her—something you can’t just ignore.

“It looks like you got yourself a girlfriend?” Her hands catch the spear you thrust at her, and she
pulls you closer. A finger hooks underneath your chin. Leaning down to your face, the scent of
poison overwhelms you. Golden eyes smile, but you can’t find the usual amusement within them.
There is only contempt. “You hurt me.” She purrs. “After all we’ve been through, and you leave
me for someone else?”

“Shut up,” you hiss.

“And I thought we would be together forever,” she sneers.

Disintegrating your daggers, your body disappears from view before reappearing behind her. You
unsheathe your katana and slash at her back. She immediately turns around and you miss her by a
few centimetres, but you manage to cut the suit jacket on her shoulders. You jump backwards.

Karina brushes the dust away from her shoulders.

“It’s a pity.” Her hand unfastens the brooch on her jacket. A second later, the wind carries it into
the night. Bloodlust overtakes her golden eyes as she smiles. “I like this outfit, you know? I wore it
for you.”

She walks closer to you.

“I want to ask you something, Winter.” She tilts her head. Serpent scales appear in patches on her
skin. The black snake tattoo slithers up to her neck, allowing you to catch a glimpse of it for the
first time tonight. The pupils in her eyes morph into slits. “What is so good about her? Enough for
the woman who everyone thought would never date to actually do it? Come on, tell me. And
maybe I won’t kill that bitch.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

A layer of frost spreads from your shoes. It creeps across the floor and onto your armour as well.
The temperature drops and drops. A trail of white mist escapes her lips every time she breathes.

“Then I suppose you leave me with no choice. All I wanted was to—”

Your body blurs from her sight and suddenly, you’re right up against her again. The edge of your
blade against her neck—ready to cut her head off. However, she falls and flips backwards to avoid
it.

“Fine, then,” she huffs. Her eyes narrow. “Let’s do the talking later.”

This time, she rushes towards you.

Her attacks feel more aggressive, more savage. At one point, she tears your katana away from your
grip and throws it off the train.

You conjure your ice armaments, but they shatter from the impact of her blows, forcing you to
conjure more and more weapons in rapid succession. She doesn’t even give you a chance to
unsheathe your katana. Spears, daggers, swords, hammers, axes, javelins, etc. You conjure them all
to kill her. However, as a side effect, you can also feel yourself being drained with each weapon
you create.

Cuts and bruises litter your body. You feel her poison inside your veins—slowly entering your
system from the numerous nicks and wounds from her claws—weakening you.

Granted, she doesn’t look any better either.

The clanging sound of our blows echoes throughout the roof. You can hear the other guards
fighting the Legionnaires below you. As much as you would like to help them, you know she
won’t let you interfere.

A white transparent javelin whirls through the wind, and it lands square on her stomach before
shattering into a thousand shards. It doesn’t manage to piece through her. However, judging from
the way she grunts, you know it did some damage.

Your chest moves up and down. Ragged. Clenching your jaw, you conjure a single dagger of ice in
your hand.

“It’s about time we end this, don’t you think?” She raises an eyebrow. Blood trickles down a gash
on the side of her rib.

Karina brings her hand up before slamming it down against the roof. A splash of darkness comes
out from the impact before growing bigger and bigger into a wave—similar to what you had done
previously. However, instead of ice like yours, her pitch-black wave consists of the souls of the
damned and hissing serpents. Wailing skeletal faces can be seen amidst the black ink, while bone
hands reach out towards you. You try to teleport away, but the cooldown isn’t over yet.

So, you conjure a wall of ice to protect yourself.

It works.

But not for very long.

Cracks start to form, and the wave spills forth from it, swallowing you whole. You hear screams of
voices long dead around you and ghostly touches over your being. It drains your soul as if trying to
drag you into the depths of hell. In the midst of it, you feel a hand around your neck, shoving you
down onto the ground.

When the darkness fades, you’re no longer on the rooftop. You don’t hear the screaming of the
dead nor the howling of the wind. Instead, there’s only the muted whirs of the train wheels, the low
hum of machinery, and our rough breathing. A cold metal floor presses against your back, and the
dim blue glow from the ether crates illuminates the room.

We’re in a cargo car. Perhaps at the very back of the train—you’re not sure. After all, you can
barely hear the sound of fighting.

Karina hovers above you with one hand around your throat, and the other against the floor to prop
herself up. Her scales are gone and her arms aren’t black either. Hard claws return to soft fingers.
You grip your dagger to slash at her. She releases your neck and grabs your wrist instead. She
tightens her grip on it. The pain causes you to hiss and loosen your grip on the dagger. It clangs
against the floor beside us. No matter how much you struggle, she doesn’t budge. The cold doesn’t
even bother her anymore.
You have no choice but to admit it. While you beat Karina by a long stretch when it comes to
speed, strength is where she beats you.

Her black hair forms a curtain around us, and you’re forced to only see gold. The scent of nectar
and poison fills your lungs.

From somewhere, you hear the hissing of a serpent.

She smiles.

“You know, if it were up to me, then I would have gone straight for your” —her tone turns acidic
— “girlfriend instead. Alas, I was reminded I have more urgent needs for Legion by a dear friend.”
A sigh. “However, I suppose all is not lost. After all, I get to see you again, Puppy.”

Grey eyes glare, and teeth grit.

“Will you tell me now?” She tilts her head. “What’s so good about her?”

“Fuck. Off,” you growl.

She only chuckles before leaning closer. Karina pins your wrist against the cold metal, while you
push your free hand against her shoulder. It doesn’t work.

“Is she good at kissing?” she asks.

You don’t reply to her.

“Or is it her personality?” she scoffs. “But I doubt it. I like to believe your taste in women isn’t so
bad as to like that milquetoast.”

Jaws tighten.

“Feel free to prove me wrong, Winter. After all, I’m here to learn, am I not?” But then her golden
eyes darken. Her other hand slides across the floor, directing her touch over to your thigh and up to
your knee. She whispers in your ear in a low voice. “Did she touch you like this too?”

You need to teleport. Use your powers. Anything. And yet—

She nudges your knee apart and settles between your legs. You feel her palm resting on your hips,
and you clench your fists, turning your knuckles white. A serpent wraps itself around your chest,
constricting it, and you’re not sure if it’s real or if you’re imagining it. The black snake tattoo on
her neck, flicking its tongue, doesn’t help either. Regardless, you find it hard to breathe.

“Tell me, Winter.”

“Shut up.”

“How about you shut me up yourself? Oh, right, you can’t.” She draws back, but only enough to
face. An annoying smile on her lips. “You can’t even push me away.”

No response.

She forces the hold on her shoulder off, tearing your fingers away from her shirt. Blood drips down
her lips, and it makes their red colour even redder. She brings your hand up against them, pressing
a kiss into your palm, and it feels scorching. Even with your gloved hands, you can sense it so
clearly. Despite not using her powers, it feels as if more and more venom burns your arm. Your
heart pounds against your chest—you convince yourself it’s from the adrenaline.

“Does she make you feel like this?”

Your lips part.

You want to say yes. You want to prove her wrong.

But you can’t.

As much as you hate to admit it, she’s right. You never felt anything when you went on a date with
Seolhwa. You never felt anything when she kissed you. You expect to feel something from the
gesture. Warmth in your chest. Butterflies in your stomach. Anything. Yet nothing ever happens.

It’s not her fault though. Because you’ve been telling your sister everything you’ve experienced so
far, and Chaewon says Seolhwa has been a great girlfriend.

You know you’re the problem. Out of all people, why do feel more with—

“Do you even like your girlfriend, Winter?”

A pause.

Your body stiffens. Grey eyes avert their gaze, and golden ones narrow.

“Hah.” She laughs. “That tells me everything I need to know.”

You bite your lip.

“I’ll come again, Winter.” Karina kisses your hand once more. The dim blue light flickers and the
car is plunged into pure darkness in flashes. The smile on her lips returns to its usual state. One of
amusement.

At the last blink, her figure disappears. You’re left alone inside the cold container. Bringing your
arms up to your face, you press the heels of your palm into your eyes. You press your lips against
each other. You’re positive she didn’t inject you with any more of her venom—so why does it feel
as if your skin is about to melt off? You don’t even want to know what you look like right now.

You don’t rush up to help the other guards. If she’s gone, then the others must be gone as well.
Grey eyes peek from underneath your hands, staring at the crates of ether. At least, you managed to
protect a few cargo cars.

At least.

Gritting your teeth, you sit up and punch the wall. A loud thunder echoes.

“Fuck,” you curse as you whisper to yourself. “Fuck.”

Two weeks after the encounter, the words she said—the touches she made—still haunt you. So,
you break up with Seolhwa. Thankfully, it doesn’t end up being a big problem, but some part of
you thinks she might have seen it coming. You tell Chaewon about it too. Before she could set you
up with anyone else, you tell her you’re not interested in dating for the time being.

You don’t think it’ll ever work out.

When you go to sleep during the night, you could only dream of your encounter with her. You
convince yourself it’s because you hate her. You tell yourself it’s because you’re frustrated over
losing to her again.

It works.

You train harder and harder.

At your next encounter with her, you’re the one pressing your blade against her neck. Yet you
could never get rid of the smile on her face—as if she’s satisfied by something. Even as she bleeds,
her expression never falters. It only annoys you more and more.

You’re going to kill her.

//
 Dead
Chapter Summary

“Care to explain what’s happening, Your Grace?” Your hand gestures toward the
suffocating man in the middle of the room.

“He was annoying me.” She tilts her head. “What was I supposed to do? Leave him
be?”

“We need him alive, Rina,” you remind her.

“He’s not dead, is he?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you settle for another sigh instead.

Chapter Notes

Giselle's POV

CW: Blood and violence

//

Messy dark sheets and a kiss on your naked back.

The soft bed presses against your front, and your hands hug the pillow underneath your chin. Silk
covers your lower half. She brushes your hair to the side, and her fingertips brush against your
shoulder. The chilly air of your bedroom cools your skin. A stark difference compared to the
scorching heat from the night before—one brought from her lips and fingers. This is undeniably
your room, and yet her citrus scent is all you can breathe.

Verdant eyes close. A soft smile on your lips.

A weight lies on your waist as she sits on top of you. Her hand rests below your shoulder blades,
and you feel a thin and cold touch your nape before continuing down and down to your back. Black
ink spreads onto your skin from the marker. She creates dark lines upon lines on your body to her
heart’s content, humming a song as she does.

The curtains at the far end lie open, while the ones by your bed remain closed, plunging half of
your room into darkness. The morning sunlight pours inside, and it reflects off a glass coffee table
and onto the white ceiling. At the centre of the room, a crystal cube floats in the air, turning on its
axis ever so slowly. An orb made of the same material hovers above with a ring orbiting it.

“What are you drawing?” you ask in a slow drawl. Rough from sleep, your voice is deeper than
usual.

“Guess it,” she says.

“I can’t even see it.” A chuckle.

“Don’t move,” she whines. Her hand holds onto your shoulder, pressing it against the bed.

“Sorry,” you mumble against the pillow, smiling.

“You can feel it with your back, right? Come on, guess it.” A lilt in her voice.

“All right.” Concentrating on the sensations on your back, you try to follow the strokes of her
marker and make an image inside your head. She’s making a lot of curvy lines, but there are also
sharp points. So, perhaps it is a “Hedgehog?”

“Nope. Guess again.”

“A snake?”

“Beep. Nope.” The smile on her lips is evident in her tone.

“I give up. What is it?” Opening your eyes, you glance over your shoulder at her. Dishevelled
blonde hair flows down her shoulders, and blue eyes stare at her drawing. A white shirt adorns her
body. A bit messy. It is the same one you wore yesterday. Red hickeys on her neck and chest.

“It’s a dragon.” She brings back her marker and caps it. Putting it aside, she props her hand against
the bed and leans down. “The eastern kind. I even drew your orb and cube too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Yizhuo kisses you. Her pink lips press against yours, and it tingles in the best way.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She sits up and directs her gaze towards the wall behind the bed where the door to your room lies
beyond. Pushing herself off, she grabs a pair of pants from the carpeted floor and wears it.

“I’ll get it,” she says.

“Thanks, Yizhuo.” You smile at her, and she reciprocates it. A faint blush on her cheeks.

As she walks behind the wall between your bed and the entrance, you pull the silk blanket up to
cover yourself and sit up. You hear the front door opening. Leaving the bed, the sheet trails behind
as you step inside your bathroom at the far end of the room. Whoever is at the door will not be able
to see you from there anyway. Their muffled conversation reaches your ears, but discerning the
content is above you at the moment.

A hand opens the tap of the sink, and the warm water rushes down. Letting go of the silk sheet, it
pools around your feet on the white marble floor and the mirror in front displays your figure. You
wash your face.

“Aeri!” Yizhuo shouts from the other room. “Wi—I mean Wolf is here!”

An eyebrow raises.
Winter?

“Tell her I’ll be out in a minute,” you say.

“Okay!”

You continue your morning routine, and you make sure to keep Yizhuo’s drawing on your back
intact. Walking back inside your room, you see her sitting at the corner of your bed. You open the
wardrobe sitting next to the bathroom door.

“Where’s Winter?” you ask, shifting through your clothes.

“Outside,” she says. “I am not letting her inside. Not when you’re walking around like that.” Her
hand gestures toward your state of undress. A single towel and nothing else.

A chuckle leaves your lips.

“Right.” You throw away the towel and wear your undergarments.

Today, you adorn a sleeveless fitting white dress, reaching down to your knees. It has a high collar
and two slits down both sides. Bits of Yizhuo’s drawing peek out from underneath like a tattoo. A
simple belt clasps around your waist, and a black suit jacket hangs over your shoulders. You step in
front of your vanity and put on some makeup. Reddish pink lips. Tying your hair into a low bun, a
long golden hair stick—carved in the image of a phoenix—sets it in place.

With a wave of your hand, the crystal ringed orb and cube at the centre of the room glows a bright
white, making it seem as if they are made from light. They fly to your side and orbit the air around
you.

Turning around, you find blue eyes staring. Her mouth is slightly ajar as red dust her cheeks and
ears. You smile and raise an eyebrow. Soft footsteps pitter-patter across the floor as you saunter
over to her. Hands cup her jaw, and you bend down, kissing her. Once on the lips, and once on her
cheek.

“I’ll see you later.” Drawing back, your smile widens as you witness your lipstick leaving a mark
on her face.

“Later.” She grins.

You leave Yizhuo alone in your room. She has her own room, but she seems to be much fonder of
staying inside yours. A part of you suspects it is because of the perpetual state of disarray her
bedroom is in, but you like to think your presence plays a big role.

As you step outside with your tablet in hand, you find Winter waiting for you at the other side of
the corridor, leaning against the wall. The black velvety mask covers her eyes as usual, and her
silver hair lies neatly against her shoulders. A white turtleneck and pants. She isn’t wearing her
armour today, but you suppose she wouldn’t be wearing it unless there’s a mission.

Noticing your arrival, she pushes herself away from the wall and walks closer.

“Morning, Chancellor,” she greets.

“Wolf,” you say.

Your head turns left toward the rest of the corridor. The walls and floors are made from ivory
panels. A few paintings and decorations are scattered here and there in the form of paintings and
plants, but otherwise nothing else. Even without the ceiling lights turned on, the space remains lit
by the sunlight pouring from the windows. Your room sits at the very end of it. Taking one step
towards the elevator, your high heel clicks and echoes down the corridor.

“Come,” you say. “Let us walk while we talk, Wolf.”

She nods.

As you pass the other doors in the hallway—ones belonging to the other high-ranking officials of
Legion—you snap your fingers, and your light cube displays an array of holographic screens in
front of you. Instantaneously, numerous notifications of messages and reports appear in droves.
You organise them by priority and leave the less urgent ones for later.

“I notice Ningning has an accent,” Winter remarks beside you.

“Oh, yes. It’s typical for the natives of the Golden Plains,” you explain while keeping your gaze
trained on the message in front of you. We stop by the elevator, and your orb of light glides over to
the panel next to it. The ring orbiting it snaps into a rapid spin as it communicates with the
machine, and the button to go down lights up. Not a second later, it returns to its languid orbit and
the orb returns to you. “Common isn’t their first language after all.”

“Then you’re from Elysium?” she asks.

“I am. Karina as well,” you affirm. “Well, half of us are.”

“I see.”

Ding!

As the elevator arrives, the bronze doors open for you. Stepping inside the elevator, the orb repeats
its actions, except with the floor panel this time, and the button for one of the lower floors lights
up.

Verdant eyes shift left and right as you read another message. It is from Nakamura Kazuha. An
operative from the Owls—a special operations unit serving directly underneath you. You had
ordered the abduction of a Nitro executive and his wife days before, and she has come bringing
news of the operation’s results. Now, she asks for further instructions. A small smile appears on
your lips.

“Are you and Ningning—”

“Dating?” Holding your right hand against one of the holographic screens, fingers type a reply to
Kazuha as well as a message to Karina.

“Yes.”

“We’re not,” you say.

A moment passes.

“What?”

You chuckle.

“I understand what it looks like.” You’re pretty sure Winter saw the hickeys on Yizhuo’s neck too.
“However, you will find no falsehoods in my words. Nevertheless, I do love her.”

“I’m” —a hesitant pause— “not sure if I follow.”

“Dating is but a matter of time. She has all the brains in the entire world, and yet she is found
wanting when it comes to the subject of romance.” The smile on your lips softens at the thought of
your yet-to-be lover. “Do you understand?”

“A little.”

“The lovable fool finds it enjoyable to be around me yet fails to see the reasoning behind her
actions.” A small huff of laughter bubbles from your lips. “It’s endearing and highly entertaining to
watch her figure things out.”

“I see.”

As you send both messages, verdant eyes glance at Winter.

“Do you think of me as mean?”

A second passes.

“Perhaps.”

“Regardless, I doubt you came looking for me in this early hour to inquire about my love life.” You
turn your gaze back towards the screens around you. A new message comes from Karina, asking
you to bring Winter with you. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It has been a while since I’ve arrived at Pride and a week since I’ve done something useful,” she
remarks.

“So, you wish to contribute.” You type a quick reply to Karina.

Winter nods.

“Don’t worry,” you say. “There shall be something for you to do very soon.”

Ding!

The elevator bell rings, and the doors open to a tall circular room with ivory stone walls and
polished stone floors. Pillars decorate the room in set intervals, while potted plants bring some
greenery into the white landscape. A large statue sits at the opposite side of the room, depicting the
image of a hydra. Two archways at the sides lead to different corridors.

You walk out of the elevator, and the few people standing by it greet you both. Even with a crowd
around, you have no worries about prying eyes trying to obtain information through the
holographic screens. Only those who you have given permission can see the content inside.
Otherwise, they only look like a bunch of illegible symbols instead of words.

Reciprocating with a smile and a wave, you step past them and head towards the right hallway—
one similarly decorated with carved stone pillars. Winter follows beside you.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Nitro? You were involved with them in the past after all.” Verdant
eyes glance at her. “Have you heard of Cha Junpyoung before?”

Another nod.
“And of his exploits?”

She hums. A short answer, but you do not mind it. You know she dislikes speaking when there are
other people around.

“Then you should know he is the one who led the construction of the Aquilo mine in the Torvus
mountains.” Seeing the lack of a response, you assume her lack of knowledge on the subject. “You
have seen the mountain range in the north before, correct? Those are the Torvus mountains.
Technically, they are not a part of the Elysian territory, but Nitro built an ether mine there
anyway.”

You both step into a different corridor, walking further and further deeper into the spire tower.

“It is legal due to the Elysian government approving the plan, but it still brings the question of
what grounds are they authorised to do that. They certainly didn’t ask the locals who lived there.”
You scoff. “However, we’re not here to discuss the ethics of it—or lack thereof. Legion intends to
subjugate and overtake the Aquilo mine, and the plan is for you to take part in the operation. Her
Grace was supposed to be the one to tell you later, but now is as good a time as any.”

Another hum from her.

“We have taken Cha Junpyoung and his wife into our care. I am on the way to see them right now,
and Her Grace wants you to come with me,” you say.

A nod.

“Now, follow me.”

You lead her through the winding paths within the spire tower towards the Aboveground
Confinement Facility—an isolated sector locked behind locked doors and security checks. With
only a single bridge serving as the sole access point, the facility is located at the lower southern
side of the spire tower. Gone are the welcoming decorations, and the corridors are empty of life
and colour. Every so often you would come across a patrolling Legionnaire, nodding towards you
both for a short greeting.

As you turn the corner into another corridor, you both hear a scream coming from one of the doors.
A slight frown appears on Winter’s lips, while a sigh escapes yours.

Walking towards the source of the sound, you press your hand against the panel beside the door,
and it slides open to the side. Inside the room, Karina sits atop the bed on the right with a smile,
while tendrils of shadows and serpents choke a man in the middle, suspending him in the air. A
middle-aged woman presses herself against the opposite wall. Her shoulders tremble. Fear displays
itself in her eyes and sweat runs down her forehead.

There are no windows within this space, robbing the prisoners of any vision of the outside as well
as any hope for escape. A small vent lies up on the ceiling—too small for any person to squeeze
through. The only illumination within is a pair of small circular lights. Unlike the warm hue of
sunlight, there is only a cold harsh neon glow where only the centre is fully lit, and the edges are
left to the darkness.

High heels click as you step inside the room, and the door closes shut behind you.

“Your Grace,” you say with a frown.

“Oh, Giselle. You’re here.” She turns her head towards you. Today, she adorns a loose shirt with a
long skirt with a single slit on the side and a pair of high heels. When she notices your companion,
her golden eyes curl into crescents. “And you brought Wolf with you.” She stretches out an arm
towards Winter. “Come here.”

The ex-hero wordlessly walks over to her, and you trail behind her.

“As you have instructed,” you reply. Your hand gestures toward the suffocating man in the middle
of the room. “Care to explain what’s happening, Your Grace?”

“He was annoying me.” She tilts her head. “What was I supposed to do? Leave him be?”

“We need him alive, Rina,” you remind her.

“He’s not dead, is he?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you settle for another sigh instead.

Snap!

With the flick of your finger, a white line appears near the bottom of the black tendrils and serpents
choking the man. A second later, they collapse and disappear into smoke and ash, causing him to
come crashing against the white tiled floor. His hands clutch onto his throat as he gasps for air.
Despite seeing her husband in distress, Cha Junpyoung’s wife, Im Hyojung, does not seem too
interested in helping him.

“So, are you finally in the mood to talk, Mr Cha?” Karina smiles.

“I—” he tries to reply, but he can only wheeze and heave for more oxygen. His face is red from the
rushing blood and his veins become prominent. His blue lips tremble. Eyebrows bunch together,
and shoulders tense. “I don’t—I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I already told you, Mr Cha. If you just tell us how to bypass the barrier surrounding Aquilo Mine,
then we’ll let you and your missus go.”

The mine has one of the heaviest defences on the continent, and it is partly due to being located
outside of the Union’s territory. Apart from soldiers and the standard security system, they also
employ the use of heroes, ether turrets, barriers, and an interference array, which means nothing—
not people, cargo, information, or electromagnetic waves—can leave Aquilo mine without
permission.

The barrier is the most problematic of the bunch. Controlled from inside the facility, it is virtually
impossible to sneak past it. Most villains do not even attempt to steal from the mine due to its
defences, preferring the easier warehouses.

However, virtually does not mean completely.

What Legion needs right now is information on the tightly sealed mine.

“And I’m telling you I don’t know!” he shouts. He grits his teeth, and his bloodshot eyes glare at
Karina. “I’m not the one who constructed it! Ask those oafs from the construction company
instead! They’re the ones who know every single thing about it!” Sweat trickles down his forehead
and drenches his shirt and tattered suit jacket. The more he screams, the more spit sprays from his
mouth. “I can bring one to you if you just let me—”

“Unfortunately,” you interrupt him, “everyone involved in the construction of the barrier has either
died or disappeared under mysterious circumstances. I wonder whom we should thank for that.”

“That—That—”

“Then are you okay with losing your wife?” Karina asks with a smile. Not a second later, Im
Hyojung screams at the top of her lungs as a black tendril wraps around her ankles. It drags her
across the floor toward her husband’s side, while she kicks and flails. When it finally stops, she
whimpers and wails while covering her face.

You frown.

She is obnoxiously loud.

His shoulders tremble as he grips his knees, turning his knuckles white.

“You’ll kill us both even if I tell you anyway,” he snarls. “That is how Legion works, isn't it? You
people kill everyone who doesn’t share your radical views! Savages and barbarians who only know
how to murder and steal from us good people! If you really—”

Karina laughs.

“Good?” She raises an eyebrow. “You think of yourself as good?”

“Compared to you savages!”

You roll your eyes.

“Giselle.” She stretches her hand out to you.

Tapping on the tablet in your hand, you display the full report on Cha Junpyoung on the screen
before handing it to her.

“Your Grace.”

“Let us see here. Forced displacement of natives to construct the Aquilo Mine, lobbying politicians
over taxation laws, backstabbing your colleagues for profit, embezzlement, sexual assault on
multiple young women—Wow, you even bankrupted a rival company. Though I suppose I
shouldn’t be too surprised coming from a Nitro executive. Is it a rite of passage before you can get
promoted? Fuck over someone else’s life and you’ll get the job?” She chuckles as she lists out the
information inside your tablet, and his face only twists uglier and uglier with each second.

Golden eyes glance over to the man on the floor. Karina crosses her legs, resting her chin against
the palm of her hand.

“I can list more if you want, Mr Cha.” She waves the tablet in front of him—as if showing a piece
of candy to a disgruntled child. “If this your definition of good, then I shall gladly play the part of
the villain in the story.”

“But—But you’ll spare me, right!” Im Hyojung exclaims with mascara stains running down her
face, and a desperate smile on her lips. Her pupils tremble as she tries to appeal innocence. Mad
and distraught. A stark contrast to the impeccable way rich housewives would carry themselves.
“Compared to him, I didn’t do anything at all!”

“Shut up, woman!” He berates her. “And I didn’t do anything wrong! People had trampled over me
over and over again in the past, and I worked hard to get to where I am now. Isn’t it only fair for
me to get a little bit of a reward?”

Karina exhales.

“Chancellor, I asked you to bring me a Nitro exec. Not two yapping pigs.” Her smile drops.
Golden eyes narrow, dripping in venom. From the corner of your vision, the shadows within the
room seem to creep ever so closer into the light.

“My apologies, Your Grace.” You bow your head in penitent.

“Wolf.”

Winter takes a step forward and kneels beside Karina.

“Cut his arm off.”

She nods.

Standing up from the floor, she walks towards him. Frost gathers in the palm of her hand, and she
conjures a long katana made from ice. Translucent and white. His eyes widen. Shouts of pleas spill
forth from his mouth. Stretching his arms out, he scoots backwards in a feeble attempt to escape.
Her hand blurs, and verdant eyes fail to keep up with her movement. The moment you blink, Cha
Junpyoung’s arm falls splat against the floor—cut off from the elbow. Scarlet spills and stains the
sterile white floors of the prison room, and the scent of iron fills your nose.

A loud guttural howl rips from his throat as he clutches his right arm, while his wife shrieks in
horror.

You will have to ask someone to clean this room later.

“Good girl.” The smile on Karina’s lips returns. “Now.” She glances toward her lover with a
bloody blade in her hand. “Do you think I should spare them?”

Winter glances at the two people on the ground for a second.

Her lips part.

“I don’t care,” she says.

A bout of laughter bubbles up from Karina’s lips, while you raise an eyebrow. Admittedly, you
would have expected the former hero to want to spare them—she was famous for never letting a
civilian come into harm’s way in the past. Visage’s betrayal has changed her more than you
previously thought.

“You don’t care if they die or not?”

“No.”

Karina hums. Amused.

“Well then.” She stands up from the bed and dusts her clothes off. “Talking to them seems to be as
equally infuriating as it is futile.” She hands over the tablet back to you. “Take care of the rest for
me, will you, Chancellor?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Let us go, Winter,” she says. The blade in her lover’s hand dissipates into snow, and she returns to
her side. A hand is offered to the silver-haired woman, and she takes it. You frown at the use of her
real name, but you suppose it does not matter at this point. They will not be able to tell anyone
about it anyway.

“Winter? Where have I—The—The White Blade!” Im Hyojung exclaims as a flash of recognition
appears in her eyes. Her head whips towards her and crawls forward in a hurry. Arms stretched out
to touch her. “But—But you are—no, never mind that! Please help me! You must help me! Are
you not the saviour of Elysium? Please, I beg of—”

A wall of translucent light appears in front of her as you construct a barrier with your ringed orb,
preventing her from approaching any further. You remember what Yizhuo had said about Winter.

You shall not let this sow touch her.

“Please, Madam.” High heels click as you approach her, standing in front of the barrier and placing
yourself between them. Verdant eyes stare down at her. Expressionless and cold. “Conduct yourself
with the appropriate behaviour in front of Her Grace and Her Lady.”

Im Hyojung snaps her head up to you.

“You!” she shouts. You’re afraid you shall develop permanent hearing loss at this rate. “You’re—
You are the Priestess of Castitas!”

Jaws tighten.

“You are mistaken.” Eyes narrow.

“No, no, no, I know that face! Who was it? Aer—Uchinaga Aeri! I have been to the temple at
Castitas before, and I definitely saw—”

“Your Grace, it would be great if you leave quickly before your ears rot listening to her nonsense,”
you try to keep your voice even, yet you could not completely keep the acidity away from your
tone. Feeling two gazes on your back, you glance over your shoulder. Karina raises an eyebrow,
and you smile. “Now, Rina.”

“Very well.” The shadows stretch from underneath the bed and gather around hers and Winter’s
feet. “Later then, Chancellor.”

The darkness envelops and swallows the two whole, and their figure disappears from the room.

You let out an exhale.

The beginnings of a headache form in your temple, and fingers pinch the bridge of your nose. The
wails and sobs coming from the pig on the floor drill against your ears, and the incessant pleading
of the sow in front of you only grinds your gears even further. It is far too early for this circus
show.

However, since you are given a show, why not enjoy it? Right?

As if a switch has been flipped inside of you, verdant eyes become stained by something twisted,
and the smile on your lips distorts into something darker.

“Don’t you remember, Priestess? I have contributed generous donations to the temple before!”
“Did you? I seem to have a lapse in my memory.” You tilt your head.

“Yes!” she exclaims with a smile. Perhaps deluding herself you would show her any mercy.
“Please, Your Holiness. I—I am not a bad woman! I may have sinned a few times here and there,
but don’t we all make mistakes? Don’t you think this is going a bit too far? I can give you money!
Of course! As much as you want so—so please—”

“Unfortunately, you won’t find the Priestess anywhere, Madam.”

“What—”

“I shall take care of your husband first.” You hold a finger up against your lips. “Now, hush.”

Snap!

The barrier between you and the sow expands around her at a rapid pace. When the cage closes, her
voice becomes cut off from the world. She bangs her fists against the wall of light, but you ignore
her. Instead, you walk towards the pig whimpering on the ground.

With your mind, you instruct the ringed orb and cube of light to hover beside him. Two dots of
white light appear by them. As you tell them to orbit around him once, those dots stretch to become
a line before connecting into a ring. You flick your finger up, and your artefacts float up, dragging
the pig along with them using an invisible force from the glowing loop.

His bloodshot eyes—hazy from the delirium—look at you with fear.

“Please,” he pants.

Your smile only grows wider.

“Plead to God.” You grab his head, and his shoulders flinch. Darkness seeps from the corner of
your eyes. First, it stains your sclera in pure darkness. Then it continues to ooze into your irises and
pupils until the entirety of it becomes dark voids of nothingness. Thin trails of smoke emit from
your hollow eyes. “For he may be more forgiving than I.”

Wisps of light escape from his eyes and flow into the empty holes on your face. His wails of agony
become muted in your ears as flashes of his life streams inside your head. From the moment where
he was born to the present day, you see it all. The lights in the room flicker back and forth as if
something is sucking all of them away. The ground trembles. Tears of blood run down his cheeks,
while scarlet seeps out from his nose, mouth, and ears. You are not reading his memories. You are
robbing them from him. And when you are done, the only thing left will be the former shell of a
man.

It is a shame he didn’t talk, then perhaps he could have died without pain.

On the surface, people only know you for your lumokinesis—the power to manipulate light.
However, there are many things you can do with photons. As much as you heal and give to people
with your ability, you can also hurt and steal.

You let go of his head, and the glowing ring disappears as well. You have everything you need
from him.

His body thuds against the floor. Despite the breathing of his chest, he does not move, nor does he
wail like before. Drool escapes his mouth as he lifelessly stares at nothing.
You lick your lips.

“Have you ever eaten memories before?” you ask his wife, glancing at her with a smile. “It’s a
taste you won’t ever forget.” Your high heels echo inside the empty room. “I wonder how yours
tastes.”

The cage holding the sow dissipates into the floor.

“Please,” she sobs with waterfalls running down her face. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“I wouldn’t say selling a woman you hate into slavery as ‘nothing wrong’.” You chuckle, and her
eyes widen. “I know everything. My Owls tell me everything.” The artefacts circle around her as
they did with her husband, constructing the glowing white ring and pulling her up to your level.
Your hand grabs onto her head.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers.

Hollow eyes curl into a smile.

“The Priestess is dead, Madam,” you say. “You shall not find salvation here.”

A minute later, her body drops beside her husband with blood pouring out of every single orifice on
her face. Your eyes return to normal, and you shake your right hand to get rid of any filth sticking
to it. The plans for today shall have to change for you shall need time to organise the memories you
just ate, keeping the relevant ones and discarding the rest. You would rather not have the
unpleasant ones running inside your head.

Nevertheless, it has been a while since you have consumed them. You forgot how nice it feels.

You leave the facility—your two artefacts floating behind you in tow—and head towards your
office. However, as you walk through a colonnade—an open pathway with a long sequence of
columns at the sides—a familiar voice calls out to you.

“High Chancellor.”

Turning your gaze to the side, you find a woman hopping over the balustrades. Her short grey hair
is tied into a ponytail, and her navy eyes gaze at you with esteem. She adorns black leathers and
cloths in the fashion a rogue would. A golden owl skull serves to fasten the leather belts wrapping
around her torso, and a gas mask covers the lower half of her face. Embedded within it are lines of
glowing ether.

This colonnade is more than a hundred metres above the ground, but you suppose you should not
be surprised when it comes to your owls.

“Gaeul,” you say.

She walks towards you with silent footsteps.

“My Lady, have you seen the recent news from Elysium?” Reaching down to one of her pockets,
she takes out a handkerchief and presents it. “I have tried to contact you about it earlier, but it
seems you have yet to see it.”

“I was busy with the recent prisoner.” A smile. You take it from her and wipe your hands with it.
“Speak. What news has come from the Union?”
Gaeul leans close and whispers.

“Visage has released a statement that the Saviour of Elysium—Winter of the White Blade has died
from Her Grace Karina’s hands,” she informs. “However, as we know, Her Lady is—” She leaves
the sentence unfinished. After a second, she takes a step back. As your direct subordinates, every
owl knows of Wolf’s identity and Winter’s defection.

You exhale.

The headache returns.

So, they have decided to pin the blame onto Legion.

“Very well,” you say. “I shall be the one to inform both of them of this news.”

“Any instructions, My Lady?”

“None for this matter.” You return the handkerchief to her. “As infuriating as it is to be falsely
accused, there is precious little we can do. Only continue to monitor Visage’s movement.”

“I understand.”

“However, there is a task for the owls concerning the Aquilo Mine.” Bringing up a holographic
screen, you send a list of locations to her. “Search these places. The machinery used to generate the
barrier surrounding the mine should be around there. However, I have no doubt Nitro has hidden
them well. I shall relay more information once I have studied the memories. Now, go.”

Gaeul bows before walking away.

Instead of your office, you head towards Karina’s, guessing you would find her and Winter there.
True enough, your guess proves to be correct when you find the latter sitting atop the former’s
desk. There, you tell the former hero the news of her alleged death, and yet she only gives you a
simple response. A single nod and nothing else.

“Does it not anger you?” you ask her.

She replies with a shrug, saying she had expected this outcome. As it stands, it does not surprise
her. Karina scoffs and rolls her eyes, far too used to being blamed for crimes she did not commit.

Leaving them to their own devices, you turn a blind eye to the hand slithering around Winter’s
waist when you leave. You did not see anything, and you do not know anything about it. Besides,
there are more important things needing your attention.

A sigh escapes.

You have much work ahead of you.

//
 Raid
Chapter Summary

However, among those present, grey eyes only focus on one person. A woman, sitting
atop a small boulder, glances towards the canopy. Her golden eyes glow in the
darkness of night.

“Wolf,” she calls out to you.

Leaping down from the branch, you drop down next to her with a small thud against
the snow. Karina smiles.

“There you are. Don’t stray too far,” she says. “The time nears us.”

You nod.

Chapter Notes

Winter's POV

See the end of the chapter for more notes

//

Cold.

A gloved hand stretches out from the shadows into the moonlight, and grey eyes watch as a single
snowflake drifts down from the heavens, melting against the leather-covered palm. An exhale. A
billow of white mist escapes your lips. You curl your fingers to a close. It’s cold. Being in the
Northern Lands, a place where it never stops snowing, you suppose it is only inevitable. However,
you are fond of the cold. It does not bother you as much as it does others.

Countless trees surround you. Green and white. The forest stretches beyond where the eye can see,
and the frost covers it all. The wind howls through the land every so often, whispering in your ears.
Your eyelids drift shut, and your ears listen. Even in this quiet forest, life is never too far away.
You hear rodents underneath the thick layer of snow, ivory foxes in the distance, and birds in the
treetops. Scarce but present. However, ever so faintly, you also hear voices—ones turned
indecipherable and muffled by the forest.

But then you feel something—something from your chest.

A pull.

Grey eyes open, though obscured underneath the lupine mask—different from the usual black one.
You turn your head towards the direction of the pull. It leads to the voices.
She is calling for you.

Thmph.

Your body disappears from the edge of the small glade, leaving a faint dust of snow in the wind.
You reappear atop a thick tree branch, perching and observing the ground below your feet.

Seven people—two men and five women—gather amongst the bushes and boulders scattered
around the area, checking their equipment and talking with low voices. You were introduced to
them a few days prior. Some of them are familiar from when you were a hero, while the others are
less so. They are clad in variations of white, black, and gold, signalling their affiliation to Legion.

Yet you pick up the presence of a dozen more beings on the premise, soldiers hiding amongst the
snow and foliage. And there are even more outside the range of your perception.

Legionnaires lie in wait, hiding their fangs.

However, among those present, grey eyes only focus on one person. A woman, sitting atop a small
boulder, glances towards the canopy. Her golden eyes glow in the darkness of night.

“Wolf,” she says.

The others turn quiet and glance towards her.

Another pull comes from your chest, leading you towards her. The work of the long black earring
on your left ear. You do not fight it. Leaping down from the branch, you drop down next to her
with a small thud against the snow, and you feel the quiet stare of the others on your back.

Karina smiles.

“There you are.”

A black turtleneck with long sleeves hugs her figure. With a serpent motif embroidered in golden
threads, a suit vest is worn on top. She wears a loose pair of trousers, and her leather boots peek
from underneath. Her outfit is hardly enough for such weather. A black coat does provide her with
protection from the cold, yet she refuses to wear it properly, letting one side of it hang from her
elbows instead. Apparently, Ningning had designed it to keep the wearer warm regardless of what
they’re wearing underneath it.

She ties her hair into a low ponytail, though several black locks remain loose, giving her a slightly
dishevelled look. Nude colour lips and dark eyelashes.

You wonder if she has a need to look like a model every time she commits a crime.

Although, you suppose you are not best dressed for the weather either. Aside from your white
armour, all you adorn is a single coat, and it isn’t enchanted either.

“Don’t stray too far,” she says. “The time nears us.”

You nod.

“Has there been a word from the Chancellor yet?” she asks the others, and you glance at them.

“Not yet,” a man answers. Tall and lean. His wavy hair covers parts of his forehead, and his navy
eyes look to be black in the darkness. A layer of slick plate armour lies underneath his black fur-
lined coat, and a claymore hangs from his back. You know him to be Choi Minho or otherwise
known as the villain Executioner in Elysium. Next to him is another man with brown eyes, Lee
Wonho.

“However, the Owls should be finishing their task soon enough,” a woman says. With long black
hair and bangs, she adorns a monochrome suit with a baggy robe hanging from her shoulders.
Bloody-red eyes and lips. Kim Seola, known as the villain Panther, takes out a pocket watch and
reads the hour and minute. “It has been twenty minutes since they left us.”

A woman beside her leans on her shoulder to take a peek. Cat-like eyes with yellow irises and a slit
pupil. She is Kang Seulgi. You remember her from the hearing at the throne room.

“Won’t be long until we hear from them,” Ahn Yujin remarks. Green eyes and long brown hair.
You remember her from that day as well.

Jang Wonyoung, a girl with pink eyes, crosses her arms.

“Should we have sent more people there?” She frowns with furrowed eyebrows. Unlike the others,
she does not wear any sort of armour on her. Though you suppose neither does Karina.

“Gaeul alone is enough.” Yujin shakes her head. “If anything, sending as many as we did feels too
much.”

“The Chancellor has her reasons for doing so,” Seulgi reminds.

After the interrogation of the Nitro executives, the Owls have discovered the locations of the
barrier rigs—a special operations unit whose existence you came to know of only a few days ago.
Instead of destroying them, Giselle ordered their analysis. Then she asked Ningning to design a
tampering instrument to deactivate the rig. After all, once Legion has taken control over the mine,
the thing used to keep people away from Nitro’s property will be used against them.

The Owls have been tasked to implant the instrument into the rig. However, it can only be
deactivated only for a short moment before it comes back online due to the mine’s internal
backups.

Something known thanks to the interrogation.

Just then, a familiar voice comes through your transceiver—an earbud-type apparatus capable of
sending messages from long distances. It is something different compared to your communications
device. To borrow archaic terms from olden times, the latter is akin to a mobile phone, while the
former is a walkie-talkie—though its function is not limited to sound transmission.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Karina answers with a smile. “We have been so for a while now.”

“Very well. Get to your positions, everyone,” Giselle says. “My Owls have planted the instrument.
I shall take down the barrier once we are all ready.”

“All right.”

The forest darkens and dims; moonlight can no longer reach this place. Black pitch gathers
underneath Karina’s feet, while the surrounding darkness creeps closer and closer. She stands up
from her seat, and the others converge near her.

“As a reminder, once the barrier goes down, you only have a few minutes to get inside the mine,
and you shall be disconnected from me when it returns online. At least, until you take over their
systems,” Giselle instructs. Despite never leaving Pride, she still hears and sees everything through
her Owls and the transceivers you wear. From what was explained to you, she stands inside an
empty room where countless screens are displayed, monitoring and processing the information all
at once.

Aside from being the High Chancellor of Legion, she also holds the title of Grand Strategist.

The shadows engulf everyone, and nothing remains.

A distance away, everyone apparates in the darkness of the trees. Taking a glance beyond the
forest, grey eyes find the towering outer bulwark of the Aquilo mine. Snow and frost cover the dark
material, and ahead of it is the translucent pale blue barrier. No roads lead here. At least, above
ground. A tunnel lies beneath for trains to come and go. Partially carved into the side of the
mountain, there are but few ways to enter the mine, and Giselle has chosen the left side as the entry
point.

“Do you need a refresher on the rest of the plan as well?” she asks.

Minho grabs a golden skull mask and wears it. Seola brushes off the dust on her suit, and the
daggers on her thighs become visible as her coat moves with the movement. Yujin tightens the
gloves she wears, and the others prepare as well. On the other hand, Karina steps towards the edge
of the forest, stopping right before the shadows stop.

“No need,” she says. “We’ll manage.”

“Well then, whenever you are ready Wolf.”

You hum.

Turning your head towards the sky, the grey eyes underneath the lupine mask glow brighter and
brighter until the irises turn a pure white. The already freezing temperature of the Torvus
mountains drops even lower around you., and the others take a few steps away from you. The wind
howls and howls louder in your ears. The trees sway with the gust, and snow falls with increasing
frequency. Thick heavy clouds obscure Loran and Cerise, the two moons.

A blizzard forms.

You look away from the heavens and shake your head, feeling a sting as a portion of your energy
leaves you in a blink. A deep breath. You let the frost mend you. In normal circumstances, such a
feat would almost completely drain you. However, the story is different when you are surrounded
by nothing but ice and snow.

“Excellent work,” Karina praises.

“Nice,” Yujin grins.

You nod. Silver hair hides the slight tint of your ears.

“The barrier is down. May God bless you all.”

Nothing happens at first. However, seconds later, a crack appears at the top of the translucent
barrier, and it rapidly crumbles away into the ground. In an instant, loud sirens are heard from the
mines, and you hear the shouts of soldiers from afar. With the cover of the blizzard, your boots dig
into the snow, and you dash towards the wall. Once close, you disapparate and apparate once more
atop the rampart. The others soon follow suit, scaling it in their own way.

Karina uses the same method as you, albeit she doesn’t need to run near the wall. Simply, her
figure disappears into the shadows once more, though you don’t see where she reaparates—she
must already be further inside. Seulgi runs up the bulwark, while Minho climbs up using his bare
hands. Wonho stops at the base of the rampart and interlocks his fingers. Seola sprints up to him
and steps on his hand. He flings her straight up, and he jumps up after her. Yujin holds
Wonyoung’s waist before shooting her grappling hook, taking both of them up.

You drop down to the icy ground. Grey eyes shift left and right, scanning the surroundings. Just as
Giselle had said, there is little security over here. Only a few patrolling soldiers in the distance, and
they won’t be able to spot you with such low visibility from the blizzard.

The main structure of Aquilo mine stands before you. Rather than a simple excavation site, it is no
different from a fortress—one extending far into the mountain and underground. With its grey and
white exterior, the brutalist architecture leaves a menacing impression on all who witness it. A few
soldiers clad in white and blue stand atop vantage points, while the others march towards the front
side of their defensive wall. It will only be a matter of time before they also come to this place.

You place a hand on the sheath of your twin katanas, and you run to the back part of the structure
—to the place where the man-made building meets the natural ridges of the mountain. Footsteps
soon trail from behind as the others follow. Smaller structures, machine rigs, crates, barrels, et
cetera are used to avoid the eyes of the enemy.

Once there, you notice a locked window two stories up. Without stopping your run, your body
disappears as you apparate on the other side of it. The corridor inside—made of dark plastic panels
—is empty, but you see a few security cameras in the corners of the walls. Grey eyes observe their
movement and range. According to Giselle, while their vision does not reach where you stand, you
will have to sneak past them.

You would open the window to let the others in, but you don’t know how to force open something
without breaking, which will only result in a different alarm sounding. Besides, they have their
ways of getting inside. As if on cue, Seola lands by the window and grabs her lockpicking tools
from the inner pocket of her suit.

However, you continue to run deeper inside without waiting for the others, dodging the vision of
the cameras in the meanwhile. From here on out, everyone will be splitting up.

Giselle’s instructions from the briefing replay inside your mind.

Yujin, Wonyoung, and Seola will be part of the day team. Your task will be to reach the upper
sectors as soon as possible and take over their systems. Bypass the security without triggering any
alarms and don’t get into any fights if you can help it. We must not let them know of our presence
within the premises. At least, for now.

Spotting a metal door, you disapparate and re-apparate inside the room beyond it. Metal shelves
filled with various cleaning and maintenance paraphernalia surround you. A vent hangs from the
ceiling. A hand grips the handle of a katana. You pull it out by a fraction before closing it again.
The metal grating falls apart in small pieces, clattering on the floor.

Then you hear low murmurs and vibrations from somewhere. With each passing second, they turn
higher and higher pitch. Only for it to cease all at once.

It must be the backups turning on to reactivate the barrier.

You need to keep moving.

Jumping up and climbing inside the vent, it is far more spacious than you thought. You crawl
through the space, taking specific turns according to the route the Chancellor has given you. Aside
from the barrier, she also knows the entire layout of the Aquilo mine, the number of soldiers and
heroes stationed, the defence measures implemented, and the location of important facilities.

As for the night team—which are Her Grace, Wolf, Seulgi, Minho, and Wonho—the five of you
shall move separately to dispatch the lieutenants scattered around the mine. In other words,
assassination. Without their commanders leading them, the soldiers would fall into disarray even if
we are found out early. That said, avoid the heroes. Do not fight them. Encounters with them never
stay quiet.

You stop by another metal grating, one leading to an office. A man sits by his desk wearing a blue
officer’s uniform. Bald with a receding hairline. His saliva spurts from his mouth as he berates his
two subordinates, and he throws the fork in his hand at one of them, staining their uniform with
grease and food.

“What do you mean it was because of the sudden storm!” he shouts. “Are you so incompetent to
forget the number of blizzards we regularly get in this god-forsaken mountain! Get back out there
and find the cause! I don’t care if your fingers fall off! No one is allowed inside until the problem
is found, and cut the rations of those who don’t help!”

The soldiers stammer and rush out of the room. The man slams his fist against his desk.

“Fucking twats can’t even do one thing right! I can’t even have dinner in—”

A blade sinks itself into his throat as you jump down from the ceiling. Landing on his large body,
he falls backwards with his chair, and the metal grating clangs on the carpeted floor with a loud yet
muted thud. His eyes turn wide as he gazes into the cold white eyes of the wolf mask. Words try to
escape his mouth, but they all sputter into gurgles, choking on his blood.

You slash the rest of his neck and leap away from his body. Swinging your katana, scarlet paints
the grey walls, and you sheath it away.

“Two left,” you mutter to yourself.

There are a total of fifteen lieutenants. Each of you will dispatch three of them. Wolf and Minho
will need to go down into the mines for some of their targets. Those ones are trickier than the
others, but I believe it won’t be too difficult for you two.

Leaving behind the office, you dash down the corridor and dart past more of the security cameras.
You make your way downwards to the maintenance area. As you apparate through another door,
the clean panelled walls disappear in favour of steel frames and raw concrete walls. Wires and
pipes hang from the ceiling and the sides, and the space becomes much more cramped. The
surveillance here won’t be as strict as it was on the outside.

A stairwell lies before you. Grabbing the railing with your gloved hand, you leap down the centre
opening, bypassing the stairs all at once. You land on a steel floor with a quiet thud.

To no surprise, a substantial number of workers and engineers roam the maintenance sector,
scrambling to keep the backup running for the barrier. Shouts of men and women, the buzzing of
electricity, the hum of machinery, and the distinct scent of ether fill the air along. Your target lies
somewhere in here. Using the rapid activity to your advantage, you manage to slip past them
without much trouble.

It does not take you long to find where the next lieutenant is located. Down three more flights of
stairs and through the winding corridors of Maintenance, there she orders her soldiers from a small
control room. You perch above the steel beams on the ceiling—right above one of the lamps
lighting the hallway outside. Grey eyes observe the group through an open door.

With scars on her face, she gives out her instructions towards her men with efficiency and
accuracy. She looks to be experienced. Perhaps a veteran. Many of them disperse from the room to
carry out her orders. However, four remain with her.

You turn your gaze towards the door before glancing at the five people.

In an instant, your body disappears.

“If it is because of the snow, then is putting this much effort necessary, Ma’am? I fear we are only
stressing the engineers,” a soldier says.

“I understand your concern. However, it is precisely at situations such as these that we not let our
guards—”

Thud.

The door closes behind them. A black gloved hand holds it, and ice grows rapidly to cover the
entire frame, locking the room from the rest of the facility. A wolf mask stares at them with a flat
expression. The lieutenant jumps into action in a split second and takes out her pistol. She orders
her men to kill the intruder, while one of them alerts the other sections through the microphone
attached to the panel at the back.

However, before they could fire a shot, you drop low to the ground and pour energy into your
mythril-plated boots. Right before their eyes, your figure blurs. You unsheathe your katanas and
run between them, slashing at their torsos and necks. When the lieutenant finally catches sight of
you, three of her men drop to the ground. Dead. And she will follow them soon.

As a blade sinks into her chest, all she sees is the wolf mask and its cold opaque white eyes before
her vision fades.

Raising your leg, you kick her body into the soldier running towards the back of the room. It
causes him to stumble into the ground. He knocks his dead superior’s body off himself, and he
pushes himself up. He turns his gaze up to the microphone, but he only finds the silver-haired wolf,
crouching and staring back at him. Black-gloved hands grab the sides of his head.

Crack.

You snap his neck.

As you stand up, you pat your hands off any dust.

“One left,” you mutter.

You glance around the room for an exit other than the door, and you find a vent near the floor.
This shall do. The next target would be deeper inside the mine. According to the map Giselle had
—

A loud siren thunders across the facility. Instead of white, the lights turn into a deep red while
flashing on and off. From outside the room, a sudden commotion starts as heavy footsteps run
through the corridors. If the earlier shouts were controlled and deliberate, they have now degraded
into ones of panic and chaos.

You exhale.

Once the day team has taken over the mine’s systems, they will shut down the barrier and turn on
the evacuation alarms. The Legionnaires on standby shall charge into the premises, and the
civilians who work there shall rush to leave the facility through the underground trains. However,
this also means the night team will need to engage with the Heroes at this point. Capture them if
you can. If you cannot, then either kill them or drive them away.

You must hurry.

Forget the vent. With Legion’s presence now known, stealth becomes redundant and will only
slow you down.

Kicking the door open, you jump up to the steel beams outside once more and run to your
destination. With the rush of civilians evacuating the Maintenance area, traversing through the
corridors won’t be fast enough. Most do not even notice you dashing above their heads as you pass
through—too busy following the bright green signs to the exit trains.

As you reach the mine proper, the walls and floor turn into raw stone. Steel skeleton frames hold
the ceiling up and prevent the dirt from caving into the tunnels. The last lieutenant should be
somewhere in this area, protecting the ether.

Bzzt.

“Wolf, are you there?” Giselle’s voice comes through your transceiver, contacting you through
your individual line.

“Chancellor,” you say as you travel across the underground passages.

“Good. The interference array has been calibrated to accept communications from us while
blocking any coming and going to the Union. I’ll be able to see through everyone’s transceivers
now,” she informs. “Have you taken care of your lieutenants yet?”

“One left,” you say.

“Seeing as you’re in the mines, it would be Alder Howell.” She hums. “Go down to the lowest
level of the mine. You will find him there.”

“Understood.”

“Be careful, Wolf. Of the five heroes employed within Aquilo mine, three of them are stationed
down there. After the lieutenant, you’ll have to engage with two of them. Minho and Seulgi will
take care of the last one.”

Your jaws tighten, and a moment passes.

“Will you be able to do it?”

“I’ve already killed many of them when they betrayed me. Two more won’t change anything,” you
say.
”Very well.”

Venturing deeper and deeper into the tunnels, the signature glow blue glow of ether starts to
overtake any other source of light. Whether it be the stacks of crystallised ether on the ground or
the raw veins within the walls, they all cast an ethereal glow onto every surface, including your
pale skin. Several figures come out from another passage, clad in full heavy armour and helmet;
they point their assault rifles against you, shouting and shooting.

With one hand on the handle of your katana, you dodge the bullets and dash past them.

Their bodies drop to the ground.

Grey eyes shift left and right, scanning each tunnel you pass by. It is then you come across a
passageway leading to a remote cavern. You pause at the entrance and stare. A large double door,
made of thick plasteel, embeds itself into the end of it. Numerous locks and devices prevent any
intruder from passing without the correct keys.

“They seem to be hiding something deep within the mines. Classified and dangerous,” Giselle
explains, seeing the elaborate door through your transceiver. “Even Cha Junpyoung didn’t know
what's kept there.”

You frown. Odd. What is Nitro keeping in there?

“Ignore it for now. We shall have plenty of time to investigate what it is after the mine becomes
ours.”

You hum.

You start your search once more. When you hear the voice of a man giving out orders and the
chorus of soldiers who reply, you dig your heels into the dirt and stop your momentum, snapping
towards a different direction. Your hands hold both of your swords, and frost grows to cover them.

The moment you turn the corner and see the lieutenant, Alder Howell, on the other side of the
tunnel, you slash your blade towards him. A wave of ice immediately overwhelms the tunnel and
engulfs many of the soldiers. Those who escape immediately shoot their ether firearms at you.
Rushing towards them, you twirl and let your swords slip between the gaps in their armour. A
dance of frost and crimson.

As the last of the soldiers draw their breath, you exhale and glance at the lieutenant. White hair and
a stern face. He arms himself with a dagger, perhaps realising firearms will not work on you.

“Come at me, you bitch,” he growls.

A faint frown appears on your eyebrows. Rude.

“It’s wolf not bitch,” you say.

You drop low and sprint towards him. Bringing your blade down on him from the side, he
manages to deflect it. So, he is not like the others then. You slash your blade towards him from the
opposite direction, and he barely manages to fend it off. Grey eyes narrow. This is too slow. Your
body disappears before apparating behind him. The tip of your sword presses against his back and
—

A sudden whirlwind whip past you and drags the man away, causing your silver hair to flutter
behind you.
You click your tongue.

The heroes have found you.

From the gathering of wind, a lean man with a yellow mask gives you a charming toothy grin.
Brown slick-back hair and a skin-tight hero’s suit. You find him to be unfamiliar. Perhaps he is
one of the newer heroes. He wears winged boots as if the Herald of the Gods himself. Grey eyes
observe him. He wears a belt but otherwise carries no weapon on him.

“And who are you, My Lady? I have never seen you before.” He raises an eyebrow before turning
towards the lieutenant. The hero helps him up onto his feet and pats his clothes. “Now then, Sir
Howell. You need to leave this place as soon as possible. Don’t you know the Legion is
attacking?”

“Gale, you mustn’t underestimate that woman.”

“Of course, of course.” He laughs. “I have never been careless before, have I? Now, go!”

“Good luck!” Alder Howell runs past the wave of ice you had created earlier and into the next—

Thunk.

A dagger made of ice sinks into his back, and he drops onto the dirt, creating a small cloud of dust
from where his dead body lands.

“Sir Howell!” The hero, Gale, shouts. His eyes widen before snapping towards you. “How dare
you!”

It seems you have made him angry. You raise an eyebrow. Did he expect you to spare him? For
what reason? Well, regardless, you have dealt with your initial task. It is time to move on to the
primary one.

The removal of heroes.

A tempest gathers at his feet and his forearms. He pushes his palms towards you, and a violent
tornado bursts forth from his hands, making a mess of everything within the vicinity. His winds are
strong enough to carve into the rock and bend the metal frames. The pressure pushes you back, but
you dig the soles of your boots into the ground. Piercing both of your blades down into the dirt, a
wall of ice surges from the floor to block it. He increases the strength of the tornado and cracks
begin to form on the wall.

However, before it could completely shatter, you are already gone. Reappearing behind his back,
you slash at him with a frost-covered blade. He quickly turns around and whips his hand towards
you. The frost leaves your blade and freezes the air in front of him. While his vision is obscured,
you crouch and pierce his abdomen. It manages to cut through his thin armour, but he quickly
leaps behind. A trickle of blood drips down his stomach.

“You’re so fast.” He takes a big breath. “You’re so fast! I thought I was fast.”

Ruddy lips part.

“No one is quicker than me,” you say.

“Hah! She speaks!” He grins. “Hey, how about we have a truce, lady? I know you are with Legion,
but I don’t think I can win in this—”
“You talk too much.” Grey eyes turn white underneath the lupine mask, and the temperature drops
below zero. Frost crawls on every surface, and the ether in the tunnels seems to hum in resonance.
Two small knives made of ice form in your hand. Flinging it towards him, he blocks it using a
wind wall, but they shatter upon contact. Shards of it slip past and cut his armour and skin.

Your boots push against the icy surface. He blinks, and you’re already in front of him. Bending his
back, he dodges your blade. He clenches his fist and throws his punches—ones boosted by the
tempest circling his forearms. You deflect it with your sword.

Behind his back, an icicle forms in the air and stabs his leg. He groans in pain. Your left blade
slices down his shoulder.

“Fuck!” he curses and retreats backwards, hurling another smaller tornado at you.

This time, you slice it with your sword. It splits and strikes the walls to your sides instead.
However, it does manage to cut your cheek.

As you are about to approach him once more, you feel your hair raise. Your muscles tense and you
instinctively leap away from your previous spot. Looking back at it, you find another man. Much
taller and muscular than Gale, he wears a dark green suit with patches of what looks like scales.
His mask covers his whole head and no part of his face is exposed. A red visor and two daggers.
Despite the absence of any facial features, you recognise him.

Green Chameleon. Otherwise known as Jung Hansol.

Your friend.

At least, he used to be one. Fingers grasp tighter onto your katanas, and your jaw tightens. A
different scene flashes before your eyes—one from another night—one filled with ash and blood.
Your veins boil, and a phantom pain comes to your shoulder. You can still taste the iron on your
tongue. Something ugly grows at the bottom of your stomach, and you find your breath turning
rougher and rougher. A part of you wants to run away as far as possible, while another part wants
nothing more than to kill him.

Giselle knows the number of heroes inside Aquilo mine, but she could not find out exactly who
they were. You did not think he would be here. Why is he here?

“I am disappointed, Gale. I thought you would have done more than measly scratch by now.” It is
his voice. The same voice who used to give you advice when you were younger. The same voice
who called out to you as he hunted you down.

“Shut up! She’s really strong!”

Hansol scoffs.

“We shall see about that.”

The temperature inside the room drops even further. You pour your energy into both your boots
and into your mask for you know of his ability. As his body shimmers, he disappears from sight.
He didn’t teleport like you or Karina. He simply became invisible. The moment truesight activates,
you register his whereabouts in an instant. Shaped as a monochrome outline, he stands right in front
of you. His dagger meets with your blade, and a resounding clang echoes down the tunnel.

“What the—”
Back then, you almost died to his hand. Back then, you only had your senses to rely on. It is
different now. You bring down a barrage of strikes onto him with your two katanas. Gone is the
elegant dance from before; only bloodlust guides your sword now. Your hand trembles ever so
slightly, and your heart pounds against your ears. He can keep up. However, as you push him back,
a multitude of cuts appear on his body. The frost creeps inside his wounds and slows him even
further.

Hearing the whirling of wind, you snap your head to the side. You cease your onslaught and
dissipate into snow, reappearing in front of the other hero’s face. You swing your sword, but a rope
wraps around your blade. Glancing behind, you find Hansol on the other end of it. His invisibility
fades.

“By any chance, have we met before?” He grunts as he yanks your katana away from your hand.

Is he starting to recognise you?

Using this opportunity, Gale delivers a strong blow to your chest, and you are sent backwards,
feeling the air in your lungs escape. However, you quickly stabilise your posture and flip in the air
before landing on your feet. You hear a ragged breath. It sounds like a stranger’s but it's yours.
Gritting your teeth, you get up and lunge—

Boom!

The ground and walls shake as a loud explosion rips throughout the entire underground, lasting for
several minutes.

“The civilians are all gone. The train tracks and its tunnel have been destroyed. Nitro and Elysium
won’t have any easy access into the mountain range anymore,” Giselle informs everyone through
the transceivers.

“What the fuck was that!” Gale shouts.

“Don’t know, but I got word that we need to retreat.”

Retreat? Hansol wants to escape from you? The irony. You will not let it happen. An ice spear
forms in your hand, and you throw it at him. He rolls away from it, but you’re already running
towards him. Pouring more and more of your power into your blade, frost covers it once more but
it starts to crack from the strain. Perhaps because these are temporary, you don’t really care.

You adjust the grip and flip your remaining katana before launching it towards him. Short ice
swords conjure in your hand, and you apparate behind him. The onslaught from before continues.
Your arms move quicker and quicker, while your heartbeat rises higher and higher. A voice speaks
in your ear, but you ignore it. You don’t understand what it's saying anyway. Preoccupied with
blocking your increasingly feral attacks, Hansol will not be able to dodge the blade you threw. Gale
tries to help, running in front of it and blocking it with his tempest. A useless effort. It pierces
through the whirlwind and creates a hole in his chest. Icicles grow from the wound and across his
body.

He falls to the ground.

Not a second later, the sword sinks into Hansol’s back and shatters. His entire torso becomes
riddled with ice, and blood seeps through his mask. Without giving him a chance to rest, you kick
his abdomen, and his back collides with the rock wall, creating a small crater. A pained groan
escapes him.
As you walk towards him, another voice talks in your ear. It tells you to stop. They are already
down. Do not kill them because they’re still useful. How? How are they useful? Heroes are nothing
but a group of people parading around as the ‘forces of good’. All they do is backstab others in the
back and kill innocent people who did nothing wrong. People like your sister.

Pain comes to your chest, and you cannot breathe. It feels as if you are still back there. The smoke
and ash burn your lungs once more. All you can hear is Chaewon screaming for help and a
thunderous drum from a distance. Iron bile fills your stomach and a sting comes to the back of your
eyes. Your chest heaves and you grip the sword tighter. Something flows down your face. Is it
blood? Is it tears? You feel like it is both.

You detest heroes.

The man in front of you fumbles with the belt he wears. Whatever he does, it does not matter. He is
a hero. So, you need to kill him.

A pull comes from your chest, and it tells you to return to her. Over and over again. Who is her?
Who are you supposed to return to? There is no one else left for you. Chaewon is gone. Chaewon
is gone. And yet it has the audacity to tell you to come back to her side again. You do not
understand. Who is her? In the end, you ignore it.

For he must pay for his sins. He has to pay. He must pay. He must pay. He must pay. He must pay.
He must—

A bright light assaults your eyes and a high-pitched ringing echoes in your ears. You take a step
back and shake your head. When your vision clears, you find both Hansol and Gale missing from
the floor. In the far distance, you hear footsteps echoing down the mine’s tunnels, fast and rapid.

They are running away.

Pushing against the ground, you dart after them. However, every time you think you would get
close to them, the tunnels would always collapse in front of you, forcing you to take a different
route or claw your way to the other side. They manage to leave the Aquilo mine completely and
flee into the forest surrounding it. You follow them without a second thought.

But then a wall of shadows blocks your path. An arm hugs your waist, and you struggle away from
the hold. A voice whispers in your ear.

“That is enough, Minjeong.”

No! He is still—

“Enough.” She pulls you closer, and the scent of honey and nectar replaces the smoke and ash.
“The others will catch them. You need to calm down.”

But—

“Close your eyes. I promise everything will be okay once you wake up.”

No, it won’t! She’s gone, and they’re living their lives as if nothing has happened! It’s not fair! It’s
not—

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

A hand pats your back and you bury your face into her shoulder. Fingers clutching onto her clothes.
 “You’ll be okay.”

//

Chapter End Notes

I know it's late by a few hours, but I was swamped by uni work this week... Anyway,
it's more than 6k words so it's a pretty long chapter, don't you think? :D
 Absence
Chapter Summary

You draw her in closer and closer until the nectar fills your lungs.

“Can you stay here?” Your voice trembles. “At least for tonight. I just—” You
swallow the rest of the sentence. Not quite ready to say it aloud.

“Okay.” Karina kisses your cheek.

Chapter Notes

Winter's POV

//

As eyelids flutter open, an unfamiliar ceiling greets you. Dark grey and panelled.

A dim yellow light brightens the otherwise dark space. Pushing yourself up on the bed, the quilt on
top of you falls down to your lap, and you find the source to come from a small table lamp sitting
on a nearby nightstand. Your wolf mask rests on top of it as well. Grey eyes observe your
surroundings. Large and lavish. Rather than a simple bedroom, it looks to be a studio apartment
with dark grey walls. You do not recall ever stepping foot in such a place. Swinging your legs
down the side of the king-sized bed, the soles of your feet land on soft carpeting. Comfortable and
warm to the touch.

Grabbing your mask, you banish it so you would be able to quickly summon it later. You look
down at your body, and you find your armour gone, wearing a pair of loose and comfortable
clothes instead.

The ticking of a grandfather clock, the hum of machinery, and the whistling of wind enter your
ears.

Turning your head towards the far-left wall, you stand up and walk towards it. Curtains hang
before you. A hand holds the fabric and pulls it aside, revealing a single large window. Frost
covers the pane, while the darkness and the blowing snow obscure any sort of scenery.

A blizzard howls outside.

The glass reflects your image. It looks like your injuries from the operation before have faded.

When a door slides open on the other side of the room, you glance over your shoulder. A familiar
figure steps inside, and her golden eyes meet with yours. A smile on her lips. She wears the same
outfit as when you last saw her minus the embroidered suit vest and black coat. Instead of boots,
she wears high heels.

“You’re awake,” Karina remarks as she approaches you. “You’ve been asleep for a whole day
now.”

The operation must have ended by now.

“Where are we?” you ask with a hushed voice. Still a tad rough from slumber.

“Inside one of the executives’ bedrooms. Looks like they had lived quite lavishly even this far up
north,” she sneers. Stopping beside you, her arm slithers around your waist. For a split second, the
entirety of your body tenses. However, you force yourself to relax. Perhaps the effects of the
previous fight have not quite faded as of yet. You try to not think about it. “Don’t worry. Every
single surface was either cleaned or replaced before I moved you here. I wouldn’t dare to let you
sleep on the same sheets as those pigs.”

“So, we have yet to return to Pride.”

“Not yet.” She tilts her head. “How are you?”

“I’m” —you turn and stare out the windowpane and into the blizzard— “fine.”

A hum.

You don’t think she believes you.

“Is that so?” she says. Letting you go, she sits down on a sofa near the window. One of the three
within the seating area. Grey eyes follow her movement. Her legs cross, and she leans back against
the cushions. The smile on her face disappears, and her gaze sharpens. “Winter,” she says, and
your hold on the curtain tightens. “We have to talk about what happened.”

Is it just you or does she sound displeased?

“What about?” you ask.

“You know what I am talking about.” No, she is definitely displeased. High heels tap against the
floor. “Come here.”

Letting go of the curtain, you walk over and kneel in front of her. Her gaze pierces through you,
and it’s impossible for you to meet them, preferring to stare at the floor instead.

“Everyone saw your insubordination.”

Your jaws tense.

“I understand why you did it—why you acted the way you did. However, regardless of everything,
it does not change the fact that you disobeyed the High Chancellor’s orders—my orders.” Is she
annoyed? Is she angry? You think she is. “You went into the forest blindly and without any plans
to follow those heroes. What if there was an ambush waiting for you there? What if they had
regathered their soldiers there? What if you got hurt or captured?”

“I wouldn’t have,” you mutter.

“Perhaps normally. However, you weren’t even in the right state of mind,” she argues.

Your fists clench.

“Look at me,” she says. When you don’t give her a response, she lifts her foot, and the tip of her
high heel pushes your chin up. “Kim Minjeong, I told you to look at me.”

Bit by bit, grey eyes lift their gaze up the floor. When they meet with golden ones, your chest
twists, and your heart quickens. Hands grip the fabric of your pants. Unlike the coldness she
displayed when dealing with her unruly subordinates, you find a quiet burning fury instead. She is
angry. She is angry at you. What should you do? You have to do something.

“You were reckless,” she says.

Your lips part.

“I’m sorry.”

“You must be punished. You understand that, yes?”

A nod.

She sighs. As she drops her leg, her hand brushes her hair back. Frustrated.

“Then for the next two weeks, you will be working menial tasks around Pride. Furthermore, you
are forbidden from fighting or taking any missions during that period.”

A pause.

“That’s it?” you ask.

A small smile appears on her lips.

“What? Did you expect me to put my own lover into confinement or something?”

“No, but the court—”

“What about them? I am the ruler of the Legion. I can give whatever punishment I want.” She
scoffs and raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with your sentencing? Or would you like for
me to add more to your penalty?”

“N—No.”

“Baekho will be the one to give all of your tasks and don’t forget to report to him after completing
them,” she says. “Especially since you won’t be able to see me for those two weeks as well.”

You blink.

“What?”

“So, if you need something, then you can just ask Giselle and she’ll—”

Grey eyes tremble and fingers clench.

“Wa—Wait. Why won’t I be able to see you?” You do not understand. Is this part of the
punishment?

“The situation here is still unstable. The management has yet to fully form so I will be taking
charge of it for the time being. Not to mention the security. While there is no immediate danger,
Nitro can still try to take it back at any moment. Moreover, we still have no workers for the mines.
I’m thinking of inviting the natives back into the region, though there’s no guarantee they would
want to work with—”

Karina continues to explain the reason for her absence. However, your mind is far too tangled to
make sense of it any further.

Does she hate the fact you didn’t listen to her? You were reckless and brainless last time. She said
so herself. What if she doesn’t like you as much anymore? Is this why she is leaving you? Is she
going to throw you away? You don’t want to be thrown away. Not again. Would she stay if you
were better? Would she stay if you listened to her? Would she—

“Minjeong.”

Grey eyes snap towards her. There is a frown on her lips. Did you make her mad again? Leaning
down on her seat, she grabs your arm, and you feel yourself tensing all over again. Please don’t be
mad. You promise you will be good. You promise you will listen. So please don’t be—

“Come here.” Pulling you up, she makes you sit on her lap. Her hand holds yours, and she brings it
up to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles.

“You’ll start to bleed if you clench them this tight,” she says.

Jaws tense as the back of your eyes sting.

“Did you think I was abandoning you?” she asks you as her voice turns softer and gentler. Yet the
change in her tone only makes it sting even more. You do not reply. She knows the answer
anyway. “You fool.” Her arms wrap around your waist and pull you into an embrace. “No, I
suppose I’m the one at fault for not making it clear enough for you.” Karina kisses your cheek.
“I’m sorry.”

Your hands hold onto the fabric of her turtleneck. You shake your head. You are the one who’s
sorry.

“Don’t you know how much you mean to me?” she whispers. “I thought I had given you plenty of
affection, but it seems it wasn’t enough. No matter, I only need to give more.” Her lips press
against your jaw. “As much as you want me to.”

And you draw her in closer and closer until the nectar fills your lungs.

“Can—Can you stay here?” Your voice trembles. “At least—At least for tonight. I just—” You
swallow the rest of the sentence. Not quite ready to say it aloud.

“Okay.” She kisses your cheek again.

Hours pass and Karina keeps her promise. Not once does she leave you alone in this unfamiliar
room. She does not ask about your sister nor about your hatred towards heroes, and you don’t tell
her either, unwilling to bare your old wounds. At least, not when they have just been cut anew. Not
now. When you fall asleep, you do so in her arms and warmth. You hope and pray the nightmares
would not find you during your slumber. Perhaps they had found mercy on you earlier, but you are
not sure they would do the same tonight.

Thankfully, they didn’t.

That night, you dreamt of a meadow and girl; of warm embraces and gentle touches.
A bright blue sky greets you the next morning. It seems the blizzard had died down during the
early hours of the morning. Breakfast is served in the room, and you eat it together with her. She
informs you about the status of the heroes who were guarding the mine. Most have been captured,
while the others are dead. None have escaped.

“You’re not allowed to meet with them,” she says as she cuts a piece of sausage. Her golden eyes
glance at you. “Not until you can stay calm around them.”

You want to protest and complain. However, you know it is for the best, lest you slaughter all of
them.

“I understand,” you say instead.

At noon, you don your mask—the black velvet one instead of the lupine one—and armour once
more, beginning your preparations to return to Pride. As you fasten your belt and scabbards, you
take note of the missing katana.

You let out a quiet exhale.

Grey eyes look out the window. Without the snow in the way, you’re able to see the entirety of the
mine’s outer structures. A small portion of the Legionnaires gathers outside of the main structure
where a large open area lies. The rest of the soldiers will stay here. Three of the villains—Yujin,
Wonyoung, and Wonho—are there as well, conversing with each other. Heavy armoured black box
containers sit in the middle of the crowd, and the soldiers guard it. Important cargo lies inside of
them.

A touch lands on the small of your back, and you turn your gaze to the side and up.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Karina says with a teasing smile, and you feel the tips of your ears
turning hot. Memories of last night return to the forefront of your mind, and the blush spreads to
your cheeks. You were far too shameless.

“As if,” you say as you look away. Anything else is better than meeting her eyes right now.

She chuckles.

Once the preparations are all done, you join the others at the open square, standing at your place
beside Ahn Yujin. She greets you with a smile, and you nod back.

Karina steps on a platform in front of the crowd. Different from the night before, she wears a black
dress. She doesn’t give a speech or anything grand as she has already done so the day before when
you were slumbering. Instead, she gives but a few short instructions, and everyone replies in
unison.

Holding her hand towards us, the shadows from the nearby objects deepen and crawl towards the
crowd, encircling them in a ring. Despite the bright cerulean skies above your head, the space
around you darkens. The hiss of a serpent emanates from an unseen place. Golden eyes meet with
grey ones. She winks. Silver hair hides the redness of your ears.

“Farewell.”

One blink.

And the temperature rises in an instant, and you are greeted with a far different few. Gone is the
snowy landscape of the North, and the ivory stones of Pride replace it. Looking around, you find
yourself in an open square paved with pale bricks. It appears this place is high enough on the tower
to have no other buildings surrounding it—the exception being the Ivory Tower itself. It casts a
large shadow over the area, but it remains bright enough because of the reflected sunlight.

In a hundred or so metres towards the edge, the ground changes into a smoother surface and
airborne vehicles sit still as workers load cargo into them. The engines whistle and the people
shout.

Oh, you must be by the aerodrome.

Standing in front of the crowd, a woman appears to have been waiting for everyone's return. She
wears a maroon suit, and two artefacts hover around her. It is the High Chancellor. Some of the
soldiers report back to her, while the others have started to escort the heavily armoured black
containers. You have no doubt they would be going to the underground dungeons, where the
‘cargo’ will be spending the rest of their days.

“It’s nice to be back, isn’t it?”

You glance beside you, and Ahn Yujin smiles. Her long brown hair falls from her shoulders as her
green eyes look at you. With her nearby, you realise how tall she is—probably even taller than
Karina.

You nod.

“What will you be doing now?”

For a second, you pause and think. Perhaps it would be good for you to learn sign language so you
can speak without actually speaking.

In the end, you only point at Giselle.

“Oh, I see. You shall be busy with the High Chancellor,” Yujin says as her gaze follows your
finger. “Then I suppose it cannot be helped. See you later, Wolf.”

She waves as she walks away, and you respond in kind.

“Made new friends?”

Glancing to the side, you watch as Giselle approaches you. You shrug, and she lets out a small
chuckle.

“Come then.” She turns around, and you follow beside her. Ahead of the open square, you walk up
the stairs leading back into the tower. Passing through the threshold, she leads you to a much
quieter corridor, where the people are scarce and the noise is low. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows
and ivory walls. Due to its location, the sunlight does not reach this place either. Her footsteps
stop, and she faces you. Her voice lowers. Quiet enough for only you to hear. “Her Grace has
already informed me of her decision regarding what happened last time.”

Grey eyes glance out the window.

“I see,” you say.

“The Chamberlain already has a task ready for you,” she says. “You can find him in the domestic
affairs sector. His office is at the end of the deepest corridor.” Holding her thin tablet, she types on
it for a second. “I’ll send a map to your communication device.”
“I understand.”

“And before I forget” —she glances towards her glowing cube artefact, and it flies over to you— “I
should give you another sword seeing as you broke the other one.” The air above it distorts,
swirling and compressing into an infinitely small point. Then it snaps as it expands, and a katana
materialises from nothing. As you grab the handle, she gives you a smile, though it does not quite
reach her eyes. “Again, these might be temporary, but please try to not break it again.”

A nod. You should take better care of this one lest you get scolded. Sliding the blade into the
empty sheath on your belt, it clicks into place.

“Good luck with your tasks,” she says. “I have other matters to attend to. And as Her Grace said,
tell me if you need anything. Take care, Wolf.”

You nod.

She walks down further into the corridor. However, she pauses a few seconds later and looks over
her shoulder.

“Oh, and, Wolf?”

You tilt your head in question.

“Welcome back.” Giselle smiles.

A moment passes.

“Thank you.” You wonder why you have never thought of this before. However, it seems you now
have once again found a place to return to. Gloved fingers fidget with the handle of your blade.
Grey eyes watch as she walks away. A small warmth in your chest.

You turn around and walk away.

Going down the tower, you step into an office area—one filled with wooden desks and tall
cabinets. Some of the people walk to and fro around the corridors, carrying stacks of scrolls and
documents. While the others hunch over their computers, typing away on their keyboards with tired
eyes. A few of them notice your presence, whispering and glancing. But otherwise, they leave you
alone.

Following the map Giselle sent, you walk further into the sector. At the end of a corridor, a set of
wooden doors waits for you. A metal plate hangs on the wall next to it, and it reads ‘Office of the
Grand Chamberlain’. You hold your hand up and knock.

Not a second later, a man’s voice tells you to come inside.

You open the door. Stepping past the threshold, it closes behind you. The floors are wood within
the office, and stacks of bookcases filled with scrolls line the white walls. A large window embeds
itself at the very back, and a large desk sits in front of it. An older man with black and white hair
stands up from a chair and greets you. A groomed beard and feline white eyes.

After the short greeting, Baekho gives you the first task. He hands you a small package wrapped in
paper and twine. An address and a name are written on it. He requests it to be delivered to an
Alchemist who lives in the city. Receiving the parcel, you leave his office.

Before you leave the tower, you make a quick detour to your room and change out of your armour.
You won’t be needing it anytime soon. A loose white shirt and a pair of pants will be much more
comfortable for you.

As you set foot into the bustling city of Pride, you realise this is the first time you’ve been down
here. Grey eyes cannot help but look around. A variety of different people walk the streets.
Vendors shout as they try to sell their merchandise, and their customers try to haggle it down. A
child runs past you, and their mother chases down after the rambunctious one.

Unlike the contemporary architecture of Temperance, Pride looks to be on the more antiquated
side. However, you do not mean it in a bad way. The stone houses and bricked pathways give this
place a sense of history. Technology and sorcery still integrate themselves deeply into the city’s
structure but not in an intrusive way. Amongst the old wooden stalls, there are holographic screens
atop to advertise their products. An airborne bus flies overhead, and a street performer moves his
dolls with invisible strings. An older sibling buys a colour-changing lollipop for her little sister.

For a second, you pause. You watch as the little one hugs her sister.

They look happy.

You continue to search for the Alchemist’s house.

Once you’ve delivered the parcel, you return to the Chamberlain and report to him. He thanks you
for the job well done. However, he does not give you another task. Rather, he says you are free to
return to your quarters now. You frown. How is this a punishment if you are only getting one task a
day? Yet he insists there is nothing more for you to do for today.

In the end, you return to your room.

You plop onto the soft mattress and banish the mask on your face. A breath. It feels odd to be here,
in this city, without Karina.

You close your eyes.

Perhaps your workload will be heavier tomorrow.

However, even in the next seven days, Baekho only gives you one task per day. On the second day,
you helped to demolish a failing building. On the third day, you searched for a farmer’s lost cattle.
On the fourth day, you caught a thief stealing from the marketplace. On the fifth day, you poured
some of your power into a canister because Ningning wanted some liquid nitrogen. On the sixth
day, you transported supplies for an orphanage. On the seventh day, which is today, the previous
alchemist asked you to pick herbs for her.

As you lean against balustrades, a long sigh leaves you. The sun drowns into the horizon, and the
warm yellow and orange hues overtake the heavens. You stand on a balcony at the tower’s upper
levels—the same one within Karina's office. Somehow, your feet had led you here.

Grey eyes observe the city down below. While it was nice to explore the city, it feels as if you’re a
character in a video game forced to do mundane side quests every day. Perhaps this is the true
nature of the punishment—to make you feel exhausted even when you didn’t do much of anything
—to make you feel as if you are wasting your time.

A hand reaches up to your ear, and you rub the black earring you wear. However, more than
anything else, her absence feels more like a punishment to you.

Because of her reassurance, you thought you would have been fine even if you didn’t see her for a
whole month. Now, you see it was wishful thinking. You do not understand. Since when have you
started to feel this way? Have you been like this from the start? Or is it a recent development? It
seems you have become far too reliant on her warm touches.

You don’t dare to call for her as she often does to you. Afraid of disturbing her.

You wish for the week to pass by quickly.

High heels click behind you. However, you do not bother to turn to look at them; for only a few
people are allowed to step foot into this space.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Giselle remarks.

“And you?” you ask.

“I have a few scrolls to deliver,” she says. “So she can read them when she comes back.”

You hum.

Footsteps come closer before stopping beside you.

“So, how’s your vacation?”

“Excuse me?”

“Rina gave you a vacation, didn’t she?” She looks at you with a smile. “Your quote ‘punishment’
unquote.”

You blink.

“This was a vacation?” you ask. “But I have barely done a thing.”

“That isn’t quite true, is it? You helped us claim an ether mine. A feat we haven’t been able to do
for a long while. Besides, Rina thought it would be better if you just rested for a while. Get you
away from the battlefield,” she says before sighing. “Truthfully, she even asked me if it was better
if you didn’t fight anymore. She didn’t want you to—well, you know. Though we knew you would
have just found another way to keep fighting.”

“Oh.”

A zephyr passes through the balcony, and silver hair flutters ever so slightly behind you.

“I called out, you know?” she says. “Back in the mines. You were so out of it. I was surprised at
how vicious the calm Wolf can become.”

“My apologies.”

“Hey, you don’t have to talk so stiff with me right now.” A smile on her lips. “I’m off duty. So,
you’re talking to Giselle, not the Chancellor.”

“Um, sorry?”

“I suppose that’s better.” She chuckles. “Though you don’t have to apologise. I understand how”
—she hesitates— “traumatic being betrayed can be.”

A pause.
“You were the Priestess of Castitas.” You remember this fact from the interrogation, but you
haven’t had the chance to ask her about it since.

She takes a breath.

“A long time ago. Yes,” she says. “I left that life behind years ago and I haven’t looked back
since.”

“It’s odd I didn’t recognise you with your fame,” you remark.

“Well, I was wearing a veil every time I made a public appearance. To maintain my pure and holy
image they said,” she scoffs. “Though we did meet. Once.” Verdant eyes gaze out to the horizon.
“You were still so young back then. Though I suppose I was as well. I doubt you remember the
moment when it was but a fleeting one. A small greeting and nothing else.”

You glance down at the city.

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” she says with a small chuckle. Yet it sounds anything but
cheerful.

“We have,” you say.

“Can you tell me more about your sister?”

“Chaewon?”

“Yeah, she means a lot to you, doesn’t she? I would like to know what our Wolf was like when she
was a small baby.”

A small smile appears on your lips.

“All right.”

You spend the next hour with Giselle, reminiscing about both of your pasts. At least, the good parts
of it. You tell her about how Chaewon had always bumped her head against the refrigerator when
she took something out from it; how pretty her black hair was; how the omelettes she made looked
ugly but they tasted better than expected; how she didn’t like the scar on her lip, but you think it
makes her look cool; how she brought you to an amusement park once only to be scared to take the
rides herself.

On the other hand, she tells you of her first encounters with Karina and Ningning. How arrogant
the former had been, and how bright the latter was.

Perhaps it is because of her laid-back attitude. Perhaps it’s because of her gentle smile. However,
for the first time in a while, you feel as if you can talk and laugh freely. You like to think you have
gotten closer to her. You wonder if you can consider her a friend now.

As the night deepens, you say your goodbyes and return to your quarters, preparing for your
slumber.

Lying on your bed with a blanket on top, your mind wanders back to our sister once more. You
hope she’s at peace wherever she is. Your eyelids close. At the very least, she won’t be in pain
anymore.

The world fades around you.

When you open your eyes once more, you find yourself inside a small dark room with little
furniture. A bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and nothing else.

You wait.

Who are you waiting for again? Oh, right, you are waiting for her.

The sun sank a few hours ago, and you haven’t bothered turning on the lights. Rather, with your
small height, you could not have reached the switch anyway. There is the chair over by the desk,
but you’re not allowed to stand on top of it. She said it was too dangerous.

Sitting on the cold floor, you look past a small window, and the two moons reflect onto grey eyes.
You do not remember how long you’ve been staring at them. Maybe an hour? Maybe two? It’s
awfully boring when she’s not around. She said she’s doing this for both of your sakes, but you still
don’t understand. Wouldn’t it be better if she played with you all day? It would have been much
more fun. Though you suppose Loran and Cerise keep you company while she is away. Granted,
they don’t talk. They just silently move across the sky. Even then, Cerise does not move as quickly
as Loran.

You muse to yourself. Cerise looks a lot like a cherry. You wonder if it is tasty. Out of the two
moons, you like it the most.

Click.

Eyes snap towards the door. As it cracks open, a dark silhouette appears in the doorway. Your lips
curl up into a toothy grin. Quickly, you scamper up the floor and dash towards the figure.

“Chaewon!” You crash onto her. Both arms wrap around her, and you squeeze her tight, breathing
in cherries.

Laughter bubbles up from her lips. Her hand ruffles your half-black and half-silver hair. It used to
be all black, but it started growing silver one day. You don’t remember when. Your sister always
has a sad look whenever she sees more of your hair turning silver, but you don’t understand why.
You think it looks pretty. Regardless, you like it when she holds you close like this. It feels warm.

Her hands grab your shoulders, but the grip feels too tight. Nails dig into your flesh, and it hurts.
You hiss. Hands push against her abdomen, yet she refuses to budge. You tell her to stop. Please, it
hurts, Chaewon. Stop it!

No response.

Tears gather at the edges of your grey eyes as you feel only pain, pain, and pain. Please stop.
You’re really sorry. Please stop. You’re in the wrong. You already know. It hurts. Please—

When she gives way, you finally see her face.

Instead of your sister’s face, you only see her decaying corpse staring back at you. In a voice which
could only belong to the dead, she asks.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

Grey eyes snap open, and you shoot up in bed. You breathe in gasps. Heavy and uncontrolled.
Sweat covers your neck, and it feels as if a thousand needles prick at your skin. Bringing your hand
up, you press your mouth against your palm. You grab and throw away the quilt on top of you,
staggering down onto the floor with a loud thud. Your stomach churns. Fingers pale as you clutch
onto the ground, dry-heaving.

A touch comes to your shoulder and it—

In an instant, frost covers every single surface within the room. The temperature drops to below
freezing. No longer beside the bed, you find yourself in a corner between two walls. Who touched
you? When did you apparate over here? It’s then you notice the dagger in your tight grip—one
made out of ice. Hands tremble and knuckles pale. Your shoulders tense. With every laboured
breath you take, it never feels as if there’s enough oxygen. Smoke and ash fill your lungs.

Footsteps come closer. Grey eyes snap towards the figure, and they meet with golden ones. As she
steps closer, your back presses closer against the wall. She stops a metre away and crouches down
to the floor. Your gaze follows her every movement.

Then she offers a hand.

“Minjeong,” she says in a soft whisper. A pull comes to your chest, leading you to her. “Come
here.”

You listen.

Discarding the dagger, you take her hand, and she envelops you in a warm embrace. Something
inside of you crumbles. As she caresses your back, you bury your face into her shoulder and wail.
Tears stain her clothes, and yet you cannot stop yourself. Words of apologies spill from your lips,
and you’re not even sure to who you are saying them. You want to stop, and yet they keep pouring
out like a broken dam. Another wound opens in your chest. As much as you try to fix it, blood fills
your lungs, and you can’t breathe. You know you do not deserve to laugh and be happy. You know
you failed. So, please—

“It’s not your fault, Minjeong,” she kisses your head.

“But I let her die,” you sob. “I could have saved her! She could have been alive. I took that away
from her.”

“Did you kill her? Were you the one who took her life?”

“No, but—”

“Then it’s not your fault.” Her hand cups your cheek, and she wipes the tears away. Her golden
eyes meet with yours. Gentle. “Don’t blame yourself for something you didn’t do, Minjeong. She
wouldn’t have done so either. I don’t know much about Chaewon, but I don’t think she’s the kind
of person who would want her sister to suffer.”

You bite your lip.

“She wouldn’t,” you mutter.

Another kiss on your face—right below your eye. She draws you close and hugs you again,
rubbing circles on your back. You do not know how long you stay there in her embrace, but you
don’t want it to end. With every kiss she places and every word she whispers, it feels as if the
wound inside your chest closes and heals. The scent of honey and nectar fills your lungs. You can
breathe again.

“Don’t blame yourself, okay?”

You sniff. Hands hold onto her clothes, and you nod.

“Good.”

Pulling away from her, you wipe your tears away, and grey eyes look at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you all the way back here,” you say, but then she pinches your
cheek.

“What did I say about blaming yourself?”

“But—”

“My lover was sad. Did you think I would have ignored you? What kind of girlfriend would I be?”
Kari—No, Jimin smiles at you.

You hold her hand.

“Thank you,” you say. Soft.

“Did you miss me?” She tilts her head.

Lips part.

“I did,” you admit. You do not bother hiding it anymore. She chuckles.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed.” Shifting from her position, she scoops you off the ground, and
you hurriedly hold onto her shoulders. “The others can survive without me for a night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” She walks towards your bed. “I haven’t been sitting on my hands for the past week
after all. We’ve made some significant progress to stabilise the mine, and we’ve gotten some
workers too. The natives have agreed to return to the mine.” Gingerly, she places you down on the
mattress. “Legion shall have its steady supply of ether.”

“What about the chamber?” you ask. “The one deep inside the mine?”

“We’ve been trying to open it, and it’s been pretty tough.” She sits on the bed beside you and slips
inside the blanket. “But we’ll have it open soon enough. Don’t worry, I won’t forget to show you
what we find.”

“Okay.”

Her hand nudges your chin up, and she kisses your cheek, and red dyes the tips of your ears. Is it
just you or has she been kissing you a lot more lately? You do not hate it though.

“Can you wait another week for me?” Jimin smiles.

You nod.

“Good girl.” Another kiss, yet this one is dangerously close to your lips. As you feel your heart
quicken, you hold onto her arm, and you peck her jaw back.

Jimin blinks.
Then she lets out a soft laugh a second later.

“Have you started to feel the same as I do?” She tilts her head. A slight blush on her face. “I would
be very thankful if you have.”

“I never said I didn’t,” you mutter.

“No, I suppose you didn’t.”

//
 Please
Chapter Summary

“Is it because of me?” Your head tilts to the left. “Were you happy to hear I was
coming back today?”

She keeps her lips shut, but her ears turn a deeper shade of red. Another bout of
laughter threatens to escape you, but you keep it in. It’s cute how she can’t hide it.

“I miss you too.” You press a kiss on her cheek.

Chapter Notes

Karina's POV

//

Blood drips down from the tip of a knife you hold.

Golden eyes stare down at the woman on the ground. A multitude of serpents—ones made from
shadow and ink—coil around her limbs, her neck, and her head. The dirt underneath her turns a
shade darker. The scent of iron mixes with the stale musty air of the underground mines. Dim
lights hang from the steel frames supporting ragged stone walls, and their acidic yellow glow lights
on your face.

Her wide bloodshot eyes stare at you, and tears gather around their edges. Muffled screams try to
escape from her constricted mouth. Perhaps the poor wench begs for her life. Perhaps she curses
you with all her soul. It does not matter to you.

What does matter is her presence within this chamber at the lowest level of Aquilo mine.

Behind her lies large plasteel doors with numerous locks and security systems. Placed and operated
by your people, numerous machines and computers sit beside them with their cables hooked,
working to break open the seal. Yet some lie broken with smashed screens and cut wires. All
because of this sneaking rat. One who escaped the initial sweep to take care of any remaining
rodents. One you caught as you made your last round of inspections through the mines.

You glance up towards the dark grey metal doors, narrowing your eyes.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” a man speaks behind you. “I had not expected this to happen. I shall
tighten the security around—”

Clang.
The hunting knife falls from your hand and onto the rocky ground. His words stop in an instant. A
snake sinks its fangs into the rat’s neck, and black poison colours her veins. Soon, the rodent stops
her struggle and lies motionless on the floor, still breathing. The serpents around her disappear into
the shadows.

“Minho.”

“At your will,” a different man replies.

“Take the rat. Make her talk. I care not for your methods.”

“Understood.” He steps forward and hoists the rat onto his shoulder.

Turning around, you look at the other person—at Lee Jinki. The man you appointed to manage the
mine in your stead. With a clean suit and combed-back hair, he gives off a mature aura. Yet his
brown eyes refuse to meet with yours.

Walking towards the exit of this chamber, you pause beside him.

“Do better, Overseer.” Your blood-stained hand pats his shoulder, staining the fabric of his suit
jacket. Narrowed golden eyes stare straight into him, and dark lips smile. “If something like this
happens again” —the grip tightens and his jaws clench— “I will not be too happy. Do we have
ourselves clear?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” he says.

“Good.” Letting go of his shoulder, you exit the chamber, and he follows you from behind. “Have
you informed the Chancellor of my return?”

“I have.” He rummages through the inside of his suit and pulls out a handkerchief before handing it
over. You take it and wipe your hands clean of blood. “She says she is expecting your return at any
moment. She has also requested that I inform you of the court’s increasing voice. After the first
shipment of ether arrived at Pride, they have been—and I quote—incessant to speak with Her
Grace.”

You hum and return the piece of cloth.

Leaving the underground tunnels, you step into the main structure of Aquilo Mine. A long corridor
stretches towards your temporary office, and long panes of windows line the wall to your right. As
you walk down it, the Overseer continues to brief you on the preparations ahead of your departure
as they would need to operate without your guidance in the future. He tells you of the state of the
mine workers, the Legionnaires, and the management.

However, in the middle of the corridor, a change occurs in your connection with your lover, and a
pause comes to your step. Golden eyes peer through the glass to the outside scenery. The white
landscape never quite changes, and the snow-covered conifer trees remain constant. Silver hair and
grey eyes pass through your mind.

Very few things can make waves in the still waters of her emotions. The smile on your lips
mellows into a softer one. You wonder. What could she be doing? Is she having fun? Is she eating
her favourite food?

“Your Grace?”

“So, I take it that everything is done?” Tearing your sight away, footsteps continue to walk down
the corridor.

“It is.”

“Then I should get going.” With a wave of your hand, the wooden doors to your temporary office
open. You pass through the threshold and turn towards him. “I have high hopes for you, Overseer.
Be careful with our ether mine, won’t you?”

“Of course.” He bows with a hand on his chest. “Take care, Your Grace.”

Thud.

The door closes.

For the last time, you observe the room. Numerous books and ether scrolls rest atop the shelves of
the many bookcases, yet many lie barren. Fingers touch the smooth polished surface of the
wooden desk at the centre. Stacks of documents used to sit on top, yet nothing remains. You have
taken everything you need and stored the rest. Shadows seep into the lock of the door, and—

Click.

You seal the room. Now, only the Overseer can open it with his key.

It is time to go home.

Black ink creeps forth from the darkness and encroaches the windows, engulfing the entire space
into shadow. When the light returns, the room is empty.

There is a certain chamber within the upper floors of the Ivory Tower. Spacious and open. From
the door, a large bed rests with its headboard against the wall. A folding screen stands ahead of the
wardrobes at the far wall, and a door sits beside it, leading to the bathroom. Large curtains cover
the floor-to-ceiling windows on the left wall, and a wide chaise lounge lies a few steps away. Rugs
cushion underneath it. Dark walls and carpeted floors.

The floor quivers with a low muted vibration. In a blink, your figure appears in the middle of the
chamber. Your bedroom. The air stills.

Moving your legs, you walk behind the folding screen and look into the mirror beside your
wardrobe. Blood splatters across your face, and scarlet stains your clothes. A hand holds the collar
of your top, and you sniff it. Iron mixes with earth and ether. Your hands are clean, but clearly, the
rest of you are not. A frown appears on your face.

Hm, you can’t meet her like this. She won’t like it.

The doors of your wardrobe open, and you peruse your selection of clothes. Should you wear a
dress? Should you wear pants instead? She likes both, but you want to look good. A loose black
shirt catches your eye. It is simple, but you think it will do.

A second later, your communications device hums with an incoming call. You already know who
it is without checking. You accept it.

“So, I heard the court is being annoying?” you say before the other could speak.

“You’re back?” Aeri asks.

“I am.”
“Thank God.” A sigh comes from her. “We have to do a hearing soon. I can’t do my work when
certain people are constantly on my ass demanding to talk to you.”

“Should the Chancellor—not to mention, a holy woman—be using such vulgar words?” Taking the
black shirt along with a pair of slacks, you hang them on the screen. Hands grab the edges of your
top, pulling it off and exposing your skin to the air. A few long scars mar your back, while the
black serpent tattoo slithers up to your shoulder.

“Rina, do not make me swear at you.”

Chuckling, you toss the piece of clothing aside and brush back your long hair.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” you say.

“Fine.” She sighs. “Winter is in her room by the way.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Your intentions are as blatant as the sun on a clear day,” she states in a deadpan voice. However,
her tone changes with her next words. “Yizhuo and I keep her company—she also made friends
with Ahn Yujin—but she still visits your office from time to time.”

You hum.

Perhaps you should give her the key to your room before you leave in the future.

“I have to go now. Talk to you later, Rina. Enjoy your rest.”

“Thanks. Later, Aeri.”

The connection cuts off from your communications device.

Walking towards the bathroom door, you step inside and take a shower. The blood rinses out with
the flowing hot water, and your muscles relax from the heat. Minutes later, you come out smelling
much nicer. With a small wave, your hair dries. You wear the clothes you prepared. The black shirt
is loose enough for your collarbones to peek through the fabric, and you tuck it inside the slacks.

However, as you roll the sleeves up to your elbow, you feel a slow pull in your chest, and it directs
you towards a specific place—a specific person.

You blink.

Bit by bit, a smile blooms on your lips.

Is this what Minjeong feels whenever you call on her? This is the first time this has happened.
Well, if your lover beckons you, then who are you to refuse?

Yet—

Golden eyes glance towards the door of your bedroom. Curiously, the pull does not come from
where you expect it to—not from her room. You try to think of a time when she approaches you
first—without you calling for her and without the intention to murder you—and you come up
empty. It looks as if today shall become a day of firsts.

You saunter over to the door. Sure enough, a shadow blocks the light from the corridor. A hand
reaches out and unlocks it. The sight of your silver-haired lover, biting the nail of her pinkie finger,
greets you. A black velvet mask covers her eyes. However, you don’t need to see her eyes to tell
how she feels.

“You called?”

“Why are you here?” Her hand falls to her side, and her shoulders freeze.

“Well” —your shoulder leans against the frame of your bedroom door— “seeing as you called for
me.” You tilt your head. “Of course, I would come.”

“That—that was a mistake.” Pink dust covers her ears.

“A mistake?” An eyebrow raises.

“Giselle said you were already back, but you didn’t—” She does not finish her sentence, preferring
to turn her head to the side. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

A soft bout of laughter bubbles up from your chest.

“Do it whenever you want.” A hand reaches out to hold hers. “I don’t mind.”

“It was a mistake,” she mumbles.

“All right.”

You tug her inside your room, and she does not resist. As the door closes with a dull thud, the lock
clicks and the chamber plunges into darkness once more. However, a wisp of your power travels to
the lamp beside your bed, turning it on. The dim light dyes the space in a warm hue. An arm
slithers around her waist. Leaning down, black hair cascades down your shoulder. Fingers grasp
onto the black mask and pull it away.

Gold meets with grey.

“Did something good happen to you today?” You smile.

She averts her gaze to the floor.

“Why do you ask?”

“Why else?”

A touch lands on your shoulder.

“It was nothing,” she says. Hm, if she refuses to talk about it, then—

“Is it because of me?” Your head tilts to the left. “Were you happy to hear I was coming back
today?”

She keeps her lips shut, but her ears turn a deeper shade of red. Another bout of laughter threatens
to escape you, but you keep it in. It’s cute how she can’t hide it.

“I miss you too.” You press a kiss on her cheek.

She hums.

Pulling away, you hold her wrist and lead her deeper inside your room. The bed shifts and the
maroon sheets wrinkle as you sit down. You place her black mask atop the nightstand—next to the
holographic clock. With a gentle pull, you make her settle on your lap. Her hands rest on your
shoulder, while yours hold the small of her back.

“So, what have you been doing while I was gone?”

“Nothing much.”

“Really? I heard you made a new friend though.” You lean closer, and your nose nuzzles into the
silver hair behind her ear. As you breathe, her sweet powdery scent fills your lungs.

“I did.” She doesn’t bother to elaborate.

Instead, she tugs on the fabric of your shirt, and you pull away to face her. An eyebrow raises.

“Jimin,” she starts. Her voice turns hushed. “I waited for two weeks.”

“You did.”

Minjeong doesn’t say anything else. Grey eyes place their gaze on the maroon sheets of your bed
and refuse to move. They seem calm, yet a violent current lies underneath when one looks closer.
As the silence drags on, she bites her lip. Even as you wait, she keeps her words to herself, and it
leaves you guessing. She wants something. However, what does she—Oh.

Oh.

Golden eyes narrow, and your smile widens.

“Do you want a reward?”

Her lips part.

Yet no sound comes out. She settles on nodding instead.

“Your punishment just ended” —as you tilt your head, you move closer once more— “and you
already want a reward?”

Minjeong doesn’t answer you, yet the red tint spreads from her ears to her cheeks. Your gaze drifts
down to her ruddy lips then down further and further. An oversized shirt adorns her figure,
unbuttoned and baggy. She wears a white cropped top and a similar coloured pair of pants
underneath. A hand slithers up her back. The soft fabric slides across your palm.

She takes a slow inhale.

“But then again, you did a good job taking the northern mine for me.” You place a feather-light
kiss on her jaw and whisper into her ear. Your voice lowers. “How about this?” Fingers touch the
collar of her shirt, hooking onto it. And ever so slowly, you pull it down and down until it pools
around her waist. “I’ll give you a reward on one condition.”

“What condition?” she asks. Hushed.

“Until I’m satisfied” —lips brush against her earlobe— “be a good girl and do as I say.” You kiss
it. “Can you do it?”

She nods.
“That’s my girl.” You draw away and grab the fallen shirt on her elbows. “Take it off.”

Obediently, she slips it off, and the piece of clothing drops to your bedroom floor. An arm wraps
around her waist, and you change your positions. The maroon sheets rustle as her back lays against
it, and silver hair spills onto the dark fabric. Shoes fall to the floor. Placing yourself in between her
thighs, you take hold of both of her wrists—pale and lithe—and pin them above her head. Darkness
creeps from the edges of your bed and ties them there. One hand props you up, while the other
slides down to cup her jaw. She presses her cheek against your palm.

The bedside lamp paints her skin—her collarbones and shoulders with a warm glow. Rather than
silver, her hair shimmers in gold—in your colour.

“Do you remember the word?” You caress her soft skin.

Another nod.

“Use your words, Minjeong.” The tip of your thumb brushes against her lower lip, and you relish
the sensation. Soft and silky. At this point, the redness spreads and burns across her cheeks.

“Red light,” she says.

“Good girl.

Your thumb moves but a centimetre upward, and the pad of your finger presses against her ruddy
lips, prying them open. Much to your pleasant surprise, she lets you do it.

“Huh,” you say, smiling. “I never noticed how sharp your canines are.”

She doesn’t reply to you.

Of course not.

“You really are like a wolf,” you remark.

Grey eyes look up. You take your hand back, and she watches as you lick your thumb. Lowering
your body, you hold her hip and draw circles there. Your nose drags up her neck, and you press a
kiss against the underside of her jaw—right on top of her pulse. When you place another a few
centimetres below the first one, a shaky breath escapes her and her arm twitches. Yet with the
restraints on her wrists, she can’t move—she can’t cling to you like she always does.

Lips part. Red marks appear on her pale skin as you bite and pepper open-mouthed kisses. She
takes in a sharp inhale. Yet concentrating them on only one part of her body feels hardly fair. You
will have to give her so much more of your affection. So, you move lower and lower. From her
neck to her collarbone to her—she pulls hard on her restraints, and her breath turns heavier. You
caress her waist. Her shoulders tense, and you feel her legs wrap tighter around your body. Golden
eyes curl. Amused.

You continue down.

“Jimin,” she breathes out, and something in her voice only makes you want to do more. Pleasure
fills and swirls inside your chest. “W—Wait.”

She should know by now. You are not going to stop. You refuse. She tries to mute her voice.

“Jimin.” But it escapes anyway.

Another mark appears on her lower abdomen.

Her pants cover her legs, and you take issue with it. Fingers twitch, itching to pull it off. However,
unless she wants it herself, you can hold yourself back. Besides, you can make it work. A hand
slithers to the backside of her thighs, and you push her leg up, thumb pressing hard against the
inner part—enough to create a dull pain. Lips press against the white fabric of her pants, and you—

“Red—Red light!”

In a split second, you stop, and the shadows release her hands. She sits up on the bed, and you go
back up to her—careful to not touch her.

“Are you okay?” you ask, hurried. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I—”

“I’m fine.” She tries to calm her rough breath. Grey eyes open and meet with yours. “You didn’t.”

“But—”

“It’s just—I need a second.” Her hand touches yours and holds it. “What you’re making me feel—
it’s a lot. I’ve—I’ve never done something like this so” —she bites her lip— “you don’t have to do
anything differently.”

“Is it” —slowly, you scoot closer— “in a good way?”

A nod.

Then a slow exhale.

She brings your hand up and presses her lips against your palm.

“Hurt me,” Minjeong whispers against your skin. Grey eyes turn half-lidded, and a slow haze
clouds them. “Mark me. I’m yours, Jimin.”

You hold her jaw and force her chin up.

“Are you seducing me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hah.” A short laugh of disbelief escapes you. Golden eyes narrow, and you smile. If your lover
has given you permission, then you would be a fool to not take it.

Releasing your hold on her, an arm slithers around her waist, and you bend down to her neck once
more. As you press another kiss there, she turns her head to the side, giving you more access. Her
hands hold onto your shoulder and pull you closer. You slide your palm up against the bare skin of
her back. She draws a breath. The fabric of your shirt crumples under her tight grip. Fingers slip
underneath her crop top, and their tips brush against her lingerie, caressing the skin between her
shoulder blades.

Pain is a fascinating thing, isn’t it?

The sensation signals the brain something may be wrong with the body. Perhaps a wound has
marred one’s skin. Perhaps sickness and disease have infiltrated one’s veins. At times, it can be
mild. Other times, it can numb the mind with its overwhelming power. Scorching hot, freezing
cold, or both. Pricking, tingling, stinging, burning, shooting, aching, or electric. Pain comes in
many forms.
A complex experience.

Depending on the person, the same wound can feel different. Depending on the stimuli, pain can
transform into something else. Whether it becomes more or less unpleasant—well, it all depends
on the one inflicting it, doesn’t it?

Nails drag down across her back, pushing and pressing against her pale skin. It isn’t enough to
make her bleed, but it’s enough to leave red angry marks. A sharp hiss leaves her lips, yet
Minjeong only pushes herself closer to you. A tongue on her neck. Shoulders tremble. A hot breath
on your ear.

“Jimin,” she pants.

For your lover, you shall turn pain into pleasure.

You wonder.

What will make your lover tick?

Going up her back, you claw down once more. Forehead rests against hers. Golden eyes watch and
observe the way her eyebrows furrow—the way her jaws clench—the way her face, her nape, her
shoulders, and her chest flush and burn.

Lips curl into a smile.

“That’s cute,” you remark. “You’re all red.”

A small noise escapes her throat as nails drag and create more marks across her back.

“Does it hurt?”

She nods.

“Unfortunately, I like seeing you hurt.” You place a kiss on her cheek—dangerously close to her
lips.

Nails repeat it over and over again until your mark paints every part of her back. A thought comes
to your mind. How wonderful it would be if her ‘collar’ turns into an actual collar instead of an
earring right now. Would she allow you to do it? Would she like it? You would most certainly
enjoy the sight.

“Jimin.” Grey eyes look into golden ones. Want and desire has never been so blatant within them.

Oh, you really would.

As you lay her down on the bed, you try to pull away—wanting to brush your hair back—but the
hand clutching on your arm refuses to let you go too far.

Cute.

“Good girl,” you praise her. “Letting yourself be marked by me.” A hand strokes the long red nail
marks on her back. “Do you want your reward now?”

Another nod.

“What do you say?”

“Please,” she begs.

“Good.” You kiss her cheek. “So, what does my puppy want for a reward?”

Her hands reach up to your shoulder before holding onto your nape. Without a word, she tugs you
closer and closer until her breath mixes with yours. Black hair cascades down your shoulder and
creates a curtain, shutting away the rest of the world. Gold only sees grey. Ears only hear the
roughness of her breath and the beating of your heart. You only feel the touch on your skin, the
warmth from underneath you, and the pressure of her legs around your hips.

“Reward,” she whispers against your lips.

Without wasting another second, you kiss her, and she kisses you back. Despite the situation—
despite every centimetre of your body wanting more—you do it as slowly as you can, relishing the
moment and savouring the way she tastes. A hand cups her jaw, caressing her cheek. Your thumb
pries her lips apart, and a tongue slips past.

It’s sweet.

She’s sweet.

Her fingers grasp the back of your shirt, pulling on it. Breaking the kiss, you pull away and sit on
the bed. You tug your top off. Earlier, the air inside your bedroom felt cold. Now, it feels
scorching. With the piece of clothing gone, the bedside lamp dyes your abs and scars in a warm
light, and the faint layer of sweat forming on your body glistens. The serpent tattoo slithers to your
upper arm. You brush your hair back.

“Better?” Bending down, you smile.

Minjeong nods.

With a lingering peck, your hands slide underneath her crop top, and you pull it off her. Giving her
another kiss—deeper and rougher—hips press down, and she cannot hold her voice back this time.
Lips travel down her body. A finger hooks onto her waistband. Little by little, you drag it down and
take it off. Without the annoying white fabric of her pants obstructing you, red love bites appear on
her bare skin. Her leg hooks over your shoulder, and you kiss her inner thigh. Her fingers tangle
with your black hair.

The rustling of sheets and the rough breathing of your lover. You dedicate the rest of your day to
her. When she calls out to you, begging and wanting, you feel your mind falling deeper and deeper
into insanity. You want to make her feel more—you want her to cling to you more. A voice speaks
inside your mind, telling you to ruin her. You listen.

“Who do you belong to?” Your voice lowers.

“You,” she breathes out. “I’m yours.”

“Say my name.”

“Jimin.”

“Again,” you demand.

“Jimin.”
“Good girl,” you praise.

//
 Extra: Fool
Chapter Summary

“Does it bother you?” you ask, brushing over the marks underneath the shirt she wears.
Earlier, you applied a salve for her, soothing the scratches on her skin. However, they
will continue to sting for as long as they stay. “I can heal it if you want.”

She shakes her head.

“Don’t,” she says. Hushed.

Chapter Notes

Karina's POV

See the end of the chapter for more notes

//

Soft silver hair slips between your fingers.

Your head rests against a fluffy pillow, and your side presses against the warm bedding underneath.
A thick maroon quilt keeps you and your lover cosy from the chilly air of your bedroom. With a
gentle smile, fingers caress silver hair. You hum a song. Quiet and muted. Golden eyes gaze down
at Minjeong—at the peaceful expression on her face and the even breathing of her chest as she
slumbers by your side. Her arm wraps around your waist, keeping herself close to you.

Legs tangled underneath the sheets.

Aside from her undergarments, only a loose black shirt covers her body, one stolen from you—you
had to get another from your closet but you don’t mind. Red marks pepper her skin, and the
oversized piece of clothing does a horrible job of hiding them.

When the song ends, you glance up at the holographic clock by your bedside table. The sun was
still up when you started. However, now, it has long since sunk beyond the horizon. Neither of you
has eaten dinner yet. It would be unacceptable to skip it after everything you did to her. You are not
one to starve your lover. Besides, she seems to be particularly fond of food.

Adjusting your position, you sit up against the headboard, and the movement elicits a small noise
from her, frowning and whining. She scoots closer to your side, seeking your warmth.

You stifle a chuckle.

A hand pats her head, and her frown disappears.

With your communication device, you call a certain chamberlain of yours. A second later, he picks
up.

“Your Grace?”

“Baekho,” you say, keeping your voice hushed. “Send someone to bring dinner up to my room.
Both mine and Winter’s.”

“Shall I bring the Lady’s favourite dessert as well, Your Grace?” he asks.

You can hear the smile in his tone.

“You shall.”

“I understand. I shall bring it up soon.”

“Personally?”

“Of course. I shall be disappointed at myself if the child I send up there disturbs Your Grace's time
with the Lady.” He laughs. “Now, excuse this old man as he heads for the kitchens.”

“Very well. Thank you, Baekho.”

“Anytime, Your Grace.”

As the call disconnects, the sheets rustle beside you. Glancing over, you find her silver eyes
fluttering open and blinking slowly.

“Who were you talking with?” she mumbles to your side. The remnants of her slumber keep her
voice rough.

“You were awake?” A hand brushes the silver locks away from her face.

“Mm.”

“Come here.”

Slow and sluggish. She shifts from her position. Pushing herself up from the bed, silver hair
cascades down her shoulders, and the maroon quilt slides down. A hand slips around her waist. She
sits on your lap and reaches up to rub her eyes. With your palm pressing against the small of her
back, you bring her closer. Minjeong rests her head in the nook of your neck.

Fingers caress her, and a soft exhale leaves her. Lips place a kiss on her head.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, brushing over the marks underneath the shirt she wears. Earlier, you
applied a salve for her, soothing the scratches on her skin. However, they will continue to sting for
as long as they stay. “I can heal it if you want.”

She shakes her head.

“Don’t,” she says. Hushed.

The smile on your lips widens ever so slightly.

“Okay.”
 For the next while, you hold her in your embrace—rubbing circles on her skin—and she nuzzles
closer to your warmth. Silence hangs as no words are exchanged. Simply content to be within each
other’s presence.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Looks like dinner has arrived,” you remark. However, as you move to leave the bed, she clings to
you.

“No,” she whines, burying her face into your shoulder.

Short and adoring laughter escapes you.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” you say.

She makes a sound of disapproval. Arms wrap around your waist, and she presses herself closer to
you. Well, this is new, isn’t it? Minjeong seems to be much more honest when the remnant of her
slumber still clouds her judgement. Admittedly, you find yourself becoming more and more fond
of your lover. You suppose it is only inevitable.

“It shall take no longer than a minute.” Drawing away to face her, you cup her face and place a
tender kiss on her ruddy lips.

“Promise?”

“With all my heart,” you whisper. You wonder if you look like a fool right now.

Perhaps satisfied with your response, she releases you from her hold. Leaving the bed, you kiss her
one more time before walking towards the front door. The Chamberlain waits for you on the other
side with a cart carrying dinner for two and extra dessert for your lover. You take it, and Baekho
bids you farewell.

When you return to her side, Minjeong does not continue to cling to you. From the way grey eyes
avoid yours and red surfaces on her face, you know lucidity has returned to her.

You chuckle.

For the rest of the night, you spend your time with her, eating dinner and conversing about the
events of the past two weeks. In particular, golden eyes enjoy watching the sight of her soft cheeks
being filled with food. It is adorable. Unable to stop yourself, you sneak kisses in between words.
Besides, she does not seem to mind it either.

As midnight arrives, you lay in bed with her in your arms once again, and her sweet powdery scent
fills your lungs.

When golden eyes close, you dream of her and warmth

//

Chapter End Notes

Just a short scene showing Jimin and Minjeong after the deed. I thought you guys
might appreciate this haha. The regular update will still come on Friday this week. So,
look forward to that :D
 Canine
Chapter Summary

“Those pests are starting to get annoying.” Leaning back against the headboard, Jimin
caresses your cheek. “Kill them for me.”

You reach up and hold her hand, nuzzling her palm.

“Okay.”

Chapter Notes

Winter's POV

//

As a hero, you were often held in high regard. Revered and venerated for protecting the masses and
defeating the enemies threatening the Union’s peace.

Yet here you are, kneeling for a villain on the ground again. How many times have you done this?
You lost count a while ago. Does it even matter anymore? This will not be the last, and you see no
point in resisting. If it is her command, you do not mind doing it as many times as she wants.
Besides, she makes it all worth it.

Very much so.

Golden eyes glow in the darkness of her bedroom, and they gaze down at your figure. A shiver
runs down your spine. Knees rest against soft carpeting, and black shadows tie your wrists behind
your back. Instead of her bed, she sits atop a chaise lounge—one made of soft velvet and filled with
cushions—near the floor-to-ceiling windows. A serpent tattoo slithers up her leg, and her fingers
brush against your jaw. Whenever you take in an uneven breath, it feels as though you can taste
honey and nectar on your tongue. Poisonous. Yet you can’t help but seek them—seek her.

Silver hair falls down bare shoulders, and the white shirt you wear drops to your elbows. Grey eyes
turn half-lidded. Despite the cool air inside, a type of sweltering heat builds inside of you. A flush
burns across your whole body. Sweat drips down sensitive skin.

A single high heel brushes against your thigh, where red marks litter it. Half resulted from her lips,
smearing her lipstick. The other half comes from—

Her pointed heel pushes down against your skin, and you swallow a sharp breath. Jaws tense. Your
hands clench tighter from the stinging pain. However, at the same time, a different kind of feeling
surges. A much, much more pleasant one. Something you have become familiar with after
becoming hers.
“Does it hurt?” Jimin smiles.

A nod.

“Good.” Fingers tuck silver hair away behind your ear, and she caresses your cheek. Gentle and
soft. “It should.” She tilts her head, and her long black locks cascade down. “Shall I make your
‘collar’ into a real one?” An eyebrow raises. “It would only be appropriate, wouldn’t it? Especially
when you’re currently—well” —she chuckles— “like this.”

You don’t answer her, preferring to meet her eyes and nuzzle the palm of her hand.

Her smile only widens.

“I’ll take that as an okay.” Her thumb brushes against your cheek. As the artefact disappears from
your left ear, you feel something wrapping around your neck—something you know to be leather.
Your throat constricts as you swallow.

Withdrawing her hand, darkness gathers in her palm. When closes her fingers, it condenses into a
long golden chain with one end attached to the collar.

She tugs on the chain, and the leather pulls against your neck, forcing you to look up at her.

“Such a good girl.” Jimin hums. Pleased.

You let out a shaky breath.

Grey eyes glisten, while golden ones stare and stare and nothing else, curling with delight. When
the pain finally subsides after what feels like an eternity, she stands up from the chaise, and the
shadows restraining your wrists fade away. Stopping in front of you, she picks you up in her arms
and carries you back to the wide chaise lounge chair. You hold onto her shoulders, hugging her
close.

“It’s about time I give your reward” —ever so gently, she places you down with your back against
the velvet— “don’t you think so?”

Hands draw her closer in response.

With a low chuckle, she situates herself in between your legs. Letting herself be pulled down, her
lips press against yours, and your chest swirls and constricts. She slips her hand underneath your
shirt, and you clutch the fabric of her clothes tighter. Too much, too vivid, yet not enough. It does
not matter how many times Jimin touches you like this for they always elicit the same reaction. A
twitch of a shoulder, a gasp of a breath, the tensing of muscles, and small noises you cannot
control.

Closer.

You want to be closer to her.

Fingers tangle themselves into black hair. Hands grip your thighs and push them up.

As the heat burns hotter and hotter—enough to make you think you will melt—the only thing your
lips can utter is her name. Pleading and begging. When another hot breath hits her ears, she
responds with a kiss, and you taste honey and nectar on your tongue. However, it does not last
long. Not when your mind and sanity spiral trying to process the given pleasure. You trap your
finger in between your sharp canines, and she whispers in your ear, telling you to just bite her
shoulder instead. So, you do. Fingernails dig and scratch her back.

A grunt escapes her, and sweat drips down her jaw. Gold meets grey. As far as you are concerned,
only Jimin exists in your world right now.

Much later, when the heat finally subsides into embers, the hot water of her bath soothes your
muscles and the red marks on your skin. Resting her back against the marble, she embraces you.
Her lips press soft kisses on your shoulder and whisper gentle praises into your ear. In turn, red
dusts your cheeks. You snuggle closer into her shoulder, avoiding her gaze.

Steam clouds the air of her bathroom, and her scent surrounds you. The room is quite large. Like
her bedroom, floor-to-ceiling windows lie at the far end of it, displaying the Golden Plains at night
and the starry heavens. With the size of a jacuzzi, the tub is embedded into the dark floor and
glows from the underwater lights.

“How do you feel?” she asks. With one arm around your waist, she touches the marks on your
thighs. They still sting, but you like them there.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just a bit sore.” After all, she tends to be quite rough when—

The red on your cheeks deepens.

You know.

“I would ask if you wanted me to heal it, but we already know the answer to that.” She chuckles.
“Though I’m not complaining.”

“A—Anyway, when are you going to revert this?” You point at the collar around your neck.

“Until the night ends?” Jimin smiles.

“That’s not what you said earlier. You just want to see me wear it,” you state, deadpan.

“Hmm, it does look good on you,” she drawls. Golden eyes wander downwards, while grey ones
narrow. You swear to God, this woman—

Bringing a hand up, the water ripples around you and drips from your forearm. You cover her eyes.

“Pervert,” is all you say.

She laughs.

“We literally just had se—”

“Please stop speaking.” It feels as if your ears are going to melt off.

“As you wish.”

Getting out of the bath, you dry your hair and help her dry hers. Fingers brush through pitch-black
locks as you do. You clothe yourself though only partially. Only your lingerie and a shirt—another
one you stole from her—cover your body. It’s enough. In the end, she does return the artefact’s
appearance from a collar to the usual long black earring on your left ear.

You walk to her bed and rest there underneath the maroon quilt. The first one there. The rustling of
clothes comes from behind the folding screen near the wardrobes, and you place your gaze there.
Hands hold one of the many pillows on the bed and hug it, waiting for your lover to return.
Rather than your own room, you much prefer to sleep here these days.

Stepping out from the folding screen, she wears a cotton tunic with its strings untied and a pair of
comfortable pants. She carries a jar of salve and sits next to you on the bed. An arm wraps around
your waist and draws you closer.

“Come here,” she says.

You discard the pillow and scoot over.

“Hold the shirt,” she tells you as she opens the jar. Your hands gather the loose fabric into a
bundle, exposing your skin to the cool air. She takes the salve and rubs it on the red marks. It feels
nice. “I hear you will finally be getting your blades tomorrow.”

You hum.

“Ning said they are finished.”

“Excited?” With a bit more salve, she applies it to the places she missed on the first pass.

“It will be nice to have swords that won’t break the moment I use more of my power,” you say.

“There will be an opportunity for you to use them soon.” She closes the jar and places it atop a
nearby nightstand. You let go of the shirt. “It’s those Nitro leeches,” she sneers. Her hands hold
your hips, while yours rest on her stomach. “Still foolishly trying to take back the mine. You
would think they would have given up by now but apparently not.”

The tech giant did not stay quiet after Legion seized Aquilo mine from their hands. From what
Giselle said, they were furious. While Elysium has other sources of ether, the price of the
commodity has risen due to a sudden shortage in supply. The public criticises them over their
incompetence, and the media milks the situation for every little penny. So, Nitro has no choice but
to send their hired soldiers to the mine in a feeble attempt to take it back.

Visage lends them a hand. After all, they share a portion of the blame for the failure of their
heroes. However, they are not stupid. They know Legion has covered up the gaps in defence
previously exploited. Trying to take it back is a losing fight, and only low-grade heroes are sent.
Meanwhile, they focus their resources elsewhere.

None of their attacks has succeeded.

“Those pests are starting to get annoying.” Leaning back against the headboard, Jimin caresses
your cheek. “Kill them for me.”

You reach up and hold her hand, nuzzling her palm.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” She kisses your cheek.

As the hour passes midnight, you lie on the bed, and Jimin pulls the maroon quilt over your bodies.
She holds you close with your back against her front. Sleep does not come in an instant. So, you
talk with her in hushed words and soft voices until it does.

When grey eyes blink open, a sliver of sunlight pours through the gap in the curtains, bathing the
section of the bed beside you in a warm ray. A hand stretches out to the light and touches the soft
sheet where your lover laid the night before. Where did Jimin go? With a small frown on your lips,
you scoot closer to the bright spot in the otherwise dark room. Holding the blanket, you pull it
closer to yourself and breathe. When nectar fills your lungs, you close your eyes. Slumber beckons
you once more.

However, the bed shifts, and fingers brush your hair away. You glance up. She sits beside you,
wearing a blouse with a blazer hanging from her shoulders. Pushing yourself up, your arms wrap
around her neck. She nuzzles her nose into silver hair.

“Good morning,” she whispers.

“Mm.”

“Wake up, Minjeong,” she coos.

A muted sound escapes you, protesting.

She chuckles.

“As much as I want to spoil you, we have things to do today.” Lips press a kiss on your head.
“Come on now.”

With her encouragement, you manage to tear yourself away from her comfortable bed and prepare
yourself. Today, you wear a fitting white turtleneck with short sleeves and light cargo pants. You
summon the matte black mask and leave with her.

Ningning told you to visit her lab in the afternoon. Thus, you spend the rest of your morning inside
Jimin’s office. While you are not too familiar with paperwork, you can help with problems
concerning violent beasts and scoundrels, providing tactics and alternate ways to approach the
matter. You also point out the weaknesses of the Legionnaires. After all, a few months ago, you
exploited them as a hero.

Lunch comes. She has baked chicken rice with cheese, while you get a premium steak with red
sauce for some reason. It is delicious, but shouldn’t the literal monarch of Legion eat better than
you? However, Jimin only pats your head and tells you to eat as much as you want.

Well, if she says so.

Glancing at the clock, it is already around the time for you to meet with Ningning. She walks you
halfway there, citing the need to see the Chancellor as well, and pecks your cheek before parting
ways with you, uncaring of any potential bystanders and promising to see you later.

Red dusts your ears.

You ignore the stares from the nearby officials and walk away with quick steps.

Entering Section 07, the ivory stone corridors make way for clean panels, and you stand in front of
Lab 04. The signature warnings still hang beside it, and a new addition joins them. It reads, ‘A
certain SOMEONE has been stealing my markers! Give my stuff back, stinky!!!‘. You let out a
quiet chuckle. Knuckles knock on the metal door, and it beeps a second later, sliding open.

“Wolf!” Ningning grins. A bomber jacket adorns her figure along with tight black pants, while her
blonde hair is tied into a high ponytail. Goggles hang from her neck, and thick gloves cover her
hands. “Come in!”
She walks inside the lab, and you follow her. The door closes behind you.

“Trouble with markers?” you ask her.

“It’s a war, Winter,” she says in mock seriousness. “And I am going to win it.”

“I see.”

“But anyway, I have your twin katanas ready!”

She leads you towards the centre table. Usually, there are holograms of blueprints, but it is empty
today. Instead, a blue cloth sits there with something underneath them.

“I know it took a while to finish, but I promise it will be worth it. The blacksmiths worked hard on
them, and I also made them even more durable after your temporary ones broke in the battle with
the” —her legs pause in front of the table, and she hesitates— “um, well, them.”

A small smile appears on your lips.

“You mean the heroes?”

“Are you fine talking about them?” Ningning turns to face you, but blue eyes dither and wander to
the side. Her hand reaches up to rub her neck. “Aeri—I mean, Giselle said you knew one of them.”

“I did,” you say. “But I’m fine. For now, at least.”

“I hear she forbids you from seeing them in the dungeons.” Her gaze flickers to you.

“She has.” An exhale leaves you. “Said Giselle would be taking care of them.”

“To interrogate them?” She raises an eyebrow. “Well, I will only pray for their poor souls then.
Don’t worry. She won’t break their minds.” A second passes, and she mumbles the next word.
“Hopefully.”

“So, the swords?”

“Oh, yes! Come closer!”

You saunter closer to the circular table, and her hands grab the blue cloth.

“Don’t be surprised.” She grins.

She pulls the cloth off and reveals two twin katanas. The right one has a pure white handle with an
ivory scabbard—one reinforced and decorated with silver ornamentations—and a long tassel hangs
at the end of it. While the left one is the polar opposite with a black grip and an ebony sheath. A
hand stretches out and holds the white sword. Gripping the hilt, you draw the blade. The silvery
metal shimmers under light, and a frost-like pattern runs down its spine. As your fingers touch it,
an unnatural coldness seeps into your skin.

“That one,” she says, “is named Crescent. It is made from a cold iron and mithril alloy. Should be
sturdy enough to withstand your frost.”

Grey eyes glance towards the black katana. Sheathing Crescent away, you pick it up and draw it as
well.

“And this one?”

“Eclipse.”

With an apropos name, the blade is dark with a similar frost pattern on its spine. It, too, is cold to
the touch.

“Made from a cold iron and meteorum alloy,” she explains. “We were planning on making them
with the same material, but we actually got our hands on the dark grey metal because of Aquilo
mine. The northern natives gave it to us as thanks. So, it only seemed appropriate to use it on your
sword. Don’t worry, it's as strong as mithril.”

“Thanks, Ning.” You smile.

“Now, onto the features!” She puts away the piece of fabric and grabs a tablet from the table. “And
we’ll test it on the training ground afterwards!”

“I thought you said you kept it simple.”

“I couldn’t help myself.” She grins. “The first feature is summoning and banishing. I notice how
you like to throw your blades sometimes. So, this should allow you to retrieve it quickly if you
can’t teleport to it for some reason. Since the mithril and meteorum are naturally compatible with
arcane modifications, you don’t have to touch them to call them back, unlike your masks.”

“That will help.”

“Right?” Her index and middle finger tap her forehead. “Sometimes I’m scared of my own
brilliance.”

You chuckle.

“I like to call the next feature ‘fuck off bitch’. Because it does exactly what it says. As long as
you’re attuned to the blades, no one will be able to use them besides you. And if they try, well,
good luck dealing with frostbite and frozen arms,” she sneers. “Anyway, the last feature is
maintenance. It is not as impressive as the other two cause it just keeps the two blades sharp.”

“Still useful, however.”

Holding the twin swords, grey eyes drift down at them. You close them for a second and link your
mind to the arcane blades. Once the connection establishes, you open your eyes and store away the
katanas.

“Now, shall we head to the training grounds?” she asks.

You nod.

Ningning and you leave sector seven and take the elevator down to a lower floor. The ivory stones
return, and the architecture looks older than the other parts of the tower. Rather than officials, there
are far more soldiers here. Winding down a series of corridors, you step into a large open
courtyard. Buildings surround each side of it except for the farthest one, which leaves an open view
of the city below. Few of the Legionnaires glance at you both, training and sparring with each
other, but otherwise leave you alone.

However, one approaches. With long brown hair and green eyes, Yujin walks near you two.

“Yo,” she greets. “What are you guys doing here?”

“I should be the one asking you that.” Ning raises an eyebrow. It appears your two friends know
each other. Perhaps longer than you have known them. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy spying
around and digging dirty secrets in Union territory?

“Me and Wonyoung both.” Yujin sighs. “Seola told me to return after the last operation. Resting
and the like. Besides, I had to deliver something to the Chancellor.”

“Which is?” she asks, removing her goggles.

“An ether scroll. It contains a record of the conversation between a Nitro executive and Visage.”

Behind your mask, your eyebrows furrow.

“What did it say?”

“Don’t know. I only read the first few parts.” Yujin shrugs. “So?”

“We are here to test Wolf’s new swords,” she answers. “Hopefully, they are as strong as I designed
them to be. You can watch if you want.” The arcane architect walks towards an empty spot and
taps the stone ground with her heavy boots. “Should be good enough,” she says to herself.

Her hand goes inside the pocket of her bomber jacket and takes out a small Rubik’s cube.
Although, this one glows in white. It is similar to Giselle’s artefact but not quite the same. She
tosses it into the ground in front of her, and it unfurls. The air distorts and light twists. In a blink, a
solid slab of steel twice her height appears, and the cube returns to her.

She backs a few metres away.

“Try making a clean cut through this, Wolf.” Grabbing her goggles, she wears them and holds her
tablet. “According to my calculations, you should be able to do it. Oh, but you are not allowed to
use your ability. Do it with Crescent first.”

“No abilities?” Yujin asks, moving to stand next to her.

“She can do it. Right, Wolf?”

A nod.

You get into position and summon your ivory blade to your hand. One holds the scabbard, while
the other rests on the hilt.

An exhale.

Tightening your grip, your arm blurs for an instant as you slash the top part of the metal slab. At
first, nothing seems to happen. However, a second later, a thin slanted line forms across the steel,
and the cut chunk slides down before crashing onto the ground. Somehow the stone surface
remains unscathed from the impact. Perhaps it is also enchanted.

“Damn,” Yujin remarks.

“Awesome.” Ningning types on her tablet. “Now with Eclipse.”

You repeat the process with the ebony blade.

“I am so glad you are on our side,” Yujin says. “I would hate to fight you as an enemy.”
You shrug.

Perhaps if you were not betrayed, you would have met her on the battlefield.

“All right, everything is working as it should.” Ningning approaches you. “Does something feel
off? Anything you want me to change?”

You shake your head.

“Great! Though we still need to take more tests, especially with your ability.”

“Would it not be better to test your swords in a spar?” Yujin suggests with a grin. “It will better
simulate how you use it on the battlefield. Besides, I have not fought with anyone since the
operation in the mine, and I’m afraid of getting rusty at this—”

“Apologies for interrupting.” A voice cuts her off. Glancing past your two friends, you find Giselle
approaching in a navy blazer and skirt. Yujin greets her with respect, while Ning calls her real
name and waves. The Chancellor has a smile on her face, but it is not quite right. “I need to borrow
Wolf, Ladies. The rest of the tests can be delayed at a later date along with the spar.”

“Oh, sure, that’s okay.” Ningning nods.

“As you wish, Lady Giselle.”

“Now, come with me, Wolf.” She turns around and beckons you.

Leaving your friends behind, you walk with her inside the tower. Grey eyes stare at her behind the
black mask, and you wait for her to explain. Yet she opts to stay silent. You suspect it is due to the
presence of others within the corridor. As you follow her inside an empty elevator, she presses the
button to one of the upper floors. A sigh leaves her, and her eyebrows furrow. Verdant eyes glance
up at you, and her lips part.

“There is a problem with Rina,” she says.

“What?”

“Recently, we got an ether scroll containing information on the dealings between Nitro and
Visage,” she explains, “and Jimin read it.”

“Is she not supposed to?” you ask.

“No, she is. It’s just—I can’t calm her down,” she says. “I am hoping she will listen to you.”

You frown.

“What does the scroll say?”

“It—It would be best if you read it yourself. Later.” Another sigh.

Ding!

“Come on.” As the elevator opens, you walk out with her and head down an empty corridor. Only
to stop halfway. “This should be close enough, right? She locked the door, and I cannot open it. So,
you must apparate inside her office.”

“All right.”
“Good luck,” she says.

With a nod, your figure disappears from the corridor and reappears inside Jimin’s office. However,
it is far from its usual appearance.

Darkness swallows the room. Unnaturally so. No light can enter nor leave, and shadows seem to
slither and creep closer from the corner of your vision; the edges of the space extend into the
abyss. An ether scroll sits on top of her desk, and the holographic screen connecting the two halves
of the metal serves as the only source of light. The hiss of a serpent echoes. Jimin stands in front of
the wooden table with her back towards you. Unmoving.

However, as you approach her, you notice how her fingers had turned into black claws and how
they tremble as she grips them.

“Jimin?” you call out. Gentle and hushed.

She does not respond. She does not turn around, and she does not smile at you as she always has.
Instead, she does nothing. When you are a step away from her, you hear her controlled yet forced
breath. Your lover may not be the epitome of a calm heart, but nothing seems to ever shake her.
Yet the contents of this scroll have made her like this.

Grey eyes glance at the screen. It displays a particular section of the conversation between two
parties. You do not recognise the name aside from Visage. They talk about supporting the Nitro
executive should they cooperate. Your eyebrows frown. The date in these logs seems to come from
a while back. Were they planning something?

Whatever. It is not important right now. You are far more concerned for your lover.

You turn your gaze back to her, yet a curtain of black hair obscures her face.

“Jimin,” you say once more.

Her head snaps to the side. Black scales creep up her jaw, and her ears turn pointed. The pupils of
her eyes have morphed into slitted ones—closer to those of serpents—and golden irises glow eerily
within the darkness. Despite her expressionless face, you cannot mistake the emotions within them
as anything other than rage and fury. However, as she continues to stare at you, a smile appears on
her lips. It feels as if you are facing the devil herself.

“Minjeong,” Her voice sounds low and grave. “You’re here.”

“I am.”

“Come here.” Her arm slithers around your waist, yet she keeps one hand on the desk. “Did you
know?” She sneers. “That a fucking insect tried to take something away from me again.” Venom
drips from every word she utters. “How dare that tiny insignificant little insect—”

She stops.

Her claws dig into the wood, and it cracks from the pressure.

“How do you think I should kill him?” A haze of insanity clouds eyes. “Should I rip him apart limb
by limb? Oh, but then he would die far too quickly, don’t you think?”

“What did he do?” you ask as you cup her face. Tender.
“The insect tried to kill you.” The smile on her lips fades. Her jaws tighten and her veins become
far more pronounced.

You pause as your mind rushes from her words.

“What?”

“He was the one who tampered with your communications device. So, you couldn’t call for help as
those Visage heroes ambush and betray you. So, you would be isolated from the rest as you ran for
your life.” The objects on the table as well as those around you start to float up from an invisible
force, and the darkness creeps closer. “It’s all there in the fucking scroll.”

During the worst nights of your life, you wondered why you could no longer use it when it was
fine before. Then when you realised it was tracking your location, you destroyed it. You thought it
was Visage. However, the theory does not make sense. After all, communication devices and their
connection to the towers—at least in Elysium—are handled by Nitro.

“Oh.” Now, you understand.

“He already took them from me, and he tried to take you too.” A chunk of her desk rips apart as she
closes her fist. The ground underneath you start to hum, and the hissing of a serpent echoes louder.
“I am going to kill Park Yonghwan. When I get my hands on the insect, I will make sure to kill him
as slowly and as painfully as possible.”

“You know no one can take me away from you.” You caress her cheek. “Not anymore. I’m here.
With you. And you won’t let him either.”

“I won’t.” She pulls you closer and embraces you. Her voice wavers. “I will kill anyone who tries.”

“Jimin, how powerful am I?” you whisper.

“As much as me.”

“Then have faith. I do not want to be separated from you either.” Fingers brush her black hair.

A second passes.

“Truly?” Her voice reduces to a whisper. With her face buried in your shoulder, you cannot see her
expression. However, you can guess. With every passing second, the darkness recedes and sunlight
returns to the interior of the room.

“You have yet lied to me,” you say. “I shall not lie to you either.”

“But sometimes you do,” she mutters. “Sometimes you say you do not miss me when you do or say
you do not like something when it’s really obvious you really—”

“That’s—That’s because I was embarrassed.” Your ears turn warmer. “But I am not lying right
now.”

She pulls away with a frown, and her features have returned to normal. No scales, no claws, no
serpentine pupils. Sorrow paints golden eyes, and the warm light mellows them. It is different
compared to how she looks—how she carries herself on a normal day. A bit gentler. A bit more
docile. However, foolishly, you still think of her as attractive.

“Cross your heart,” she says. “Promise it.”

 “Okay.” Bringing a hand against your chest, you mark an ‘x’ with your index finger. “I promise.”

“Good.” Her arms bring you even closer. “I still have not given up killing the insect though. He
still has to pay for his sins.”

“If you wish.” Your hands rest on her shoulders.

“I wasn’t supposed to show you this side of me.” she rests her forehead against yours.

“You have already seen me at my worst,” you say.

“It has yet stopped me from liking you.”

“And I am no different.” Leaning up, you press a kiss against her lips. “I like being with you.”

“Is that a confession?” She asks in a whisper.

“Perhaps.”

//

End Notes

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