Steven honestly wasn't all that worried about being exposed.
And besides—Centaurea, that little white horse, was soone he actually trusted. If she knew, then she knew. No big deal.
I an, co on. Even if the entire so-called K.G.C.C found out, what could they do?
Beat him? Yeah, good luck with that.
If they couldn't win in a fight, then what did knowing even matter? It's not like he lived in this dumpster of a city, or even belonged to Kazimierz. Why the hell should he follow their rules?
In this world, might makes right. Always has.
And if they really pushed him to the edge? Well, don't bla him for pulling an E-boss special and black-hole vacuuming the city off the map.
Seriously, that giant skyscraper at the General Chamber of Comrce HQ? He'd hated that eyesore since day one. Why build it so tall? Afraid the streets were getting too much sunlight?
One of these days, he was gonna bring that monstrosity down and replace it with the RWBY series flying Atlas City—show these Kazimierz idiots what real aesthetics looked like.
"So," Steven grinned as he casually leaned a hand against the wall beside her head. "Got any free ti, pretty lady? Big bro wants to take you out for tea."
He struck a perfect kabedon pose, smirking playfully as he cocked a brow at her.
"Consider it my heartfelt thanks for that ticket you gave . Pretty generous, huh?"
Centaurea rolled her eyes so hard they practically rattled in her skull.
But notably—she didn't move away.
Instead, she reached out with a single slender finger and jabbed him square in the chest.
"Generous, my ass. I wish I'd never t you," she muttered. "Can you please rein it in just a little? You're stressing the hell out."
She wasn't lying. If she had a choice, she'd rather have never crossed paths with Steven.
Honestly, back during their first eting, she would've preferred to be blown off her feet and yeeted to the ergency room instead of being stuck underground with him.
At least if she'd gotten injured, she might've ended up in a hospital bed. That sounded way more relaxing than the nerve-wracking hell she was living now.
"Aww, so you're saying you wanna break up with ?" Steven pouted dramatically, the corners of his lips drooping.
Of course, the fact that his arm was still resting on the wall beside her told a very different story.
"Let ask you sothing," Centaurea growled. "When you were up there yelling at the audience, did it cross your mind that I was part of that audience? You verbally curb-stomped everyone—including !"
She ground the heel of her boot into the top of his shoe.
The more he played dumb, the more pissed she got.
What the hell was that? He wasn't just picking fights—he was dragging her into them too!
Steven scratched his head sheepishly.
"Well, I an… your current employer is that dumbass organization, right? Plus, you said it yourself that I'm just a 'random spectator.' So technically, I wasn't insulting you."
His expression was all innocent country boy, but every word out of his mouth made her blood pressure spike.
And the worst part? She couldn't even argue with him.
Because technically… she had said that.
Also—she did agree that the Armorless Union was full of idiots.
Honestly, if they weren't, then who was? She'd cursed her higher-ups a thousand tis over in her heart already. Might as well make it a thousand and one.
"I'm done arguing with you," she huffed. "Thanks to the ss you made, I'll be busy for the next few days cleaning it up. If—if—I find so ti, I'll get in touch."
She turned to walk off, but paused, glancing over her shoulder with a warning glare.
"In the anti, try not to cause any more trouble."
Then, after a beat—
"…No, scratch that. Just don't drag into it when you do."
Having more or less accepted the reality that Steven was a walking disaster magnet, Centaurea no longer held any illusions about him ever behaving himself.
If the trouble he stirred up didn't drag her down with it, she might even light so incense in gratitude.
"You say that like all I ever do is cause trouble when I'm bored."
Steven gave her a sheepish grin, his eyes darting away guiltily. "Which… okay, fair. But still, no need to say it out loud, right? So things are better left unspoken—for everyone's sake."
Even he couldn't deny it. Causing chaos was kind of his thing.
Give him so slack, please, he was all by himself for thousands of years in Minecraft.
He had gone from sane to insane, then back to sane again.
"Well, anyway," he waved off the topic with a casual flick of the wrist. "Thanks for today, Miss Lil' Platinum. I'll catch you later when you've got so free ti, yeah~?"
He didn't even bother leaving her an address or contact info. Not that it mattered—she was part of the Armorless Union. Tracking him down wouldn't be hard at all.
If anything, what annoyed Centaurea more than his carefree attitude was sothing else entirely.
"Don't call Lil' Platinum."
Her voice was sharp, her expression twisted into a grimace. "You can just call by na—hell, shout my na if you want—but not that. I hate it."
That nickna was giving her PTSD.
Every ti the higher-ups at the Armorless Union shoved a new job onto her plate, they'd sweeten the command with that saccharine title: Lil' Platinum. As if slapping a cutesy na on hard labor made it any less miserable.
No way in hell she'd co to like it.
"Alright, alright," Steven chuckled, raising a hand in mock surrender.
"Next ti, then—see you soon, my dearest Miss Centaurea~"
His voice dripped with lodramatic flair, but he respected her wishes, waving farewell before casually striding off in the direction of the inn.
Once he was finally out of sight, Centaurea turned to head back toward the arena to continue her patrol—only to freeze mid-step.
From the shadows nearby, a man stepped out. Roy, one of the Lazurite ranked assassins, and technically her superior in the Armorless Union.
"Well, well," Roy said with a teasing grin, his gaze following the direction Steven had gone. "Who was that handso fella just now, huh? Rare to see our lil' platinum getting so close with soone. A boyfriend, maybe?"
The tone was playful, but Centaurea instantly tensed up.
Unlike with Steven, she couldn't afford to joke around with this guy.
She shot Roy a cool, unreadable look. Her voice was flat, almost bored.
"He's a friend. Asked for a VIP ticket to get in early—that's all. If you've got doubts, feel free to go verify it yourself."
She wasn't interested in offering extra explanations. The more you explained, the more suspicious it sounded.
What she said was the truth, after all. Nothing for him to dig up.
And as for Steven's real identity and connect it to her?
Please. No one in their right mind would believe that that over-the-top maniac from earlier had anything to do with a straight-laced Armorless Union platinum like her.
She considered herself a good soldier—dutiful, loyal, hardworking—Okay, mostly hardworking. She slacked off occasionally, sure—but never shirked her missions or spoke out of turn.
If anyone managed to connect her with that masked lunatic from earlier, it'd be a miracle. Or they'd just have way too much imagination.
"Now, now," Roy raised both hands innocently. "I'd never suspect my own colleague. Making new friends is great! And giving soone a VIP ticket using your position? That's small potatoes—really nothing at all."
Once he confird that Centaurea's explanation matched the report his subordinates had brought him, Roy finally smiled.
Just like he'd said—there was nothing suspicious about her making a new friend.
As for using her position to sneak soone in with a VIP ticket? Barely worth ntioning.
In fact, a small smudge like that on her otherwise clean record only made her more trustworthy in his eyes.
And that guy who just left? Sure, he was a little handso, but other than that, he looked perfectly normal.
No matter how wild his imagination got, Roy couldn't bring himself to believe that that guy could possibly be the sa arrogant, near-invincible knight who had just caused such a stir earlier.
"So then," Centaurea interrupted coolly, steering the conversation away from Steven as subtly as she could, "you didn't co all this way just to check on your subordinate's social life, right? Why not just tell what you really want?"
Anything involving Steven always ant trouble.
The less she said about him, the better.
"Ah, that's what I like about you," Roy laughed, still wearing that relaxed grin. "Always so aware, so responsible. You keep this up, and maybe soday you'll be the one taking over my seat when I retire. Get those pretty white locks of yours dyed blue and all."
He chuckled, half-joking as he gestured toward her platinum-white hair.
"Pass," Centaurea deadpanned. Her sharp eyes dulled into flat, dead-fish ones.
"Since when does the Armorless Union have a retirent plan? You're hilarious. Now please—just get to the point."
Truthfully, she'd guessed what he wanted the mont he showed up. She just didn't like it.
"Fine, fine," Roy sighed, his smile never fading. "I'll get to the point, then."
He folded his arms and glanced toward the direction Steven had disappeared to.
"That guy from earlier—you know the one. It's not just the General Chamber of Comrce who wants a lead on him. Our own boss is interested as well."
"Apparently," he continued, with the air of soone who knew full well how flimsy his justification was, "he seems to have so... unusual interest in the Whislash Knight from the Nearl family. So, we figured—why not ask a fellow young lady like yourself to get close and gather so information?"
Roy said it with a smile, but they both knew what it really was: a command dressed up as a suggestion.
He was Lazurite. She was Platinum. Rank alone made the nature of the exchange clear.
Orders were orders.
"Seriously?" Centaurea raised a brow, not even bothering to hide her disbelief. But after a second, she gave a resigned sigh and nodded. "Fine. Got it."
She knew how much of a pain this job would be.
Not only did it risk pissing off Steven—which was already a ticking ti bomb—but it also ant stepping on the toes of the Nearl family, who backed the Whislash Knight.
Taking soone out during the Major was one thing. If it ended in a lost qualification or injury, that could still be chalked up to the competition participant. And without hard evidence, the Nearl family wouldn't make a fuss.
But conducting an obvious investigation outside the tournant? That was another story entirely. That wasn't just bold—it was borderline suicidal.
Yes, the Nearl family had fallen into decline after the old warhorse passed away. Their second son was practically a corporate drone now.
But even a dying tiger still had claws and fangs.
And no one was foolish enough to pretend those weren't real.
< >
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind spending $5 monthly to see till the latest chapter, please go to my Patreon1
Latest Chapter in Patreon: Chapter 274: Let's Retire1
Link to the latest chapter: spatreon/posts/130087803?collection=557131
spatreon/collection/55713?view=expanded1
spatreon/collection/55713?view=expanded
spatreon/posts/130087803?collection=55713
spatreon/posts/130087803?collection=55713
spatreon/collection/55713?view=expanded
User Comments
0 comments from readers