The streets of Leonidus glowed as though the city itself had been forged out of sunlight.
The walls were painted in golden listone, the roofs tiled with yellow glaze that caught the evening rays like the reflection of an eternal dawn.
Lanterns lined the broad avenues, their flas dim in comparison to the soft natural brilliance. Yet for all its wealth and glow, Leonidus did not boast or scream of its grandeur—it whispered.
Control bled through its veins, order humd in the way people walked, and humbleness was carved into its foundations. But, these days, these days, it did not whisper of grandeur or control. That was before. Now, he could see it. Feel it. A lace of corruption. Corruption which he ignited within the fief.
So much so, Even the stray beggars sat quietly against the gilded corners, as if ashad to disrupt the lion’s roar that had birthed this city.
Aiden walked those streets with deliberate calm, the rhythm of his boots clicking against the polished stone.
John trailed slightly behind him, now transford from the ragged boy he had once been.
He wore the clothes Aiden had provided—a loose white shirt and brown trousers that glead faintly, as though oiled by light itself. His hair had been cut, neat at last, and he kept touching the back of his head as if to reassure himself the rough tangle was truly gone.
John lifted his arm discreetly, sniffing his sleeve. The faint trace of the perfu he had purchased with half his savings still lingered, a nervous sweetness. He allowed himself a small smile—satisfied.
But Aiden’s eyes were elsewhere, his golden gaze combing through faces, corners, even shadows as if hunting for one precise silhouette. He wasn’t looking for just anyone.
No, it was her. That one figure woven into the tapestry of fate, a character from the very story he had clawed his way into. She was supposed to arrive in Leonidus this week—a one-week stay, fleeting yet crucial.
If he could get his hands on her, if he could bend her path toward his, then the skill of Absorption would do wonders with her skill.
’i need to catch her, before the MC does...’
The thought gnawed at him, the promise of power so close his skin almost itched with it.
But the problem was delicate: she wasn’t just anyone as She was tied—threaded—into the protagonist’s destiny. Touching her ant touching the spine of the story itself. Dangerous. Risky. But then again, what was the point of climbing if not to tempt the gods?
Aiden straightened, wealth and influence now anchoring his steps. His rank, his na, his resources—finally, he could move bolder. Spread his wings. Stare down those who dared stare at his back.
"...Where’s the Slayer Guild?" Aiden murmured aloud, his tone sharp with distraction. His gaze continued prowling, not even sparing John a glance.
John was staring at a pair of passing won, his lips parted in foolish awe.
"John." Aiden’s voice cracked with irritation, golden eyes narrowing. "Stop gawking and tell where the guild is."
John jolted, embarrassed, scratching the back of his head. "Co on, you said we’d get so huzzzzzz—plus sothing fun. Why’re we hunting guilds instead?"
Aiden ignored the complaint, his pace lengthening. His boots struck sharper now, impatience bleeding into his stride. On the way, he flicked a silver coin toward a fruit stall without breaking rhythm, plucking an apple as though the world belonged to him.
The old shopkeeper stumbled with the unexpected weight in his palm. "Oi, kid!" he shouted after them, intending to scold the white-haired youth for his arrogance.
But then his eyes fell on the coin—real silver, gleaming like a small moon in his wrinkled hand. His anger lted instantly into reverence.
He snatched another apple from his basket. "Take this too!" he called, his voice cracking with eagerness as he tossed the second fruit forward.
Aiden caught it without looking, already several paces ahead, and passed it into John’s hand.
"Patience, my friend," Aiden said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Patience is key."
John scoffed but, as always, Aiden’s words smoothed his edges within seconds. He bit into the apple, crunch echoing, sweet juice running down his throat. "The Slayer Guild should be opposite the Adventurer’s Guild," John muttered through the mouthful. "We start there."
But Aiden’s ears had gone deaf to him. His body stilled mid-step. His eyes locked on a figure at the far edge of the marketplace.
Blonde hair catching fire beneath lanternlight, green eyes bright as gemstones. Recognition stabbed him instantly. A familiar presence.
And his brows furrowed when he saw the n encircling her.
"What the fuck..."
The patience he had just lectured about cracked like thin glass. His stride broke into sothing sharper, quicker, as he cut through the crowd. His chest tightened, an old pulse of anger he hadn’t felt in days crawling up his throat.
At the corner of the market, three n had surrounded her—Amber.
She was out of her abbess robes tonight, dressed instead in a simple pale-yellow gown that hugged her form. Perhaps she had thought herself safer like this, blending into the crowd. But the world was rarely rciful to beauty that glowed too much, too vulnerably.
One of the n leaned in, his breath stinking of cheap wine. "Co on, you look scrumptious. One night, that’s all I’m asking. I’m a guard at the mansion. I can keep you safe."
Amber’s hands trembled at her sides. "...S-sorry, I have a boyfriend." Her voice was soft, uncertain, the words like a fragile shield she clutched to her chest.
Her denial only sharpened their hunger. The way her body moved beneath the dress, the innocent panic flickering in her eyes—it was fuel for wolves. One of them seized her wrist.
"Three silvers. Four. Five. Na your price. Don’t let so boyfriend hoard all of this for himself." His voice turned ugly, heavy with greed.
Amber’s lips parted, instinct pushing her to scream the truth: I’m a nun. But she faltered. She had already let slip the boyfriend part, no nun had or should have a mate, a forbidden law, all followed, except her of course, and to twist her story now felt weak, desperate. Her mind scrambled.
I should’ve said it first. Nun. Holy vows. Off-limits. Why didn’t I...?
The man’s grip bruised her wrist. She tugged, but his fingers locked like iron. The mory of all the tis she had avoided leaving the abbey resurfaced, bitter and sharp. n always looked at her like this. Always prowling. Always reaching.
She had only stepped out tonight with foolish hope. A little makeup. A chance that she might cross paths with soone she truly wanted to see. Just a glance, even fleeting, would have been enough. But all she drew were predators. Filthy predators.
"Co on, one night," the man hissed again, shoving her lightly back against the wall.
Amber’s chest heaved. Panic drowned reason. She opened her mouth, lungs filling to cry out—loud enough to sha them, loud enough to force the crowd’s eyes upon her. Even if the street was noisy, she would scream above it. She would beloud the word nun, let the world know what was being stolen.
But then her erald eyes caught him.
White hair. Golden eyes. The stride of a predator who belonged. The predator she wanted.
"Aiden?" Her voice broke, raw with relief.
She tore harder at the man’s grip, desperation spiking now that rescue glimred so close. "Let go! You bastards!"
Her words only made them angrier. Her denial turned to fuel. One man shoved her shoulder, the other moving to drag her toward the alley.
"Hah...we even offered money. Guess we’ll take you for free, then—"
The words snapped short when a dull pain cracked against his skull. His eyes rolled, the world spinning for an instant. He staggered, clutching his head, blinking down at the half-bitten apple now lying on the cobblestone.
He turned, fury flaring—only to freeze..
The man standing there, golden gaze sharp enough to flay him alive, was no stranger. He knew him, he knew him all to well, White hair glead beneath lanternlight, and his hand still hung loosely as if tossing weapons were second nature.
The thug’s throat went dry. "A-Aiden...?"
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