He was looking at the world from a slightly taller height. The colors felt flatter. The air colder.
He was inside Bone Fist.
The sensation was strange. There was no heartbeat in his chest. No breath filling his lungs. And yet, he could feel strength. Raw, compact power coiled in every limb. The undead body was sturdy, dense, almost immovable. It didn’t ache. It didn’t tire.
It felt wrong.
Without hesitation, Aiden bent Bone Fist’s knees and leapt.
The jump was clean and silent. He caught the edge of the second-floor window fra with ease, fingers biting into the wood. No strain. No shaking. Just controlled strength.
Carefully, he shifted to the side and peered through a small opening in the curtains.
Inside, Vayne was already tangled with the woman on the bed.
He focused his gaze elsewhere, scanning the room instead of staring directly. Candles burned steadily. Silk curtains swayed slightly. Nothing looked out of place.
Then he noticed it.
A scent.
Even through Bone Fist’s dulled senses, he could detect it, a sweet, heavy aroma drifting from inside the room. It wasn’t just perfu. It lingered too thickly in the air, almost syrupy.
Aiden narrowed his eyes.
"That’s not normal."
He scanned for hidden markings, anything suspicious, but saw nothing obvious. The woman’s movents were smooth, deliberate. Vayne, on the other hand, seed... frantic.
Unfocused.
His expression lacked clarity, like a man drunk on more than wine.
The seconds ticked away.
Aiden felt the strain building in his mind. The skill only lasted a minute. He couldn’t risk overextending it.
With a quiet curse under his breath, he withdrew.
His consciousness snapped back into his real body inside the brothel. The warmth returned. The noise ca rushing back. For a mont, he steadied himself against the wall, pretending to adjust his sleeve.
He had to wait now.
It didn’t take long.
Aiden kept his eyes casually on the staircase. A few minutes later, Vayne descended.
The difference was obvious.
His steps were slower than before. His shoulders slightly slumped. The sharp authority he carried earlier was dulled. His face looked pale, almost hollow, as if sothing had been taken from him.
Aiden nearly laughed.
"He looks like his soul got drained."
Vayne didn’t linger. He walked past the attendants without his earlier impatience and headed toward the exit like a man who had just run a marathon in armor.
The mont he stepped outside.
Aiden activated the skill again.
Possession Command.
His vision shifted back to the alley.
Bone Fist was still there.
From the shadows outside the second floor, Aiden guided Bone Fist back to the window.
The curtains were still slightly parted.
Inside, the woman had already risen from the bed. She moved with calm precision, nothing like soone who had just entertained a powerful man. She adjusted her dress, tied the sash around her waist, and began putting her jewelry back on one piece at a ti.
There was no exhaustion in her movents.
Aiden narrowed his eyes.
Then—
A soft knock.
The door opened without waiting for permission.
An older woman stepped inside. She wore a deep red gown trimd with gold thread, her hair neatly pinned, her face painted in a refined, mature beauty. The air around her carried authority.
The brothel owner.
She closed the door behind her and looked at the younger woman with a sharp gaze.
The madam asked quietly. "What’s the progress?"
The woman gave a small, respectful bow.
"Just a little more, Madam," she replied. "Sir Vayne is already hooked. Another dose or two, and he will surely beco our puppet."
Her voice was gentle, but there was no affection in it.
The madam’s lips curved slightly, though her eyes remained cold.
"It better be," she said. "This flower is not cheap."
From her sleeve, she took out a small wrapped cloth and unfolded it carefully.
Inside was a dried flower.
Its petals were thin and pale violet, almost translucent, with faint silver veins running through them. Even from outside the window, Aiden could almost imagine the scent it would release once burned.
That was it.
That was the source of the strange aroma he had slled earlier.
The woman accepted the dried flower with both hands, treating it like sothing precious.
"Tonight he will co back," she said softly. "After that, it should be the last ti we need to use this."
The madam nodded.
"Good. Once he is fully dependent, we won’t need the flower anymore. By then, he won’t even realize he’s obeying."
Aiden felt a quiet understanding settle in his mind.
So that was their ga.
Slow poisoning? Mind manipulation? Addiction?
Whatever it was, it worked gradually. Subtle. Clean. No obvious marks.
They weren’t just running a brothel.
They were building leashes.
Aiden didn’t stay any longer.
He had heard enough.
Bone Fist’s vision went dark.
Aiden’s consciousness snapped back into his own body inside the brothel’s lower hall. The warmth returned again. The distant laughter. The clinking of cups.
He straightened slowly, adjusting his sleeves as if nothing had happened.
He didn’t care what the two won were planning.
Didn’t care about their sche.
Because none of it would matter.
Tonight, Vayne would die.
----
Night settled over the city like a heavy cloak.
Aiden had been waiting since dusk.
From a rooftop across the street, he watched the entrance of the brothel without moving, without shifting, as if he were part of the tiles themselves. The lanterns below glowed red and gold, and laughter drifted into the quiet street in waves.
Right on ti, Vayne arrived again.
The carriage stopped in front of the brothel, and two guards stepped down first, scanning the surroundings out of habit. Vayne followed shortly after, adjusting his coat as if he were arriving for official business instead of another night of indulgence.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t interfere.
He waited.
Patience was a weapon too.
Hours passed. The city gradually quieted. Shops closed. Footsteps faded. Even the drunkards disappeared into alleys and rented rooms. By the ti Vayne finally erged again, the street was nearly empty.
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