The wind rustled gently through the hedges lining the hilltop path, carrying with it the scent of lavender and warm bread drifting from the red-roofed cottage above.
Hidden beneath a tangle of underbrush, four cloaked figures crouched in silence—the same strangers who had been asking around for the Saintess of the South.
The woman with silver-threaded hair adjusted a small spyglass to her eye, her brows drawing together in a faint frown.
“That’s the blondie from earlier, isn’t it?” she murmured. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“Maybe he’s trying to warn her,” said the lean man beside her, fingers resting casually on the hilt of a curved blade. “Or protect her. Either way, he definitely knows the saintess.”
“Protect her with that axe?” muttered the youngest, slumped behind a low shrub, noisily chewing on a dried fig. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Maybe he’s hiding a suit of armor behind that door,” added the masked one dryly, eyes locked on the cottage like a hawk stalking prey.
“Yeah, and maybe I’ve got a holy sword under my pants,” the fig-chewer muttered, rolling his eyes.
The lean man chuckled.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXLAW8x1fHn
“Remember that carriage we passed back at the inn? That belongs to the royal fleet.”
The silver-haired woman lowered the spyglass, her expression sharpening.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe7wv6zDNJn
“Wait—you’re saying that man is royalty?”
“Look at him,” the lean man said quietly. “Blonde hair, golden eyes, and that crest on the carriage. I think he’s Lucien Aurelius Virelion.”
The fig-chewer stopped chewing.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4RyqxtHj8m
The masked one stiffened.
And the silver-haired woman’s voice dropped to a cold, incredulous whisper:18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYJdfSNccxr
“The second prince of the empire… playing bodyguard for a village girl?” She scoffed. “You’re joking.”
No one replied.
Because deep down, they all knew what it meant—if a prince was involved, then something far bigger must be in play.
This was not what they’d expected.
“So,” the fig-chewer finally muttered, lowering his voice, “what now? We bail? Or do you really want to poke a beehive that has a prince inside?”
The masked one shifted slightly. “We took a job, and we’ll finish it. Silver Fang doesn’t quit halfway.”
The lean man remained silent, fingers tapping once against the hilt of his blade. Calculating. Measuring risk.
“Grey is right,” he said at last. “We have a reputation to maintain.”
The silver-haired woman’s eyes narrowed. “Even if it could cost our lives?”
“Don’t worry, Leila. It won’t come to that,” the lean man—Kael—replied calmly. “Prince Lucien is well known for his benevolence. He won’t have us killed without reason.”
He glanced toward the cottage, mind working through layers of calculation.
“Anyway,” he said at last, “we stick to the plan. No direct contact—not until we confirm the girl’s capabilities. And her relationship with the prince.”
The masked man—Grey—still crouched low, gave a slight nod. “I’ll scout the perimeter tonight. If they’re hiding anything—I’ll know.”
Leila exhaled through her nose. “You always say that. Last time, you triggered a binding circle in the dungeon and had us all coughing blood for two days.”
Grey’s voice was dry. “And now I know what a dungeon trap smells like. Progress.”
Meanwhile, Rook—the youngest and most irreverent among them—tossed the stem of his fig aside. “Alright, alright. I get it. So we’re still doing this with the prince present, right?”
Kael didn’t blink. “Yes.”
Rook sighed. “Then we better be getting paid triple for this.”
“We will,” Leila replied curtly. “Assuming we live.”
“Cheery as ever, Leila,” Rook muttered.
Kael pulled a small parchment from a pouch inside his coat—rolled tight and sealed with dark blue wax. He cracked it open, eyes scanning the encoded script.
“The client wants confirmation of her power. Nothing more. For now—observation only.”
“‘For now,’” Grey echoed under his breath.
Kael continued, “Rook, I want you shadowing her if she goes into town again. Don’t engage. Just watch. Note her movements, who she speaks to, how the townsfolk respond.”
Rook groaned. “More walking?”
Leila shot him a look. “You’re the lightest and fastest.”
“Also the most underpaid,” Rook muttered.
Kael ignored them. “Leila, keep watching the cottage. Focus on the prince. We can’t exactly leave him alone now that we’ve been spotted.”
“You got it, boss,” she said flatly.
Kael’s lips thinned into a grim smile. “Atta girl.”
“And what about you?” Grey asked.
“I’ll write to the client,” Kael said simply. “Now that a prince is involved, we need to renegotiate the payment. And that’s before we factor in the political fallout.”
His gaze drifted back to the red-roofed cottage—specifically to the blonde man still stationed by the door, axe in hand, watching the horizon like a guardian.
The sight made Kael’s brow twitch—not with fear, but curiosity.
A prince, playing the role of a guard?
How... intriguing.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyidiB1yrJf
And very much worth keeping an eye on...
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Meanwhile, back in the alley…
It was quiet now, save for the murmurs of city guards and the occasional clink of shackles.
Frost still clung to the ground, slowly retreating beneath the afternoon sun, leaving behind thin trails of melted ice and the scent of burnt mana.
The blood had already begun to dry—dark crimson patches against the cobblestones.
Mira stood at the edge of the scene, arms crossed, hem fluttering gently in the sea breeze.
She watched as the last of the assassins—his body half-frozen and legs bound—was lifted onto a cart by the city guards.
Cassian reappeared from the far end of the alley, moving with a tired gait, one hand pressed to his still-healing ribs.
“I can't find him anywhere,” he said grimly. “He’s gone.”
Mira raised a brow. “Gone where?”
Cassian shook his head. “I checked the bakery, the dock, places he’d usually go—even the inn. Nothing. It’s like he vanished.”
Mira turned to him, concern flickering in her eyes. “He wouldn’t just… leave, right?”
“Actually… he did run away once when he was younger,” Cassian muttered, then sighed. “But you’re right. This doesn’t feel the same. That was… different.”
Mira looked back toward the icy ruin of the alley. “You think Crimson Crow has something to do with it?”
“It’s possible,” he said. “There are only two high-value targets in this town. You and the prince. And I can tell those assassins didn’t recognize you. So—”
“He's probably the target,” Mira finished for him.
Cassian nodded.
The guards were nearly finished now. One gave her a clumsy salute before climbing onto the cart.
Just as they began to roll away, a firm hand clapped gently on Mira’s shoulder.
She turned to see Captain Alric, his armor slightly scuffed, a deep crease of concern between his brows—but his voice was warm.
“Thank you, Mira,” he said. “You did good.”
Mira gave a small, tired smile. “I'm just glad I got here in time.”
Alric glanced toward the frozen remnants still clinging to the alley walls. “So... Crimson Crow, huh? I’ve never heard of them before.”
Cassian’s expression shifted slightly. “Most haven’t,” he cut in. “Their name only circulates in high society. Because they charge a hefty fee.”
Alric stiffened at that.
“If you want information on them,” Cassian continued, “check the old archives at the Adventurers’ Guild. You might find something useful there.”
Alric nodded slowly. “Right. The Adventurers’ Guild might have records or contacts the city guard doesn’t.”
“I’ll have my men take the prisoners straight to the holding cells,” he added, his tone more serious now. “And I’ll ride to the guild myself.”
He paused, then turned to Mira. “Thank you again, Mira. Your father would be proud.”
Mira offered a faint smile. “Don’t mention it, Captain. But we really need to upgrade security. We can’t let strangers bring any more trouble to our town.”
Alric nodded in solemn agreement before stepping away, barking orders to the guards as they began their march down the hill.
Mira lingered a moment longer, the sea breeze threading through her hair as her thoughts drifted—not to the assassins—but to the prince who had vanished without a single word.
Then, a voice called out from across the street.
"Mira-chan! Are you looking for the prince?"
She turned to see Breta, the broad-shouldered peach seller, waving enthusiastically.
"Yes, Breta! Have you seen him?" Mira called back.
Breta nodded, wiping her hands on her apron.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5hTFauBQTu
"Saw him headin' up the hill a couple of hours ago. Looked like he was heading for your place."
"Thanks, Breta!" Mira called out, tossing a grateful wave as the broad-shouldered woman ducked back into her shop.
Mira turned to Cassian and met his gaze.
He lifted an eyebrow, half amused. “Well, that explains it. Who would’ve thought he’d go looking for you? No wonder I couldn’t find him."
Mira chuckled, falling into step beside him. “Maybe you should put a bell on him next time."
Cassian grinned. “Maybe a leash, too.”
The two started up the hill, side by side, boots crunching softly on the gravel path.
The breeze drifted past them, gentle and curious, as if following along to see what the prince was up to this time...
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