A few minutes later, the hovertaxi docked at the Nexus Tower’s 10th-floor entrance. The hallway lights were already dimming—closing time.
The restaurant was empty. Chairs flipped on tables, lights on half-bright, and the smell of warm food still hung in the air. The staff had already left. The only one still there was Seraphina.
She turned around when she heard the door open—and froze for a second.
But then she smiled. A genuine one.
"You guys went out or something?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
"We went furniture shopping," Lyra replied, plopping down at her usual spot.
Seraphina looked at her, then at Xavier. "So... the new apartment’s finally ready?"
Lilia nodded. "The furniture’s getting installed overnight. We’ll move in tomorrow morning."
Seraphina smiled again, but this time it was soft. A little sad. Distant.
She muttered, "So... that means you won’t be coming here to eat anymore."
Xavier looked straight at her. "You make the best food in the tower."
She blinked.
"I’ll be coming daily."
Lilia and Lyra nodded too.
"Me too."
"Same."
Seraphina didn’t speak. She just looked at Xavier—eyes wide for a second, then softening. That gaze... it wasn’t just appreciation. It was something else. A look of loyalty. Like she would kneel if he asked. Submit if he wanted.
A look a god gets from someone who’s already decided to worship.
Meanwhile...
Back at Cortex Living, the lights dimmed in the showroom. Viola stood alone in front of a wide, full-length mirror inside a staff dressing room.
She took off her badge slowly, with no rush, and placed it inside a metallic locker.
But the name engraved on the locker wasn’t "Viola." That badge wasn’t hers. She had faked her identity.
She wasn’t an employee. She was the owner of Cortex Living.
She unzipped the store uniform, peeled it off her shoulders. and changed into something far more serious—her matte-black battlesuit—tight, smooth, and reinforced with invisible armor. No branding, no distractions. Just pure utility and death wrapped in elegance.
She turned to the locker behind her and pulled on a set of casual clothes—oversized hoodie, ripped jeans, a cap pulled low to shadow her eyes. She adjusted her look in the mirror, making sure not a sliver of the combat gear peeked out.
On the table, a comms device buzzed.
She tapped it.
A synthetic male voice came through, distorted by modulation. "Status update. How’s the mission?"
A soft hum glowed on her wrist as she raised it, revealing a blue hologram.
Xavier’s face hovered mid-air—calm, relaxed, that stupid innocent look on his face.
"I’ve located the target," Viola said, her voice calm.
"Are you sure?" the voice asked. "You might be mistaking him. The guy looks like he couldn’t kill a roach. He looks naive and pure. The type that dies within a minute if left alone."
"I’m sure," she replied, brushing her fingers along her lips. "I confirmed it through skin contact a few hours ago. It’s him. The same energy we detected from Beast Land. The same divine imprint."
The voice grew sharp. "If it’s really him, then eliminate him. Extract the power and send it back. Fast. We need it."
Viola’s lips curled into a half-smile. "Not yet. There’s something else going on with him. I need more time."
"We don’t have time," the voice barked. "One of our elders died because of him."
Viola’s eyes flicked down. She reached into her locker and pulled out a black ring. On its silver head gleamed a sigil—the fanged spade, sharp and unmistakable.
The Spade Hounds.
She slid the ring onto her finger slowly, like sealing a pact with the past.
Then she smirked. "You talk like Piolet mattered. He became an elder just because he had the power of a god. He didn’t earn it. And now he’s dead."
The voice didn’t say anything in response.
She leaned closer to the comms, whispering like it was a seduction. "Maybe it’s time to change how this gang works. Rank people for their skill... not just some hand-me-down superpowers."
"You don’t have the right and authority to say that," the voice snapped. "Focus on the mission. You’ve got one week. Fail, and you’ll be demoted. Pay gets slashed by ninety percent."
The call cut.
SIGH!
Viola stepped out the back entrance of Cortex Living, her heels tapping lightly against the pavement. The glowing sign of the furniture store faded behind her as she moved toward the sleek black hovercar waiting silently at the curb. The vehicle was custom-built, matte finish, no plates—only a low hum as its AI-powered engine thrummed to life.
She slid into the back seat, her battle suit hidden perfectly beneath the casual designer wear she had thrown over it. The car’s interior adjusted instantly to her preferences—dimmed lights, cool temperature, and soft instrumental humming from unseen speakers.
The android in the driver seat didn’t speak. It didn’t need to. It knew where to go.
Nexus Tower.
As the car lifted off and glided through the upper lanes of Astraeus City, Viola pulled up Xavier’s face again on her wrist display. She zoomed in on his eyes, then leaned back in her seat with a smirk.
"You’re a dangerous one... even if you don’t know it yet."
The hovercar landed softly at the private landing pad near the tower’s upper entrance. She stepped out, heels clicking again, softer this time on the synthetic marble tiles.
She passed the ground-level reception of the Upper Section without pause. The guards at the desk barely looked up. She didn’t need credentials. The system recognized her the moment she walked in.
The elevator pinged as it opened.
She entered and scanned her biochip. The doors slid shut, and the screen above displayed the number: 55.
Moments later, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened to a quiet hallway.
She walked casually past apartment PP-69—Xavier’s apartment. Her gaze flicked toward the door for half a second, the corner of her lip curling.
Then—voices.
The faint echo of footsteps and a conversation between two girls.
She paused mid-step, tilted her head, and smiled when she recognized them. Lilia and Lyra. Her senses were sharp. She could tell from the rhythm of their steps and the tone of their voices that they were in a good mood.
They were returning.
Viola calmly turned to the next door.
PP-70.
She placed her palm on the panel beside it, and the door unlocked with a quiet chime.
Viola entered, letting the door slide shut behind her with a hiss.
Her new lair—strategically placed. Close enough to Xavier to observe him. Close enough to interfere. And close enough to strike, if needed.