Golden Iris Hotel, the most renowned den of extravagance in the royal city of Arslan.
The air was thick with the charred aroma of grilled meat, the fragrance of elven fruit wine, and the cloying sweetness of expensive perfumes worn by noble men and women.
On every table stood a budding golden iris, dewdrops from the morning still clinging to its petals—a detail Minister Barto personally ordered, the flowers transported from Southwind Valley solely to adorn his gold-minting enterprise.
Minister Barto.
He was the true owner behind the most famous hotel, despite his title as Minister of Finance.
Barto stood on the balcony of a second-floor private room, his belly—nourished by fine wine and gourmet feasts—jutting out as he gazed contentedly over the bustling hall below.
His small eyes squinted with joy, and the two carefully trimmed tufts of his mustache at the corners of his mouth lifted with every chuckle.
Today, business was especially brisk, with barely an empty seat to be found.
Those players from other worlds seemed to possess endless gold coins, spending lavishly on the most expensive dishes and the richest vintage wines.
Their laughter and chatter became the sweetest symphony to Barto’s ears.
His gaze wandered through the crowd and soon locked onto a particularly striking figure.
A girl sat by the window, her pink and silver twin tails especially eye-catching, dressed in a strange short skirt called a JK Uniform—a fashion utterly out of place in the royal capital.
She was a summoner recently gaining some fame in the player circles—[Can I Take a Bite of Bunny Cute?].
At this moment, she was fully absorbed in tackling a large plate of honey-glazed ribs, her small lips gleaming with sauce, cheeks puffed out like a satisfied hamster, radiating pure joy at the taste of good food.
Barto remembered her—she seemed uninterested in battles or quests, instead spending her days wandering the capital’s food shops like a tireless tourist.
A harmless yet wealthy customer.
Barto internally tagged her as such.
But in the next instant, Barto’s smile froze.
He saw the massive oak doors carved with golden iris crests swing open.
A single figure stepped in, instantly plunging the noisy hall into silence.
Faluciel.
Her Highness, the God-Touched.
What was she doing in a place so reeking of gold and indulgence?
Barto almost thought he was seeing things.
She always seemed like a walking iceberg, radiating an aura that kept people at bay—completely at odds with the Golden Iris Hotel’s atmosphere of luxury and pleasure.
She still wore her dark blue leather armor, a symbol of battle and authority, her pale blue hair tied neatly at the back, revealing her smooth forehead and delicate features.
Her cold gaze swept the hall, chilling the air a few degrees.
Nobles and players alike instinctively lowered their voices, their eyes following her with reverence, curiosity, or greed.
Barto nearly rushed over, worried she might still hold a grudge about the military funding issue and had come to smash up his shop.
But Faluciel ignored him.
She walked straight to the bar and, in a tone as chilly and calm as ice, listed a series of names—all the hotel’s most popular, yet least suited to her image—desserts and snacks: strawberry ice cake, caramel pudding, fried milk balls, candied fruit platter…
“Lastly, one order of your signature lava sauce grilled dragon spine.”
Her voice carried little emotion, soft and steady.
The waiters and attendants exchanged stunned glances, barely believing their ears, but hurried to fulfill her order.
After ordering, Faluciel crossed half the hall, striding smoothly to the window corner.
Under countless astonished gazes, she calmly sat across from [Can I Take a Bite of Bunny Cute?].
The pink-haired girl, who had been eating with such delight, froze the moment Faluciel sat down.
Her chewing slowed, and her wide eyes—usually sparkling with curiosity and innocence—drooped slightly, long lashes shadowing her face, rendering her expression unreadable.
Faluciel said nothing.
She simply picked up a silver spoon with grace, scooping a bit of glittering strawberry ice cake and bringing it to her lips.
She ate slowly, every movement precise and restrained, as if performing a sacred ritual.
Across from her, [Bunny] fell into an unusual silence.
She put down her ribs, picked up a napkin, and delicately wiped the grease from her mouth before sipping a little juice.
She no longer devoured her food, instead eating with intense focus, as though the meal before her was the only thing in the world worth attention.
Head lowered, her gaze never met Faluciel’s.
She used her knife and fork to cut the remaining meat on her plate into tiny pieces, slicing it over and over without bringing it to her mouth.
Silence became an invisible net, enshrouding the small table.
Sunlight poured through the stained glass, scattering mottled patterns across the table, each dust mote in the beams visible.
Around them, the patrons resumed their quiet conversations after a momentary lull.
The grilled dragon spine arrived.
Faluciel picked up her knife and fork, sliced off a piece, dipped it in lava sauce, and placed it in her mouth—
—Spicy.
So spicy.
She couldn’t understand why Ying Yue liked this dish.
“Withered Woodland.”
The sixth Ice Sculpture’s placement site.
Last night, the Ice Sculpture at that location shattered.
—
Three days earlier.
A tavern called “Divine Grace” near the Tower of Stars.
Faluciel wore a plain gray cloak, the hood pulled low to hide her distinctive pale blue hair, making her appear as just another common mercenary.
Seated across from her was [Bunny].
[Bunny] always carried a carefree air, her JK Uniform so out of place in this world, the pink and silver twin tails swaying with every tilt of her head.
“You know, Bunny.”
Faluciel spoke softly.
“There are traitors among the natives. I can’t trust anyone. According to the theory of the [Sage of the Clear Divide], you players can be trusted. Especially you. We’ve worked together many times before.”
[Bunny]crunched a candy, the crisp “kacha” echoing.
She grinned, “Of course, God-Touched Onee-san. If you need anything, I’ll do it!”
Her eyes were as clear as a mountain spring, pure and unclouded.
Faluciel did not reply immediately.
She silently stirred her hot tea, feeling the warmth seep through the ceramic.
Her gaze rested calmly on [Bunny], but behind the calm was sharp calculation, analyzing every subtle movement and expression.
“I need your help, [Bunny].”