“Kros, I really have to go. I just heard something—I can’t shake this uneasy feeling.”
Rita rose from the bed, about to leave its edge, when suddenly her wrist was gripped by a burning-hot force.
“Don’t go.”
Kros’s voice was thick with drunkenness and a whining nasal tone, like blueberries soaked in alcohol.
Rita turned her head back and saw Kros lying on her side, her face flushed with heavy intoxication that seemed to soften both her waist and bones.
The dress Kros had worn all day had loosened and slipped from her shoulder, revealing a delicate collarbone and a smooth shoulder.
Kros’s watery, hazy eyes gazed at Rita, her fingertips gripping Rita’s wrist climbing upward like little snakes, yet burning with a heat snakes could never have.
Rita’s body stiffened slightly as Kros’s tightly gripped hand was drawn to press against her flushed cheek, resembling the way a roommate’s kitten would act when craving affection.
Rita’s heart was stirred, especially when someone she liked openly displayed their desire for her.
Her chest pounded fiercely, almost as if her heart would leap out of her throat.
Whether it was the satisfaction of a full stomach or the fulfillment of being needed, Rita’s feet suddenly halted.
Her hesitation seemed to signal Kros to become more insistent.
Kros pulled harder on Rita’s hand and pressed it against her own chest.
“Can you feel it? It’s beating so fast—the first time it’s ever raced like this.”
To be honest, it was soft, so soft that Rita could clearly sense the fierce heartbeat beneath the skin, just as Kros had said.
Before Rita could react, Kros’s grip suddenly tightened, pulling her back onto the bed.
Then, like a little rabbit, Kros pressed close to her side, wrapping an arm around Rita’s waist.
“Please, stay with me a little longer.” Kros’s lips brushed against Rita’s earlobe, her pleading voice mixed with warm breath: “Rita.”
The only time she called her by name, shedding all formalities and pretense—far more intoxicating than shedding clothes.
Rita’s throat rolled hard several times.
Despite having drunk several cups, the intoxication she’d never felt before crept quietly into her heart.
Maybe this was alright after all…
Rita struggled for a moment, then heard a faint rustle that sharply cut through the world of heavy breaths and pounding hearts.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled object.
It was a discarded crepe wrapper she had stuffed in there absentmindedly when she and Cecelia-sama had gotten up from the square.
She had never taken it out since.
To think she had spent a whole day on a date carrying around a crumpled wrapper—how sloppy of her, wasn’t it?
Suddenly, Cecelia-sama’s face appeared in Rita’s mind—serious, shy, and trying to act calm.
And the faint but unmistakable approval when she handed Rita the heavy sword at that modest weapon shop.
“Last night’s incident was my failure as the princess and Master, but your loyalty and value have always been clear to me.”
If Cecelia-sama knew what Rita was thinking and doing now, she would be punished again, wouldn’t she?
No, who she chose to be with was her own freedom.
Cecelia-sama had no right to interfere in such matters.
Still, that little steamed bun face lingered stubbornly in Rita’s mind, as if saying, “I dare you to try.”
Clearly, Cecelia-sama’s restraint was still too strong.
Maybe it was just a feeling—but if Rita gave in here, some things would be lost forever.
“Sorry, Kros.” Rita grabbed Kros’s wrist and pushed the clinging woman away. “I’d better go back. Cecelia-sama might still be waiting for me.”
For a brief moment, Rita thought she saw a change in Kros’s eyes.
No disappointment, no embarrassment—only a deep, bottomless hatred.
It made Rita feel as if Kros was a stranger, so strange she wondered if her eyes were deceiving her.
But it lasted only an instant.
“Alright.” Kros bit her lip hard, clutching something tightly in her hand. “Then, just one last drink with me. Just one, okay?”
In the city.
“Heh, can you hear those cries? Feel the warmth of the flames? Every second you fight me, countless people die tragically.”
The Siren, gasping for breath before Angus’s greatsword, couldn’t gain much advantage despite being of the Demon Race, yet her face bore a triumphant smile as if declaring victory.
“Oh really? What a pity! I’ll use your head to honor their sacrifice!” Angus roared, the greatsword moving faster than his words.
This man had gone mad with rage.
It was best to avoid his strike for now—their mission wasn’t to kill him.
Come on, come on, be blinded by anger!
That will buy us more time!
The scheming Siren thought so, but when she looked into Angus’s bloodshot eyes, she saw not just rage-driven madness, but a resolute will to press on, fully aware of her own actions.
Impossible—this guy couldn’t have any backup.
Still, the Siren could not ignore the meaning behind that gaze.
Sense again, sense again.
She took a few steps back and called her fish swarm in her mind—those lost wanderers hypnotized to mindlessly advance.
What baffled her was that the number of living wanderers was far fewer than she had expected—and still shrinking.
“You’re making a very unpleasant face, Sea Witch.” Angus wiped his nose with a hand stained by dust and blood, the dark red marking resembling a war tattoo.
In just a few words, several more wanderers’ life signals vanished completely.
The Siren abandoned all restraint, teeth clenched and trembling: “What’s happening… what did you do? I get it—it’s the Private Soldiers! You have Private Soldiers too! That’s your tactic!”
“You underestimate the Warrior of Solus City! Underestimate humanity! Sea Witch!”
“Shut up!” The Siren’s sharp roar grated like nails on wood, her hand trembling as she made the cursed blade hum with anger.
“Don’t call me Sea Witch!”
Inside the Lord’s Mansion.
“Report!” Soldiers came running one after another, standing at attention at the door with a bang: “We’ve linked up with the trapped forces from the East District and North District. The riots in the streets have been brought under control.”
“The Stray Forces outside the Lord’s Mansion have been intercepted. Their offensive momentum has been completely halted. Victory is only a matter of time!”
“The South District’s defense officer has safely withdrawn and is currently commanding while injured. The frontline remains stable.”
“We found the secret passage at the location you specified! It’s now sealed off, they have nowhere to retreat!”
“Well done.” The blonde girl sitting where Angus should have been wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, eyes fixed on the City Map spread across the table as she continued to give orders:
“Leave a gap, follow the escaping wanderers, and find their secret routes. Also, summon the mages and use Communication Magic to relay these locations to the front-line warriors. These places are bound to be their hideouts.”
More than one person was quietly impressed.
Incredible—the decisions seemed to anticipate the enemy’s thoughts in the shadows.
Every move felt like stepping exactly where the enemy had trod, holding tight to their tail and leaving the rats in the gutters nowhere to hide.
This girl really is…
“That’s all for now. If there’s any other information, report immediately.” Cecelia-sama raised her golden eyes: “Time is short. Go quickly.”
The soldiers took the notes with the marked positions handed by a maid beside the table and shouted in unison.
“Yes!”