CHAPTER 40: ASH-BORNE

A crisp ding sliced through the hush of morning as Erisia surfaced from sleep. Sunlight filtered through the curtains in golden rays, striping the bed in quiet patterns. The translucent mission text hovered above her like an impatient ghost.

[ Congratulations, Erisia. The Recommended Mission you unlocked is ninety-five percent complete. ]

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

[ Title: Maintain Survival Arc ]

[ Objective: Investigate and resolve the attempt on Host’s life. ]

[ Conditions:

 — Cooperate with Brightfall authorities to uncover the orchestrator. Done ✓

 — Trace the driver’s instructions to the origin point. Done ✓

 — Confirm and expose the mastermind’s identity. Done ✓

 — Secure public affirmation of truth. ]

[ Duration: 20 days maximum, reduced to 14 days or less. Completing within the lower limit grants additional rewards. ]

[ Reward: Standard-tier ability enhancement (details classified until completion). ]

Erisia blinked at the glowing text only she could see. Right. That mission. She’d been so buried in everything that was happening that she’d nearly forgotten it existed.

She rolled upright, spine clicking in a quiet protest, and caught Rein was batting a tiny plush mouse near the foot of the bed, tail flicking like a metronome. The sight pulled a sleepy smile from her.

’So, what’s the bonus reward?’ she asked silently, scooping up the kitten and nuzzling her soft fur. Is it money again, like last time?

[ I’m sorry, Host. Reward details are classified. But rest assured, it will be useful to you—one way or another. ]

"Hmm. The last reward was cool but not exactly practical," she muttered, setting Rein back on the floor.

Padding to the kitchenette, Erisia grabbed the little can of wet food from the fridge. The metal tab gave a soft click as she peeled it back, a faint fishy scent curling into the air. She spooned the soft mash into Rein’s shallow bowl, pressing it down with the back of the spoon until it settled in a neat little mound. The kitten trilled impatiently, weaving figure-eights around her ankles.

As she set the bowl on the floor, Erisia glanced toward the closed door down the hallway. Lyra’s room was still silent, not a creak or shuffle to suggest she was awake. Well, it was expected, she’d arrived at the apartment after Erisis had fallen asleep.

She sighed and scooped Rein into her arms for a moment, then carried her back to the room. The kitten wasted no time darting to the bowl, tiny jaw working with greedy little snaps. Erisia leaned on the doorframe, watching the rhythmic dip of her head and the flick of her tail, a small smile tugging at her lips.

After a minute, she pushed off the frame and slipped into the bathroom.

[ Perhaps not useful yet. Everything has its moment of purpose. ]

[ Also—Lyra’s first music single will be released next Friday. ]

’Just like in the original story?’ Erisia brushed her teeth as she mentally replied.

[ Correct. Events concerning Lyra and Asher Drexley are proceeding exactly as written. Other characters, however, have already diverged from the novel’s plot. ]

She spat into the sink, brows lifting. ’Is that...bad?’

[ On the contrary—it’s excellent. Only when actions change will the ending change. Influencing so many "minor" characters to deviate is a significant achievement. I commend you, Erisia. ]

Rinsing her mouth, she allowed herself a small, wicked smirk. ’Thanks for the compliment. But as long as Lyra and her scumbag boyfriend stay out of my lane, I’m not touching their dog-blood love story.’

She dressed in a fresh outfit she and Rita had picked up on yesterday’s shopping trip, then joined her friend in the kitchen to help with breakfast. While slicing fruit, she recounted Officer Tyler’s late-night call about Adrian’s arrest.

After breakfast, Erisia decided Rein deserved some fresh air. With Rita off work, the two women set out together, strolling down a quiet side street as the kitten rode contentedly in her carrier.

Rita shook her head in disbelief. "So Adrian Hoffman—the golden son of a conglomerate family—actually sent people to kill you? And you’ve never even spoken to him?"

"Never," Erisia said lightly.

Rita’s brows knit as the pieces clicked. "But he’s Sierra’s friend. From everything you’ve told me about that fake witch, she had to be involved. The next person the police arrest should be Sierra herself."

Erisia only chuckled.

"I still don’t get it," Rita went on, voice rising. "Adrian’s rich, handsome, spoiled—and he lets Sierra manipulate him like that? She’s not even that pretty! Just because he likes her, he’s willing to kill for her? Who the hell does that?" Rita threw her hands up. "Anyway, he deserves whatever he gets. He might not have driven the car himself, but he ordered it. That’s the same as pulling the trigger."

"Don’t worry," Erisia said with a small smile. "He’ll pay."

They walked a few more steps before Rita slowed again, frowning. "But what if the Hoffmans come to you? What if they offer a deal—money, connections, whatever—in exchange for dropping the case? You’ve been talking about breaking free from your family. Those rich types love settling things under the table."

Erisia burst into laughter, the sound startling a passing pigeon. Rita’s scrunched-up nose as she said those rich types was meme-worthy.

"Why the hell are you laughing?" Rita demanded.

"Nothing," Erisia said, still grinning. "But listen carefully—there is nothing Adrian’s family or anyone else can offer that would make me drop the case. He tried to kill me. I’d be six feet under if things hadn’t gone my way. So no. He pays. And Sierra? She’ll pay even more."

Rita pumped her fist. "Yes! They’ll both rot where they belong!"

Just then, the low purr of expensive engines cut through the morning air. Two sleek black sedans rolled to a stop along the curb beside them. Men in tailored suits stepped out with practiced precision.

Rita’s eyes widened. "Oh, hell no..." She grabbed Erisia’s sleeve. "Don’t tell me I just jinxed this. Did the Hoffman family actually come for you?"

From the second car, the door opened with a click, and Eric stepped out from the passenger seat. Morning light cut across his custom suit as he strode toward them.

Rita tightened her grip on Erisia’s sleeve, knuckles white. "Oh my god... this is exactly how mob movies start," she whispered.

Before Erisia could answer, the Echo System chimed in her head, a bell-like ding that sliced through the street noise.

[ Name: Eric Johnson ]

[ Occupation: Chief Intelligence – Information Security & Counter-Intrusion, Ash-borne Industries ]

[ Status: Active. High-level clearance across all Ash-borne subsidiaries. Current assignment: investigative operations. ]

[ Family: Orphan. Taken in by the Ashborn family at age nine and formally inducted into the Argon Security Program at fourteen. Personal loyalty to the Ash-borne chairman and Seliora Ashborn is recorded at the highest tier. ]

[ Background: Top graduate of the Argon covert-defense curriculum. Specialized in intelligence extraction, crisis management, and silent containment. Known internally as The Fixer for his ability to resolve volatile incidents without public exposure. ]

[ Note: Highly dedicated to the Ashborn family—operates with near-absolute autonomy when acting on Seliora Ashborn’s orders. Classified as a Strategic Variable; unpredictable to outside factions. ]

The data scrolled across Erisia’s inner vision in crisp, sterile text, each line more unsettling than the last.

Eric stopped a measured three paces away, his sharp gaze landing on her like a spotlight. "Miss Wrenford," he said smoothly, voice pitched low enough that only she and Rita could hear, "I am Eric Johnson, working under Argon Securities. You’ve met my superior, Roy Evander. May I have a moment of your time?"

Rita’s grip tightened until her nails dug into Erisia’s sleeve. "Argon Securities? What does where you work have to do with us? And a moment of her time? What is this—a spy movie?" she muttered.

Eric smiled politely, offering a small nod of apology. "I’m sorry—let me rephrase that. Miss Wrenford, there is someone who would like to meet you. She’s been looking forward to this for quite some time."

Erisia arched her brow, still reeling from the fact that a man from Argon Securities—under the Ash-borne conglomerate, no less—was standing here telling her that someone wanted to meet her, and was likely his superior.

"And who exactly is that?" she asked, voice cool, "and why would she want to meet me?"

"Because I admire your tenacity, Erisia."

The new voice—smooth and lightly amused—drifted in from the side. All three of them turned toward the sound.

Standing by the backseat of the car—its door now open—was a tall, tan-skinned woman with long, black, wavy hair. She wore a cream-colored dress with a deep V-neckline and long, puffed sleeves. The fabric cinched neatly at her waist before flowing into a long skirt patterned with bold brown roses. A small beige handbag rested gracefully in one hand, while pointed-toe high heels in soft matching tones completed the look.

She was effortlessly stunning.

[ Name: Seliora Ashborn ]

’Wait. Seliora Ashborn? Don’t tell me she is Kealith’s mother?’

[ Yes. ]

Seliora stepped fully into the sunlight, the faint breeze lifting a strand of her dark hair. Her eyes—warm amber ringed with a darker hue—locked on Erisia with precision.

"Miss Wrenford," Seliora said, her voice rich with an elegance that carried both warmth and authority. "I’m Seliora Ashborn. I’ve heard...quite a lot about you."

Rita’s mouth opened, then snapped shut again. She leaned toward Erisia, whispering out of the corner of her mouth, "Ashborn—as in Ash-borne Conglomerate? As in, the family that basically owns half of the companies in NYC?"

—•—

A/N: Good day, everyone.

I’m so, so sorry for the delay—it’s been four days, and I truly want to apologize. This wasn’t something I planned, I swear. First there was a power outage here, and then I got hit with really bad cramps. This round was rough, and I couldn’t write for two days straight.