Next Day – 10 A.M.

The morning sun cast a golden glow over Bloodfort as the city stirred with life. Merchants barked prices along the streets, soldiers drilled in neat formation, and tourists crowded near the old clock tower—the pride of the border town.

Ezra had already gone through his routine. He woke before dawn, completed his daily exercises, cultivated for an hour, then showered. Now, leaning lazily on the base of the massive clock tower, he watched as visitors trickled inside to admire its ancient gears.

Elena had messaged him the night before, telling him to meet her here. But she was running late.

Ezra glanced at his phone, expression flat.

"She's late," he muttered, before strolling toward a bench by the square and sitting down.

His outfit today was simple but carried weight: a cream-colored collared jacket over a black T-shirt, paired with loose trousers that gave him a relaxed, careless look. The jacket slipped open slightly when he sat, revealing faint tattoo lines along his neck. His hair—cut in a messy wolfcut—framed his sharp features, making him look like someone both approachable and untouchable at once.

(Author Note: I still want tattoo too. Fuck.)

The calm shattered with the low growl of an engine. A crimson-red luxury sports car purred into the square, its polished body catching the morning sun. Passersby turned—some admiring the machine, others staring openly as the driver's door opened.

Elena stepped out, heels clicking softly on the pavement. She wore fitted bell-bottom jeans and a white top that revealed the faintest hint of her navel. A beige jacket rested loosely on her shoulders, silver jewelry catching the light in small flashes.

For a moment, all eyes were on her. Then hers found Ezra.

He didn't wave. He didn't even move. He just looked up, faint amusement in his eyes, as though she'd arrived on cue to his boredom.

"Hey," Elena said softly as she walked up.

Ezra tilted his head, lips quirking. "So you do know how to take a day off."

"Yeah," she murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Finally managed."

They stood there for a beat. She glanced away, not quite meeting his eyes. Ezra, watching her, fought the urge to fill the silence. He hated silence when it meant something.

Breaking it, she asked, "Did you eat?"

"No," he said. "Thought maybe we could." His voice dipped toward casual, but the edge of hesitation lingered.

A small smile played on her lips. "I know a place. Want to try?"

Ezra gave a light shrug. "Lead the way."

The two moved toward her car. Elena unlocked it with a sharp beep, sliding into the driver's seat. Ezra dropped into the passenger side, his posture loose, as though the expensive leather seat wasn't worth noticing.

Not long after, they were sitting by the roadside, paper plates balanced on their laps, smoke from grilled skewers filling the air.

Ezra eyed her, faint surprise flickering across his features. "You eat street food?"

Elena arched a brow. "You say that like it's a crime."

"Not a crime," Ezra said, chewing slowly. "Just didn't picture the noble princess trading crystal plates for plastic forks."

Elena leaned closer, smirking. "So you expected me to drag you into some overpriced restaurant instead?"

He glanced at her sidelong, deadpan. "Was already preparing to sell a kidney."

That earned him a laugh. She shook her head, taking another bite. "You're impossible."

"Impossible," Ezra echoed with a faint grin. "But still here, eating with me."

Elena poked her skewer at him. "You know, you're really bad at small talk."

Ezra raised a brow. "Small talk's for small people."

"Oh, really? Then what are you doing right now?"

"Testing your patience," he replied smoothly, leaning back.

She chuckled despite herself, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."

Ezra smirked. "Unbelievable but entertaining. Admit it."

Elena gave him a mock-serious look. "More like entertaining… and annoying."

"Annoying, huh?" Ezra tapped his plate. "This 'annoying guy' just risked food poisoning with mystery meat. Dedication, if you ask me."

She burst into laughter, quickly covering her mouth. "Don't say that while I'm still eating."

Ezra let the corner of his lips curve. Watching her laugh, he thought—for a moment—how rare it was to see her like this. Not stiff, not measured, not guarded by noble grace. Just human.

Her laughter died down into a small smile. She looked at him quietly, as though about to say something, then caught herself and looked away.

Ezra broke the silence first, his tone deliberately careless:

"So… what exactly are we, Elena? Not nobles at a party, not colleagues on business, not enemies. Something in between."

She blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Ezra tilted his head, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Most people would call it friendship. But labels make things messy, don't they?"

Elena's chopsticks paused mid-air. "Friendship's… messy?"

"Mm." Ezra's gaze lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary before dropping back to his food. "Let's just say—I don't like boxing things in. Or people."

For a moment, neither spoke. The bustle of the street filled the gap between them. Elena finally looked down, sipping her drink to hide the warmth creeping into her cheeks.

"Still annoying," she muttered.

Ezra's faint smile returned, calm but unreadable. "As long as I'm your annoying… I can live with that."

Elena froze mid-sip, her brows knitting.

"What… what did you just say?"

Ezra leaned back, deliberately looking away as though the words had never slipped. "Nothing."

Her eyes narrowed, a squint that could cut through most people's composure. Ezra, however, only wore that maddeningly calm face of his. After a beat, she let it go with a small huff.

"I can see you've gotten stronger since two months ago," she said finally, her voice soft but edged. As if to punctuate her words, her pupils shimmered faintly with a golden light before settling back to normal.

Ezra glanced at her, unbothered. "Wanna duel?"

The corner of her lips curled upward. "Why not?"

"Nope," Ezra said immediately, shaking his head with exaggerated seriousness. "I'm on vacation. Why would I waste my holiday sparring with you?"

Elena blinked, then let out a small laugh, brushing her hair back. "You're unbelievable." She thought for a moment, then added, "Fine. No duel. Anyway, it's your first time in Bloodfort, isn't it? I'll give you a tour. Consider it my treat—so don't complain about expenses."

Ezra rose from the bench, slipping his hands into his pockets with a faint grin. "Lead the way, Lady Voncrest."

The title made her laugh—a genuine, unguarded laugh that turned heads on the busy street. Ezra couldn't help but chuckle too, the sound low and fleeting.

For a brief moment, the noble heiress and the so-called background character simply stood there, sharing an easy smile as the morning crowd bustled around them.

____________________________

The room was drowned in darkness, the only light seeping through a narrow crack in the shutters—thin, golden lines cutting across the gloom. Dust motes danced lazily in the pale rays, but the rest of the chamber remained suffocatingly dim.

At the center, a lone figure knelt, head bowed. It was Mirella. Her hands pressed firmly against the cold stone floor as her voice echoed in the silence.

"Sir… when do we begin?"

From deeper within the shadows came a low, steady reply. The speaker's face was concealed, his outline just barely visible—a silhouette forged of menace and restraint.

"The army is gathering," the figure said. "But a variable has appeared in our plan. Segei Valastovich… word is he has been stationed here for two months. The sudden injury of the Knight Corps' general created this… complication."

Mirella's brows furrowed. "So what do we do, sir?"

"Don't worry." The man's tone was calm, unshaken. "Master will handle him. Perhaps, if fate is kind, he may even stand with us."

That answer unsettled her, but she didn't press further. The silence stretched until the figure spoke again, sharper this time.

"You, however, will patrol personally these next few days. Loosen the formations on the eastern flank. From there… we enter."

"Yes, sir." Mirella's voice was firm.

The figure leaned forward just enough for his words to carry with weight.

"Remember… glory to Nightangel."

Mirella's lips curled faintly as she bowed her head once more. "Glory to Nightangle."

The screen before her went dark, the connection severed.

Mirella slowly rose to her feet, straightening her long cloak. Her eyes glimmered faintly in the slivers of light as she turned toward the door. Outside, waiting patiently in the corridor, was Jonas.

He lowered his head respectfully. "My lady… the Voncrest girl. She was seen with a boy."

Mirella paused mid-step. "With a boy? Who?"

Jonas shook his head. "Unknown. But I'll find out."

Her expression hardened. "See that you do. We cannot allow any variables to appear… not at this critical moment."

Jonas nodded firmly.

Mirella's gaze drifted past him, cold and hungry, as though staring into a future painted with blood. "Soon… soon we will have our revenge."

Jonas clenched his fists, his eyes burning with the same conviction. "Yes. Our revenge."

And in that dim corridor, two loyal hounds of Nightangle made their silent vow: the world would pay, and the Voncrest line would bleed.