Yenna woke up slowly, her mind still fuzzy from a night of weird, confusing dreams. She sat in bed for a few minutes, letting the sleep wear off before getting up and heading downstairs. The house was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw him already sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands, looking like he was lost in thought.
"Morning," she said softly, still feeling a little awkward from the night before.
"Yeah, morning," he replied, looking up at her with a small, lazy smile. "I made some coffee if you want."
She nodded and poured herself a cup, the warm, rich aroma making her feel instantly more relaxed. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. She kept stealing glances at him over the rim of her mug until something moved in her peripheral vision.
Her instincts kicked in instantly. She shot to her feet, her body tensing as she prepared to attack whatever had just moved. But she wasn't fast enough.
A blur of silver and black slid onto the table, stopping right in front of Vell and giving her a look that was just plain cocky.
"What the hell? Why is it so fast… wait, is that?"
The weasel—or what used to be a weasel—had completely changed. It sat calmly on the table, its fur now a sleek, dark mix of silver and black, with streaks of electric blue that seemed to glow faintly in the morning light. Its eyes, once soft and brown, were now sharp and golden, with narrow pupils that missed nothing. It looked dangerous.
Its claws were longer, sharp enough to tear through steel, and the tips of its fangs peeked out from its mouth, giving it a fierce, hunter-like look. Its tail was thicker, more powerful, and small, faintly glowing marks covered its forehead and shoulders—marks that seemed to match the ones he'd found on his own skin.
Yenna was stunned. The thing was still cute, but in a deadly, "don't mess with me" kind of way. Vell, on the other hand, was completely nonchalant. He hadn't even opened his eyes during the whole thing, just kept sipping his coffee.
"H-hey, what is that?" she stammered, slowly sitting back down. The weasel just stared at him with a smirk, as if it was showing off for its master.
He finally finished his coffee, set the cup down, and looked at her while stroking the beast under its chin.
"This is Wren, my beast. I'm a tamer."
Her eyes drifted back to Wren, who was now playfully batting at his hand like a cat. Beast tamers were rare, almost mythical. "Oh, so you're a beast tamer, huh?" she said, a wave of disappointment washing over her. "Well, that's cool, I guess. At least you have something to protect you."
'Well, that's disappointing. I thought he would be some cool and powerful warrior, but I guess I was expecting too much. Ugh, my luck with guys is so bad.'
He knew exactly what she was thinking; the system had told him all about how tamers were viewed as weak, second-rate players. But he didn't care. "You're that disappointed, huh?"
"H-huh? No, it's nothing like that… I'm sorry," she mumbled, feeling bad for her thoughts. It wasn't her fault; that's just what everyone said about tamers. But he was still smiling at her, completely unbothered.
"How many tamers have you met?"
"None. They're rare."
He chuckled softly. "So, you're saying you've never actually seen a tamer in action." His tone was playful as he leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face.
"Well… no, I haven't," she admitted, glancing at Wren, who was still lounging smugly by his side. "But I've heard they're not as strong as warriors or mages. Their strength mostly comes from their beasts, right? If that's the case, doesn't that just mean the tamers themselves are weak?"
He let out a slow breath, a playful look in his eye. He had her right where he wanted her. "You think so? Wanna test that theory?"
She was confused. He knew he was weaker than her, so why was he asking this? "What, like a fight?"
"Nah, I know I can't beat you in a real fight. How about an arm wrestle? Just a quick test of strength." He casually rolled up his sleeve, revealing a toned forearm that hadn't been there a few days ago. "If you're so sure tamers aren't that strong, you should have no problem taking me down, right?"
She wanted to say no, but her pride wouldn't let her. She moved closer, playing right into his hands. "Fine. I'm not sure what you're up to, but I'll entertain you."
She put her elbow on the table, her hand ready and waiting. They locked hands, and she instantly felt the strength in his grip—stronger than she'd expected. He seemed relaxed, his smile never fading as they stared each other down.
'Okay, I'll just end this in a flash,' she thought.
She looked at their locked hands and wasted no time, using a lot of her strength to try and slam his arm down. But no matter how hard she pushed, his arm didn't budge an inch. The smug look on her face said it all: she was stronger, and she was enjoying it.
"So, what now?" he asked, his smile unwavering.
She was so focused on her own strength, so sure of her victory, that she didn't notice the trap until it was too late. His grip suddenly tightened, so hard that she actually felt a jolt of pain. But before she could even register what was happening, her hand was already touching the table.
"Huh?"
She stared at her hand in shock, then looked up at him. He was staring back at her with a proud, victorious smile.
"W-wait, rematch! I was off guard!"
"Don't wanna."
He picked up Wren and walked out of the kitchen without another word. She followed him, still demanding a rematch, but he just kept refusing. He sat down in the living room, relaxing peacefully while she kept talking.
"Come on, just one—"
She stopped mid-sentence. In a flash, she dashed for her sword, grabbed it, and dropped into an attack pose, her eyes fixed on the front door. Vell couldn't sense anything, so he was a little confused, but he was smart enough to know that if she was on guard like that, it was bad news.
"Mrs. Yenna, can you please let me in? It's Kell… Yenna?" a voice called from outside the door.
She looked at Vell, and he signaled for her to calm down and answer.
"Sorry, I just came downstairs. Can I help you, Section Chief?"
"Yes, it's nothing special. It's just that we didn't receive your report on the mission your team was assigned yesterday. I'm just curious as to why."
Yenna tried to stay calm, but she knew one wrong word and they'd both be in trouble. "Ah, about that, I went home early. Did you ask Jolly? She is the team leader, after all."
'She's not bad,' he thought, 'but I don't think that will be enough. I'll prepare, just in case.'
"That's exactly why I'm here," the Section Chief's voice replied, sharp and suspicious. "Jolly said she was sick yesterday and stayed home. But according to your team, you were the one leading the mission."
Yenna's heart skipped a beat. She looked at Vell, who was already on his feet, Wren nowhere to be seen.
"Oh, I must have mixed up the days. Sorry about that. The mission went fine; I'll submit the report right away." Her mind was a tangled mess. 'What? Did they betray me? No, they wouldn't do that. We're a team… they wouldn't…'
She glanced at Vell for help and saw that he was already up and ready. He pointed at the drawer under the TV.
"Mrs. Yenna, are you feeling alright? You seem… distracted." The suspicion in the Section Chief's voice was undeniable now.
"I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well last night."
"I see… and you're alone?"
The question hung in the air. She knew. Yenna glanced back at Vell, who was already pulling a short sword out of the drawer. He looked at it, then put it aside, digging deeper.
"Yes," Yenna lied, her voice shaking slightly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
There was a pause, then a deep sigh from the other side of the door. "Mrs. Yenna, we detected unusual energy signatures in your area last night. Very unusual. The kind that might be associated with… certain individuals we've been tracking."
Yenna's grip tightened on her sword. If they knew about Vell…
"I don't know what you mean, Section Chief. Maybe it was just—"
"Open the door, Yenna." The voice had changed. The professional courtesy was gone, replaced by a cold, commanding tone that made her blood run cold. She didn't know what to do. Fighting the Section Chief was suicide.
"Now."