Night fell like ink.
In the depths of the forest, the wind hissed through the trees, occasionally pierced by the distant growl of wild beasts—each sound only making the surrounding silence heavier, more suffocating.
Jim moved soundlessly through a thick layer of fallen leaves.
His figure blended seamlessly into the shadows, like a drifting wraith among the trees. He didn't take the shortest path—instead, he circled through three alternate routes, checking from various angles to confirm there were no ambushes.
With every step, his eyes scanned the bark, branches, ground—even the sky.
He was like a cunning leopard, alert to the slightest anomaly.
At last, at the edge of a remote forest clearing, he saw it:
The hunter's cabin.
Just as Livia had said, it was deeply hidden—its back pressed against the rocky slope, wooden walls covered in moss and dead vines.
Had he not been looking for it, he might've missed it entirely.
The windows were shut, but a faint line of candlelight leaked through the cracks.
The clearing in front of the cabin appeared quiet—undisturbed—but Jim's sharp eyes instantly caught the tiny signs of disturbance:
A patch of scattered leaves—slightly rearranged.
A rock, its color subtly darker than the surrounding soil.
And the faintest carving on an old oak trunk—like a forgotten sigil.
Traps. Ambush. Setup.
A slow smirk crept onto Jim's lips.
He didn't approach.
Instead, he stopped several meters short of the cabin, standing still beneath the trees, as though waiting.
He didn't have to wait long.
Minutes later, the brush rustled.
Footsteps—deliberate, rhythmic—approached.
Beneath the hazy moonlight, a tall, slender figure stepped through the shadows.
Livia.
She wore a close-fitting outfit of dark gray, elegant yet practical—completely stripped of her usual noble softness.
She moved like a wild animal—silent, purposeful.
Her long hair was tied back, and behind her, several figures quickly fanned out into defensive positions.
They weren't elite soldiers, perhaps, but every one of them moved with sharp alertness.
Standing in the chill night air, Livia looked at Jim and let out a light laugh, her tone a playful mix of jest and ease:
"You came after all. I was half-worried you'd be too scared of a trap."
Jim's gaze swept over her—and the people behind her.
Red was among them, standing to her left, hand resting on his gun, eyes locked on Jim like a hawk.
"Of course I came," Jim said coolly.
"Though I didn't expect you to look so… leader-like now. Even gathered a bunch of loyal dogs."
"Don't be mistaken," Livia said with a shrug and a dry smile.
"I never planned on becoming this kind of person. But if I didn't force myself to change… I'd probably be dead already."
"So, you've done your homework on me," Jim chuckled, though the smile never touched his eyes.
"Seems I underestimated you. But you didn't bring me here just for small talk, did you? These traps of yours won't stop me."
Livia chuckled lightly, covering her mouth with one hand.
Half-joking, half-serious, she replied:
"How could I not prepare something? You're the so-called 'King of the Underworld'—wouldn't want to seem too careless. Besides—"
She paused, then added meaningfully,
"Last time, you almost took me away. I figured… I ought to learn something from that."
At that, something flickered in Jim's eyes—an unease that vanished as quickly as it came.
This woman—he could no longer read her.
She wasn't the noble girl who once sat silently in the corner of a ballroom.
Nor the "prey" he had cornered in a cave, staring at him with confused, wary eyes.
She was too composed.
She looked too much like someone playing a game of her own.
"What do you want, Livia?" he asked, cold and toneless.
"You really want to cooperate? Or have those two men trained you well enough to play this little drama?"
Livia's eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile remained.
"You think I'm pretending? Then why did you come? If I were truly on their side, would I meet you alone? You're their top threat, after all."
"I don't know," Jim said, eyes fixed on her.
"But I am curious—why insist on seeing me?"
She didn't answer right away.
She simply looked at him.
This man—dark, sharp-edged, yet with a hint of buried sorrow in his eyes.
Then she spoke.
"I don't know either," she said softly.
"I just… wanted to see you. To find out if we're truly destined to be enemies."
The forest fell still.
Leaves rustled faintly, and the air grew heavier with silence.
Jim said nothing for a long time.
Finally, his voice broke through:
"You've changed. You're… dangerous now."
Livia's smile didn't falter.
"Are you afraid?"
"Afraid?" Jim gave a crooked grin, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement.
"I'm only afraid of boring people. And right now—you're not boring."
With that, he finally took a step forward—stepping into the open space before the cabin.
His movement was smooth, unhurried, but each step was deliberate—he was still wary of the traps.
And Livia—
At long last, in the deep woods of the night—
found herself face to face with the man once called her mortal enemy.
But this time, she was no longer the pawn.
She was the one sitting across the board.