Draven opened his mouth and slid his fingers inside, pulling out the small earring he had hidden.
He placed it back onto his left ear.
Then, without a word, he pulled his hood down.
The dim mana lights revealed his face fully—
Dark skin.
Sharp red eyes.
White hair falling loosely around his face.
Pointed ears.
Across from him, the boy froze. Then his face flushed instantly.
"…You're a female."
Draven didn't look at him.
"You're a girl."
Now Draven turned. Slowly.
"I'm a male."
Flat. Uninterested.
The boy blinked, still red.
"…So you're a boy… just like me?"
His eyes swept over Draven again.
"And you're only a little taller than me too…"
A pause.
"…We might even be the same age."
Draven stared at him. Deadpan.
"…Damn brat."
"Who the hell is the same age as you?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'm at least ten times older than you."
The boy blinked again, muttering under his breath.
"I'm nine… so…"
His lips moved as he tried to calculate.
"…ninety?"
Silence. Draven just stared. No reaction. No correction. Just a long, flat look.
Inside, his thoughts moved elsewhere.
*The collar…*
*No mana flow.*
*The ring won't activate.*
*The earring can't connect.*
*A faint shift of his gaze.*
*Vaelith should have noticed when it was placed.*
*She'll act.*
*Eventually.*
The boy finally looked back up, still flushed.
"…So you're ninety?"
Draven didn't answer. He just kept staring at him—like he was seriously reconsidering letting him live.
Draven lay back against the cold stone, eyes fixed on the ceiling above.
The faint blue glow of the mana lights reflected in his red irises. Unmoving. Thinking.
*This appearance…*
*It might actually make things easier.*
He let out a slow breath and settled fully against the stone, one arm resting beside him.
The boy's voice broke the silence again.
"…You're a night elf, aren't you?"
No response.
"I've heard elves live really long…"
He shifted slightly, still watching him.
"That's why, even though you're so old…"
A small pause.
"…you still look so young."
Draven didn't react. Didn't even blink. Just kept staring upward. Thinking. Calculating.
But the boy persisted.
"…Still…"
His head tilted slightly.
"…you look more like a girl than a boy."
Silence. Then—
Draven's eyes shifted. Slowly. Locked onto him. Cold. Sharp.
The air in the cell seemed to drop.
"I'll let you. If you want to try saying that one more time…"
His voice was low. Dangerously calm.
"…go ahead."
The boy froze instantly. His ears snapped flat. His entire body stiffened under the pressure.
He swallowed hard.
"…I'll pass."
He muttered quickly, looking away.
Draven stared for a moment longer, then returned his gaze to the ceiling. Like nothing had happened.
But the message—was clear.
Time passed.
---
Inside the city—
A small, dimly lit hotel room. Tight. Cramped. Barely enough space to move without brushing against someone else.
On the bed, the two babies lay quietly, soft breaths rising and falling as they rested.
Vaelith sat beside them, calm as ever, her presence steady, watchful.
Across the room, Aldric stood with his arms crossed, irritation written all over his face.
"This is it?"
He looked around with clear disdain.
"What the hell is this supposed to be?"
His voice rose slightly.
"This room is so damn tiny—it looks like a damn toilet."
At the small table, Lyriana sat quietly, while the cultist leaned back in her chair, unbothered.
"Hm?" She glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"
Aldric gestured around.
"What am I talking about? This place is barely livable."
The cultist shrugged lightly.
"This is the biggest room they have."
Aldric scoffed.
"Biggest? You're joking."
She continued calmly, "And if I rented two rooms, it would be suspicious."
Aldric frowned.
She tilted her head.
"What would one person want with two rooms?"
Silence. Aldric clicked his tongue.
"…Then we should just find somewhere else."
The cultist didn't hesitate.
"Then go ahead." Flat. "Who's stopping you?"
Aldric stared. Annoyed. Irritated. But with no real comeback.
Lyriana finally spoke, calm but firm.
"We're not moving."
Aldric glanced at her. She didn't look at him.
"This is temporary. Causing attention now would be worse."
Aldric exhaled sharply through his nose. "…Tch."
He turned away, muttering, "Damn cramped box…"
Vaelith didn't react. She simply adjusted the blanket over the children, her eyes calm.
But beneath that calm—there was focus.
Because unlike the others—she was waiting.
For a signal that hadn't come yet.
Aldric's voice bounced off the bare walls of the cramped room.
"There's nothing in this damn place!" he barked, gesturing at the empty corners. "No TV, not even a damn bathroom!"
Silence. No one answered.
He stomped his foot. "Hey! Could someone at least order something? Food, anything—"
The cultist finally looked up from her chair, her expression flat.
"I don't have any money left," she said simply, as if it were obvious.
Aldric's eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed, a vein in his temple twitching.
"You… you damn rat!" he growled, lunging forward, fists clenched.
Lyriana leaned back in her chair, unfazed, while Vaelith quietly continued tending to the babies.
Aldric's growl echoed in the tiny room, but the others remained perfectly still, giving him nowhere to vent.
"…Tch," he muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at the cultist. "This is ridiculous."
The cultist leaned back, crossing her arms, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Clearly, she was enjoying his frustration.
Aldric huffed, pacing the tiny room like a caged beast.
"This is absurd!" he muttered, kicking the leg of the table. "How are we supposed to plan anything in a room that smells like old sweat and mold?!"