The atmosphere around Damon seemed to calm, as if time itself had slowed. The courtesans still laughed and vied for his attention, but something shifted in the air when she appeared. There was no announcement, no words—only the soft, rhythmic sound of footsteps on the polished floor of the hall.
Damon looked up, almost instinctively, and it was then that he saw her.
A woman was crossing the hall toward the stairs, walking with the calmness of someone who didn't need to rush. Her presence was like a sudden cut in the atmosphere—all the other voices seemed to fade in intensity, as if they effortlessly recognized who truly ruled the place.
Her long, wavy black hair cascaded to her waist, held in place only in a few spots by delicate strands of gold and pearls that caught the light of the lanterns. It was a deep black, but beneath the flickering flames of the room, a few bluish reflections appeared, as if woven from the night sky itself.
Her eyes, precisely lined and tinged with red at the corners, shone with a piercing magnetism. There was something dangerous in that gaze, but also something inviting, as if it promised secrets and pleasures unattainable to any other mortal. Her gently arched eyebrows gave her a haughty, calculating air, yet not devoid of femininity.
She wore a dark blue silk kimono adorned with gold threads that formed patterns of flowers and mythological birds, embroidered with such detail they seemed alive. The fabric clung to her body perfectly, hugging her slim waist before opening in loose waves that swayed with every step. The neckline was daring, revealing her fair skin and the generous swell of her breasts—but there was something about that exposure that didn't feel vulgar; on the contrary, it seemed like a statement of power.
A golden pendant in the shape of a phoenix hung from her neck, its wings spread, encrusted with small red stones that glowed like embers. The jewel wasn't just an ornament—it seemed to be an emblem, a symbol.
Her ears were adorned with long earrings, which swung delicately, emitting a soft tinkle with each movement. It was a soft but unmistakable sound, drawing attention as if it were part of an invisible melody.
And then there was the perfume. Damon couldn't describe it exactly, but as she passed his table, a fragrance of jasmine mixed with rare spices hung in the air, awakening in him a feeling of warmth and nostalgia that he couldn't immediately identify.
She climbed one step, then another, her feet almost silent despite her thin sandals. And it was at that moment that she turned her face—not completely, but just a corner. A brief, calculated glance, as if she knew exactly who was sitting there.
Damon felt his body react instinctively. His fingers tightened around the glass in his hand, and he found himself holding his breath without realizing it. It was as if that single gaze could pierce him completely, exposing things he himself didn't yet understand.
"Who... is she?" the question echoed in his mind before he could stop it.
The courtesans, sensing the shift in his focus, exchanged quick glances. Some chuckled softly, others looked away in discomfort. It was Hana who answered, bowing gently, her voice lowered, as if sharing a secret that shouldn't be spoken aloud.
"She's the boss..." Hana murmured. "The mistress of this place. The true mistress of the Song of the Phoenix."
Damon blinked, confused. "The mistress?"
The courtesan in the red kimono added, with a hint of reverence she rarely displayed: "Yes. She's not only the owner, but also the soul of this place. None of us move without her knowing."
The one in sky blue, still leaning on his shoulder, whispered as if it were a confession: "She's called Madame Lin Yue. To some, a goddess disguised as a courtesan. To others, a demon dressed in silk."
Damon remained silent, his eyes still fixed on the figure slowly ascending the staircase. The gentle sway of the kimono, the golden threads catching the light, the contrast between power and sensuality—everything about her seemed calculated to arouse fascination and respect at the same time.
"No one dares disobey her," Hana added, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her kimono. "Not even the richest or most powerful men."
"She's the reason everyone returns, even after losing everything," the one in red said, almost in an awed whisper. "It's not just the body… it's something more."
Damon raised his eyebrows. "Something more?"
The one in blue let out a soft, almost sad laugh. "The way she looks at you… like now… it's as if she's making the world believe only you exist." She squeezed Damon's shoulder lightly. "But when she's gone, you realize it was just a flame, a dream that disappears with the dawn."
Damon looked away for a moment, trying to rationalize. But when he looked back up the stairs, she had already disappeared upstairs. Only the echo of her presence remained, an absence as powerful as her appearance.
He took a deep breath, taking a generous sip of the liquor. But the drink seemed weak compared to what he felt. It was as if a new layer of tension had been added to the air—something not linked to the childish squabbling between the courtesans, but to a greater power, a presence that loomed over everyone there.
"So… this is the true phoenix of the place."
The courtesans, now, no longer seemed as excited as before. Even as she laughed and poured more drinks, Damon detected a hint of nervousness in her gestures, as if the mere mention of their boss was enough to remind them of their place.
Hana broke the uncomfortable silence. "Make no mistake, sir. No matter how strong or bold a man is... she always emerges victorious. Always."
Damon gripped his glass tightly, thoughtful. "Always?"
"Always," Hana confirmed, with a conviction that left no room for doubt.
The background music continued, but for Damon, everything seemed to have changed since she had appeared. He had faced soldiers, thieves, creatures, even the cold gazes of Elizabeth and Ester. But there was something about this woman that moved him differently—not because of the physical threat, but because of the invisible power she carried simply by existing.
He leaned back in his chair, letting out a wry smile. "So... this place doesn't belong to the courtesans, nor the wine, nor the customers. It belongs to her."
"It belongs to the phoenix," murmured the one in red, raising her glass as if in a silent toast. "And we are but the ashes."
Silence settled between them again, heavy, almost suffocating.
[You have awakened a legendary questline from Song of the Phoenix.]
[Objective: Meet Lin Yue]