The young hybrid secured his gear, adjusting the leather pouch strapped close to his body. It restricted movement, but better that than losing it. Once his ID was in hand, he could wander freely—either deeper into the city or beyond its borders.
Still, unease settled in his gut. That candy shop… something wasn't right.
Miranda had said Luen was known for its medicine. Maybe he could stock up, especially since his potion for his thumb had run dry. A good excuse to browse and gather information.
His steps carried him to the ID registry. The layout was already memorized, and it didn't take long to arrive.
The clerk behind the worn desk huffed at the sight of him. Sylene pulled back his hood just enough to reveal his face. The man's gaze lingered, unreadable.
"I'm here for the ID." Coins clinked onto the battered wooden surface.
A silver card was pushed toward him. "Three gold. And information about that hybrid."
The words barely registered. Fingers closed around the card, silver engravings glinting faintly. His own face stared back at him, though he had no idea how the man had gotten his picture. Fake details filled the fields—race, birthdate, fabricated records. It wasn't real, but it was a key. A ticket to freedom.
Slipping the ID into his pouch, he noticed the man was still watching him, an odd intensity in his stare.
"Boy," the clerk said at last, voice dropping lower. "Keep your hood up. Luen might have the best healthcare, but it also has the biggest brothels. Even nobles lose their pet hybrids here."
Sylene's brow furrowed. A sharp nod was his only response. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Memory flickered—the encounter with that unsettling wealthy man in the bathroom stall. He had mentioned picking up a new pet here in Luen. His mind drifted to the beautiful hybrid from the window, and he felt saddened. Shaking his head, he hoped it would be a different hybrid.
"Some powerful noble is on his way to Luen," the clerk continued, voice carefully neutral. "Looking for a lost pet. Don't know if they were kidnapped or ran away." A pointed glance. "I hope that's not your owner."
Sylene was a bit speechless. "Isn't...the kidnapper gutsy to steal from a powerful noble?"
"Indeed. I don't know who this crazy guy is, daring to touch that man's property."
"Or maybe the pet ran away? I'm not sure," the man added, looking at Sylene in silent judgment.
Sylene brushed off the man's reaction and asked, "Is it a vampire noble? Or a human?" He was trying to steady his racing heart. Was this Rosencraft's doing, or someone else?
"Seems to be a human noble."
Relief washed over him, but the man noticed. "Glad it isn't your owner, boy. Now get out of here before anyone takes notice."
The man shooed him away, and Sylene was more than happy to oblige. He remembered the mercenaries ordering meaty sausages that dripped with oil and juice yesterday, and the thought made his stomach grumble. He had spotted a new tavern earlier and decided to try them there.
It didn't take long for him to be seated at a table and for the food to arrive. He was about to take a bite when movement on the street caught his attention.
A familiar automobile, with lots of sturdy guards following.
Ah, was that pervert here?
Sylene had noticed before that the man often took his time resting somewhere in the woods, while Bryent's group braved the cold to reach Luen as quickly as possible. Sylene put down his fork and knife and decided not to eat here. Pulling his hood tighter, he tucked the sausage into his food bag—a convenient gift from Miranda that kept meals as fresh as when they were stored. Though it could only hold small portions like snacks or bread, it had proven useful for preserving food and his ice rose from Sir Draven. He planned to eat at the inn later, away from prying eyes. Slipping out of the tavern, he cut through an alley to avoid the automobile and the wealthy group that had just arrived. The last thing he needed was their attention—especially that man's.
A twinge of pity hit him as he recalled the "new pet" the noble had mentioned. His mind drifted back to the beautiful hybrid from yesterday—those striking green eyes and soft, pure white fur. He felt a sudden urge to reach out and pet them but knew it would be rude. He had no fur or feathers himself; his wings had never developed, and honestly, he was grateful for that.
The idea of lying down and feeling something press against his back was unsettling. He couldn't imagine letting strangers touch his wings.
But Q96 was different. Her wings had grown strong and silvery white—almost angelic. She couldn't fly far, probably a defect in the firebird genetics. Understandable, since they were prototypes.
Even so, she remained proud of her wings.
Even though Sylene couldn't soar like his sister, he had always been superior in battle. Regeneration unmatched, claws thick and strong, honed through countless survival experiments—no one surpassed him in close combat. Yet no matter how powerful he became, he could only watch from the ground as Q96 flew above. Now she was truly gone, taken by the very creatures that had created this hell—and left him alone.
Still, despite it all, he hoped the beautiful hybrid from yesterday would be fine.
Sylene shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. The ID was secured in a hidden pocket, belongings strapped tightly to his body. Now, all that remained was to buy a train ticket. The unease from yesterday still lingered, and from what the ID maker had hinted at, something was happening in this city. Nobles, brothels, disappearances. Getting caught up in that mess wasn't an option.
The alley was quiet. A few scattered trash piles, the air crisp in the morning chill. No snow fall yet, but winter's bite still clung to the air. He reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the ice rose. It had deteriorated so much—its original shape barely recognizable. A pang of sadness struck him. There was no place for him to settle. No true safe haven. And the mention of nobles—especially vampire nobles—made his stomach churn. Rubbing his belly, he sighed. He hadn't eaten yet. What should he pack before leaving Luen besides the sausages?
Hmm?
His steps slowed. A red-haired child stood nearby, panting, desperation in his wide eyes. Wearing tattered clothes and completely not suited for the season, he was clearly shivering. The child looked like a beggar found around the slums in Radscha. Sylene had been so distracted by food that he failed to register the approaching footsteps. He should have heard them—kids, even in the snow, didn't move that quietly. But his thoughts were cut off, because a moment later, the child was falling, chased by a group of older kids.
"Haha! Got you, dumbass!"
"Your brother is dead! No use whining about it!" One of them caught the redhead and shoved him toward the rest of the group.
"No! My brother's alive! He was kidnapped!"