"The Scorpion King is looking for you." Ricky revealed.
Bailey snapped out of his thoughts, turning sharply toward him. "What?"
"Yes. The Scorpion King wants you. It's about Minister George Flavio's murder. He wants you to find out who was responsible—and eliminate them."
Bailey burst into laughter. "Ha… ha… ha. Is he serious? Wow. I guess George Flavio's death really shook him. Now he's desperate to uncover his new enemy and wipe them out. Typical. Tsk… not surprising at all."
"Yes, that's why I'm worried about you, Bailey," Ricky said. "If the Scorpion King doesn't find you soon, he'll do something reckless—or worse. I don't want you in danger, especially now, at a time like this."
Bailey looked at him and smirked. "You worry too much, you big baby. Don't fret—I'll be fine. Let him search, let him wonder. We'll keep him on edge. He knows there's no one else in this kingdom—or in the world—who can give him what he wants except Bailey the Mailman. That's why he's so desperate to find me. So we'll let him stew, and when he finally reaches his breaking point… that's when Bailey the Mailman will appear."
He leaned forward, his voice low and deliberate. "We'll use this time to gather more evidence against him and his filthy minions. Then, when the moment is right, we'll play the perfect card. His rulership, his dominion over the Scorpion Kings—it will all collapse. And then… we take over."
Ricky nodded, humming softly. "Mmm… okay then. So, what are we going to do about Montana? Should we get rid of him now?"
"No. Not yet," Bailey replied firmly. "We still need Montana alive. Who knows? He might become our bargaining chip for peace in the future. And besides… I need him alive to give that wretched stepmother of mine the perfect send‑off. I want to strike her where it hurts most, to destroy her when she least expects it. It will be a downfall she never saw coming—and I'll savor every moment of it."
"All right," Ricky said cautiously. "But what about the competition? You'll be walking into dangerous territory—both in Fortshire and Florence. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
Bailey turned his gaze outward, watching the crowd move through the marketplace. His eyes locked onto a towering billboard plastered with headlines about the Royal Bride Selection competition. And there she was—his face, as Ariel, displayed front and center.
Comments flooded in from every corner of the kingdom, scandal swirling after yesterday's shocking events—the unexpected dance with the Crown Prince at the ball. Ariel was the hot topic of the moment, her name blazing across gossip blogs and whispered in every marketplace stall.
"Guess I'm getting famous," Bailey said with a smirk. "Don't worry about it. I'll be perfectly safe. With my face plastered all over the news, people will keep their eyes on me—and my enemies will think twice before making a move. Besides… I'm the Dragon's new favorite now." He chuckled, pausing before his tone sharpened.
"But I want you to keep searching the abyss. Dig deeper into our mysterious eminence—the one who spoke with that fox in the car. I already have a feeling I know who he is. The voice was familiar. I've heard it before, once. And I believe this eminence is another key to the downfall of the Scorpion Kings. So find out who he is—and make sure I'm the first to hear the news. Before anyone else. You got it."
Ricky nodded firmly. "Understood."
"Good," Bailey said. "And as for the competition, I'll make sure to use my time well in Fortshire. After all, it was once my in‑laws' home. Once my home. So I intend to claim the grandest welcome back imaginable—and turn it into the beginning of their downfall."
His eyes glinted with fierce determination. He was preparing a welcome‑back gift they would never forget, one that would strike with devastating impact.
Ricky caught the fiery gleam in Bailey's gaze and knew whatever he was planning would not bode well for the enemies in Fortshire. He sighed, then glanced at his watch. "It's almost time. I really should get going."
Bailey turned to him, his eyes softening, warm and gentle now. "Are you going to see them?" he asked quietly.
Ricky slowly shook his head. "Yes. It's been half a year since I last visited them. But this time… I have to make sure my presence counts. I really need to see them."
Bailey smiled softly. "It's okay. I wish I could go with you, but with everything happening right now, leaving the capital would be too dangerous. I don't know who's watching me—or how much they know about my dealings. So… I'll see you when you see me."
Ricky returned the smile. "Yes. See you when you see me, Bailey. And good luck."
Bailey nodded.
Ricky sighed, nodded once more, then stepped out of the car. He glanced around cautiously before blending into the crowd of the marketplace, his figure swallowed by the restless tide of people.
Bailey was now alone inside the car. He drew a deep breath, turning once more to face the billboard.
He sighed. "I guess it's truly happening, after all." Then he sank back into his seat and instructed the driver to move. The engine roared to life, and the car slipped onto the road, pulling away from the marketplace.
Meanwhile—
Click. Click. Click.
Unbeknownst to them, a shadowy figure was taking photographs of their meeting. He captured the car stopping, Ricky entering, Ricky leaving, and the vehicle pulling away.
He snapped a few more shots as the car disappeared down the street. Then, with deliberate precision, he pulled out his cell phone and sent the images to an unknown number.
Pocketing the phone, he concealed his camera and melted into the crowd—quietly following Ricky's trail.
******
Meanwhile…
"Aaah! Aaahh!"
Blood‑curdling screams echoed through a dimly lit room inside what looked like an abandoned warehouse.
A figure with glowing red eyes sat in the shadows, watching silently as a man hung naked, upside down, tortured by another cloaked in a black‑and‑gold ninja combat outfit.
The red‑eyed figure grew impatient. The victim had endured torment for hours, yet still refused to yield the information they sought.
"You know....this could've been less painful if you'd just told us what we want."
From the darkness, another man stepped forward—his golden blonde hair catching the faint light. He approached the prisoner with cold precision.
"Tsk… you chose the hard way, didn't you?" he muttered, before seizing the man's hair roughly. His voice rose, sharp and demanding. "Who killed Travis Luis Sately? Who!"
The tortured man spat blood, glaring defiantly into the blonde man's eyes.
"I told you… I don't know what the fuck you're talking about! I know… nothing!"
"Oh really…" the blonde‑haired man growled, yanking the prisoner's hair so roughly that the man grunted and squealed in agony.
"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. You were the last person to see him alive. Maybe you didn't kill him, you bastard—but you must have seen who did. So tell me… who was it?"
"Aaah… aaah…" the man whimpered before gasping out, "I swear… I don't know who did it. I swear… I didn't even know Luis was dead. The last time I saw him, he was getting high… with the white powder. I left him for a few minutes to take a piss… and when I came back, he was gone. I haven't seen him since. I swear! Please… don't kill me… I swear I don't know!"
The blonde man released his grip, exhaling sharply before turning toward the figure seated in the shadows.
The red‑eyed figure remained silent, stoic, but the deepening glow of his eyes betrayed his fury. The lack of results was intolerable—and it was clear that someone in that room would soon lose their head.
Just then, a buzzing sound came from the blonde-haired man's pocket.
He pulled out his phone and opened the message. His face immediately darkened into a frown before he leaned closer to the figure cloaked in shadow.
"A message from one of our Shadow Hounds—the one you assigned to keep an eye on you-know-who," he whispered.
The man stirred, his gaze locking onto the phone.
The screen showed a series of pictures: a black, tinted-window car parked quietly at an inconspicuous corner near the marketplace. A masked figure in black entered the car, then later exited, vanishing into the crowd. Moments after, the car drove away.
"Unfortunately, the Shadow Hound lost him. My guess is the man realized he was being followed. My apologies," said the blonde-haired man.
The cloaked figure only sighed, freezing the image at the moment the man stepped out of the car. He had black eyes and a well-built, muscular physique.
The watcher's own eyes glowed a deeper crimson as he studied the photo.
'What the hell was the Flamingo doing with that guy? And who the fuck is he?'
'Why the fuck are they being so mysterious?'
He growled inwardly as his eyes lingered on the man in the picture.
Something stirred inside him—something that made his blood boil and his anger surge, unrestrained.
'What was it?'
He couldn't quite pinpoint it. But the thought of his Flamingo being alone with this masked bastard ignited a fury deep within him.
'What were they doing?
What were they talking about?
Is this scumbag the reason my Flamingo refuses to be mine completely?
Is he her lover… or what?'
The questions clawed at his mind.
'But why am I feeling this way?'
'Was it jealousy? Bloody hell!'
'Why would he be jealous of this scumbag? He was more handsome, more striking, and above all, destined to be the Flamingo's husband. He was the one winning. And once she became his, he would make sure to erase this bastard from existence.
Because no one was allowed to touch what was his. No one.'
These thoughts ran rampant through his mind as he continued to stare at the picture.
He didn't realize how much pressure he was exerting on the phone.
It wasn't until it snapped in his palm that he realized his emotions had spiraled out of control.
"Shit," he cursed, dropping the broken device to the ground and casually plucking the shards from his hand.
"Grrr…" A low, animalistic growl echoed beside him.
He froze, turning his gaze toward the blonde-haired man—whose eyes now glowed white with fury.
"That. Was. My. Fucking. Phone. You jealous freak!" Blake roared.
"Oops," Daniel muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"You…!" Blake growled, his body tensing as though he was about to lunge at Daniel.
"Not today… not today," he muttered, releasing an animalistic gruff before turning back toward the man hanging upside down.
As he passed by, his gaze flicked briefly to the prisoner, then back to the shattered phone. Its glitching screen flickered with countless distorted images.
He turned to Daniel, who awkwardly averted his eyes.
"Jealous freak… tsk," Blake muttered, moving to leave the room when—
"The Phantom Eagles…"
He froze.
He turned to face the tortured man who had just spoken.
"What did you just say?" Blake asked, his gaze sharp and unyielding.
The prisoner fixed his eyes on the broken phone.
On its fractured screen, the image of the symbol from the burnt paper found in Flavio's house flickered faintly, glowing through the cracks.
Before Blake could react, a sudden gust of wind brushed past him. His eyes widened as he saw Daniel now standing in front of the prisoner, gripping his hair tightly.
"What do you know about them? Tell me," Daniel growled, his voice low and dangerous as his grip tightened.
The man squealed in pain, forcing the words out.
"They… they are bad news… I'm telling you. They're even more powerful and feared than the Dragon and his gang. Word on the street is you should never mess with those guys… otherwise, you'll vanish without a trace. To put it simply… they rule these kingdom streets. And you don't want to cross them."
He heaved, spat blood, and continued, "Guess now you know who killed Luis. My advice? Don't dig deeper… or you'll end up just like him. Like phantoms, they strike when you least expect it."
Daniel raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to Blake.
Blake sighed, muttering under his breath, 'Looks like this is getting more interesting… and more fucking complicated at the same time.'