The three of them sprinted through the streets, breath tearing from their lungs. Night air scraped against their throats, cold and sharp, as if the city itself was watching their escape.
"I think we caused too much chaos," Serin said, glancing back, her shadow stretching unnaturally long beneath the streetlamp.
Vaelor nodded, his breathing uneven. "Yeah… if they come after us again—"
"They won't," Perun cut in, his voice low and firm. "If we don't meet them again." He slowed slightly. "Anyway, it's already eight. We should head home."
The library appeared at the corner like a quiet sentinel. Inside, yellow light glowed faintly. Serin's mother was already preparing to close for the night, stacking books with practiced movements.
Serin waved goodbye to the boys, slipped inside, and immediately busied herself beside her mother, as if trying to dissolve back into the safety of routine.
Vaelor and Perun continued down the darkened street alone.
Silence followed them for a while.
"Why were you so angry at the bar?" Vaelor asked at last.
"There are… a lot of things," Perun muttered, eyes fixed ahead. "But you don't need to know. Not now."
A few steps passed.
Then Vaelor smirked faintly. "Hey. What were you drinking at the bar?"
"Mocktail. Roy Rogers."
"Yeah," Vaelor said. "I saw it."
Perun frowned. "Where?"
"In your mind," Vaelor replied casually, as if stating an obvious fact. "I also made an excuse for you to Serin."
Perun's steps faltered. "Excuse? What excuse?"
"That you had gas," Vaelor said lightly, "and that you blow pretty loud shots while sleeping."
Perun stopped dead.
He stared at Vaelor, disbelief giving way to horror.
"What the fuck did you say?!" His voice dropped into a sharp whisper. "You dumbass! Now what will she think of me?"
"Well," Vaelor shrugged, completely unrepentant, "it's true. She'll think you're a horn blower."
"Vaelor, you fucker—"
Vaelor bolted down the street. "Catch me if you can!"
Perun chased after him, shoes slapping against the pavement, yelling, "You did this and don't even regret it!"
Across the city, Ricardo stepped into a dimly lit room.
Vice-chancellor Adolf Benjamin sat on a wide black couch, posture relaxed, hands resting lightly on his knees. Around him stood security guards in immaculate suits, surveillance earpieces coiled like insects against their ears. Their hands were clasped behind their backs, unmoving.
Ricardo's tall, sword-tattooed men entered next, carrying an unconscious man over his shoulder like excess baggage. He kept him in the corner.
"Wake him," the tattooed man ordered.
Another stepped forward.
Ricardo moved toward the couch. A guard shadowed him instantly.
"So," Vice-chancellor Adolf said calmly, eyes flicking toward the unconscious body, "what happened to him?"
"Nothing big," Ricardo replied. "He got into a fight."
Adolf slid a card across the table. "If your security isn't reliable, we can assign men from our company."
Ricardo pushed the card back without looking. "They're not my bodyguards. They're family. And you don't need to worry about my security."
He gestured toward the tattooed man beside him. "This is James. From the Arcane."
Adolf's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Ah… the only survivor." A thin smile appeared. "And now a family member. Interesting."
Ricardo ignored the remark. "Tell me the plan."
"What plan?" Adolf replied coolly. "You're wasting too much money buying properties. That was never part of our arrangement."
Ricardo leaned back. "I have more than enough money. And I'm doing it for profit. Controlling Norus will benefit both of us."
Adolf's expression hardened as he explained the real plan.
Ricardo's face changed.
"You seriously think," he said slowly, "that if this fails, we won't be destroyed?"
"Are you scared?" Adolf asked.
Ricardo smirked. "Never."
Perun chased Vaelor all the way to the apartment. Just as they reached the door, Vaelor stopped abruptly.
"It's locked," he said.
Perun slowed a few steps behind him, bending forward, hands on his knees, chest heaving.
"Stop it," he said between breaths. "This is already home." He straightened. "And I have the key."
He stepped forward—
And the landline rang.
The sharp sound pierced the quiet apartment like a warning bell.
Perun froze.
Memory struck him instantly.
Mr. Elane.
He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and flicked on the light. The ringing continued, impatient, unyielding. Perun hurried to the cupboard, lifted the receiver, and put it on speaker. Vaelor stood nearby, listening.
"Hello," Perun said.
"Hey, Perun," Elane's voice came through clearly. "I've got work for both of you."
Perun straightened unconsciously. "Thank you so much, Mr. Elane. By the way… what kind of job is it?"
"Different roles," Elane replied. "Tell me—between the two of you—who's better at physical work, and who's better at mind work?"
Perun hesitated. "Uh… can you hold on for a moment? I need to ask my cousin."
"Oh, sure," Elane said. "Be quick."
Perun covered the mic and turned to Vaelor. "What do you have?"
Vaelor tilted his head, eyes unfocused, thinking deeply. "I think… magic."
Perun's face tightened. He whispered sharply, "What are you even saying? Leave it. I'll answer."
He uncovered the mic. "I have better mental capability. And my cousin… doesn't."
A pause.
"What?" Elane asked.
"I mean—" Perun corrected quickly, "he has better physical strength."
"Alright," Elane said, scribbling. "What's your cousin's name?"
"Vaelor."
"Okay," Elane replied. "I'll contact you again at this time after two days."
"Thank you again, Mr. Elane," Perun said sincerely.
The call ended.
Perun turned slowly toward Vaelor, eyes sharp. "Hey. You asshole. I haven't forgotten about earlier."
Before Vaelor could reply—
A low growl echoed.
Both of their stomachs.
Vaelor rubbed his belly. "Man… I'm hungry. Let's eat. I'll help this time."
Perun sighed. "Fine. Let's put everything aside." He turned toward the kitchen. "If you want, wash and cut some vegetables."
Vaelor followed. "What are you cooking?"
"Vegetable soup. Maybe rice."
Later, they sat on the floor in the living room, cushions beneath them. A short wooden table stood between them, plates filled with steaming food.
They ate in silence.
Mid-chew, Vaelor asked, "So… what will you do tomorrow?"
"Kill time," Perun replied.
"You don't work out or train?"
Perun shrugged. "A long time ago, I borrowed a boxing book from Serin. Never returned it. Learned a few punches. That's all."
Vaelor frowned slightly. "You've never trained your body properly. Exercise feels good. Makes you stronger."
Perun looked at him. "Why do you work out? You don't even need it."
Vaelor shook his head. "As a Herald, training is necessary. We don't have many offensive spells. We can't always rely on phasing through walls or invisibility."
His voice lowered. "Sometimes… we have to fight."
Perun nodded slowly. "Let's finish eating."
Afterward, Perun washed the dishes, turned off every light except the living room, and returned with the old boxing book. Vaelor had already spread a mattress near the table.
They sat down.
Perun handed him the book. Vaelor flipped through the pages slowly, eyes scanning the diagrams.
"I learned a few moves," Perun said. "But they're slow."
Vaelor studied them. "These techniques are solid. Your problem is core strength."
Perun looked surprised. "You can teach me?"
Vaelor nodded. "Yeah."
"Thanks," Vaelor added. "But in exchange… you have to listen to the story of that novel."
Perun blinked. "Instewl Hollander?"
"Yeah."
"…Alright," Perun said. "But I sleep in my bedroom."
After a moment's hesitation, he shook his head. "It's fine. I'll sleep here."
He took out another mattress and spread it carefully, leaving a deliberate gap between them.
Sitting down, he said, "We already covered the overview. Let's start from Chapter Three."
Time passed quietly. Words drifted through the dim room like incense smoke.
Eventually, even those faded.Both of them fell asleep.