The discussion room of the Ashkara Royal Castle was sealed tight.

  Thick stone walls swallowed sound. Heavy curtains blocked the night sky. At the center stood a long obsidian table etched with sigils of authority and history. Around it sat the Eight Flags of the Kingdom, the Three Royal Knights Captains, and at the head—

  King Akiyama Ashen.

  He removed his gauntlets slowly and placed them on the table. The faint clink echoed louder than expected.

  “Begin,” the King said calmly.

  A man with sharp features and jet-black hair tied back—Hoshin Kurobane, the Gold Flag—spoke first.

  “The criminal syndicate has been completely eradicated. Every confirmed member is dead.”

  Elira Vayne, the Blue Flag, folded her gloved hands. “Inspector Valen Croix confirmed that the bodies were still warm when examined. Whoever did this left minutes before the knights arrived.”

  “Efficient,” muttered Raiden Solcrest, the Yellow Flag, his golden eyes narrowed. “Too efficient.”

  “At least the drug flow has stopped,” said Mireya Thorne, the Green Flag, her voice measured. “For now.”

  Lysander Quill, the Pink Flag, leaned back slightly. “Stopped doesn’t mean destroyed. Supply chains don’t vanish overnight.”

  A deep voice cut in.

  “Nor do monsters.”

  Valen Kyr, the Red Flag, rested his forearms on the table. “The boss. Varkhan Lucem. His death is… troubling.”

  All eyes shifted subtly toward the far end of the table where a woman with ash-gray hair tied in a strict bun sat quietly.

  “Seraphine Morholt,” said Hoshin, nodding toward her. “Grey Flag. You examined the site personally.”

  Seraphine Morholt’s pale eyes reflected no emotion. “The wounds were surgical. No wasted motion. No hesitation.”

  She paused.

  “Whoever killed Varkhan Lucem understood his power.”

  That drew attention.

  “Hyper-critical,” murmured Gideon Falk, the First Royal Captain, known as the Bloodline Conqueror. “A man who could end a battle in one strike.”

  “And yet,” said Itsuki Shiraishi, the Silver Flag, her aged hands folded atop her cane, “he was killed.”

  The room fell quiet.

  King Akiyama Ashen finally spoke again. “Explain the drug.”

  Elira nodded. “Ashveil is a synthetic alchemical compound. Base ingredients include crushed nightshade resin, ether-laced mercury salts, fermented dreammoss spores, and a catalyst refined from void crystal dust.”

  Raiden scowled. “That combination should kill anyone.”

  “It does,” Mireya replied. “Unless taken in precise ratios. It heightens perception, dulls pain, accelerates reaction time… and erodes sanity.”

  “And loyalty,” Valen Kyr added. “Perfect for cult recruitment.”

  “The production required advanced facilities,” Lysander said. “And someone with deep knowledge.”

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  Seraphine’s gaze sharpened. “Which suggests external backing.”

  “Or,” Gideon said, “someone we already know.”

  Rhen Calder sat silently, one boot crossed over the other, Lemon perched on his shoulder chewing a dried berry.

  Rhen said nothing.

  King Akiyama Ashen looked at him. “Captain Calder. You led the squad.”

  Rhen lifted his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Your thoughts?”

  Rhen paused, choosing his words carefully. “Whoever did this was decisive. They weren’t here to send a message. They were here to erase a problem.”

  “And that concerns you,” the King noted.

  “Yes,” Rhen said evenly. “Anyone capable of this could be a threat.”

  Or an ally, he thought—but didn’t say.

  Hoshin exhaled. “The cult remains.”

  “I regret to say,” Itsuki added, “we never identified the leader of Ashen Cradle.”

  Rhen’s eyes flickered.

  He remembered the red-haired man.

  I should have asked.

  The King stood. “Then we remain vigilant. Meeting adjourned.”

  Later — Akitsu’s Apartment

  Night had settled when Rhen Calder stood before a quiet apartment door.

  He knocked once.

  Then twice.

  The door opened.

  Akitsu Shouga stood there, black hair damp, wearing a simple dark shirt. His expression was neutral—too neutral.

  “You’re late,” Akitsu said calmly.

  Rhen studied him. “…Did you kill everyone in the criminal syndicate without letting the knights handle it?”

  Akitsu blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  Rhen sighed inwardly.

  “May I come in?”

  Akitsu stepped aside.

  The apartment was modest. Clean. Too clean.

  Rhen sat at the table. Lemon hopped down immediately.

  “Got fruits?” Lemon asked cheerfully.

  Akitsu nodded, grabbed a bowl, and placed sliced fruit down. Lemon squeaked happily and began eating.

  Rhen leaned forward. “Stop doing risky things.”

  Akitsu poured himself water. “They came after me first.”

  “That doesn’t justify—”

  “They wouldn’t have stopped,” Akitsu interrupted quietly. “If I left, they would’ve followed. If I hid, they would’ve waited.”

  Rhen frowned. “You’re not wrong. But you’re not invincible.”

  Akitsu met his gaze. “I don’t need to be.”

  Silence stretched.

  “You’ll get caught,” Rhen said. “Knights. Flags. Someone will connect the dots.”

  Akitsu shrugged. “Then I’ll deal with it.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the only one I have.”

  Lemon paused mid-bite. “…You two sound like an old married couple.”

  Rhen groaned. “Lemon.”

  Akitsu almost smiled.

  Rhen stood. “Just… be careful.”

  Akitsu nodded once. “You too.”

  Rhen turned to leave, then paused. “If you disappear again…”

  Akitsu said softly, “Don’t look for me.”

  Rhen didn’t reply.

  The door closed.

  And the night moved on.