In the remote district of the city, the lights continued to blaze bright.

Under the shouts and orders of their superiors, a large number of guards broke into smaller squads, surging into alleys filled with filth and wastewater, aggressively hunting down the rats scattering in all directions.

Naturally, the results were minimal.

Though they caught only a few targets, in the eyes of bystanders, this scene was nothing short of a grand performance.

At the very least, the Lower City District hadn’t been this lively in quite a while.

“My, my. Even the guard force has been dispatched. Seems holding back and refraining from acting was the right choice.”

In the shadow of a distant building, the shopkeeper, whose alluring figure was impossible to fully conceal even under a black cloak, patted her ample chest with lingering fear and relief. The breathtaking scene of her motions went entirely unnoticed.

“Though, it doesn’t really matter. I didn’t need the Ancient Dragon's Heart Blood that badly anyway. Even if I had obtained it, I’d only end up selling it for a high price to someone else—a transaction likely fraught with risks.”

“It’s a pity, though… I couldn’t find the buyer who took the Tear of True Love.”

The shopkeeper’s gaze sank slightly and swept across the periphery of the district once more. Finding nothing again, she retracted her sight in disappointment.

The Tear of True Love—that gemstone—was what she truly desired.

Sadly, her purse strings were tight, leaving her unable to bid high enough. All she could do was watch as it ended up in someone else's possession.

Even the mysterious buyer, labeled simply as Number 88, was nowhere to be found. Unlike the gangs entrenched in the Lower City District, whose influence stretched far and wide, she was, after all, merely one person.

“Forget it. Even if I managed to acquire it, it would only rekindle faint hopes,” she consoled herself. “And those futile hopes—I’ve entertained them far too many times before, only for them, without exception, to transform into disappointment, despair even.”

Perhaps giving up on this notion would be better.

The greater the hope, the heavier the disappointment.

She had endured this cruel pain many times before.

There should still be some time left—time to genuinely enjoy the limited peace of her daily life. Classes, experiments, teasing that amusing guy… Maybe, for now, those pursuits were sufficient for her—

“Well then, dear captivating young lady, might I ask: did you lose this golden Tear of True Love, or this silver one?”

Suddenly, a sultry voice rang out from the supposedly empty, desolate streets.

The shopkeeper's pupils contracted sharply as she spun around.

“Who’s there?”

“Ah, ah, no need for hostility! I’m merely a kind passerby.”

From the depths of the shadows came the crisp sound of footsteps, sharp like a blade piercing metal.

The sound was generated by heels—heels no less than ten centimeters high—clicking against the stone pavement.

Emerging from the darkness, a woman whose figure exuded extreme sensuality swayed her enticingly slender waist as she approached.

She wore a form-fitting leather outfit that accentuated her exaggerated curves—an almost comically seductive figure capable of making any sane man’s nose bleed. At the chest of the outfit was an impossibly deep V-neckline plunging down to her navel, revealing a tantalizing half of two perfect rounded forms.

Her face was equally provocative, with red eyeshadow accentuating her features and plump lips glistening invitingly. Even the slightest twitch of her expression seemed capable of bewitching hearts and stealing souls.

She held aloft two tear-shaped pink gemstones, her soft smile radiant:

“Look, here's what you wanted—a pair of Tears of True Love. Won’t you pick one?”

The shopkeeper glanced at them indifferently but instinctively tightened her posture, bracing herself.

“Both are fakes. Why should I choose? And more importantly—who are you?”

“Heh-heh, a pleasure to meet you—or rather, to meet you in this particular form for the first time. My name... you may address me as Miss Banshee for now.”

Miss Banshee smiled and pinched at an imaginary skirt’s hem, executing a curtsy befitting aristocratic etiquette.

Yet, rather than elegance, her display further magnified her captivating allure.

“As for these two gemstones... Whether they’re real or fake, the outcome is the same, isn’t it? Why not pick one, treat it as a little gift from me?”

“What do you mean?”

The shopkeeper narrowed her eyes and subtly backed away.

“My, my, annoyed already? Seems playing a harmless trick to close the distance wasn’t very effective after all.”

Miss Banshee nonchalantly crushed the counterfeit gemstones in her hands. Switching her pose, she drew one arm behind her back while extending the other forward—like a gentleman inviting an enchanting lady to dance at a ball.

Her rosy lips parted slightly, uttering a name that made the shopkeeper’s breath hitch:

“Let’s cut to the chase—join us, Anna Kablin. You belong with us.”

“What—how do you…?”

As her true name was spoken aloud, the shopkeeper’s breathtakingly beautiful face beneath her hood betrayed a rare trace of panic.

Countless thoughts surged into her mind, causing those mesmerizing eyes of hers to reveal an intricate kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, anger, confusion, fear.

And then, these feelings tangled together, ebbing away like receding tides.

What remained was a sense of resignation and sorrow, as if she had long expected this moment.

“So… this is how it is.”

She murmured softly as comprehension dawned:

“You’ve come, after all, haven’t you?”

“Good. You know who we are, and you were already anticipating this day. That makes things easier.”

Miss Banshee continued to extend her hand, smiling:

“So, what is your answer?”

“Sorry.”

Without hesitation, Anna—the shopkeeper—rejected outright:

“I won’t join you.”

“Why is that?”

Maintaining her charming smile, Miss Banshee insisted:

“We are… your kind, are we not?”

“I am not your kind.”

“Not?”

Miss Banshee tilted her head in apparent confusion:

“Then who is your ‘kind’? Surely... you don’t still consider yourself a human, do you?”

At this point, as if hearing the world’s most absurd joke, Miss Banshee clutched her stomach and burst into laughter, her voluptuous figure trembling.

“Human? Human! You still think you’re human? Can you roll up your sleeves and gaze upon the divine marks left by the great Moon on your arms, and still claim such a thing?

Or do you naïvely believe—the way your yearning for the Tear of True Love suggests—that you can somehow return to being a filthy, lowly human? Oh, my poor, simple dear—you couldn’t possibly still think that way.”

“…” Anna remained silent.

“Seems I can’t convince you. If that’s the case, then there's no helping it.”

Miss Banshee suddenly ceased laughing. Straightening upright, she seemed to transform into a poised, deadly cobra towering with threat.

“Your identity is supremely precious, even far above my own. I shouldn’t resort to disrespectful measures.”

From behind her, she slowly pulled forth twin crescent-shaped knives. A biting, icy aura began to radiate from her figure.

“But, given how little time remains—given the urgency of returning you to the embrace of the great Moon before the final ritual—I must... employ a touch of danger this time.”

“Then don’t fault me for it, no, revered scion of the divine.”

Miss Banshee languidly licked the blade’s frosty surface with her delicate pink tongue. Her gaze locked onto Anna, whose expression had grown increasingly solemn. She giggled softly:

“Next, I’ll take everything... everything from you.”