The smoke was washed away by the torrential rain.

The air reeked of the nauseating stench of charred flesh.

The foul remnants of monstrous corpses were scattered everywhere, leaving the nearly flattened district devoid of any trace of life.

And yet, the Beast Tamer was still alive. The black robe draped over him had been reduced to ashes in the violent explosion, leaving only half of his body writhing desperately in the rainwater that reached his ankles.

"Your kind—these heretical followers—always surprise me with your sheer tenacity," Moen tilted his head to look at him, pulling out Elizabeth and sizing him up with the blade.

"What’s the quickest way to make you die instantly? Cut off your head? Pierce through your heart?"

"Cough… cough…"

The Beast Tamer spat out a few mouthfuls of foul, blackened blood and glared at Moen. His eyes betrayed more than just hatred and malice; there was an unsettling trace of satisfaction within them.

"My… mission… is completed. Without those… tools… you are nothing but… a mere mortal…"

"I see," Moen nodded knowingly.

"So you’re just cannon fodder, sent to wear down my equipment? So even the banshee fear those things, huh?"

"Cough… cough… Go ahead… The Priestess is waiting for you… You’ll… become the food… that she devours…"

Suddenly, the Beast Tamer’s eyes widened as his body contorted. He let out a frenzied shriek filled with fanaticism:

"Ha ha… food… All of you are food… The eternal moon… The eternal mo—"

"The moon is about to die," Moen said emotionlessly, plunging the pure-white dagger into the Beast Tamer’s heart. Watching the life fade quickly from his eyes, he whispered softly:

"And none of you will be an exception…"

---

Moen continued forward, following the frigid aura now starkly contrasting the searing heat surging within his body.

But as he rounded the next corner, he suddenly found the surroundings disturbingly familiar.

The chilling aura no longer pointed to a passable road but toward an inconspicuous family restaurant at the side of the street.

Glancing briefly at the familiar restaurant sign, Moen’s expression betrayed nothing as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Warmth, diametrically opposite to the cold outside, enveloped him instantly.

The narrow yet cozy interior of the restaurant shimmered with soft candlelight. At one of the tables sat a girl with thick pigtail braids and oversized black-framed glasses. With her cheek resting on her hand, she hummed a gentle tune.

On the table in front of her were elaborate delicacies already perfectly arranged. Her face flushed with crimson like a blooming peach blossom, it seemed she was awaiting the return of her sweetheart tonight.

*Ting!*

The entrance bell rang as the door opened.

The girl raised her head and looked at the young man walking in. Her eyes sparkled with genuine joy.

"Moen! You… You really came!"

Moen observed Sari’s expression—its pure, unfeigned delight—and said nothing.

"You… Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you shy?"

As she spoke, it was the girl who blushed first. Almost like a young maiden experiencing her very first romantic rendezvous, she waved her hand bashfully.

"Come on… Come sit down, Moen."

Still silent, Moen obediently took the seat reserved for him. He lowered his gaze, quietly examining the lavish spread on the table.

The dishes gleamed with vivid colors, their aroma tantalizing his senses. Despite having grown accustomed to exquisite cuisine, Moen couldn’t help but feel his appetite stir at that moment. His thoughts almost drifted toward eagerly picking up his utensils for a feast.

"What do you think? Do you like it?"

Sari’s eyes fixated on Moen as she asked, her expression brimming with anticipation.

"I made it all just for you. Do you like it?"

The flickering candlelight reflected on her blushing cheeks, while soft music floated in from a corner, heightening the romantic atmosphere significantly.

Moen gazed quietly at her.

Her mannerisms, her movements, every detail gave away no flaws.

The girl sitting across from him seemed, indeed, like an utterly innocent and lovable maiden.

Wait…

That’s not quite right.

Why "seemed"?

Wasn’t Sari very much an innocent and adorable girl herself?

For a fleeting moment, some unseen force appeared to spread. Moen found himself genuinely immersed in an enchanting candlelight dinner with a sweet and lovely girl. The bloodshed, the monsters, and those heretical followers suddenly felt distant—just fragments of a wearisome dream.

After all, the dream was over now. Why waste time dwelling on it?

Reality, brimming with beauty, awaited him. Shouldn’t he savor the heartfelt meal his charming girlfriend had made and bask in the untroubled evening ahead?

Moen shook his head. The dream faded far away in his haze.

That’s right. Sari was his girlfriend. He should focus on enjoying this splendid dinner with her. Why bother with those inconsequential thoughts?

Who knows? After dinner, perhaps even better delights awaited him.

Moen subtly shifted his gaze downward, catching sight of Sari’s smooth legs hidden under her skirt. Thinking of what might come next, his Adam's apple bobbed, his heart stirring with urgency… Wait, why wasn’t it quite as exhilarating as he imagined?

Something seemed off. As if it were missing something essential.

"Is something wrong?"

Seeing Moen hesitate to begin eating, Sari clutched the hem of her skirt and bit at her lip, her expression turning tenderly pitiful.

"Did… the food I served couldn't fits your taste, Moen?"

"No, not at all."

Moen raised his gaze and fixated on Sari. His stare radiated sincere affection.

"It’s just that everything you’ve prepared looks so perfect, Sari, that I don’t even know where to start."

"Ah, Moen, you really know how to sweet-talk,"

Sari covered her flushed face, bashful to the extreme.

Meeting Moen's gaze, her eyes sparkled brighter than ever.

"Enough with such flattering words. Hurry and eat, will you?"

She glanced at her rosy lips and shot him a teasing look.

"After all… There’s a little surprise planned for after dinner."

"A surprise?"

Moen’s eyes lit up. "Then I’d better eat quickly."

Just as he was about to pick up his knife and fork, though, he paused abruptly, tapping his forehead in mild frustration.

"Oh dear, see how distracted I get staring at you, Sari? I almost forgot something very important."

"Something important?" Sari blinked, puzzled. "What is it?"

"Why, it’d be rude not to greet the hosts properly. That’s what’s important."

Moen set down the utensils, narrowed his eyes slightly, and smiled faintly with an almost imperceptible trace of amusement as he said:

"So, Sari… How’s your father doing?"

The music abruptly stopped.

The amorous atmosphere shattered instantly.

Sari’s bashful complexion froze, turning stiff.

"My… my father? He…" Sari stammered like a malfunctioning puppet, her words tangled in utter confusion.

But she hadn’t managed even a full sentence before Moen, still wearing that uncanny smile, continued:

"Having greeted your father, shouldn’t we also have a heartfelt chat—just between us, Sari?"

As his remark fell, it was as if a paused video stream had suddenly glitched.

One moment, Moen was holding utensils, ready to dig into the meal.

The next, those hands were gripping not a fork or knife, but… a pure-white dagger.

Its hilt rested in Moen's palm while its blade had already lodged itself squarely in the girl's heart.