The patrol captain kept needling, his voice like a stick poking a kennel. He clearly disliked the Ouyang duo, like a cat eyeing wet dogs.

It rang true, like a bell in a quiet hall. Irina and Xi, beauties like twin moons, watched Ouyang and Kooson all day and kept asking about them.

Jealousy sprouted in the captain’s chest like sour ivy. He vowed to complete Irina’s task perfectly. If they forced a breach, he’d strike openly.

But Ouyang and Kooson sat cross-legged like stones. No hint of a rush, still as pond water. The captain’s fists met cotton; the itch brought no pain.

“Hey, man,” Ouyang said, his voice easy as a breeze. “My brother and I just came down from the mountains.”

“Tomorrow, when confinement ends, I’ll take my brother out to stroll, like doors opening at dawn.” “I heard the big city’s dangerous; take the wrong turn, someone’ll beat you like a summer squall.”

His shy smile warmed the air like spring sun and melted the captain’s guard. He suddenly remembered the city could swing the knife for him.

“Ah, brother, name’s Breil,” he said, voice knocking like knuckles on wood. Let me tell you Terracafe’s best haunts, places that glitter like fish scales.

East of the Clock Tower, there’s a street that looks empty as winter fields. Push any door on that street, and you’ll find another street inside, bustling like a fair.

And west of Central Lake, there’s a tavern. Tell the staff you want the basement, and they’ll take you down like a lantern leading stairs. Rumor says elves and orcs drink there in the dark like forest shadows.

His eagerness ran ahead like a dog slipping the leash; he didn’t even ask Ouyang’s name.

Kooson scratched his head, simple as an ox, eyes bright as ponds. Ouyang wore expectation like a painted mask, an actor ready to perform.

“I wanna go, little brother. Let’s hit those spots tomorrow.” Kooson looked like the older one, but Ouyang wouldn’t let the big oaf outrank him.

Breil grabbed paper and pen, strokes racing like a running brush. Soon he stopped, pen breathing like a tired sparrow. “These are Terracafe’s best. Follow, and fun will bloom.”

“Thanks.” Ouyang took the paper with both hands, gratitude warm as tea. “Didn’t expect a big city to have a heart like yours, soft as warm clay.”

“Tomorrow…” Breil frowned, impatience itching like ants in his boots. He pictured them getting mobbed and could hardly wait.

“How about this—I’ll help you,” he said, arms spreading like a bridge. “You slip out like shadows.”

Guilt pressed on Ouyang’s chest like a stone before he spoke. “But you’ll get punished. I can’t let you lose your job for us.”

“No worries,” he waved it off like smoke. “I’ll find two to stand in like paper cutouts. Go early, come back early.”

“This… brother, thank you,” Ouyang said, voice trembling like a string. “I’ll remember you for life.” Ouyang sniffed, tears like mist. Breil’s heart purred like a cat stealing cream.

With the ‘traitor’ Breil guiding, Ouyang and Kooson slipped out of the ducal estate like fish under a bridge.

Walking the main street, Ouyang glanced toward the estate and shook his head. “That kid’s smarts couldn’t catch a chicken in daylight.”

“Boss Ouyang, what now?” Kooson’s eyes were wide like doorways. “Hit those spots he said?” he asked, tone hopeful as sunrise.

Ouyang clonked Kooson’s head with a knuckle—thunk—annoyance sharp as flint. “You idiot,” he said, words clipped like a knife. “Seems your brain’s chasing feathers too.”

“First, we buy supplies at an apothecary,” he said, list rolling like beads. “Time to show off my ghost-and-god-tier alchemist craft.”

Elsewhere, Nabelia worked till dusk, her beauty and gold glinting like bait, and finally learned where the minotaur was held.

Terracafe’s prison was a pair of jaws. North held petty thieves and plate-breakers. South bit down on killers, nonhumans, and enemy agents.

The South lay underground, a throat with one surface passage. Soldiers ringed it like iron teeth; slipping through like smoke was near impossible.

That called for Eika’s gift, though his landings wandered like windblown seeds. Through a wall, close range, he could thread the needle.

So the question hung like a coin in the air: teleport past the wall—would the other side be empty?

“Nabelia, leave it to me,” he grinned like a fox. Eika thumped his chest, raised his hands like a ritual gate, and murmured under his breath.

Space around the guards rippled like heat above stone.

“What’s happening?” Soldiers stared about, nerves tight as bowstrings. The twist peaked; the men vanished like dust. “See? I’m pretty great,” he preened like a peacock.

Nabelia stared, wind combing her loosened hair like cold fingers. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought you,” she said, regret cold as rain.

The guardhouse had vanished too, evaporated like morning mist, leaving bare earth and a wound of stairs into the dark.

Several warders clattered up from below and froze, faces pale as paper. “Quick, notify the city lord—this is big,” they cried, voices like thunder.

Watching the alarm swell like a storm, Nabelia itched to slap Eika, rage bright as fire. He had shredded her careful web.

“No time. Teleport into the cells. Free the minotaur, now.”

Eika knew he’d blundered, shame heavy as lead. He cast fast; at this distance his aim was pin-sharp.

Space smoothed like calm water, and they landed in the cells. With the guardhouse gone, soldiers had rushed up, leaving the depths bare.

“Find the minotaur, hurry,” she said, words cracking like ice. Tension beat in Nabelia’s chest like a drum; soldiers could flood back any breath.

“Nabelia, what does the Demon King want?” Eika’s voice flickered like a candle. “Free the minotaur or just stir panic?” he asked, eyes bright as sparks. “For panic, we just open every cell,” he added, logic sharp as a blade.

Eika’s words lit a spark. To complete the task beautifully, to earn the Demon King’s praise, she’d free the minotaur and everyone else.

“Eika, grab the keys,” she snapped like a branch. “Move.” “Even if they spot you, it’s fine,” she said, calm cold as snow.

But Eika’s eyes drifted like lost birds; he had no idea where the keys were.

“I know,” rasped a skeletal old man, finger thin as a twig pointing. “There—the keys hang there,” he whispered, breath dry as paper.

Eika saw the keys glint like fish. A soldier spotted them at once. “Enemy in the cells!” the shout rang like a gong.

Nabelia snatched the keys, locks clicking open like pebbles. “You take them—free your own,” her command flew like an arrow. She flung the ring like a comet and warped away with Eika.

Inside, a key-holder yelled, voice cutting like a horn, “Hold them off.” “I’ll free the rest,” he vowed, eyes hard as stones. Chains rattled like rain as cell doors flew.

She hadn’t reached the minotaur, but any prisoner with half a brain knew: to escape, free everyone.

The prison roared like a flooded river, chaos and clamor rolling wall to wall.

Outside, Nabelia slid off her mask, breathing deep like surf. Only fools hit jobs like this bare-faced.

“Move. Don’t linger and draw suspicion.” She hauled Eika away like wind. Below, the minotaur raged, horns lowering like battering rams, and prisoners wisely hid.

Soon the minotaur lay beaten beneath a tide of soldiers, while the smarter inmates had slipped away like smoke.

“Chase! Bring them back!” the warden’s roar cracked like a whip. Soldiers scattered through corridors and forgot the wounded bull-headed one.

With one breath left, the minotaur crawled, dragging itself like a wounded beast under a blind moon. No one looked, eyes closing like shutters. It crept on alone, through dust like a slow river.