"Hey, old man—tell me, haven’t your two daughters started treating us three kings like swept-away dust?"

"What do you mean?" His tone was cold, like frost on iron.

Gill sank into his chair; his boots claimed the table, legs crossed like a flag of arrogance.

"What else could I mean? Think about it: you’re a king, yet getting two little ones here is a headache—"

His words paused; a dangerous smile bloomed, like a blade catching light.

"Tell me, don’t your two daughters think they’re invincible now that they’ve found the Dragonfolk and Elvenfolk to lean on?"

"You—"

"Don’t cut me off. I’m not done. Don’t they strike you as strange? Two humans, yet allied with outsiders."

"Elvenfolk, fine. They’re cold to humans, ice more than hate. An alliance can be explained."

"But Dragonfolk are different..."

"Dragonfolk honor strength. In that iron land, two human girls—how far could they climb?"

"This… wasn’t that settled already?!"

"Was it? Funny—I don’t remember."

He turned his head, ignoring King Alex’s face darkening like ink, and stared at the wall as if it held prophecy.

"So, here’s my take: your two daughters aren’t human at all."

Hearing his daughters smeared, King Alex hammered the table; blood beaded like red seeds, veins rising like coiling vines.

But King Alex couldn’t say a word. Silence held him like a winter net.

The Moser Empire was truly crumbling, like paint peeling in a long rain.

Everyone here knew it; otherwise, why treat King Alex like a shadow on the floor?

Since the Daemon invasion, the Moser Empire showed rot; three kings in name, already reduced to two, like candles guttering.

Glory peaks then falls; none expected Moser’s fall to come like night in one breath, leaving King Alex’s old bones to brace the wind.

And here we are.

Forced into this dull “game,” it’s just those two juggling his old bones for fun.

Family insulted, he swallowed it like bitter tea; before two other nations, Moser had no voice to raise.

Pain burned like embers, yet King Alex chose to endure.

Between hot impulse for his daughters and cold logic to bear it, King Alex stood with reason’s frost.

Seeing him refuse to strike, Gill looked almost disappointed, like a hunter denied the chase.

"So you think so too, King Alex? You admit your daughters aren’t human, right? As expected of a clever king."

"........."

Gill lowered his head and toyed with his watch; the minute hand neared half a circle, like a scythe.

"Three minutes more and I’m in the clear."

"......"

"Next is Dorado. Though I think you’re safe."

"That goes without saying. My calculations don’t miss."

"Shame, really. I’ve lived this long and never tasted that famed fragrance. Thought I’d get a sample today, but I’ll leave it to you, old man. Right?"

"Tch..." King Alex clicked his tongue; irritation sparked like flint, and he kept the fire under ash.

"Relax, old man. I hear that stuff is delicious—one bite and you’ll fall for it."

"And if it’s too much, give me the leftovers. I’ll be merciful and clean the plate."

"Of course, I’ll feed it to a dog. I respect wagers—if it’s yours to eat, it’s yours. I won’t steal a bite."

As if the result—King Alex’s loss—was carved in stone, Gill kept “comforting” him, words dripping fake compassion like syrup.

Bang!

The doors slammed open, a heavy sound rolling like thunder across the room.

The intruder strolled in, eyes skimming the hall like a swift hawk; a small fang flashed, lids half lowered, and she waved with a sunny smile.

"Yo—did I make it? Sounded like someone here was scamming free food and drink."

She raised her wrist—no watch—yet feigned surprise like a stage wink.

"A-la-la... air traffic jam. I started late, but made it—twenty-nine minutes, eight seconds. Good thing we didn’t hit a neat number."

Gill knew that tone in Ling’s voice—his own mockery, now parroted by this little troublemaker like a songbird.

Ignoring Gill’s shocked, simmering glare, Ling drifted to the table. Two chairs waited there, clearly for Alicia and herself, like places set at dusk.

She drew out one and sat, graceful as a true princess.

Of course—that was Alicia’s training, soft as silk.

Chin propped in both hands, she watched Gill with bright amusement; her gaze swept him like a cold breeze, and his back prickled, gooseflesh rising.

When Gill fidgeted and opened his mouth, Ling beat him to the courtesy, smile sweet as candied haw.

"Yo—have you eaten?"