Seeing the pile of empty bowls, Wenwu’s temper flared uncontrollably.

He stormed over. "Silver, didn’t I tell you not to let her order more? Why did she eat so much?"

"Master, she—"

"Wenwu," a familiar voice cut Silver off, "is this how you treat your servants? Denying them a proper meal?"

Wenwu had only noticed the empty bowls earlier, not the other person seated at the table.

"D-Desmona?" Right—Desmona, the Second Imperial Princess of the Bansfaser Empire, sat with Silver. Dressed in her signature black gown, she watched him coolly. "What are you doing here?"

"I’m bailing out your penniless servant."

Wenwu had already guessed the gist: Desmona had used delayed-arrival teleportation to find him, missed him, waited here, then paid for Bai’s endless orders after Silver tried to stop her.

"Let’s skip the pleasantries," Wenwu said. "What do you *really* want?"

"I’ve come to honor my promise to you."

"Spare me. You only want one thing: my Essence Energy."

"This is merely—"

"Just answer: yes or no."

Desmona’s expression darkened. "Yes."

"You stabbed me in the back in Black Street. That debt’s unpaid. And now you dare ask for my energy?"

"But you’re perfectly fine. Not a scratch on you."

"Oh, I’m *so* grateful. Thanks to you, I’ve also gained a new title: Imperial Fugitive."

"You men always say the pleasure is worth the trouble. One more time with me, and I’ll pay any price."

"Not a chance. Unless you return the Divine Tree Seed first."

Desmona’s face tightened. In her world, no one rejected someone of her beauty so bluntly.

"Bro! Fancy meeting you again!" Rexar—Wenwu’s bar acquaintance—appeared in the shabby eatery. "Bro, a gorgeous lady’s offering free fun *and* cash? If you won’t take it, can I have her?"

"Sure. All yours." Wenwu didn’t hesitate.

"Respect!" Rexar gave a thumbs-up. "Milady, shall we?" He offered his arm with exaggerated grace.

Desmona sized him up, then shook her head. "You’re not up to the task."

The words struck Rexar like lightning. Being called inadequate by a woman—*this* woman—felt like a public execution.

"Why? You haven’t even tested me!"

"Could you last from now till dawn?" Desmona smiled sweetly.

Rexar puffed his chest, but faltered. "Could *he*?" He jabbed a finger at Wenwu.

"Absolutely." Desmona’s reply was instant.

Rexar forced a smile—more grimace than grin—and left, seething.

After he vanished, Wenwu ate a light meal, charging everything to Desmona.

"Silver, Bai, let’s go." He needed lodging; sleeping rough was too dangerous for them, per the barkeep’s warning.

"Stop following me." Wenwu turned to Desmona halfway down the street.

"How odd," she replied calmly. "This is a vassal state of the Bansfaser Empire. As Princess Royal, must I seek your permission to walk my own lands?"

"Fine. Have it your way." Wenwu bit back his frustration. Royalty trumped everything.

At a cheap inn, Wenwu booked one room to save coin. Desmona took another—but trailed him to his door.

"Your Highness," Wenwu blocked her entry, "this is my private space. Paid for. Your room’s over there." He shut the door, leaving her alone in the hallway.

Deep in sleep, Wenwu jolted awake, gasping for air. A shadow loomed over him.

"Desmona! What are you doing?" He tried to shove her off but couldn’t move. *Puppetry?*

"Don’t struggle," she murmured. "I enhanced the binding after you broke free last time. Just lie back and enjoy."

*Bang!*

The door burst open. Soldiers flooded in, scanning the scene. "It’s a beauty. Intel was accurate. Take her!"