Dark clouds blanketed the sky, swallowing the moonlight. The heavy, oppressive gloom pressed down on the world below.

On the fungal-stalk exterior of the Rest Station, a burly figure scaled the wall with practiced ease. Fingers like steel claws gouged out handholds. He leaped upward, boots finding purchase in the dents, fingers carving fresh footholds above.

After a few repetitions, he landed lightly on a fifth-floor windowsill.

The intruder’s gaze flicked to a crimson mandrake blooming beside the window. Without hesitation, he perched on the ledge, then vaulted smoothly into the room. The fluid motions betrayed a familiar routine.

“How’d it go?”

He strode in without checking for occupants, voice cutting through the darkness.

A shadow stirred.

A figure flicked on the overhead light.

Soft white illumination flooded the five-bed dormitory.

The man at the switch was in his twenties—towering, sun-bronzed, muscles coiled beneath his short sleeves. His tight pants outlined powerful legs. This was Lal, the giant who’d fled the restaurant earlier. Gone was his usual dull demeanor; his eyes now held a sharp, calculating glint.

“The mandrake token I sent proves I delivered what you wanted.”

“Oh? Hand it over.”

The hooded figure stood silhouetted against the window, blocking most of the frame. His loose black coat swallowed his massive frame like a barrel-shaped void.

Lal pulled a file from his bed’s hidden compartment and held it up.

“I’ve mapped the Rest Station personnel. Got the supply convoy schedule between Seaside City and here. My payment?”

“Brought it.”

The black-clad man lifted his coat hem, unhooking a head-sized pouch from his belt. He held it out.

“Let me see it first.”

“A Wandering Butterfly—paid to gather secrets—doesn’t trust his employer? Given your suspicion, I should refuse this trade.”

*Wandering Butterflies*: borderless spies, insects slipping into every nation’s vital spaces. Hunted on sight, killed without mercy. Yet when they held critical intelligence, they’d emerge like butterflies from cocoons—suddenly coveted, fiercely bid upon by factions with clashing agendas. Then, they’d be untouchable.

Lal knew his stolen data wasn’t that valuable. No leverage to bargain with.

His brow furrowed. He softened his tone.

“You know I’m a Butterfly. But I don’t know who *you* are. Give me something solid. Then you get the files.”

“No wonder you’re small-time. Look for yourself.”

The man sneered, tossing the pouch like trash.

“Once I get this payment, I won’t *be* small-time anymore. I’ll rise.”

Lal caught the pouch effortlessly. He ripped the drawstring open, spilling its contents into his palm.

A blinding gleam erupted—fading after a few breaths to reveal a palm-sized oval fruit. Purple-black veins pulsed beneath its glassy surface. It throbbed like a heartbeat against his skin.

Lal’s breath hitched. He carefully tucked it away, then beamed as he offered the files.

“All verified?”

“My mistake, friend! Don’t take it personally!” He scratched his head sheepishly.

The black-clad man scanned the documents, nodded curtly.

“Deal done.”

“Wait.”

Lal stopped him as he turned to leave.

“Regretting it? Too late.”

“No. How… how do I use this?” Lal held up the pouch awkwardly.

“A country bumpkin who can’t even bond a Tree Embryo.”

“I’ve never touched Elven Sorcery! You promised this would make me an Elven Sorcerer! Without instructions, the deal’s incomplete!”

“The Tree Embryo comes from the World Tree’s branches. It births a Tree Spirit. But you won’t hatch it. Cut your palm. Press the Embryo to the wound. The spirit’s power will merge with you. I’ve checked—you’re compatible. Must I spell out the rest?”

Perched on the windowsill, the man’s voice dripped with impatience.

“Understood.”

Lal watched, grinning, as the shadow vanished into the night. He pulled out the Embryo again.

*Time for me to rise.*

Just as he reached for a blade to slit his palm—

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

He stuffed the Embryo away, killed the light, and dove under his blanket.

…

“Over here, beauty. Almost there.”

*Bang!*

The dorm door crashed open.

Fenks and his thugs shoved the Silverhaired Maiden inside. They flipped on the light, slammed the door shut, and blocked it with their bodies.

Four pairs of eyes devoured her face—ethereal, unforgettable—and traced her slender figure. Hunger burned in their gazes like wolves spotting prey. To them, the delicate girl huddled in the corner was nothing but a feast.

Their stares lingered on her full chest. Adam’s apples bobbed uncontrollably.

Downward, to her narrow waist, rounded hips, long legs.

Tongues darted out to wet dry lips. Heat coiled low in their bellies. The thought of pinning down such a creature made them tremble.

Beneath his blanket, Lal peeked out.

*That silver hair… the girl from the restaurant.*

He’d wanted her the moment he saw her. But his mission—gathering intel inside the Rest Station—forced caution. He’d avoided Fenks, his superior, to stay under the radar. He wasn’t a good man. He’d listened, itching, to Fenks’ post-rape boasts. He’d stayed “simple” to keep suspicion off him.

Now his mission was complete. One step from becoming an Elven Sorcerer.

One step from leaving ordinary life behind.

One step from the upper echelons of power.

Success made a man crave a beautiful companion.

Lal’s pulse quickened. Bonding the Tree Embryo would make him untouchable. And this silver-haired vision? Perfect for his new life. He imagined crushing her slight frame against his chest, dominating her completely.

The opportunity was here.

Finish Fenks and his crew—settle old scores *and* claim the girl.

A perfect future unfolded in his mind. He never considered her consent.

As he fantasized—

The Silverhaired Maiden straightened abruptly.

Verlith flicked aside her silvery strands, those stunning locks now framing her face. Her pink irises swept coldly over the men.

“Wow. Tsk tsk. Absolutely exquisite.”

Fenks whistled, his cronies murmuring in awe.

“What’s wrong, beauty?” Fenks leered. “Scared speechless?”

“Hah?” Verlith scoffed.

“We’re here. Too lazy to keep up the act.”

She crossed her arms, an icy smile curling her lips.

Fenks blinked, then burst into raucous laughter.

“Feisty! She’s *eager*! What are we waiting for, boys? Get her!”