A scene of utter devastation.
Once every silver wolf lay slain, the ground was littered with grotesque corpses. The air hung thick with blood and rot, a nauseating stench clawing at their nostrils. The sight of mangled bodies assaulted their senses, stirring a sharp urge to vomit.
Moyu Manatsu forced down the queasiness, straightening her spine with effort.
Glancing around, she saw exhaustion etched on every face—except none showed discomfort. Though caught off guard by the ambush, they bore it calmly. Their expressions spoke volumes: this level of combat was routine.
*These are the academy’s elite,* she thought.
*If they find out I’m not the real Lunorette… disaster.*
“Lunorette, are you alright?” Saria stepped closer.
Had Saria not intervened moments ago, Moyu Manatsu wouldn’t be standing here.
“I’m fine.”
She masked her turmoil with practiced nonchalance.
Relieved, Saria turned to check on others—utterly unaware of the storm inside the girl.
*This is another world.* The truth struck her cold the moment her life hung by a thread.
Back home, the Supernatural Investigation Bureau posed threats—but here, death felt immediate, visceral.
“Luno-chan…”
Caina’s worried gaze felt dangerously perceptive.
“Caina, I’m okay. Tend to the others first.”
*Don’t let her read my face,* Moyu Manatsu pleaded inwardly.
“Student Lunorette.” Theos’s voice cut through the silence.
“What were you doing? Why hold back?”
His tone wasn’t a question—it was an accusation.
“Hiding your strength again?”
“I…”
“I don’t care what you’re thinking. Wake up. We’re in mortal danger. Your power is vital to this team. This isn’t a game.”
“…Sorry.”
She knew the truth: she wasn’t Lunorette. She had no power to offer.
Yet here, she *was* Lunorette. No choice. No escape.
Silver wolves—common monsters, barely worth grinding—had nearly slit her throat.
“Junior Lunorette, it’s fine! None of us are hurt,” a senior reassured her.
“Yeah, you did nothing wrong.”
Two upperclassmen offered gentle words.
The girl lifted her head slowly, watching her resting classmates. Her fists tightened.
In this forest where death lurked at every turn, her secret wouldn’t stay hidden long.
Do nothing? Then die.
Her eyes drifted to the noble girl who’d argued with the commoner earlier… gears turning.
“But who released silver wolves here? They don’t even live in this forest,” the noble youth Qiaoshefei remarked.
Theos pieced the clues together. “Could be a warning.”
A chill rippled through the group.
“I believe the princess’s kidnapper is here—and watching us. He knew we’d come.”
“Really…?”
“It’s the only logic. No one dumps plains-dwelling silver wolves into the Forest of Death for fun. This targets us.”
“…But why just a warning? It feels incomplete.”
“Exactly. Ahead lies greater danger.” Theos pointed forward. Faces paled.
He meant: traps lay ahead, meant to scare them off.
“Silver wolves were already tough… what’s *ahead*?”
“Can we even survive moving forward…?”
Doubt spread like frost.
Moyu Manatsu stared into the shadows.
*Theos is right. The kidnapper waits ahead—with malice.*
*A trap.* She’d deduced what he left unsaid.
This wasn’t about ransom. It was spectacle—a move to shake the empire.
The bold warning pushed them deeper… to use the princess as leverage. To expose everything.
*Almost certainly a trap.* And no one else saw it. Battle-weary and shaken, their minds couldn’t dig deeper.
All she wanted: survive till dawn. Return this body to Lunorette.
---
In a shadowed corner, Wensidia—the kidnapped princess—lay bound and unconscious, slumped against the wall.
The black-clad man removed his hood. A stern face. Eyes sharp with hidden frost.
A holographic projection glowed on the wall: ten elite students trudging through the forest.
*Perfect. Right on schedule.*
“Just kids,” he murmured, smirking.
“That old fool will regret sending lambs to the slaughter.”
He’d expected seasoned agents—not students. *Senile.*
Senauf Xiejit powered down the projection, sheathed his knife, and approached Wensidia.
A golden strand brushed her chest. Peaceful. Regal. Like Snow White awaiting a prince.
But no prince would come. Only a foreign assassin.
*If only I could kill you…*
His grip tightened on the blade. Rage simmered—then stilled.
Enemies, yes. But professionalism demanded restraint.
“Clueless kids…” He lowered the knife.
He reactivated the hologram. An older man’s face filled the screen.
“Well done, Xiejit.”
“Merely my duty, Lord Freet.”
“Infiltrating Rockefeller Academy—the ‘impregnable fortress’—impressed me. Extracting the princess? Exceptional.”
“Overconfidence breeds carelessness. Even a heartbeat becomes a weakness.”
*Exactly how I took her,* Xiejit thought. *She felt safe. She slipped.*
“I’ll arrive within two days. Keep the princess secure.”
“Difficult. Rockefeller’s search party is already in this forest.”
“What?! You’re in danger!”
“Just students. No threat.”
“Don’t underestimate them, Xiejit. This isn’t simple.”
The screen showed no ease. Xiejit scoffed.
“Students? They’ve already stepped into my traps.”
“…Will you wait there two days?”
Silence. Then:
“Only the Forest of Death blocks Mana detection. Outside, the academy elders will trace her. I won’t risk it.”
“A valid concern.”
“Bring the drug. It’ll disrupt her Mana for ten, twenty minutes—enough to cross the border.”
“Proceed cautiously. I’ll come swiftly.”
“Thank you, Lord Freet.” Xiejit bowed.
“Oh—and your daughter’s birthday approaches. You remember?”
The casual remark shifted Xiejit’s expression.
“Work comes first.”
“Don’t be rigid. You *want* to go home.”
“I…”
“Finish this mission. I promise: return to them. Your wife and daughter are waiting.”
“Thank you, Lord Freet.”
“Come back alive, Xiejit.”
The projection vanished.
Slowly, Xiejit drew a pendant. Opened it. A photo: a bright-eyed girl, eight or nine, radiating childhood charm.
He closed it. Tucked it close.
His resolve hardened.
Behind him, the princess slept on—serene, unaware.
Peaceful. For now.
