"I knew you'd come."

Rean set down his wine glass with a smile.

When Cang Lin had said "see you tonight" that morning, he'd already anticipated this. As one of the standout adventurers, an invitation was inevitable.

Cang Lin now wore something different—a elegant gown matching the banquet's tone, yet still pure white like drifting clouds. Her Eastern features suited the crisp, clean style surprisingly well.

But why keep the sword on her back…?

Yes. That single detail shattered her seamless blend into the scene: the blue longsword hanging behind her, unsheathed, its blade shimmering with a cold, sharp light. Guests instinctively kept their distance, wary of accidental cuts.

*How bold are the guards? Someone brought a weapon in! A silent killer!* Rean thought inwardly.

"Oh, it's… due to certain circumstances. I couldn't leave it at my lodgings, so I brought it in—with permission," Cang Lin explained quickly upon catching his glance, easing their doubts.

Yet a new question stirred in Rean: she *knew* such weapons weren't allowed. What forced her to carry it?

No direct proof, but Rean sensed it wasn't social etiquette—it was magic. *His* domain.

That sword… might be problematic.

But back in the crystal mine, when he'd used the Eye of Deconstruction, he'd seen only the black sphere behind the wall. Nothing else. Strange.

"Rean," Cang Lin approached with a smile, "are you comfortable leaving Olga with me?"

*Hmm… If she doesn't bring it up, don't stir trouble.*

Rean shrugged helplessly. "Fine. Better with someone responsible than wandering alone."

"Why hand me off so casually?!" Olga pouted, shooting him a reproachful glare.

"I'm not ditching you. Stick with Cang Lin—keeps you from getting tricked." He turned away, waving over his shoulder. "Wait for me."

Without looking back, he slipped through the crowd toward the mansion's rear.

...

"That damn Rean… Said we'd attend together, then dumps me! I'll make him pay!" Olga clenched her fists, watching his retreating back. Cang Lin beside her chuckled softly.

"Cang Lin, what's so funny?"

"No, I think Rean *does* care," Cang Lin's elegant brows curved into a gentle arc, eyes crinkling with warmth. "He's the soft-hearted type hiding behind tough words. His relief when he saw me? Proof he worried about you wandering alone."

"If only he were that considerate…" Olga's cheeks puffed slightly, still feigning anger—but the faint blush betrayed her. Shyness outweighed irritation.

"So your relationship's actually good?"

"N-no! Terrible!" Olga's composure shattered. A sharp cough escaped her; her blush deepened as she flustered to deny it. Cang Lin only offered a knowing "I see, I see" smile and let it be.

...

Rean leaned against a stone pillar in the garden pavilion, eyes closed to the distant banquet chatter. He sighed.

*How long since I laughed freely with others out of pure joy?*

He was using Yethania for Christine's sake. He could mimic joy, understand it—but never truly feel it.

Only those aimless wanderings long ago, exploring every corner of each city with laughter-filled days… that was real.

Now? He understood emotions but couldn't catch them. His own feelings were fading.

*Ironic. The higher I climb, the harder it is to feel joy.*

*"Come on—you've been flustered lately. Because of that angel."*

A mental voice made him chuckle and shake his head. *Flustered? Annoyed, yes.*

Days with Olga meant daily arguments. Earlier, she'd even beaned him with a bottle—only healing magic saved his face. Bizarre incidents left him speechless: funny, yet ridiculous he'd react at all.

*…But I *am* growing more concerned about her.*

*Only about keeping her out of trouble.*

*A crush? Nope.*

*Yeah. Right.*

He opened his eyes, shook his head firmly. *Why dwell on nonsense…?*

*Whoosh—*

A sharp sound from beyond the garden snapped his focus. Not a pebble. Faster than arrow, bow, or crossbow. Tiny.

*A hidden blade?*

Security here was lax—easy to infiltrate. *If* Mammon remnants slipped past the soldiers… this victory celebration was the perfect cover. Joy dulled vigilance.

*Sigh.* Tyler was busy. Might as well catch this reckless little assassin himself.

Rean stood, strolling boldly through the garden. He wasn't afraid—he was curious what guts this infiltrator had after witnessing today's battle.

But his worry was unfounded.

Beyond lay a sandy training ground, stark against the lush green. Straw dummies stood haphazardly. A girl—back turned—stomped in frustration, arm raised.

A red flash. *Whoosh!* The tiny projectile grazed the dummy's head and thudded into the pockmarked wall opposite.

*A flintlock?*

He'd seen human firearms—miniaturized cannons using gunpowder. Useless against high-tier demon magic, so reserved for human wars.

But this was smaller. Lighter.

*Whoosh—*

Faster reload too. An upgrade?

Accuracy, though… pitiful.

"Your stance is off. You'll never hit it."

"Who?!"

She spun, gun barrel snapping toward Rean. Moonlight revealed her: chestnut hair like seaweed, sea-blue eyes, ivory skin glowing softly. A crimson gown hugged her frame; black heels added height to her petite build.

*Hmm. A beauty.* Rean mentally tipped his hat.

"No harm intended," he said, hands raised in surrender, stepping closer.

"Don't move or I shoot!"

He wasn't worried. Dodge, absorb, catch—it wouldn't touch him.

"Relax. Just teaching you to hit the target."

"You? Who *are* you? Can you even use one?" Suspicion flickered in her eyes. Rean sighed. *Lately, everyone doubts me…*

"Just a passing wanderer. Forget my name." He lowered his arms with a grin. "Try again."

Speechless but sensing no threat, she aimed shakily at the nearest dummy.

"Hand lower. Back straight."

His hand steadied her waist. She jolted.

"What are you doing?!"

"Don't move. Pretend I'm not here. Align gun and arm. Focus on the target. Don't *force* the trigger—it throws your shot."

She endured the warmth of his hand, the faint breath at her ear, trying to focus—but utterly distracted.

"Fire when ready."

*Bang—*

She didn't care about aim anymore. Just *shoot and make him leave*.

The bullet tore through air—*thunk*—right chest of the dummy.

"See? Hit it." Rean stepped back, satisfied.

Face flushed, she lowered the gun. *Half because of him… half because I aimed for the left.*

"Until next time, miss."

"Wait! You took advantage of me!" She grabbed his arm as he turned.

"Purposely correcting your stance—"

"No excuses! You'll learn the consequence of manhandling *Miss Gloria Adams*!"

*Adams…?* Rean paused. *Familiar…*