Even though Favna killed the screen as fast as she could, it was already too late.

After a long silence, Alte glanced at her flushed face, awkwardly turned his head away—but since they were close enough, he simply admitted:

"Me too."

Hey, appreciating beauty is only human nature.

Alte felt zero shame. He even shrugged and asked,

"So… how about some spicy pics?"

Asking a girl for that might seem a little sketchy, but honestly? Probably the best way to break the tension.

Somehow, seeing Alte not pry—and acting like a bro casually asking for pics—Favna let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She’d genuinely feared he’d look at her strangely.

"I’ll… forward them to your phone…"

Murmuring weakly, she reopened her laptop. Head bowed, she couldn’t face the homepage she once loved—especially under Alte’s amused, *tsk-tsk* gaze from behind.

*I just want to vanish…*

"Not bad," Alte patted her shoulder. "Almost all my type."

"Being complimented like *that* doesn’t make me happy at all!"

Favna finally snapped.

She frantically opened a new tab and dove into her search.

Alte reluctantly pulled his gaze back, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

*Thought she was the shy, reserved type… turns out she’s got a secretly bold side.*

*Could this be the legendary "quietly spicy" personality?*

"Last time, a mobile signal tried triggering Navia’s bomb—I stopped it. I’ve been tracking the culprit for days, but without higher network clearance, I hit a dead end…"

Once focused, the blush faded from Favna’s cheeks. Her slender fingers clacked rapidly across the keyboard; lines of code streamed across the screen. Her gaze sharpened—so absorbed she didn’t notice the office door open.

And who walked in? None other than Abel, with nothing better to do…

…along with his wife.

"I’m *begging* you," Alte groaned, palm pressed to his forehead. "Can you two take the PDA somewhere else?"

"Who said I’m here to flaunt?" Abel slung an arm around his buddy, steering him to the corner. "Progress is looking good, huh?"

He meant Alte and Favna, of course.

This prince held another title: Radiant Sun Tier Hunter—Silver Mad Wolf.

His hunter instincts were razor-sharp. One whiff, and he caught the faint trace of a girl’s scent on Alte.

"What?" Alte shoved him off. He was *done* explaining.

"Really? I *smell* it. Did you two share a room?"

"Your dog nose hasn’t changed…" Alte sighed. "Joke with me all you want—but leave Favna alone. She’s shy."

"Obviously." Abel nudged his chest with an elbow, grinning. "Sharing a room and *not* dating? What even is that?"

"I share a room with my *sister*. You calling *that* dating?"

"Don’t even compare!" Abel chuckled, then pulled him to the sofa. Serious now.

"Alte… I need to tell you something."

His expression turned grave—almost dangerous.

Alte straightened instantly. "What is it?"

"There’s a mole inside the Fallen Empire’s law enforcement."

That covered the Police Bureau, Intelligence Bureau… and technically the Dragon Knights Order.

The Order was clear—too few could infiltrate it. Suspicion fell squarely on the other two.

"No wonder my intel runs kept hitting walls."

Alte had suspected it, but without proof, it stayed just a hunch. Abel’s words cemented it.

"Do you know who?"

With evidence, the Dragon Knights could neutralize the threat.

"Hard to say…" Abel shook his head. "But my top suspect? The Velanica Family."

At the name, Alte’s face darkened.

Abel added quickly, "Stay calm. Don’t rush."

"Hah… I know."

Alte took a slow breath, masking the storm behind his eyes.

Abel exhaled in relief. "If you’d rather not handle them… I can."

"No. Past things won’t sway me."

But the tight furrow in his brow said otherwise. *Captain Alte clearly loathed the Velanica Family.*

"Alte, I found it—Huh?"

Only then did Favna snap out of her screen-trance and notice the two newcomers.

Shia—the black-haired catgirl—watched her with a gentle smile. *Too* gentle. Favna felt it was forced.

The black cat seemed delighted. She poured tea herself, set the cup before Favna, and said sweetly:

"You’ve worked so hard. Please rest, Miss Favna."

Ending with a dazzling smile that nearly blinded the gloomy, socially anxious homebody dragon.

"If you need more tea, don’t hesitate~"

Watching Shia walk away, Favna felt a quiet pang of envy—especially that effortless warmth.

*Compared to me… a lazy, good-for-nothing shut-in dragon… Miss Shia shines way too brightly.*

Hunched over her keyboard, face nearly pressed to the keys, she whispered:

"If Miss Shia were a maid… she’d be absolutely perfect, right?"

*Whereas me… like some gloomy little creature that crawled out from who-knows-where.*

*Who on earth would ever like someone like me?*