The lounge now was quiet with the tension of an aftermath. The corpses had vanished, dissolved into grains of soot, swept through the vents carved into the marble floors.
Silvena inhaled, then glanced toward the corpses-turned-ash.
Ruvian remained still beside her, sword angled down at his side, yet his mind was already backtracking every second of the ambush, recalling the numbered mask, the vanishing figure behind the curtains, and the exact timing of the attack.
His pupils, sharp and calm, flicked one last time toward the disintegrating remains before turning to the door.
They didn’t have to wait long.
Moments later, a polite knock echoed against the lounge’s enchanted doors. Then, with the soft hiss of unfolding wards, the double-doors parted.
Three figures entered.
Two were guards in ceremonial black, their armor untouched by battle, their faces blank with apology. Between them strode a man. Tall, dignified, and dressed in a midnight waistcoat. His silver-threaded hair and dark gloves betrayed neither age nor emotion.
He stopped exactly two steps short of the central rug, bowed slightly, and spoke.
“Mr Phantom Verse. Mrs Venomous Petals.” His tone was smooth yet reverent. “Forgive the intrusion. I am Master Tallas, steward of this tier of Ashway. I have come personally to extend our most sincere apologies.”
Neither Ruvian nor Silvena answered.
Tallas continued without pause, as if familiar with silence as a conversational partner. “Our Bazaar prides itself on discretion, protection, and clarity of exchange. What occurred tonight violates all three. I offer no excuses, only amends.”
He gave a subtle gesture, and one of the attendants stepped forward, presenting a velvet-cushioned case. The box opened with a whisper.
Inside, resting on black silk, were two obsidian rings, each etched with enchantment that shifted slightly when seen from the corner of one’s eye.
[Grade-A Mana Amplifiers Relics], rare and near-impossible to obtain without the Bazaar’s shadowed networks.
Silvena arched a brow but didn’t touch it. “You’re offering compensation, or... you're bribing us to keep this event as a secret?"
“Whichever term suits your sensibilities,” Tallas replied, bowing again. “But let there be no misunderstanding. You are not the only ones watching this room. Reputation spreads faster than fire, and tonight, yours burned brightly.”
A flicker of tension passed, then Silvena offered a slow smile and turned away, her voice cool.
“We’ll consider the rings after we return.”
Tallas bowed once more. “...Naturally.”
As the couple departed down the velvet corridor, Tallas remained frozen, spine straight, gaze distant. It was only after they were gone that he allowed himself a breath. And made a note to have every staff member involved tonight thoroughly reviewed.
“Tch. Inform the higher-ups that we upheld our end of the bargain, but we did not anticipate the involvement of House D’Elvoire.” (+200PP)
***
[Congratulations.]
[The Omen Scroll is now in your possession.]
[Timeline interference minimized. Calamity progression delayed.]
[The artifact has acknowledged your presence. Further anomalies may follow.]
[You have received +2500 Plot Points!]
*****
The streets beyond the carriage window blurred into velvet shadows and scattered lamplight. The city wore its midnight face now, drunken laughter echoing down narrow alleys, and lanterns flickering in the fog.
Ashway’s upper rings lay behind them, and with it, the bloodless skirmish that had left more questions than answers.
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Inside the carriage, silence reigned for a while. Silvena leaned against the velvet-cushioned wall, legs crossed, as she watched the play of light outside through a tiny glass slit. Her mask still adorned her sculptured face, catching moonlight along the ridged edge like a teasing smile.
Ruvian sat opposite her, arms crossed, his own mask, rendering his silence more unreadable than usual.
Eventually, he spoke.
“You didn’t take the rings. Why?”
Silvena turned toward him slowly, head tilting with feline amusement.
“Were you hoping I would?” She said,
Ruvian didn’t answer, only gave a lifting brow.
She gave a soft hum. “Well, it was a generous offering. But not one I asked for. I have that little toys plenty in my house.”
'Huh, I'm not that surprised.'
“That’s usually the point of gifts?”
“Well, yes. If I'd accepted it now, it would mean accepting whatever else they think comes with it too." Her voice tilted with that familiar edge of dry amusement.
Ruvian tilted his head. “And?”
Silvena smiled behind the mask. “I don’t want what they offer. I want what I choose to take.”
'I see...'
Ruvian gave a quiet exhale that might’ve passed for a laugh. “So you left their bribe on the table.”
“No,” she corrected. “I left their leash there.”
The gentle sway of the carriage might have lulled a lesser mind into comfort, but Silvena’s posture straightened subtly. The glint of humor faded from her tone, and when she next spoke, her voice had shifted… colder, but not cruel; more like analytical.
“Let’s speak plainly, Mr Phantom Verse.”
Her gaze was half-turned toward the window, though her words were clearly for him alone.
“Were you expecting that to happen as well? I have a feeling that you came here, it's not just to look for pretty toys, am I right?”
‘Why is she always quick to catch up?’
Again, Ruvian needs to be careful what to reveal.
“No, I indeed came to look for any good items in the auction. I wasn't expecting any of that… until they gave off a weird vibe. I was late to anticipate their presence. But it was all just luck that my suspicion and assumption was correct. That's all. Would you believe me if I told you that much for now?”
Ruvian remained still, the mask’s blank face hiding nothing, but his silence, as always, said far more than most men’s replies.
“Very well.”
Silvena continued, voice even but edged with precision.
“Now, to the next matter in hand. About the way you fought…”
She sighed.
“You struggled with a puppet whose strength hovered somewhere between the upper tiers of Class C and the threshold of Class B. Maybe you lacked power, or you haven’t yet learned how to use what you have fully, ruthlessly.”
Her eyes flicked to him now, with the focused scrutiny of a veteran merchant gauging an item.
“If Julian stood before you tomorrow… you would lose. That's for sure. Well, I would lose to Julian as well. To be honest, he's not that strong to me. Calyra can easily flick him off... but, his elemental affinities are a dangerous combination to have."
The truth was not meant to wound but it was simply delivered. And Ruvian, to his credit, did not flinch. He drew a slow breath, not in protest, but in thought. Then, after a second, his voice came.
'She's not wrong.'
“The offer I gave you yesterday…”
He met her gaze through the shadows of their masks.
“…I will make it happen no matter what. I can easily defeat Julian as well during Vazrun Test." (+100PP)
A long pause. Then a question, not born of doubt but of quiet challenge.
“Do you trust me?”
Silvena looked at him, at the gaze beneath it, was the unwavering steel that no disguise could obscure.
His eyes, though shaped by someone else’s face, held no hesitation. They spoke of burden. Of calculation. Of the distant promise.
She stared for a long moment, then leaned back into the cushion with a soft sigh, half a laugh, half an acceptance of the inevitable.
“Of course, I trust you, this deal is built on mutual trust, I just wonder how you're going to defeat Julian if not with brute strength, but... I guess I will have to wait until that day comes,” she said at last, tone returning to its usual sharp drawl.
“And if you fail to pull it off…”
Her lips curved faintly beneath the mask.
“I won’t be the one at a loss.”
Ruvian studied her for a few seconds, but said nothing. He understood. She wasn’t mocking him but simply stating a fact.
And one day, when the stakes rose higher, he’d have to repay the trust she’d offered in her own measured way.
The carriage wheels slowed to a halt beneath the shadowed arches of the academy’s eastern gate. Lanternlight spilled through the curtains, and the night air slipped in as the door opened with a gentle creak.
Wordlessly, they removed their masks. Ruvian’s first, then Silvena’s hand reaching to unfasten her own. The artifacts glowed as their enchantments dissipated, returning to a dormant state. Silvena tucked both masks and rings away, her fingers brushing past his sleeve as she retrieved them.
They have arrived at the academy.
But before they stepped down the carriage, Ruvian decided to activate one of his skill first:
───[CHARACTER SHEET]───
◇ Name: Silvena D’Elvoire
◇ Age: 16
◇ Occupation: Velthia Scholar / Heir to House D’Elvoire
◇ Temperament: Analytical, Sharp-Tongued, Pragmatic
◇ Current Mood: Wary Curiosity / Calculating Trust
◇ Status: [Healthy]
◇ Relationship Status: Business Partnership with Ruvian (Trust Bound, Not Intimate)
◇ Traits:
• Observant, quick to catch hidden motives and inconsistencies
• Prefers facts, bargains, and measured trust over emotion or flattery
• Speaks truths without cruelty; her judgments are precise, not sentimental
• Keeps her leverage carefully balanced: never loses more than she bargains for
——————————
{}---『STATUS PROFILE』---{}
◇ Name: Silvena D’Elvoire
◇ Age: 16
◇ Spellcore: Tier III
[Mana Resonance: (15/1000)]
==[General Attributes]==
Strength: D-
Agility: C-
Endurance: D-
Vitality: D
Perception: C+
==[Mage Attributes]==
Mana Control: D
Casting Speed: D
Magic Power: D-
Mana Sensitivity: C-
Mana Essence: [1500/1500]
==[Innate Blessings]==
- [Blessing of Lunira’s Golden Weightscale]
==[Magic Affinity]==
- [Wind]
- [Plant]
PP=5960
ME=270