Lyriana didn't even glance up from her notebook, scribbling notes.
"You'll survive," she said flatly. "It's just a room, not a battlefield. Stop whining."
Aldric spun toward her, red eyes flashing. "Just a room? Just a room?! You think a room this small can hold *all of us*, our gear, and not drive a man insane?!"
The cultist, still sitting calmly, finally added, sharp, "Then go find somewhere else. No one's stopping you, are they?"
Aldric froze, the vein on his temple throbbing. He opened his mouth, ready to argue, then closed it. A slow, reluctant growl escaped him.
Vaelith, kneeling beside the babies, shot him a calm glance.
"We're not here to enjoy the hotel, Aldric. We're here to plan. Sit down and wait."
He grumbled something incoherent but eventually sank into the chair opposite the cultist, muttering under his breath about "rats" and "wasting time in dungeons."
The cultist leaned back, satisfied, while Lyriana smirked. The room finally settled into an uneasy quiet, broken only by the soft cooing of the babies.
The tension in the air was thick—but now, at least, no one was moving or yelling. For a moment, the small, shabby room became their fragile sanctuary.
Vaelith pressed the earring against her ear, the small device pulsing softly with mana. A faint hum filled the cramped room as her focus sharpened.
The cultist leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "The Lord hasn't countered you yet, Miss Vaelith. Why?"
Aldric snorted, slamming his palm against the table. "Yeah! What the hell is he doing? Why's he taking so damn long?!"
Vaelith's calm voice cut through his frustration.
"A mana collar was placed on the Lord. It restricts him from activating the earring fully. That's why he hasn't contacted me yet."
Aldric's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Then he should just rip the damn thing off! What's he waiting for?"
Vaelith didn't answer directly. She focused, pressing the earring tighter to her ear. A faint shimmer of mana traced the connection, reaching toward Draven despite the collar's suppression. Slowly, a faint, distorted voice began to come through.
The cultist watched closely. "Hmm… so that's why it's taking him time. Clever—using the connection without fully relying on it."
Lyriana leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, smirking slightly. "Patience, Aldric. Even a Lord can be constrained. Let her do her work."
Aldric growled but stayed silent, watching the faint shimmer of the earring as Vaelith worked to establish the fragile connection.
The hum in the room intensified as Vaelith concentrated, her mana threading through the collar's suppression. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—a faint, distorted voice crackled through the device.
"Vaelith…"
The room went quiet. Aldric froze mid-growl. Lyriana leaned forward, curious. Even the cultist paused, watching.
Vaelith's eyes softened as she replied, careful not to strain the fragile connection.
"My Lord… I hear you. Are you safe?"
Draven's voice, rough from the collar's restriction, barely made sense at first.
"Safe… I guess, for now… but listen carefully. I need you to—keep the babies safe and hidden. No mistakes. Understand?"
Vaelith nodded quickly. "Yes, my Lord. They're with me, and the room is secure."
Aldric muttered under his breath, irritated. "Finally, some sense. About damn time he talks."
Draven continued,
———
The small hotel room was quiet again, the only sound the faint hum of the mana earring Vaelith had just used. She still knelt beside the bed where the babies slept, her hands brushing lightly over them to reassure them.
Aldric stood rigid near the table, arms crossed, his scowl deepening with every passing second. Lyriana and the cultist exchanged glances, sensing the tension radiating off him.
Draven's distorted voice carried faintly through the earring.
"Still… working on it. Don't expect fast results. Six… seven hours, maybe. Contact me then."
Vaelith's voice was low as she relayed the message, careful not to disturb the babies.
"He said… he's still working. It might take six to seven hours. He told me to contact him again after that."
Aldric's head snapped toward her, red eyes blazing.
"What the hell did he just say? Six to seven hours?!" His voice bounced off the cramped walls. "He's gonna make us stay in this damn place for that long? What the hell is he even doing that takes *that* long?!"
Lyriana sighed, leaning back in her chair.
"Calm down… it's not like we can do anything about it right now."
Aldric growled low in his throat, pacing a tight circle.
"Not like we *can* do anything? Do you hear yourself? He's sitting somewhere, taking his sweet time while we rot in this—this… dump! I should just—"
The cultist raised a hand, shaking her head.
"And what, exactly, are you going to do? He hasn't finished. We don't even know what he's doing yet."
Aldric paused, fists tightening at his sides, muttering, "Damn it…"
Vaelith stood, brushing her hands over the blankets one last time and giving the babies a reassuring glance.
"He'll get back to us when he can. That's all we can do for now."
Aldric slammed his fist on the table, rattling the few items left there.
"I swear… six to seven hours, huh? I'm not waiting around here like some idiot. Not that long…"
Lyriana shook her head, muttering under her breath, "You always overreact…"
Aldric slammed the table again. "Damn it… he's either insane, or he's planning something way too clever for his own good!"
The cultist merely shook her head, muttering, "That's the Lord for you… always taking his sweet time."
Lyriana sighed, crossing her arms. "We just have to wait. Like I said. There's nothing we can do until he's ready."
Aldric's glare snapped toward her.
"You better shut your damn mouth."
His voice dropped, irritation spilling over.
"You're starting to get really annoying lately."
The room fell silent. The cultist didn't respond, only leaned back, eyes half-lidded, unimpressed. Lyriana sighed quietly. Vaelith remained still beside the children.
And just like that—the tension settled into a heavy, waiting silence.
---
Back in the prison—the corridor was quiet. Only the faint hum of the mana lights and distant dripping water filled the air.
Draven still lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, calm as if nothing in the world concerned him.
The boy sat nearby, watching. Trying to understand him.
After a long pause, Draven spoke.
"It looks like your girlfriend is taking her damn time."
The boy blinked. "…What?" His ears twitched in confusion.
Draven didn't look at him.
"That woman." A brief pause. "The one chasing you."
The boy's face twisted immediately.
"She's not my—!"
He stopped himself, irritation flashing.
"She's insane." His claws clenched slightly.
Draven hummed faintly. "Still waiting for her."
The boy frowned, trying to follow. "…You're really just going to sit here?"
Draven's eyes never left the ceiling.
"Yes." Flat.
The boy stared for a second, then muttered under his breath, "…You're crazy too."
Draven didn't respond. But the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—because everything was moving exactly the way he wanted.
After a pause, his voice came casually.
"Hey."
The boy tilted his head, wary.
"I forgot to ask you… you don't recognize me, do you?"
"…Hm? What are you talking about?"
"I've never even seen you before. How would I recognize you?"
Draven's gaze remained fixed. Unmoving.
*…The bounty should've spread by now.*
*Anyone who's seen it should recognize me instantly.*
A faint pause.
*Though… that picture doesn't look like me.*
*But the features are the same.*
His gaze shifted slightly, then returned to stillness.
*…This brat probably hasn't even seen it.*
Another pause.
*Or worse—*
His eyes flicked briefly toward the boy.
*—he forgot.*
A faint, cold thought crossed his mind.
*He couldn't even recognize his own sister properly…*
*Of course he wouldn't recognize me.*
"…Tch." A quiet sound left him.
The boy glanced at him.
"What?"
Draven didn't answer. He just kept staring up—already losing interest again.