The words the elf had whispered beside Raul's ear still hung in the dining hall like smoke.
Across the tables, the men wore a single expression—an impossible blend of envy, jealousy, and indignation.
"Damn—Raul lucked into a first-timer… and an elf with enchantment?!"
"Buffs stacked to the heavens…"
Tione cracked her knuckles. "Keep talking and I'll 'buff' your faces."
Silence arrived with impressive speed.
Loki swirled her cup, eyes half-lidded, amused. "Boys will be boys… Alright. Fun's over. Back to work."
Her gaze moved to Tsuna. "Can we ride this wave without letting it swamp us?"
"We can," Tsuna said. "Raul will only recall the memories we planted—clean, consistent, and not useful beyond what we choose. But since Ishtar has assigned a handler, they'll try to maintain the relationship and pry deeper."
"So we feed them," Finn concluded, fingers tapping the table. "Measured portions. Enough to satisfy, never enough to starve them into riskier plays."
Riveria's eyes cooled. "And never anything that endangers our people."
"Of course," Tsuna said. "We'll turn the honeypot into a honeytrap."
Gareth huffed a laugh. "You sound like Bors negotiating ale prices—'one sip for a story.'"
"Close," Tsuna admitted. "But our 'stories' must be curated. Raul can drip safe details about a summoner who favors puppets and storage tricks. No mention of dreamcraft, and nothing concrete about my growth rates or unique resistances."
"So the legend of 'the summoner kid' hardens," Loki murmured, pleased. "A tidy little persona for the gods to peck at."
Ais, who'd slipped onto a bench with a plate she hadn't touched, lifted her eyes. "If the elf keeps visiting Raul, will he be… okay?"
Tsuna answered gently. "He'll be fine. We'll rotate shadow support. If the room seals again, we seed the air first."
Tiona blinked. "Seed… the air?"
"Counter-aroma," Tsuna said. "A neutralizing mist that dulls charm triggers and binds airborne reagents. I can weave it into a puppet moth. It flutters near windows, vents a film; the first one into any private room."
Riveria tilted her head, intrigued despite herself. "A mobile alchemical curtain… sound."
Finn nodded once. "Do it."
Loki clapped. "Assignments. Gareth, pick two to shadow Raul from rooftops. Tione, you're leash-holder. If he wanders too deep, yank."
"Gladly," Tione said.
"Tiona, Ais—Tsuna's with you," Loki continued. "You're not to engage Ishtar's girls unless they engage first. If they do, talk circles. We want time, not trouble."
Ais hesitated. "Train… later?"
"After," Loki said, and Ais settled with a tiny, reluctant nod.
Pleasure Quarter, behind-lantern corridors.
Lulune—Lise to her patrons—watched Raul sleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest reflected in her pupils. A moment ago, Aisha had delivered Ishtar's order: cultivate, service, secure.
Freedom is on the other side of this line, she reminded herself. Walk it cleanly.
She dabbed a scent at her wrist—barely-there flowers to blot out the harsher oils others wore—and exhaled. When she slipped from the suite, Hermes and Aisha exchanged a glance across the balcony. The god's smile was sunny; his eyes were knives behind tinted glass.
"Promising," Hermes murmured. "Her questions grazed the heart."
Aisha folded her arms. "Lulune won't break. She wants what Ishtar offers too much."
"And Loki's boy?" Hermes asked, casual as a cat after cream. "What is he?"
"Summoner," Aisha said. "Rumor says he hides everything else."
Hermes chuckled. "Then we tug the visible thread until the hidden ones snag."
He tipped two coins to the madam without looking, then drifted away—whistling, already plotting his next vantage.
Night wind combed Orario's roofs as a small, pale moth lifted from Tsuna's palm and vanished into lantern-glow.
"Curtain's up," Tsuna said.
Finn's squad spread without a sound. Tione ghosted along girders. Tiona and Ais took a parallel alley path; Ais's golden hair was tucked beneath a cap, her eyes alert and very awake.
"They'll come again," Tsuna said softly. "When they do, we're not there to win—we're there to delay."
Tiona grinned. "Stall-fu. My specialty."
Ais watched the moth land on a shutter and pulse—once, twice—and imagined dream-light flickering behind her eyes. Mom… Dad… I'll train after. Promise.
"Tsuna." She tugged his sleeve. "Tomorrow. Spar?"
"Tomorrow," he agreed.
The answer lit a small, steady flame in her gaze.
Back at the manor, Loki poured the last of the bottle and leaned back, alone now with the humming screen and the wealthy hush of midnight.
"Raul buys time. Tsuna spins thread. Hermes peeks. Ishtar prowls."
She tilted the cup, eyes half-closed, as if seeing a pattern stitched above the city. "Alright, little spider. We'll dance your dance."
She raised the cup to the empty room. "To justice, to mischief, to keeping my brats alive."
She drank—and smiled.
(End of Chapter)
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