Arena District, Second Week of March 2324
Three days after the Eye Tower incident, Rich City media were still constantly echoing the narrative of chaos at the God Hands Art Gallery. The study in Santino's cluster, conversely, felt quiet, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioning. Ren was studying Baron Frey's connection file, data he had intentionally purchased with his own funds. He was saving Vera's favor; that debt was too valuable an asset, and Ren had to wait for the most crucial moment to collect.
Among the names of nobility unfamiliar to Ren, one name caught his attention. A faint smirk formed on his face after the name was spoken, Hah... I didn't think 'he' was Frey's younger brother. It will be troublesome if he is involved, he thought.
I managed to escape him in the past, but next time, he'll surely kill me, won't he? The name created pressure, but Ren controlled his expression.
Just as Ren was focused on planning how to face Frey's 'brother,' the room door swung wide without a knock or permission. Santino rushed in, his face ghostly pale, his forehead and temples slick with cold sweat.
Ren narrowed his eyes. He could have corrected his nominal boss's disrespect, but seeing the pure, genuine urgency on Santino's face, Ren allowed it.
"You! What exactly did you do at that art gallery?!" Santino demanded, his voice choked between fear and shallow breaths. "For three full days, the media has been airing it, but what was your purpose in doing that?"
Ren regarded the panic with annoying tranquility. He leaned back, allowing the silence to fill the room. "What I do is not your concern."
"Of course, it's my concern!" Santino hissed, walking quickly and slamming a thick piece of paper onto Ren's desk. His hand trembled, and there was a flicker of hatred in his eyes—the resentment of a man forced to deal with a monster he tried to control. "Because of your stunt at the gallery, I received a letter from the House of Baron Frey! You've made a new enemy too large for my faction!"
Ren slowly picked up the letter, letting Santino hold his breath in disgusting fear.
An invitation to a banquet.
The content of the letter merely piqued Ren's interest. This invitation was a trap, an ambush set up by Frey after seeing Ren as an anomaly that needed to be tamed. Anyone would know, but Santino was too scared to think clearly.
Santino continued his hiss, "You are provoking these people. They are the ruling tyrants of Rich City! You are only adding enemies when we are already surrounded!"
Ren did not deny it. He admitted with a flat look, "True, I must take responsibility." He folded the letter in half. "I will go."
"What?!" Santino's panic escalated. "Don't act rashly alone! You'll be walking into a lion's den, take Erebos with you!"
Ren stood up, his slim, taller frame dominating the room. He circled the desk, ignoring the fear radiating from the man before him.
Then, with a slow, deliberate movement intended as an insult, Ren flicked his finger against Santino's forehead. The snap sound was loud and cut through the silence.
Santino flinched and groaned, both hands pressing the spot where his forehead had received the small 'strike.'
"Wake up," Ren whispered coldly. "I did not act this far without reason."
Ren explained, his voice returning to a tone of absolute authority. "Erebos and his forces must stay. They must secure the assets—this cluster and the storage warehouse. I am not a creature that can split myself; defense is their primary task when I am absent."
Hearing the logical facts, Santino began to calm down. He said nothing, just listening intently to Ren's plan.
"As for me," Ren concluded, his red eyes now shining with the passion of the hunt, "I must stab directly at the heart of the enemy. Alone."
Ren then slightly corrected himself, displaying a very faint smirk. "More precisely, physically I arrive alone." However, he wasn't truly alone. Besides his twin daggers, he now also possessed an equally sharp digital dagger.
"Call Erebos, I need to explain the conditions and I need him to do something."
After Ren explained the plan and gave Erebos one command, he drove Santino's grey SUV away from the cluster toward the confirmed meeting point. It was a modest restaurant, located on the perimeter of the Arena District, right on the border with the grungy Merge District. The location Vera chose was a deliberate anomaly—minimal detection devices or wiretaps, and too ordinary to attract the attention of the Loyal Faction.
Ren parked the car a distance away, blending in with the noise of old engines and the smell of oil emanating from the industrial rows of the Merge District. He stepped into the restaurant. The strong scent of spices and broth immediately enveloped him, a sharp contrast to the eau de cologne scent that always clung to Ren.
Vera was already waiting at a corner table. Before her, several plates of home-style cooking were served—food that only served as an alibi for their meeting, masking the transfer of information and the finalization of a multi-million-credit plan.
"Your attire is too formal for a first date at this cheap diner," Vera remarked calmly, her turquoise eyes scanning Ren's posture and movements. One thing she noticed, Vera did not see Ren's red retinas from the Art Gallery. They were now covered by orange-colored lenses.
Ren pulled the chair across from Vera with minimal movement, his gaze fixed on her.
"Attire is merely a necessary costume," Ren countered flatly. "Nor would I choose a cheap restaurant for a first date. Now, let's talk about settling your debt."
Vera nodded expressionlessly, taking a sip of her iced water. "I had to verify every frequency perimeter before giving you these coordinates. This place is a suitable condition, it won't be suspected by Frey—or anyone working for him."
Ren had to admit, the highly detailed file on Baron Frey's connections, including the discovery of Frey's younger brother—a figure Ren knew from the past—was worth the price he paid. Armed with that information, Ren could better prepare for this ambush, rather than walking in unaware he would meet a ghost from his past.
Vera slid a thin tablet across the table, avoiding Ren's gaze to maintain their professional boundary.
"Thanks to you, we managed to steal the Aegis data core and create a backdoor that can penetrate Rich City's latest firewall. You might not be interested, but, that is our lifeline."
Ren said nothing, but secretly he was relieved that the entity he couldn't fight with his daggers—digital intelligence—was on his side.
"So, what's your plan for tomorrow's meeting? Give me the details," Vera said, her voice low and professional.
Ren rested his elbow on the sticky table, his cold eyes now fully focused on Vera. This was the perfect time to collect his debt.
"The meeting is a trap set by Frey," Ren began, his voice calm. "This invitation gives me a four-day window; we must use that time to mess with the Aegis system that is surely installed in Baron Frey's Family Eye Tower Building." Ren observed Vera's expression. "Entry access will be very easy because I am 'invited,' but, exit access is clearly non-existent. And this is your task."
Vera nodded, picking up her tablet to visualize the Eye Tower Building floor plan. "What about the room details?"
"Floor 6, Executive Room," Ren answered briefly.
Vera carefully examined the Eye Tower blueprint. "It's a ballroom," she paused, "lift access uses an ID card, and you're right, the Aegis security system is installed at several points. Three days is enough time for us to crack Aegis and make digital preparations."
Ren nodded, "Before I arrive, the CCTV feed must be tapped by you. This is crucial; besides, it can serve as a back-up if something happens to my earpiece," Ren explained, pointing to the small device in Vera's ear. "After my cue, you must open an extraction route. Including deploying communication jammers at the Eye Tower and its perimeter. Or, if the Cube can disrupt Frey's communication system, that would be even better."
Vera sighed, her finger hovering over the Eye Tower projection. "To install an effective jammer, we have to consider distance. The Cube's headquarters is in the Merge District, while the Eye Tower is in the Arena District. One of us must be a maximum of two kilometers from the target, Ren."
Vera then fell silent for a moment, her head slightly tilted as if listening to a faint voice only she could hear. She seemed to be responding to a voice coming from her earpiece. "I hear you, Isaac. Calm down."
Ren realized something. He immediately reached into his pocket, attaching and activating the earpiece Vera had given him earlier in the van. Only then did he hear another voice, distorted and filled with anxiety—Isaac's voice.
"Wait, you haven't heard me talking this whole time!" Isaac protested sharply from the earpiece. "No wonder you weren't answering my questions!"
Ren felt a rare twinge of guilt. He closed his eyes briefly, composing himself. My apologies. He whispered, his tone almost inaudible.
"What was your question?" Ren asked, ignoring Vera's awkwardness.
Isaac's voice returned, louder and filled with fear. "Guarantee. How can you guarantee the safety and confidentiality of the Cube? Your opponent is the Rich City elite and a Loyal Faction member who even holds the Aegis data core. If your plan fails, they are not opponents we can face with the Cube's strength alone!"
Ren thought. Isaac was right. Although this was the repayment of Vera's debt, if something happened to them because of his plan, it would be quite bothersome. Isaac's panic and such a huge stake briefly reminded him of his past trauma—Riko's body cooling before him. Ren immediately dismissed the shadow.
He grabbed Vera's tablet, opening a map of Rich City. His eyes scanned the Eye Tower Building and the two-kilometer perimeter around it, looking for a safe anomaly. His eyes stopped at one point. Here it is, he thought.
"I have a safe spot for Vera, Isaac. A location within an effective two-kilometer range."
Ren pointed to a spot on the map.
Vera saw it, her eyes widening slightly. "Wait, isn't that Building—"
"Relax, my guarantee is there," Ren cut her off, his voice calm and authoritative.
Isaac's voice was still panicked from the earpiece. "Vera? You're going with him again? That's not safe! Also, even if Vera is within the 2-kilometer radius, the connection with me still won't be optimal!"
"What is the maximum you can provide?" Ren confirmed again.
Isaac's fingers danced across the keyboard, checking some data and probabilities. "Given the distance and the embedded Aegis, the connection can last about 30–60 seconds every 30–60 minutes. Static noise is also likely."
"That is enough," Ren scoffed. Then he gave Vera a strange look. "One more thing, Isaac. I can assure you the hue that catches my attention is pink, not blue. She will be fine."
That sentence was a guarantee to Isaac that blue-haired Vera would not be Ren's romantic target.
Vera froze upon hearing the strange sentence come out of Ren's mouth. Her cheeks flushed faintly, unsure if it was a joke or a peculiar code. "Don't say embarrassing things," she hissed. She immediately took back her tablet. "Safe point confirmed. Continue your plan details."
The awkward, yet meaningful, silence quickly evaporated, replaced by the gravity of their agreement. Vera leaned forward, her turquoise eyes now radiating cold focus as she slid the tablet, highlighting the optimal route and system weak points around the Eye Tower. Ren, with his rigid and calm posture, systematically began dissecting the blueprint of Frey's trap, detailing every trigger, every anticipated counter-attack, and the precise moment the digital dagger must strike.
Under the dim light of the cheap restaurant, with the aroma of home-style cooking as a backdrop, the plan they devised sounded like a quiet prelude to the all-out war they were about to launch against Rich City's elite—a gamble involving the lives and future of the entire Cube. The plan was set, the debt agreed upon, and the stage for Ren's personal confrontation had been prepared.
The Day of Baron Frey's Banquet, March 2324
The day of the banquet arrived. The executive room on the 6th floor of the Eye Tower Building had been prepared as a luxurious trap stage. However, Baron Frey chose to wait in his private office two floors above, on the 8th floor, allowing his assumed superiority to maintain a safe distance from the filth he was about to capture.
A professional knock sounded, and the Head of Security entered carrying a thin folder. The man looked tenser than usual, holding the pressure of a report that could potentially cause great losses.
"Baron Frey," he reported apologetically, "we regret only finding this now. The 'nobleman' figure seen on the God Hands Gallery CCTV has a visual... similar to one of the Tier Platinum bounty lists."
The Head of Security moved closer, handing over the folder. He ensured his tone only conveyed data, not accusation. "The striking red retina and the facial structure are identical. The only difference is the hair color, which was most likely changed as a disguise in public spaces."
Frey took the document, his gaze sweeping over the boring technical details. His eyes then focused on one box, where an enticing nominal was listed, boldly printed in red ink: 10 Million Marble.
Frey's breath hitched. This was no longer about prestige or a cheap business fight. This was pure gold walking into his hands.
With lightning speed, calculating the profit instantly, Frey gave an order, his tone now cold, sharp, and full of anticipation. "Cancel elimination. I want him captured alive for the payout. I am certain, although the invitation was addressed to Santino, this figure will definitely accompany him later."
Frey hadn't finished discussing the capture plan shift when a more authoritative and gentle knock sounded at the door. The Head of Security immediately stepped aside, clearing the way.
Aslan, Frey's younger brother, walked in. Aslan's posture was not as arrogant as his brother's; he carried an aura of dangerous calmness, like a neatly sheathed sword.
"I know your condition, Brother," Aslan began, his gaze directed straight at the bounty map in Frey's hand. "Including the foreign figure in the Art Gallery CCTV."
Frey narrowed his eyes. He hated that Aslan always knew more. "You know him?"
"Of course," Aslan nodded once, the admission stated emotionlessly, yet there was a flicker of personal satisfaction in his eyes. "We have unfinished business from the past. You can hand over the responsibility of capturing that figure entirely to me."
Frey scoffed skeptically. "Who exactly are you talking about, Aslan?"
Aslan tilted his head slightly, as if thinking of a name he had long forgotten. A faint, threatening smile was etched on his lips.
"Shiroi Hitsuji," Aslan replied, his tone as calm as ice. "He is the main assassin of the Higanbana Terrorist Group."
Frey frowned, processing the terrorist group's name in his mind. The memory was faint, yet fundamental. Who could forget the night the Marble Kingdom was destroyed?
"Higanbana," Frey repeated slowly, equating the name with history, "The group that destroyed the Marble Kingdom last year?"
Aslan confirmed with a flat nod. "True. That is why he is a Tier Platinum fugitive with a fantastic price." He then added, his tone still flat, "However, for me, this is not about a terrorist group or the destruction of a kingdom. My business is personal with Shiroi Hitsuji."
Seeing Aslan suddenly show seriousness about his personal matters—something rare and always tightly guarded—Frey became curious. "What personal matter is so important that you have to handle it yourself? The business of assassins and terrorists sounds quite political to me."
Aslan seemed reluctant. He averted his gaze, avoiding his brother's stern stare, as if looking at a bitter shadow of the past. The rigid Head of Security remained silent, but he too held his breath, waiting.
"Two years ago," Aslan whispered, looking back at Frey, his eyes now filled with layers of restrained anger.
Aslan took a deep breath, gathering all the courage and buried pain. He revealed it with clear reluctance.
"That night, Shiroi Hitsuji ..."
The confession not only made Frey, who had been focused on wealth, fall silent and freeze. Even the professional Head of Security swallowed hard, his face displaying genuine and unbearable shock. They were not just about to capture a fugitive; they were about to settle a personal vendetta far more complicated than they had suspected.