The "Empty Pot" inn was cheap for a good reason: it was designed for Dwarves and Moles, not for humans. To save their budget and keep a low profile, Sin's group rented two rooms on the second basement level. The largest room was reserved for Ardyn and Sin—since Sin needed a wide table for his maps and books, and Ardyn needed space for his... snoring.
And Eric? He was shoved into the remaining room.
To call it a "room" was an insult to linguistics. It was essentially a broom closet with a wooden plank acting as a bed. Eric lay on this so-called bed, his feet hanging far out into the empty air. The ceiling was so low that if he sat up too quickly, his forehead would kiss the wooden beams. The air inside was thick, hot, and carried the faint, musty smell of damp earth.
Tap. Tap.
"Come in, it's not locked," Eric called out, trying to pull his legs in so he could sit up.
The door creaked open. Sinhara stepped inside. Immediately, the already cramped space became suffocatingly small. Sin had bathed and changed into simple linen clothes. A fresh herbal scent radiated from him, overpowering the room's musty smell and hitting Eric's keen senses directly.
"Thank you for your cooperation this morning, Knight," Sin said, his voice calm, but his eyes wavered slightly when he saw Eric was shirtless, beads of sweat on his chest due to the room's heat.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Eric said with a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Did you come here just to praise me?"
"No," Sin shook his head. He took a step forward. His knees nearly touched Eric's thighs as the knight sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to Moon Street in the Night Market. I heard they sell high-quality Adept ink there. I need it for tomorrow's exam. Will you... come with me?"
Eric looked up at Sin. In the dim oil light, Sin's dark eyes sparkled behind his fake glasses. His thin lips were moving, explaining the different types of ink. The distance was too close. The claustrophobia of the room forced them to invade each other's personal space. Eric could feel the heat radiating from Sin's body. He could hear his breathing.
Instinct rose more powerfully than ever.
"Eric? Are you listen—"
Sin's words were swallowed. Eric didn't hold back anymore. He reached out, grabbed Sin's wrist, and pulled hard. Sin lost his balance and tumbled forward. He didn't hit the floor; he fell straight into Eric's lap.
The knight's powerful arms wrapped around his waist, tightening like a vice. Eric spun, pinning Sin down onto the narrow bed, bracing himself above the boy.
"I'm listening," Eric whispered, his voice thick and hoarse. "You talk too much, Sin."
He leaned down. Their lips collided. Brutal. Hungry.
This was not the gentle kiss of comfort from that rainy night in Hollowbark. This was the kiss of broken restraint. Eric kissed him ravenously, his tongue forcing Sin's teeth apart, sweeping through his mouth and demanding a response. Sin initially froze in shock. But in this hot, cramped space, his logic melted as fast as candle wax.
Sin's hands clawed at Eric's bare shoulders. He opened his mouth, responding clumsily but passionately to the kiss. Their bodies rubbed against each other, legs tangling. The sound of heavy gasps and wet friction echoed within the four narrow wooden walls.
Through a thin, fragile wall.
In the darkness of the hallway connecting the two rooms, Celles stood with his back against the wall. He was in his human form—a dark-skinned youth with cat ears standing straight up. His super-sensitive beast-kin hearing had become a curse.
He heard everything. The racing heartbeats of the two people on the other side of the wall. The choked moans in Sin's throat. The pungent, stimulating scent of lust and heavy male hormones drifting over.
Grrrrr...
Celles bit his lip until it bled. Sweat drenched his bare back. His body was burning as if on fire. He was entering his first Heat since reaching maturity. His animalistic instincts screamed for release. He needed to mate. He needed to bite.
His trembling hand slid down to his aching, hard loins. He began to move his hand, fast and brutal. Celles's muffled whimpers mingled with the sounds from the next room, creating a distorted harmony of desire in this wretched inn.
Fifteen minutes later.
The door to Eric's room opened. Sin and Eric stepped into the hallway. Their clothes were slightly disheveled, Sin's lips were swollen and wet, and Eric's ears were bright red. They tried to keep their faces as calm as possible.
But they froze. Celles was blocking the hallway.
The beast-kin youth leaned against the wall, his breathing still heavy. His glowing gold eyes stared at them—not with jealousy, but with a wild, primal hunger. A wave of intense heat radiated from him.
"Celles?" Sin recognized the abnormality. "Do you have a fever?"
Celles stepped forward and grabbed the collar of Eric's shirt (being the one closest to his own size). "Give me clothes," Celles said, his voice hoarse, each word hissed through his teeth.
"Huh?" Eric asked, bewildered.
"I want to go out," Celles looked directly into Sin's eyes, his gaze pleading but also threatening. "I want to go in human form. I need to... hunt."
Sin looked at Celles, then down at his hand, which was still trembling. Sin's logical brain connected the data: Spring, elevated body temperature, restless behavior.
"I see," Sin nodded, turning to Eric. "Get him a set of clothes. He is in season. He needs to release excess energy before he tears this inn apart."
Eric hurried into his room and grabbed a set of baggy clothes for Celles. Celles threw them on, not even bothering to button them correctly. "Let's go. Moon Street."
While the youngsters headed to the Night Market.
On the ground floor of the "Empty Pot" inn, the air was noisy with the shouting and clinking glasses of miners and smugglers. Ardyn sat alone in a corner with a bottle of cheap liquor and a plate of roasted peanuts. He sipped leisurely, his eyes half-closed as if he were sleepy.
Suddenly, his hand froze mid-air as he reached for his glass. On the cracked rim of the glass, a tiny, jet-black spider was crawling slowly. It didn't look like a normal spider. It had eight eyes, but they were all pitch black with a dead white dot in the center, staring at Ardyn like eight surveillance cameras.
It didn't spin a web. It stood still, raising its front legs as if sensing the air.
Ardyn narrowed his eyes. His drunkenness vanished by half. A name appeared in his mind, accompanied by a chill running down his spine.
Mabu.
The maddest disciple of Veadran Noct. The one known as the "Spider Mother." An assassin who used insects to spy and kill from a thousand miles away.
"Hmm..."
Ardyn did not show panic. He slowly brought his large, calloused thumb to the rim of the glass.
Squish.
He crushed the spider in one go. No blood flowed out. Instead, a thin trail of black smoke rose, carrying the foul smell of rotting corpses and dark magic. Ardyn looked at the black stain on his fingertip and casually wiped it on his trousers. He picked up the glass and drained it in one gulp, as if to rinse his mouth.
"I wasn't entirely sure..." Ardyn muttered, slamming the glass onto the table. "But this smell is too foul. It seems the hounds have started to catch the scent of fresh meat."
He glanced toward the door where Sin and the others had left. His hand instinctively touched the hilt of the massive black sword leaning against his chair.
Tonight was going to be a long night.