Serval Landau—not Selee, though the two were often confused by those who didn't know the fiery mechanic—had no immediate solution for her sister's recurring predicament. Ever since the "Antique Thief" had appeared a year ago, Lynx had been caught in a cycle of losing her finds to this shadow-dwelling trickster.
In truth, Serval didn't hold a deep grudge against the thief. Belobog's current climate didn't exactly offer a 401(k) and job security for everyone. Centuries-old relics buried in the permafrost were fair game for anyone with the grit to find them. Besides, Lynx's indignant stories about her encounters with the "Thief" had become a highlight of Serval's week. Watching the girl get outmaneuvered by increasingly absurd tactics was, quite frankly, top-tier entertainment.
"Alright, quit the pouting," Serval said, sliding a heavy speaker from the shelf. "Look at my latest project. Modifying the resonance on this took me all night."
Lynx paused her verbal assault on the thief's character to inspect the device. Within seconds, her eyes narrowed. "That's... that's the mechanical nut I was tricked out of last month! Serval! Where did you get this?"
Before Serval could formulate an answer, the front door rattled on its hinges.
Kenta burst in, still dusting snow off his shoulders. His "Spider-Man" exit from the Qlipoth Fort had nearly ended in a "Broken-Man" hospital visit after a botched landing in a snowbank.
"Yo, Serval! I'm back with the goods—" He stopped mid-sentence, his heart doing a frantic tap-dance against his ribs as he locked eyes with Lynx.
Outside, Gepard Landau was finishing a patrol that had lasted far too long. Kenta's words from earlier—You stand too high—were still ringing in his ears, a persistent hum of guilt he couldn't shake. He found himself standing in front of his sister's workshop, the "Neverwinter" neon sign flickering overhead.
I'll just pop in and say hello, Gepard thought. He reached for the handle, only for a muffled scream to tear through the door.
"Give it back! Give back my important thing!" "I'm telling you, it's gone! I—"
Gepard's protective instincts, honed by years of being the big brother to two headstrong sisters, went into overdrive. That's Lynx's voice. And a man.
He kicked the door open, hand already reaching for the hilt of his weapon.
The scene inside was... complicated.
He saw Lynx practically climbing the man in the center of the room. Her hands were locked around his neck in a death-grip, her face was flushed a deep crimson, and the air between them was thick with a frantic, ambiguous energy. To any outside observer—especially an overprotective Captain of the Guard—it looked like a struggle that was dangerously close to an embrace.
Gepard's gaze turned glacial. His eyes locked onto the back of the man's head with enough heat to melt the Frozen Outskirts.
Kenta, sensing a sudden spike in lethal intent, slowly turned his head. He met Gepard's eyes.
...!!!
Kenta looked down at the petite girl currently hanging off his collar and realized exactly how this looked. Oh, you absolute disaster. You are truly, deeply screwed.
"Oh no," Kenta muttered, his brain scrambling for an exit strategy. "Gepard thinks I'm the 'Yellow Hair' scoundrel from a bad drama."
But then, Kenta's rogue logic kicked in. He looked at Lynx's golden hair, then remembered his own ink-black hair. Wait. Scoundrel? I'm the victim here! She's the one wrestling me! I'm the passive party!
Lynx, noticing Kenta's sudden stiffness, looked toward the door. The sight of her brother's thunderous expression made her instantly let go, falling back with a squeak of genuine shyness.
"Gepard, you've misunderstood," Kenta said, his voice ringing out with the unearned confidence of a man who had survived too many close calls. "While you might find it hard to believe, Lynx was definitely the aggressor in this situation."
"..."
"Hey! Put down the shield! Don't you dare charge that ultimate!"
Twenty minutes later, the atmosphere had shifted from "active combat" to "tense negotiation."
Serval sat on the sofa next to Gepard, watching with an "auntie-like" smirk as Kenta frantically massaged Lynx's shoulders, patted her back, and offered a dozen apologies. Gepard, meanwhile, sat stiff as a board, his eyes tracking Kenta's every hand movement like a hawk watching a mouse. One wrong squeeze and the Captain was clearly prepared to end a life.
Lynx sat with her arms crossed and cheeks puffed out, refusing to look at Kenta but notably not pushing him away as he kneaded her sore muscles.
"Alright, Lynx, that's enough sulking," Serval finally said, breaking the silence. "This is Kenta. He's an old friend of mine. He also happens to have another title you might recognize—the former Captain of the Silvermane Guards' Tenth Squad."
The effect was instantaneous. Lynx's head snapped around, her eyes wide. "Kenta? You mean your name isn't Sampo?!"
Kenta let out a dry, awkward laugh. "Well, to be fair, 'Sampo' is a very useful name when you're doing something illegal."
But the shock was just beginning to settle in for Lynx. "Wait... Sister, did you say the Tenth Squad? The 'Phantom Captain'?"
Serval nodded, her eyes twinkling. The young, legendary captain of the Tenth had been a household name before his mysterious disappearance—and Lynx had been one of his most silent, dedicated admirers. She just hadn't realized that her "idol" and her "Antique Thief" were the same person.
Lynx's mouth hung open, her poker-face finally cracking into a look of adorable, blank-eyed disbelief. Her filter was shattering in real-time. The heroic, untouchable legend she'd imagined was actually this chaotic, window-jumping rogue who spent his time tricking her out of mechanical nuts.
"Well," Kenta muttered, scratching the back of his neck, "you never actually asked for my credentials, did you?"
"A normal person wouldn't ask their mugger for a resume!" Lynx shot back, her voice tinged with the sound of a dream dying. She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping.
"Hey," Kenta grumbled, "my idol-filter might be broken, but I still have some dignity left. Don't sigh like I'm a total disappointment."