CLICK!
Asher unlocked the little utility room beside Lim Miao's assigned room. The pipes groaned like a beast reluctant to wake. He twisted a few knobs, tapped a rune panel, and waited for the deep click that signaled the bath stones were active.
"Sorry for that. This room is one of three that still need manual resets. Five minutes. The water'll be hot enough to peel regrets off your bones," he said, re-entering the room, brushing his hands off.
Lim Miao stood by the window, her fan still raised as she gazed out over the mess that was Illue.
"Lovely view," she murmured.
He glanced at her. "Most people don't look out the window here."
"I'm glad you compared me to most people," she gently smiled.
"...I was wrong."
Asher lingered by the door. Waiting, expecting her to still have something to say. Something cryptic, probably. Something elegant and confusing that would make him feel like he was either seduced or threatened. Possibly both. So, he began with small talk again.
"Tell me if the temperature's off. These old runes get cranky."
"Mm," she replied smoothly, walking into the bathroom. The door slid shut with a click.
Wha…
Asher was shocked when she didn't tell him to leave. Now, standing stiffly there with no one else witnessing, he awkwardly shuffled out of her room. Blood rising to his head, making him dizzy. She hadn't told him to leave. Or locked the door herself.
Did she want him to stay?
He better not. For his own sanity—
Inside, the bath was nothing fancy. Stone tub, aged fixtures, small inset runes to keep the heat stable. But the water shimmered faintly blue, an old alchemical touch leftover from better times.
She folded her qixiong ruqun carefully, smoothing the sleeves like she had all the time in the world, like the city wasn't howling in slow collapse outside.
Asher left her key on the table, then left her room, closing the door. With his hand, he palmed the lock, using mana to move the bearing and inner latch to lock the door without a key. He didn't… bring his master key, okay? He didn't expect the lady to not tell him to leave while she was bathing.
After a round of deep breath, Asher lit a cigarette. His averagely handsome features finally relaxed again. No, returning to his usual nonchalant gait. Which meant slightly slouched, morally conflicted, and trying to remember if he paid the noodle vendor yesterday. Anything but the bathing lady next door.
Downstairs, on the streets, someone screamed as a window shattered. He didn't flinch, just rubbed his black hair backwards.
"God," he muttered. "All that for a dinner."
He exhaled smoke toward the hallway window, as steam drifted from beneath her door like whispers.
Alright, by now, you might think, what's going on, right?
Yeah, listen. We knew Asher didn't need shit. He could get anything and everything, and he didn't even have to pay for it or return the favor. Just his name was enough for people to throw themselves at his feet, offer him their last loaf of bread, their beds, their daughters, their family secrets, hell, probably even their limbs if he asked nicely enough.
And usually, Asher would just do things for no reason. But Lim Miao's favor was different. There was something different. Something no one else could ever understand.
So what if it was just a dinner?
It's a dinner with Lim Miao.
Not because she was the famously beautiful daughter of the second strongest, but because she was Lim Miao. And Lim Miao was… something to him.
Someone he wanted to have dinner with at least once in his entire life.
***
Asher walked down the stairs to find his breakfast hall extremely quiet.
No, it wasn't empty. Patrons still filled the space as usual. But it was unusually, excessively quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The kind of quiet that only ever meant one of two things: death, or drama.
Then, he saw familiar faces.
Well, not because he knew them personally, which he did for two of them, but the other two, he only knew from television or the internet. Oh, wait, he might've crossed paths with them in the past. He forgot. (Occupational hazard.)
The four men looked at his nonchalant gait, followed by every pair of eyes in the hall that landed on him, square. They might've come at the same time, but they didn't look like they came from the same place. Although standing in the same space, they didn't seem to be having anything in common, nor were they on the same side.
Asher walked up to the counter and said, "What can I get for you?"
One of them scoffed. He had loud, long, wild red hair drenched in fire mana, and despite what he told people his real age was, he looked twice as old. Yes, he looked seasoned and strong, but people might also describe him as scary and fierce. You know, the kind of guy you don't want to meet in a dark alley. Or a well-lit room. Or anywhere, really.
He was large, with tanned skin and this condescending sneer on him like the world was beneath him and Asher was just the dirt on its boots.
"Don't play dumb, Fourstorms. You know why we're here," he said.
"Don't assume I can read minds, Dianoco," Asher sighed tiredly.
This man was his self-proclaimed rival, Eno Dianoco. Someone from the underworld like him with an unregistered strength rank, who, although often tried to do what Asher did to prove himself, never managed to convince him to have a duel. Asher wasn't interested in entertaining mid-life crises with violence after all.
And let's be honest, everyone knew Eno Dianoco didn't have a chance defeating Asher anyway.
Another man, clad in all black clothes and a black cloak complete with a hood that covered half of his face, which was also covered in a black mask, stepped forward only to bow in respect a little bit to Asher.
With a simple golden hand-shaped pin on his cloak chest, people would know who he was.
The Thief King.
Well, no one actually knew his identity, since he went around wearing this setup, but whoever dared wear that pin with his mark on it was almost definitely himself. Why? Because you must be crazy if you wanted to be seen with that pin on you. The man had enemies everywhere.
He had stolen from practically everyone, so…
"Are you okay showing up here?" Asher shook his head at him, and he kept his silence.
Of course he did. What else was he going to say? "Yes, I enjoy risking my life before lunch"?
"Mr. Fourstorms," another one lowered their head, elegantly, respectfully.
Now that we were done with the first two Asher knew personally, we move on to the last two he knew superficially. This elegant, handsome middle-aged man who just greeted him didn't come from the underworld. He was actually the most famous and relevant person currently standing in the room.
Giovan Lomax, the officially acknowledged seventh strongest ranker.
"Seventh," Asher greeted back in the same manner—just not as elegant.
Then his eyes landed on the last guy, someone who looked the most tense and depressed.
He raised his eyebrows. "And Eleventh, correct?"
"I will ignore how you associate me with him just because we're close in rank, Grey Kat's Master. But now that I'm here, I know there are better choices for you to make. Still, I will take my chances," eleventh strongest ranker, Kim Hang, sighed.
The man dropped to his knees.
"Please take my Ang Elixir instead of theirs!"
He bowed.
"And save my son!"
So, it was about Ang Elixir, huh?
It wasn't even an hour yet, but word had travelled fast. Blazing, gossipy fast, all around the world. And these four men, no matter where they were, had the power to both hear the information in minutes and reach Illue in just a couple of leaps. Convenient, if slightly horrifying.
And the news that Miss Lim had chosen Asher Fourstorms as her guarantor for her search for Ang Elixir had invited four out of five owners of the remaining miracle drug.
Four out of five were standing in front of Asher, less than an hour after her casual conversation with him at the exact same counter.