My life, I was beginning to realize, was a series of escalating absurdities. One moment, I was a man on a mission, the newly appointed scout of the Builder Faction, tasked with the solemn duty of inspecting the city's structural integrity. The next, I was walking through the most crowded plaza in Out of Boundary City with the Founder of the Merchant Faction clinging to my arm like a limpet.
I was no longer an anonymous civil servant. I was a public spectacle.
Lunet, having gracefully descended from the stage after wrapping up her sales pitch, had latched onto my arm with a grip that was both surprisingly strong and infuriatingly delicate. Every step we took was a performance. She walked with a radiant, effervescent charm, waving to her adoring fans. I, on the other hand, walked like a man being led to his own execution, acutely aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes that were following our every move.
The glares were the worst part. They were a palpable, physical force. If looks could kill, I would have been a fine red mist before we'd even left the plaza. The men, in particular, looked at me with a special kind of burning hatred, a silent, unified accusation: You. You are the one who has stolen our goddess. I had faced down a Fallen Founder, and its cold, empty gaze was less terrifying than the collective jealousy of a hundred spurned customers.
I needed to end this. I needed to get back to my job, back to the simple, understandable world of cracked cobblestones and fraying data-seals.
"Ms. Lunet," I began, trying to inject a tone of formal, professional distance into my voice. I gently tried to pull my arm away, but her grip was like a velvet-lined vice.
She stopped, turning to face me. She brought a finger to her lips in a playful, shushing gesture, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, ah, ah," she chided softly. "None of that 'Ms.' business. We're far beyond such stuffy formalities, don't you think?"
"I don't think we are," I said, my voice tight.
"Oh, I disagree," she countered, her smile widening. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was still loud enough for a dozen people around us to hear. "After all, Kael, you and I are already so very close. Bound together by chains, you might even say."
The comment was a perfectly aimed shot, a double entendre of masterful precision. On the surface, it was a shockingly intimate, romantic declaration. But I knew what she was really referring to. The sealing. The ethereal, white binds of power that she and the other Founders had used to cage the monstrous echo inside of me. She was teasing me, using the gravest moment of my life as a playful conversational gambit in the middle of a crowded street.
"That's not what that meant and you know it," I hissed back, my face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation.
"Isn't it?" she asked, her expression a mask of perfect innocence.
I let out a slow, frustrated breath. Arguing with her was pointless. I had to get to the core of the issue. "Okay, fine. Lunet," I said, the name feeling strange without a formal title. "What is this? What do you really want with me? I know I made a promise to visit you, but a public kidnapping wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
Her expression shifted. The playful smirk softened, the mischievous glint in her eyes replaced by a warm, sincere glow. She blushed, a faint but visible pink dusting her cheeks, and looked down for a moment as if suddenly shy.
"I just… I wanted to see you," she said, her voice soft and full of a breathtaking, heartfelt emotion. "When I heard you were making your first official rounds as the new scout, I was so proud. You're so important, Kael. To the city. To… to all of us. I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you properly."
It was a performance worthy of an award. The blushing maiden, the sincere confession, the heartfelt praise. It was beautiful. It was touching.
And it was completely, utterly fake.
I looked at her, and for the first time, I wasn't just reacting to her whirlwind of charisma. I was seeing the machinery behind it. I saw the calculating intelligence in her eyes, the way she was constantly gauging my reaction, enjoying the chaos she was creating. This wasn't a confession. It was a game, and I was her favorite new toy.
A weary sigh escaped me. I was done playing.
"Alright, that's enough," I said, my voice flat. I stopped trying to pull my arm away and instead stood my ground, meeting her gaze without flinching. "What do you really want to talk about? If you don't have a real reason for this, then I'm leaving. I have a job to do, a real one, and it involves inspecting this entire sector, not being your parade float."
My bluntness seemed to surprise her. Her "sincere" expression wavered, the blush vanished, and the familiar, sharp, intelligent smirk returned to her lips. She looked at me with a newfound respect, a glint in her golden eyes that said, 'Oh, so the toy can bite back. This is even more fun.'
"Fine, fine, you caught me," she said, her voice returning to its normal, energetic tone. She finally released my arm, though she remained standing uncomfortably close. "You're no fun when you're all business, you know that?"
"I'm not here for fun," I countered. "I'm here to work."
"I know," she said, and for a moment, her smile was genuine. "And that's precisely what I want to talk to you about. Business. An opportunity." She gestured with her head toward a quaint-looking building just off the plaza, a sign with a steaming teacup hanging above its door. "But a conversation of this importance requires a proper venue. And I am simply parched after all that shouting."
She started walking toward the cafe, then glanced back at me, her smile turning into a challenge. "I'll tell you everything you want to know," she said, her voice a silken promise. "Once we're inside. Over a cup of Moonpetal tea."
I stood there for a moment, watching her go. She had done it again. She had masterfully cornered me, using my own sense of duty against me. I couldn't just walk away now, not when she was dangling the answers I needed right in front of me. To get back to my mission, I first had to complete hers.
With a final, resigned sigh, I followed her. The glares of a hundred jealous men followed me all the way to the cafe door. My city-wide inspection had been officially, and irrevocably, derailed.