The steam curled lazily over the water's surface, obscuring the scattered reflections of moonlight in gentle, undulating waves. The forest hot spring, tucked behind a natural barrier of trees and stone, had been chosen precisely for its seclusion.
Laughter echoed gently as the girls settled into the warmth—Hestia's energetic chatter and Liliruca's occasional, exasperated sighs.
Above the perimeter of the spring, just past the tree line, the servo-skull hovered with patient precision. Its optic lens pulsed faintly in the dark, scanning the surrounding forest—east, west, up the slope, and toward the thicket beyond the ridge.
But not once did its lens drift toward the spring.
Its orientation was deliberate, programmed under Luthar's exact parameters. Surveillance, not voyeurism. Observation, not invasion.
"Creepy little thing," Hestia muttered, eyeing the skull with faint discomfort.
"It's watching the trees, not us," Asfi replied flatly, arms resting on the edge of the spring. "And it's better than finding Hermes in the bushes."
That earned a round of begrudging nods.
The skull whirred faintly, adjusting its altitude. A faint flicker of light blinked across its data strip—an alert, perhaps. But it made no sound.
Somewhere deeper in the brush, a twig snapped—a footstep that did not belong to any animal.
Above, concealed within the high branches of a thick tree, two figures carefully adjusted their positions.
"So, so what are we exactly looking at?" Bell began, visibly sweating despite the cool air.
"Be quiet, Bell!" Hermes whispered with forced enthusiasm, holding a leafy branch aside. He began peering down through the foliage. "There they are! The goddesses in their natural state—ah, the innocence, the grace, the—"
BZZZT!
A loud, high-pitched whine cut the air.
Before Hermes could utter another poetic blasphemy, the servo-skull—its lens gleaming red—turned sharply from its patrol arc and locked onto the intruders in the tree canopy.
A compartment opened beneath its chassis with an efficient click.
"Target detected."
CRACK!
A searing jolt of non-lethal electricity surged out from the skull's undercarriage, arcing into the treetop. Hermes let out a yelp that could rival a struck harp string, followed by a loud thud as he and Bell tumbled gracelessly to the forest floor in a heap of smoke, ash, and bruised dignity.
Inside the bath, all went still.
Then—
"HERMES!" Hestia's voice thundered with divine fury.
Asfi sighed, already stepping out of the water, towel wrapped tight and expression cold as steel. "I knew it."
Moments later, several of the girls emerged—some armed with towels, others with murderous intent. What they found was a charred Hermes twitching slightly and a mortified Bell profusely apologizing while trying not to look anywhere but the grass.
"Explain," Hestia said coolly, arms crossed, fully clothed, and clearly enjoying the irony.
"I—I was dragged into it!" Bell pleaded. "He said it was a tactical scouting mission!"
"More like a tactless suicide mission," Liliruca growled.
Hestia cracked her knuckles. "Get the rope."
"Wait—wait! We haven't even done the peeping. You can't punish us for something we didn't do." Hermes wheezed, but no one was listening anymore.
Meanwhile, the servo-skull resumed its patrol, returning to its standard altitude and rotation—its warning systems now recalibrated for "repeat offenders."
While Hermes and Bell failed to see beautiful scenery, another pair was about to succeed.
As Luthar walked alongside Freya, the distant chaos of the path long faded behind them, silvering the underbrush and gilding Freya's steps with a ghostlike grace.
They followed the forest path a little further, leaves crunching softly underfoot. It curved gently, narrowing into a stone-lined trail.
Luthar paused, one hand brushing the servo-skull's control panel as it floated just behind them. "This direction doesn't lead back to camp."
"No," Freya said, her tone light, almost teasing. "It leads somewhere much more interesting."
He arched a brow beneath his mask but didn't argue. The servo-skull adjusted behind him, its optical lens glowing a calm blue.
They stepped through a natural break in the brush—and Luthar halted.
A secondary spring, far more secluded, shimmered under the pale light. Mist coiled across its surface, curling around jagged stones and leafy branches.
And in the middle of it, reclining against the edge with her back turned and hair cascading like a curtain of moonlit silk—
Ryuu Leon.
Alone. Undisturbed. Vulnerable in the quiet peace of the spring.
Freya stopped just beside him, her expression unreadable—save for the faint, knowing curve of her lips.
Luthar remained still, analyzing the scene like a battlefield map. His servo-skull floated motionless, its lens angled politely away.
"You brought me here to look at a naked elf," he said finally, his tone a mixture of understanding and faint resignation.
Freya tilted her head, amused. "Who was the one quietly stealing glances at her butt when we were coming down in the dungeon?"
He said nothing.
She leaned closer, whispering, "Six times. You looked at her six times, Luthar. For the others, never more than three."
His gaze turned toward her—sharp beneath the mask. "How can you possibly count that that?"
Freya gave a soft laugh. It's intuition," she continued, "but I didn't expect you to just admit to peeping at her secretly."
While both of them talked casually,
Ryuu's gaze lingered on them. This was too much.
The water had long lost its comfort. What remained was silence—and heat of a different kind.
Her fingers dipped beneath the water, flexing once. Calm, still. But behind her eyes, thoughts churned.
Freya.
That woman hadn't just wandered here. She had brought Luthar Cogbane.
Ryuu rose slowly, water cascading down her form in ripples. Her expression was unreadable, jaw set firm.
If Freya wanted to provoke her, she'd succeeded. But Ryuu Leon was no flustered tavern girl.
She stepped from the spring and reached for the folded towel draped over the rocks.
She dressed swiftly, the moonlight catching on the wet sheen of her hair as she fastened the final clasp of her uniform. The breeze whispered again, as if sensing the shift in her intent.
She turned toward the Luthar and Freya had taken—eyes sharp, and while trying to hide her embarrassment, she prepared herself.
If Luthar Cogbane wished to look at her, then he should prepare to die.
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