They stood in silence, gazes fixed on the strange object lodged in the middle of the courtyard.
Embedded in the ground, like a stumble, but strangely crystallized.
The ground around it was faintly scorched, as if the air itself had rejected its presence.
"A red crystal?" Ilya was the first to speak, stepping forward with a narrowed gaze.
The thing embedded before them jutted out from the earth like some buried relic unearthed by accident, jagged edges, an oddly symmetrical hexagonal core, blood-red in hue.
It wasn't large, nor exactly small.
Medium-sized, no wider than a person's torso.
Lucien stood a step behind her, arms folded as his tone came out flat. "I'm not sure what it is either. That's why I called you here. You've got the knowledge. Commerce, appraisals, the whole background."
"Hm," Ilya murmured, her glance flicking sideways to him, curious.
Then she crouched down, running a gloved fingertip along one of the crystal's ridges.
Carefully, she tilted her head, peering at it from various angles, absorbing every nuance of the object's glow.
"There's rich spiritual energy flowing through it. But it's not a spiritual stone. And it's definitely not like any known mineral from this region."
She spoke slowly, her brows knitting as her mind flipped through mental pages of everything she had learned.
Ilya had memorized nearly every rare treasure recorded across the region.
That near-flawless memory was one of her most dangerous weapons, almost library-like.
The crystal's energy buzzed faintly against her fingers. It pulsed, beating even, like a human heart.
She shifted her weight slightly and frowned, measuring the crystal's size with a casual glance, nearly matching the curve of her own chest.
Still, nothing familiar surfaced.
"For something radiating this much spiritual energy, it shouldn't be unknown. No matter how rare." Her voice had dropped lower, more thoughtful now, tinged with disbelief.
She stood upright, brushing dust from her knees as she turned her gaze on Lucien again. "You unearthed it here?"
He nodded once.
No hesitation.
His stance was unreadable, calm and firm like old bark, no twitch of movement, not even a change in breath.
"Anything coming to mind?" he asked.
"Nothing." Ilya exhaled, arms crossed beneath her chest, her expression strange, confused.
"Judging from the density of spiritual energy from it, I'd place it around second-grade material. But its function? Completely unknown."
"I see…" Lucien's voice trailed off as he turned back toward the crystal, eyes lingering on it for a few seconds longer.
"Then… how should we proceed from here?"
The way he phrased it,straight to the point, no unnecessary words, told her everything.
He wanted results. And payment, of course.
'Direct man,' she thought with a faint quirk of her brow. Interesting, but not enough to truly draw her in.
Without a word, she turned on her heel and began walking toward the guards at the edge of the courtyard. "I'll take it back with me. Let the alchemists in my chamber run a few tests. If we can pin down its nature and purpose…"
She paused, casting a look over her shoulder. Her hair shifted slightly with the movement, catching the light.
"I'll give you the results." Her lips curved ever so slightly. "And naturally, your money."
Lucien's boots scraped lightly against the dirt as he shifted, turning to face her. "I can go with that."
He paused, his eyes flicking to the guards nearby, watching him like he was about to cause trouble.
"But," he added, voice dropping an octave, "this is a contract. I'll need some payment upfront."
"Fair," she replied, barely missing a beat. Then, with a flick of her wrist, a small pouch, light grey and marked with a subtle insignia, slipped free from her sleeve and dropped onto the ground, landing just a hair's breadth in front of Lucien's boots.
The soft thud it made against the soil was final.
She gave him no face whatsoever.
Lucien didn't move immediately. He simply stared down at it in silence.
Deal accepted.
He frowned slightly at the gesture but didn't question it.
Dropping to one knee, he picked up the pouch with a casual motion, fingers brushing over its surface before wrapping firmly around it.
Watching him, Ilya chuckled softly, her hand rising to cover her mouth in a graceful gesture. "There are over ten thousand low-grade spiritual stones inside that bag," she said, her tone light. "Enough to fetch the price of most low-tier second-grade materials on the market."
Lucien gave the bag a proper heft in his palm, weighing its contents without expression.
After a brief pause, he gave a small nod and slipped it smoothly into his sleeve. "Then it's settled."
"Indeed…" Ilya's gaze narrowed ever so slightly as she studied his unreadable expression.
When she saw that he had nothing more to say, she turned away without hesitation.
With a flick of her fingers, she gave a command.
The guards moved forward, beginning the tedious work of digging out the crystal. It took some time, expected, given its grade, but eventually, they extracted it, wrapped it in sealing cloth, and tucked it carefully into a beautiful huge jade box.
Ilya placed it into her ring without ceremony.
She didn't spare him another glance. With the guards in tow, she exited the area in silence.
Lucien stood still, watching her leave. Not a word.
"…Troublesome woman," he muttered under his breath.
—
Somewhere else in the city, Ilya exited the neighborhood and moved under the escort of her guards through the winding paths of the inner city's residential zone.
This area was distinctly wealthier, the buildings cleaner, the walls taller, and the silence heavier.
After all, those who lived here were either cultivators or old dying monsters that were in seclusion.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a house that looked… plain at a glance.
She halted before the door.
Her hand lifted slowly toward the doorknob, but then stopped, trembling midair.
The slight shake of her fingers betrayed her calm exterior.
"…He should be inside. Right?"
She swallowed hard, unsure why she suddenly felt this nervous.
It was irrational, and she hated that. Her eyes flicked briefly to the side.
Behind her, the guards exchanged glances, surprised.
They had rarely, if ever, seen their young lady hesitate like this. Especially not in front of someone so… insignificant, at least in their eyes.
The tall captain narrowed his eyes slightly, face composed, but his mind was thinking of something else.
He had watched Ilya grow from a child to the woman she was now.
He knew her tells, her rhythms.
And if someone could make her falter like this?
He may have underestimated the man inside.
Ilya took a slow, deep breath. Steeled herself.
Then, with closed eyes, she lifted her hand again to knock.
But before her fingers could make contact, Creak…
The wooden door shifted open.
She jerked slightly, instinctively straightening her back.
Standing behind the door was a tall, cloaked figure, one she recognized immediately.
Towering, broad-shouldered, and cloaked in shadows, his presence filled the doorway entirely.
Though his eyes were hidden behind the mask, she felt the weight of his gaze pressing down on her.
Ilya blinked, her throat tightening. She swallowed. Twice.
Then forced a polite smile. "S-Senior… W-what a surprise to meet you here today?"
"Indeed, Miss Ilya," the puppet answered, voice smooth, expression hidden behind the mask.
Then, without missing a beat, he stepped to the side, gesturing into the house with one elegant sweep of his arm.
"The young master has been expecting your arrival."
"…Y-Young master?" Her voice cracked faintly, mind screeching to a halt.
For a full second, her brain processed the phrase like a jammed transmission.
Young master?
Her thoughts crashed like waves in her head.
Was he referring to someone?
This senior… was calling someone else his master?
Was he… living here?
No, serving here?
This house should belong to his disciple, no?
Was she misunderstanding something?
The implications tangled her thoughts into knots. She didn't even know what to ask. Her tongue froze. Her brain overheated like an overworked furnace.
Nothing about this made sense.
And yet… she stepped forward, and forced an ugly smile on the outside.