The Kaspus interior was split into two worlds.
At the front, a warm golden glow filled the bar area. Yellow lights washed over polished tables, rows of chairs, and the long counter where bottles shone like glass jewels. People chatted softly, their silhouettes relaxed under the gentle radiance. To the right, a small reception desk marked the entrance.
Beyond that—everything changed.
A vibrant lounge pulsed with color.
Dim lights, shifting from purple to blue to red.
Crowds moving as one, the air thick with music from a DJ perched above the floor.
A living sea of motion.
Vaelor glanced around.
"So… where do we go?"
Serin raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? We're supposed to go dance."
But Perun shook his head immediately.
"You two go. I'm not feeling well. I'll sit here at the bar."
Serin stepped closer, her voice soft with concern. "If you're not feeling well, we don't have to stay. We can go back."
Vaelor nodded. "Yeah. It's fine."
Perun waved them off quickly. "No, no—this is normal. I just need a few minutes. I'll be fine soon."
Vaelor sighed. "Alright… then we'll wait with you."
"Why ruin your fun?" Perun insisted. "Just go. Enjoy yourselves."
Serin hesitated. "But how can we go and leave you alone like this?"
Vaelor nudged her lightly. "We're here. If anything happens, he'll call. He knows that."
That seemed to convince her—barely. After a moment, the two finally headed toward the lounge.
As soon as they disappeared into the crowd, Perun exhaled in relief.
"I don't hate them," he muttered under his breath. "But this is the only way I can try the specialty here… Roy Rogers."
He glanced around cautiously.
If they see me drinking it, they'll think it's alcohol. And explaining it's cola with grenadine? It's very hard. There's a whole myth around it… all made up.I think Vaelor got an idea about it.
He slipped onto one of the round bar stools and leaned toward the bartender.
"One special Roy Rogers, please."
The bartender nodded and began preparing the drink.
Meanwhile, at the lounge—
Vaelor and Serin stood at the edge of the dancing crowd, absorbing the thundering beat.
"Now?" Serin asked.
"Yeah," Vaelor replied. "We have to dance here."
She frowned. "But… do you think Perun is actually okay?"
Vaelor shrugged casually. "Of course. I think he just has gas. He snores like a hunter blowing a horn while sleeping. But hey—that's not today's major issue."
Serin struggled not to laugh, the tension draining from her face.
The atmosphere between them finally softened.
Soon, they melted into the crowd, letting the music pull them into its rhythm.
The waiter placed the glass on the counter.
Perun thanked him quietly, lifted the drink, and took a slow sip.
Cold. Sweet. Refreshing.
The tension in his body finally loosened, his breath settling in a calm rhythm.
A minute later, noise erupted near the main entrance.
People murmured. Chairs scraped. Heads turned.
A group of four men entered.
The one in the center stood out immediately—half-sleeve shirt covered with tiny squirrel patterns, blue-tinted goggles resting on his nose, walking with the relaxed confidence of someone who already owned the room.
His three companions, also in half sleeves and sunglasses, followed closely behind like shadows.
The squirrel-shirted man approached the bartender.
"Where's the governor?" he asked.
The bartender straightened, bowed slightly.
"Good evening, Mr. Boss. He's on the second floor. After the lounge area, there's a lift."
The man gave a small nod and turned.
As he stepped back, his eyes swept across the bar and for a brief moment, his gaze locked with Perun's.
Behind him, whispers spread through the bar.
"Why did he call him Mr. Boss?"
"You don't know? He bought Kaspus this morning."
"He's from the Victoria Continent. Came to Florith one week ago. Already bought half the street."
The last whisper hit louder than the music:
"That's Ricardo Williams."
Perun's grip on his glass tightened.
Meanwhile, Ricardo and his men crossed into the lounge.
Inside, Vaelor and Serin were dancing, letting the music wash over them. The lights flickered across their faces as they moved through the crowd.
Then it happened.
Vaelor turned at the wrong moment and collided with Ricardo.
Vaelor bowed instantly. "Sorry!"
He expected it to be like last time.But not today.
Two of Ricardo's men stepped forward. One grabbed Vaelor's collar.
"Sorry, my ass," the man growled.
Vaelor blinked, confused.
Serin rushed forward, placing herself between them.
"Please he didn't mean it. It was an accident. Spare him."
The man spat an insult at her. "You little b*tch, don't tell me what to do."
Serin kept her tone steady, even as fear flickered in her eyes.
"It wasn't his fault. He didn't see him."
The man seized her wrist, squeezing hard.
"You don't understand a damn thing we're saying."
She winced. "We didn't do anything intentionally—"
Before she could finish, Vaelor grabbed the man's hand—the very one holding her.
His grip was iron.
"Leave her," he said, voice low and cold.
"She has nothing to do with this."
The two men stared at him, startled by the sudden shift.
Vaelor tightened his grip further. The man's strength faltered.
He released Serin.
Vaelor didn't stop.
He held the man's arm midair, locking it with a controlled force.
The chaos drew Perun in from the bar.
He pushed through the crowd, trying to stand between them.
The man holding Vaelor's collar shoved Perun backward repeatedly.
Perun didn't resist. He avoided eye contact and muttered—"Sorry… sorry for my friends…"
Vaelor's patience snapped.
His eyes sharpened.
He seized the man by the collar, planted one foot forward, and lifted him clean off the ground.
Then with a sharp twist
he slammed the man onto the floor. The thud silenced half the lounge.
One hit.
Unconscious.
Vaelor stepped toward the second man, expression hard.
Ricardo watched the scene.
His last remaining companion—a tall man with a sword tattoo spiraling down his left arm—tensed as if to jump in.
Ricardo raised one hand, stopping him.
"I didn't order them to start this."
Back on the floor, the second man shoved Perun again.
"You weak piece of sh*t. You're nothing without him. All of you are loud because of him—"
Calling Perun weak lit something inside him.
Perun raised his head.
His eyes locked onto the man's bold, sharp.
"So you think I'm weak… so you can do anything to me?"
Before the man could react—
Perun punched him straight in the jaw.
Blood spilled from the man's mouth.
He tried to charge back, but Vaelor caught him mid-movement.
"You move one more inch," Vaelor said evenly,
"I'll kill you."
Ricardo finally stepped in.
"Hey. Take him," he said to his tattooed companion.
"We're already late."
The tattooed man walked forward, radiating a presence completely different from the other two.
Serin grabbed Vaelor and Perun, pulling them away.
The crowd stared. Security was pushing through the mass of people.
"We have to leave now," Serin whispered urgently.
The three of them slipped through the exit just as Ricardo's men lifted their unconscious partner and followed their boss toward the lift.