Kael, Diego, Charlie, and Michael approached the reception desk of Le Palais de l'Opulence to collect their room assignments, while Leona remained at the mansion, being prepared by the maids for the royal feast.
As the receptionist arranged their keys with professional efficiency, one of the hotel's VIP guests began openly criticizing Kael and his friends — mocking their appearance and questioning how "lowlives" like them dared to set foot inside such an establishment.
Despite the blatant disrespect, Kael and the others maintained their composure, refusing to dignify the insult with a reaction.
Marie: Is there something wrong?
Marie's voice cut through the tension as she arrived to check on her guests. Yet even in her presence, the rude VIP continued his derisive remarks.
Marie: These young individuals, whom I have personally invited as honored guests, are dear friends of my daughter, Mr. Casey. Now, I suggest you apologize for your conduct… or I will have no choice but to escort you out.
Casey: Apologize? To these gutter rats? You must have completely lost your senses, you old hag.
The temperature in the lobby seemed to drop.
Upon hearing Casey's words, the guards instinctively stepped back, sensing that the situation was about to escalate.
Marie did not flinch.
Marie: I beg your pardon?
Her tone was calm — dangerously calm — as she removed her coat and handed it to her Fille d'honneur.
The marble floors reflected the chandelier light above, but in that moment, all eyes were fixed on her.
The atmosphere had shifted.
And everyone knew it.
Marie stepped closer to Casey.
Without warning, she executed a precise low sweep, striking his legs and sending him off balance. Before he could recover, she followed with a sharp vertical palm strike to his chest, accelerating his fall and driving the air from his lungs. He hit the ground with a harsh gasp, clutching his chest in pain.
Casey scrambled back to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes. Desperate to reclaim his dignity, he launched a straight punch toward her face.
Marie sidestepped effortlessly.
In one fluid motion, she seized his ear, twisted, and redirected his momentum downward. The next second, he was slammed onto the polished marble floor, pinned and completely subdued.
Casey, realizing he stood no chance against her, yielded.
The staff swiftly confiscated his luggage and VIP card, and the guards dragged him out of the hotel without ceremony.
Silence settled over the lobby.
Despite her refined appearance and elegant attire, Marie had demonstrated flawless efficiency in combat. Kael and the others stood momentarily speechless.
"What a formidable woman," they all thought.
Marie turned back to them as though nothing extraordinary had occurred.
Marie: My apologies for the disturbance.
And with that, she departed without another word.
Receptionist: Ah, here are your room assignments. Mr. Kael, you will be in Room 1316. Mr. Diego, Room 1317. Miss Charlie, Room 1318. And Mr. Michael, Room 1319. Each suite is attended by a personal maid. Should you require anything at all—assistance, services, or clarification—please do not hesitate to inform us. We are at your disposal.
Kael and the others expressed their gratitude before proceeding toward their respective rooms.
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Le Palais de l'Opulence rises as a towering twenty-five–story monument to excess and refinement—an ultra-luxury establishment conceived to host the world's most elite clientele. Spanning over 100,000 square meters, the hotel houses 500 opulent rooms and suites, each averaging 50 square meters or more, adorned with panoramic views of both the glittering city skyline and the adjacent mansion estate.
Its rooftop boasts a state-of-the-art helipad, an infinity pool that appears to spill into the horizon, and exclusive open-air dining beneath the stars—ensuring seamless arrivals and unforgettable experiences. Architecturally, the structure harmonizes sleek modern glass aesthetics with classical French grandeur, accentuated by soaring columns, intricate façades, and meticulously crafted details.
Within its interior, the hotel offers private spas, haute couture boutiques, Michelin-starred restaurants, and expansive ballrooms reserved for distinguished VIP gatherings. With over 500 meticulously trained staff members assigned to maintain impeccable standards, each guest is attended with seamless, personalized service tailored to their every desire.
Security remains unparalleled—advanced surveillance systems and discreet, highly trained personnel guaranteeing absolute privacy.
More than a mere symbol of luxury, the colossal edifice stands as a sanctuary for the global elite—redefining exclusivity, prestige, and power in a single architectural marvel.
———————————————————
Kael and his companions were accommodated on the thirteenth floor. As expected of an establishment of such prestige, the suites were immaculate—meticulously sanitized, lavishly furnished, and attended by highly trained personal maids assigned to each guest's service.
After their long journey, they elected to indulge in proper baths. While they refreshed themselves, the maids discreetly handled their laundry, arranged their essentials, and coordinated a refined luncheon. Efficiency and precision defined every gesture.
Once finished, Kael turned to his assigned attendant.
Kael: May I ask—what is the full extent of a maid's role within this hotel?
Maid: Of course, sir. We are available at all hours, providing personalized housekeeping, curated meal arrangements, wardrobe assistance, concierge services, and private hospitality tailored to each guest's preferences. Discretion and professionalism are our highest priorities. Our purpose is to create a bespoke experience—one that anticipates needs before they are spoken.
Kael nodded thoughtfully.
Kael: I see. Then what can you tell me about Mr. De Moreau and Mrs. Marie?
Maid: Sir De Moreau was born in 1980 and is presently fifty-five years of age. He established the Aetheris Corporation in his mid-twenties; today, it stands as one of the fastest-growing conglomerates in its sector. Mademoiselle Marie is fifty-one years old, formerly a distinguished karate instructor. They were married in 2014 and welcomed their first child in 2016. Many of the guards currently serving this estate were personally trained by Madame Marie from a young age.
And Sir Victor is the eldest among the guards personally trained by Madame Marie and now serves as Head of Security.
She folded her hands neatly before her.
Maid: Sir De Moreau and Madame Marie have four daughters in total—Mademoiselle Sophie, Mademoiselle Chloe, Mademoiselle Evelyne, and Mademoiselle Juliette. At present, Sir De Moreau is ranked as the third wealthiest man in the world.
Her earpiece chimed softly. She paused, listening.
Maid: Mr. Kael, it appears that you and your companions have been formally invited to attend the royal feast to be held in the Grand Ballroom this evening. Your friends have likewise been notified. We sincerely hope you enjoy your stay.
Kael inclined his head slightly.
Kael: Oh. That is… remarkably thoughtful. Thank you for informing me.
The maid offered a graceful bow.
Maid: Your satisfaction is our foremost priority. If you permit, may I prepare your attire for the royal feast?
Kael: Please. I would appreciate that.
Meanwhile, as each of them attended to their own preparations, Diego emerged from his suite and made his way down the corridor. He paused before Charlie's door, inhaled once—then knocked.
The door opened.
Charlie regarded him with mild curiosity.
Charlie: Yes? What is it?
Diego cleared his throat, suddenly finding the polished marble floor far more fascinating than her face.
Diego: Um… well… there's apparently a small carnival set up not far from the hotel. I was wondering if you—if you might want to… go. With me.
Charlie arched a brow, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Charlie: Diego, are you asking me on a date?
Diego: I–uh–I… Um, y-yeah. K-kind of. S-so… would you?
Charlie pauses for a second, then quietly closes her door.
Diego:(Thought) Oh my God. That was catastrophically stupid. I sounded like a malfunctioning robot. Why did I stutter like that? Now she probably thinks I'm some socially defective weirdo. Brilliant, Diego. Absolutely brilliant.
Inside her room, Charlie leans against the door, pressing a hand lightly to her chest.
Charlie:(Thought) Good grief… why is he suddenly asking me out? Why is my heart beating this fast? Calm down. It's just a date. A simple outing. Nothing more. So why am I blushing?
She exhales slowly.
Charlie:(Thought) Get yourself together.
The door opens again.
Charlie: This evening, right?
Diego blinks.
Diego: Y-yeah. After dinner.
Charlie tilts her head, pretending to consider.
Charlie: Hm… Don't be late.
She closes the door once more.
Diego stands frozen in the hallway for several seconds. Then realization strikes.
Diego: (In a low, restrained whisper) Yes… I did it…! Whoo!
As dusk settles over the city, Le Palais de l'Opulence glows beneath a canopy of golden lights. For once, both of them choose casual attire, leaving behind their combat suits and weapons. Tonight is not about missions, enemies, or survival.
Before heading out, however, Diego hesitates.
It would be wise to inform their leader.
He walks down the corridor and knocks on Kael's door.
Kael opens the door, one hand resting casually against the frame.
Kael: Yeah?
Diego shifts awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
Diego: Hey… um… Charlie and I are, uh… going to the carnival near the hotel. Just for a bit.
Kael studies him for a second. Then it clicks.
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
Kael: Oh. I see. Alright. Enjoy your time. Michael and I will attend the royal feast in your stead.
Diego exhales, visibly relieved.
Diego: Thank you, Kael.
Kael: No thank you or sorry between friends, okay? We're a team. We cover for each other.
Diego: I really appreciate it.
Kael's expression softens.
Kael: Seriously. Go have fun. You deserve a night that doesn't involve explosions. I'll inform Michael.
With that settled, Diego walks down the corridor toward Charlie's room.
When the door opens, she is already dressed.
Charlie wears a loose crimson flannel layered over a fitted black tank top, paired with sleek skinny jeans. On her feet are her favorite black combat boots—worn, rugged, and effortlessly cool.
Diego, in contrast, has chosen a mustard-yellow hoodie with the sleeves pushed slightly upward, dark jeans, and spotless gray sneakers. Casual. Clean. Nervous.
For a moment, they simply look at each other.
Diego clears his throat.
Diego: Shall we?
Charlie steps aside with a faint, almost teasing smile.
Charlie: After you.
And together, they head toward the carnival lights shimmering in the distance.
Meanwhile, Michael adjusts his cufflinks, already prepared for the royal feast. He scans the hallway, expecting the others.
Only Kael remains.
Michael: Hey. Do you know where Diego and Charlie went?
Kael: Oh, they went to the carnival. For their D.A.T.E… if you catch my meaning.
Michael arches a brow, then lets out a quiet chuckle.
Michael: Ah. I see. So it's just you and me tonight.
Kael pushes off the wall.
Kael: Seems so. Let's not keep royalty waiting.
And with that, they depart.
The carnival pulsed with life.
Neon lights shimmered in rhythmic patterns against the night sky, blending with the laughter of children and the distant whirl of mechanical rides. Cheerful music drifted through the air, mingling with the sugary sweetness of cotton candy and caramel popcorn.
Diego adjusted the hem of his hoodie, trying—and failing—to appear composed.
Beside him, Charlie walked with effortless confidence. Her boots struck the pavement in deliberate rhythm, flannel now tied around her waist, her presence magnetic even under carnival lights.
Charlie glances sideways, a sly smile playing on her lips.
Charlie: So, where to first? Don't tell me you're aiming to dominate the shooting booth.
Diego blinks, caught off guard.
Diego: Uh… maybe. As long as you don't accidentally dismantle the stand.
Charlie laughs softly.
Charlie: Relax. I'll restrain myself. How about ring toss first?
Diego nods quickly.
Diego: Sounds perfect.
They stop at the ring toss booth. Glass bottles gleam beneath string lights, stacked neatly in tempting rows.
Charlie picks up the first ring, rolling it between her fingers as though assessing weight and trajectory. Confidence radiates from her posture.
She throws.
The ring flies with a little too much force.
The ring ricocheted off the bottles and nearly struck the carnie in the shin. Diego snorted, unable to restrain his laughter, while Charlie attempted again—only to meet the same failure.
This time, Diego chose the balloon dart game, hoping he might win something for her. With steady focus, he managed to burst five marked balloons and earned a large stuffed octopus as his prize.
As they received it, Charlie noticed a little girl standing nearby, gazing at the plush toy with quiet longing. Without hesitation, Charlie knelt and offered the octopus to the child, who beamed with delight. The girl thanked her shyly before running off to show her parents.
Diego watched Charlie with unmistakable admiration before suggesting they take pictures at the photo booth. They captured countless snapshots, laughter echoing between flashes of light. When they finished, Diego asked if she would like some cotton candy. Charlie nodded, and he immediately made his way to the concession stand.
However, on his return, he was intercepted by a group of youngsters about his age.
Youngster1: Hey there, little man. Haven't seen you around before. You new here?
Diego: Y-yeah… sort of. We're just visiting."
Youngster2: Whatchu got there? Cotton candy? You bring a girl?
Diego: Sorry, fellas, but I really gotta go now.
Leader: Not so fast, shortie. You gotta introduce your girlfriend to us. Maybe we'll hit the town.
Diego's expression hardened as irritation flickered across his face. He contemplated stopping time and slipping past them—
When time resumed, the bullies merely assumed Diego had been swift enough to evade their grasp.
Leader: Slippery bastard—where the hell did he go? He was right here. Come on.
They scanned the area and quickly spotted him again, cutting him off once more.
Youngster2: You think you're a tough guy, huh? You even know who you're messin' with?
Diego: Guys, please. I don't want any trouble.
Charlie: You boys got a problem?
They turned to find Charlie standing behind them, posture relaxed yet unmistakably confident.
Leader: And who are you supposed to be?
Diego: Charlie, don't—
Charlie: I'm his girlfriend. Got a problem with that?
Bullies: Laughing mockingly.
Leader: Hahaha, you? His girlfriend? Hahahaha! You look more like a toothpick and a washboard. Hahaha…
Charlie:(Crackingherfists) How about we settle this?
Leader: Hahahaha… oh wait—you're dead serious. Game on then, bitch.
Diego, Charlie, and the bullies soon gathered before a towering punching machine, its digital board glowing beneath the carnival lights. The challenge was simple—score higher than the rest.
The leader stepped forward first. With a confident smirk, he rolled his shoulders and delivered a powerful strike. The machine flashed 910 points, the number blazing across the display.
Youngster1: Awesome! Last year it was 860!
Youngster2: Boss is really something else.
Leader: You know, it's not too late to back down before you embarrass yourself.
Charlie's patience thinned. Without a word, she shrugged off her crimson flannel, revealing the sculpted musculature she usually kept concealed. The bullies hesitated, momentarily unsettled by her physique, yet pride blinded them into underestimating her.
She stepped before the machine.
Planting her feet firmly against the pavement, Charlie drew a steady breath, coiled her strength, and unleashed a single, devastating punch.
The impact thundered through the machine.
In less than a second, the score rocketed to 999 points—and kept surging. Sparks erupted as the internal mechanisms failed, the casing cracking under the sheer force of her blow. With a sharp metallic snap, the machine collapsed into silence.
The bullies stood frozen, utterly speechless.
Without another word, they retreated, muttering hollow excuses as they disappeared into the crowd.
Charlie calmly slipped her flannel back on and returned to Diego's side.
Charlie: You okay back there?
Diego: Yeah… I think so. Thanks for… saving me, I guess.
Noticing the faint crease still lingering on his face, Charlie nudged him lightly with her elbow.
Charlie: Come on. Ferris wheel. Let's lighten the mood.
Moments later, they were seated inside one of the gently swaying cabins. As the wheel began its slow ascent, the carnival lights shimmered beneath them like scattered stars.
They shared the cotton candy in quiet companionship, the sugary sweetness dissolving slowly between them as the city stretched out below.
They had been seated inside the Ferris wheel cabin for nearly thirty seconds, yet neither spoke. The wheel turned slowly, lifting them higher above the carnival lights below. The silence lingered—thick, almost suffocating—until Charlie finally broke it.
Charlie: How are you feeling now?
Diego: I–I guess I'm okay…
Charlie: Hey, don't let them get to you. Dipshits like them? I've dealt with people like that before. They're just cowards who get cocky when they've got their little audience.
Diego: …...
Charlie stared ahead at the glowing horizon, her voice quieter this time.
Charlie: My dad used to beat me up.
Diego:(Shocked) W-what?
Charlie: After he and my mom divorced when I was twelve, he insisted I stay with him. Back then, I didn't understand why she let it happen… but the older I got, the more I realized she probably didn't have a choice.
She paused, fingers tightening slightly around the thin paper cone of cotton candy.
Charlie: He was an abusive, drunken piece of shit who saw his own daughter as nothing more than something to control. I endured it for years. But one day, I couldn't take it anymore. I took every bit of savings I had and ran.
The Ferris wheel creaked softly as it ascended.
Diego: And… your mother?
Charlie: Never saw her again after she left. I… missed her every single day.
Diego lowered his gaze, the lights below reflecting faintly in his eyes.
Diego: Neither of my parents wanted me.
Charlie: C-come again?
Diego: Mine divorced too. But unlike yours… neither of them fought for custody. They argued about everything except me.
He let out a faint, hollow chuckle.
Diego: I stayed with relatives most of my childhood. I guess I was just a failure for them. So my grandpa took me in and raised me from the time I was nine. He and grandma loved me like their own.
His voice softened, though it did not tremble.
Diego: Grandpa always told me, 'Good friends may come and go, but loyal friends stand beside you forever.' And from the day I met Kael… and all of you… I think I finally understood what he meant.
Charlie turned toward him, the Ferris wheel slowly carrying them higher into the night.
Charlie: And what do you think about me?
The question struck him harder than any punch ever could.
Diego's breath caught in his throat. Words abandoned him. He stuttered helplessly, his composure unraveling in seconds. Charlie found his nervousness strangely endearing—almost unfairly adorable.
For a brief heartbeat, she hesitated.
Then she moved first.
Closing the distance between them, Charlie pressed her lips gently against his.
The world seemed to stop—not by Diego's power, but by sheer disbelief.
Dazed, he could not comprehend what was happening. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was another dream he would soon awaken from.
Charlie pulled back slightly, her face flushed a deep crimson.
Charlie:(Thought) Oh my God… I actually did it. That was my first kiss with a guy. I'm so fucking embarrassed…
From a distance, Susan observed them quietly. A faint, proud smile curved along her lips.
Susan:(Thought) That's my brave girl.
An hour later, after laughter and wandering beneath the carnival lights, they finally returned.
Only to find the mansion under lockdown.
The grand gates were sealed. Security personnel stood rigid, refusing entry to anyone without authorization.
Diego: What's going on?
Guard: The premises are temporarily restricted. Please stand back.
Confusion flickered across their faces.
And then—
A thunderous impact split the air.
They looked up just in time to see Michael launched skyward, tearing through the rooftop in a violent burst of debris—only to pivot midair and dive straight back down into the fractured structure without hesitation.
The night, once sweet with cotton candy and music, had turned sharp with danger.