image [https://img.wattpad.com/story_parts/1505947999/images/18154052dfcd3bd5860172919427.jpg]

Warm light stretches from the balcony window into your room, casting intricate patterns over your comforter. Outside, a sharp caw breaks the morning stillness—most likely Mephisto carrying out his master's bidding. You blink away the remnants of sleep, taking in the extravagance of the room around you. It wasn't a dream. With a sigh, you slide out of bed, quickly dressing for the day.

Standing before the tall dressing mirror by the door, you smooth your hands over your skirts and study your reflection. You sport your lucky heels today, in case any robots decide to cross your path. An onyx gown hugs your curves, its corset accented with bright red piping. A sheer layer of crimson chiffon flows over the skirt, a side slit offering your favorite touch of practicality. Dangling from your black velvet choker is a modest ruby, layered with your cherished gold necklace—if Sylus had any qualms about it, he would have to pry it off your cold, dead body. You adjust your hair, pinned back with loose tendrils framing your face, and scoff at the unmistakable style of the ensemble. It is so very Sylus.

Turning on your heel, you set out, following the sound of chattering voices down the corridor. With quiet steps, you approach the staff hard at work cleaning out one of the rooms. You position yourself behind an adjacent wall while you concentrate on their words.

"He disappeared again last night, didn't he?" Says one of the staff.

"He won't last much longer if he keeps this up. But you know he won't ask for help." The other one responds.

"Maybe he's figured something out with the girl—"

They stop suddenly, as if aware they shouldn't speak about the topic, at least not here. Is Sylus suffering from something? And what has he figured out, much less, with 'the girl'? Do they mean...me?

Before you can sneak any closer, a voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Breakfast is this way, ma'am." The staff member from last night instructs with a smile. You straighten and greet her, cursing her timing. She guides you into the dining room, where the warm aroma of coffee wafts through the air, making your mouth salivate. You plop down on one of the smooth black chairs and appreciate the full spread of pain au chocolat, French toast, eggs Benedict, and yogurt.

"Thank you, I almost forgot how hungry I was [https://img.wattpad.com/69341ad3ebdeae1288c3e621f3bccc95b952e5b3/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f70665f564a746b735136325573773d3d2d313530353934373939392e313831353430356136646461336461663336373130333134393838382e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

"Thank you, I almost forgot how hungry I was." You exclaim, grabbing a heavy silver fork and knife and slicing through a layer of egg, bacon, and muffin on your plate. "By the way, where's Sylus this morning?"

The woman lifts a French press full of piping hot coffee and gracefully pours it into a mug. "He's resting now, ma'am."

"Resting? He seemed full of energy last night in the elevator—must have tired himself out acting like he did." You take a sip, savoring the rich notes of chocolate and brown sugar. "Would you be able to tell me where his room is located? I just want to get to know the layout of this place."

"Of course, ma'am, Master Sylus's primary bedroom is on the opposite side of the manor on the floor above yours— it has double doors, you can't miss it." She explains. "Now, please do enjoy your stay. I'll be off." She bows and takes her leave.

Perfect. You are most certainly going to use that information later. For now, you will take advantage of Sylus's absence to gather incriminating evidence for the Hunter's Association.

As you work through your breakfast, a rustling sound draws your attention. Black feathers whirl past you as Mephisto enters the room and perches on the table. In his beak, he holds a black card with a note.

In his beak, he holds a black card with a note [https://img.wattpad.com/1a583296ccb42de4da1a8f2d71a7b32b8874f1f5/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f66306c4e37776a765a43516e49513d3d2d313530353934373939392e313831353430666562356333353564343634303232303233383435312e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

"Mephisto, good morning." You greet the bird, reaching for the card in his beak addressed to you. "I assume you haven't come to explain your master's behavior." Opening the card, it reads:

Dearest fiancée,

As promised, attached is your all-access keycard to the manor. Last I checked, curiosity and kittens don't pair well together, so please, don't get carried away.

Yours,

Sylus

You shove the keycard in your dress pocket and clear your throat. "Mephisto, please tell your Master that I have no intention of listening to him. Not until I have more answers." He's out of his mind with this fiancé business. With that, Mephisto plucks a berry from the table and flies away. You down the rest of your breakfast and prepare to depart on your investigation.

Taking the elevator down, you rub your palm as moments from last night run through your mind—the panic in Sylus's typically calm voice, the desperation in his eyes, almost needy. You furrow your brow in thought, but why? What is it he needs from me? Sylus's look of desperation was unsettling, it didn't suit him. But, maybe that is why I can't stop thinking about it. You recall his vise grip on your hand, his towering figure over yours, the beads of sweat trickling down his temple, and the way his head rested on your shoulder—realizing your thoughts are starting to linger on irrelevant details, you take in a sharp breath and shake your head.

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Descending into the manor's depths, a chill snakes up your spine as you brisk past the arena. I'd like to see Sylus try pulling one over on me again. The black-and-white tiled hallway stretches ahead, leading you to an imposing set of doors with ornate gold doorknobs. You swipe your master keycard, and a satisfying click signals your entry. Pushing the heavy doors open, you're met with a lavish hall, its vaulted ceilings soaring above royal blue velvet couches and low tables. The air is heavy, as if the walls have absorbed years of whispered deals and shady promises.

Your footsteps echo as you approach the bar, its shelves lined with rare spirits—whiskey, wine, and exotic bottles whose labels you don't recognize. Beyond the bar, a stage looms at the far end, framed by long red curtains. Probably where they flaunt stolen artifacts to the highest bidder, you muse, sliding your phone from your pocket to record the room's layout. Carefully maneuvering around the platform, your eyes catch a door behind the curtains. What do we have here?

Another quick keycard swipe grants you access, and you step into a smaller backroom. It's unassuming at first: a console, a few screens, and security monitors that offer an expansive view of the lounge. What's a villain without his extra eyes? Ignoring a twinge of unease, you tap the digital console, working through its options until one grabs your attention: "Open Vault." A proud grin creeps across your face. That's more like it.

With a beep, a hidden door slides open, revealing a brightly lit vault. Cautiously, you step through, heart pounding, as you tug your pistol out of your leg strap. Shelves packed with powerful protocores line the vault's walls, illuminating the room with a colorful glow. You fumble for your phone and snap photos of the shimmering emerald and sapphire energy sources in their cages. A strange sparking resonates from a few cores—something worth examining further. But, the moment you pull on the shelf door, a piercing alarm shatters your concentration.

"Shit! That's definitely bad," you mutter, stumbling back.

You survey the room for a potential security system to disarm, but there's no such device in sight [https://img.wattpad.com/2886178b213e55c95af375b7ffd7b997ad1f4474/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f66664877706e4b62544e544845673d3d2d313530353934373939392e313831353431336535323737383232623336343338393239333033352e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

You survey the room for a potential security system to disarm, but there's no such device in sight. Dammit, is it back in the console room? You decide to run for it, but your efforts are interrupted by a blunt shove from behind. Your arms fly to your face, and you brace your fall against the shelves. The protocores rattle against the glass.

"Aargh! What the hell—" You try to whip around, but your body is forced against the cool glass of the shelves as the alarm rings in your ears.

"I thought I warned you not to get carried away, kitten." A familiar voice speaks from behind you. A beep sounds, and the blaring noise comes to a halt. "I see you've embraced my taste in attire today, you wear it well. Pity it doesn't extend to your behavior."

"Sylus—Let go of me, now!" You yell as your cheek is pushed firmly against the glass. Cool fingers clamp around the back of your neck with ease.

Sylus clicks his tongue. "You're awfully curious about my manor, dearest fiancée. I can't decide if it's cute or if I should be concerned." He pins your arm behind you, pressing his weight against your back.

"The only thing concerning here is your refusal to respect my personal space." You retort.

"Oh? Odd words coming from someone snooping around in mine." He quips, gliding his hand down the side of your corset, his breath tickling your ear.

"What are you—I'm going to need you to back off of me if you value your life." You threaten.

He chuckles, his fingers deftly slipping around your hips and into the pocket of your dress—where your phone is tucked away. Your eyes widen. Dammit. Sylus withdraws and steps back, his prize already in hand.

"Relax," he says, holding your phone with a smirk. His gaze quickly meets yours as you turn around to face him. "I wasn't going to do anything too improper." His grin sharpens as you sneer at him. "Though, if you were hoping for something else, I hate to disappoint."

"Hardly," you snap, scowling.

Unbothered, Sylus turns his attention to your phone, the screen lighting up as he swipes. You seize the moment, lunging for it, but he sidesteps without breaking stride. He narrows his eyes on the screen before cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Now where were those troublesome photos I saw you take..." He pauses and makes a face. "Interesting wallpaper." He says lowly, flicking his gaze to meet yours.

A sudden blush spreads across your cheeks as you recall the selfie of you and Zayne that you set as your wallpaper. You remember your trip to the Linkon Zoo, where you dragged him to see the seals. Passing strangers mistook you and Zayne for a couple and offered to take your photo together. You gladly pulled Zayne into the frame, and he stood stoically next to you. Your grin was giddy and bright, and you teased Zayne for being too serious around such cute animals. The sunlight had caught his eyes just right, their subtle warmth only noticeable to you. He'd said something then, something you couldn't remember now, but it'd made you feel safe—genuinely cared for—and the feeling of it still lingers.

Your throat feels impossibly dry, and you scoff in disbelief, trying to push the memory aside, though your pulse betrays you.

Sylus's voice cuts in, smooth and sharp. "Touching, really." He remarks sarcastically, his lips curling in disgust as he looks at the screen. "A bit... tacky for someone in your line of work, don't you think?"

You clear your throat, your heart thudding against your ribs. "My photos are none of your business."

His gaze flickers over you, his expression shifting back into smug indifference.

"Of course not," he murmurs, shifting his weight to one leg and letting out a faint sneer. "Though I have to admit, I didn't peg you for the sentimental type. How surprising."

Masking your embarrassment, you lift your chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "And I didn't peg you for someone who cared about a meager phone screen. How surprising."

His grin sharpens as he studies your features. "Perhaps the photos you took of my personal space are very much my business, wouldn't you agree?"

Your fingers toy with your necklace, the slight tremble betraying your composure. "That depends," you retort, narrowing your eyes despite the shake in your voice. "I have a feeling you're the one doing the real taking, leader of Onychinus. Care to explain how you came into possession of those protocores?"

He tilts his head. "Busy playing detective, are we, Miss M? Or should I say, pretending to be a spy and making a spectacular mess of it?"

You bite your lip and ball your fists.

He holds the phone in front of your face, showing you the lock screen. "Password. Now."

You shoot him an unamused glare. "Sure, it starts with 'F' and ends with 'U'." You spit at him.

He snorts, and his lips curve into a sly grin.

"Give it back, you asshole!" You push off your feet and lurch towards him again. This time, you anticipate his sidestep and quickly pivot, hurling a fist towards him. A loud smack sounds as Sylus's fingers wrap around your wrist, stopping your fist mid-swing. You furrow your brows, seething with anger.

"Now, now, no need to fuss. Just cooperate, and this will go smoothly." He orders.

"You must think I'm stupid—My personal belongings are not up for grabs." You threaten with a sharp tone.

"A bit hypocritical, are we? But alright, have it your way." He says, releasing you.

You stagger back and watch as Sylus pockets your phone. Before you can give him a piece of your mind, a low snarl stops you in your tracks.