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Scarlette spoke coldly, her voice measured and flat, and Asterion immediately sensed that the crimson‑haired woman was not in a good mood. It was not anger—not quite—but rather that familiar mixture of irritation and guarded focus she often carried whenever a mission started to feel complicated.
Asterion shared her sentiment.
The Adventurers Guild receptionists were meticulous to a fault. Mistakes regarding mission locations or records were not impossible, but rare—especially for something as precise as village classification. The Marquis found himself agreeing with Scarlette's earlier conclusion.
If this were an error, it would be far sloppier.
Something didn't sit right.
"Before I started investigating further," Asterion said thoughtfully, "I reported this matter directly to His Majesty. He was the one who ordered me to look into this discreetly. That's why I've been in Mirken City for several days now, instead of remaining at the Crown Capital."
Scarlette listened carefully, processing each word without interruption.
So, the Emperor knew, she thought. That explains why Varyn is here.
The deeper that realization settled in, the more uneasy she felt. When the Emperor involved himself—not publicly, but quietly—it usually meant something was being observed, not resolved.
If the reports from Varyn's men are accurate, she reasoned silently, and his investigation confirms it… then there's something about that village we haven't even scratched the surface of yet.
She exhaled slowly, organizing her thoughts before speaking again.
"My companion and I just arrived in this city today," she said at last. "We're looking for a place to stay for the night. I'll be checking the Adventurers Guild here for additional records and testimonies. Thank you for sharing what you have, Varyn."
She turned slightly, signaling the conversation was nearing its formal end.
"No need to thank me—wait." Asterion suddenly froze mid‑sentence. "Did you just say… a companion?"
His head snapped toward her, eyes wide with disbelief.
Scarlette raised a single brow.
"What?" she replied casually. "Got a problem?"
The sheer indifference in her tone pushed Asterion over the edge.
He burst into laughter, clutching his stomach as he bent forward slightly, barely managing to breathe. Had it not been for the sound barrier he set up earlier, passersby would have surely thought the Marquis had finally lost his mind.
Scarlette clicked her tongue.
Annoying as hell.
She waited in silence as his laughter continued, arms crossed, expression unchanging. The barrier remained active, muting his ridiculous outburst to the outside world.
After nearly a full minute, Asterion finally began to calm down, wiping faint tears from the corners of his eyes.
"A companion?" he repeated incredulously. "You—Scarlette Overland—on a mission with someone else? Do you have any idea how absurd that sounds?" He laughed again, lighter this time. "No one would believe it if it came from someone else, but hearing it from you?"
He shook his head, amused beyond reason. "Unbelievable."
Scarlette sighed, her irritation growing.
Still annoying.
She gave him time—exactly one more minute—before he managed to rein himself in completely.
......…..
............…..
....................
Asterion straightened, though the grin remained etched on his face.
I never thought this day would come; he mused internally. The day Scarlette Overland finally allows someone to accompany her on a mission.
In all the years he had known her—observed her, studied the records related to her, and quietly kept track of her movements—Scarlette had never taken anyone with her. She worked alone, always. No party, no assistant, no guard.
After that fateful duel at the Knights Competition three years ago, Asterion began investigating her—not obsessively, but with a curiosity he couldn't suppress.
He recognized it instantly back then. Though faint, unmistakable.
She was a Swordmaster.
And not just any Swordmaster—she stood on a level far beyond his own.
That alone sparked his interest. He had not met many Swordmasters in his era, and certainly none who hid their strength so profoundly. But even beyond that, Lunaris Astra had reacted to her presence.
Every time he met Scarlette, the pendant stirred.
Sometimes it was subtle warmth. Other times, a gentle pulse that radiated outward from his chest. It never hurt. Never warned.
It recognized.
Asterion had asked his mother about it once.
He remembered clearly how Grand Marchioness Helianne Valehart's eyes widened in shock when he described the sensation. For a long moment, she said nothing—then smiled bitterly.
"So… it finally began," she whispered.
He wanted to ask more.
Desperately.
But the grief and hesitation in her eyes stopped him.
"I'm sorry, my dear son," she said softly. "You deserve to know the truth behind Lunaris Astra and the Valehart family. But… not yet. Please give me time. The day will come—but not now."
It broke his heart.
He hated not knowing. Hated uncertainty. Yet for her sake, he waited.
Because Helianne had already suffered too much.
That was not the only reason he grew curious about Scarlette.
Asterion also noticed something unsettling three years ago—how the Emperor and Crown Prince subtly intervened after her identity nearly surfaced. They covered for her. Shielded her.
Not something done casually for an adventurer.
Later, when he learned that the mysterious woman "Letty" was actually the infamous SSS‑Rank Adventurer Scarlette Overland, he nearly fell off his chair.
She was an enigma.
No known origin. No childhood records. No history predating her adventurer registration. Even his extensive investigation yielded nothing before that point.
She avoided party missions. She only accepted subjugation requests. She cooperated when needed—but never lingered.
If Scarlette was hiding something about her past, Asterion had no intention of forcing it out.
If she ever wants to speak, he thought, I'll listen.
Another thought crossed his mind—and this time, she was the one who spoke.
"It's not that I had much of a choice," Scarlette said flatly. "I recognized him."
Asterion blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.
"You recognized your companion?" he asked. "Who is he?"
Her crimson‑lilac eyes hardened slightly.
"He used the alias 'Ryan Wayne,'" she replied. "He approached me at the guild while I was searching for a mission."
She paused briefly—long enough for Asterion to notice.
"I don't know why he's here," she continued. "And I know you'll probably recognize him the moment you see him. So, I'm telling you now—let me handle this, Varyn."
Her tone made it clear.
This wasn't a request.
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