DARIA: AKATSUKI HOUSEHOLD
Two guards, dressed in sharply tailored black uniforms, stood rigidly before Mrs. Akatsuki.
Their posture was perfect—disciplined and unwavering, silent sentinels against the serene backdrop of the estate.
Mrs. Akatsuki sat inside the summerhouse, her presence composed yet commanding.
She wore a gown of deep emerald green that flowed gracefully to the floor. The snug bodice was embroidered with subtle golden vines, while the sleeves tapered elegantly at her wrists.
As she lifted her cup of tea to her lips, the gown shifted with her movement, catching the morning light and shimmering softly with each delicate fold.
It had been two months and three weeks since Derek had followed Lady Marcelline.
He still hadn't returned.
That must mean he followed her all the way to Tikka, she thought, her brown eyes narrowing slightly.
Even so, he should have been back by now.
She sipped her tea with calm precision, the steam curling upward and blending with the fragrance of jasmine and the soft rustle of leaves from the surrounding gardens.
The summerhouse sat beside a marble fountain, its waters glinting beneath the sun. The surrounding hedges were sculpted into precise geometric shapes, while birds chirped faintly from the towering trees at the edge of the garden.
Sunlight filtered through the latticed windows, painting the floor in soft patterns of gold.
"Keep watching over my daughters at school," she said, her voice even but carrying unmistakable authority.
"Yes, ma'am," one of the guards replied.
His eyes remained unwavering as he stood a little straighter, as though the command alone had strengthened his spine.
DARIA: LIRIEN
TWO MONTHS AND THREE WEEKS AGO
The road through Lirien twisted beneath the forest canopy, sunlight fractured into shifting patterns across the dirt path.
A fine coach glided along the trail, its polished mahogany gleaming beneath the sunlight and its brass fittings catching the rays. Crimson curtains embroidered with gold fluttered lightly in the wind.
Two black horses, sleek and muscular, moved in perfect rhythm, their hooves striking the road like a measured drumbeat.
Suddenly, the horses halted.
A massive tree had fallen across the path, its trunk thick and solid.
Leo, the coachman, descended with unhurried grace.
His green hair caught the morning light, neatly combed and contrasting sharply with his tailored dark suit.
At sixty-seven years old, he moved with the precision of a predator. His calm eyes assessed the obstacle before him.
Without a word, he approached the fallen tree and ran his fingers across its surface.
Then, from the shadows of the forest, figures emerged.
Bandits.
Their faces were wild, crude weapons clutched tightly in their hands. Their presence carried an unmistakable threat.
The coach door opened, and Lady Marcelline stepped lightly onto the ground.
Her gray eyes narrowed as she surveyed the bandits.
Calm yet commanding, her voice carried through the tense silence.
"Gentlemen," she said, nodding toward Leo. "Give them something. Enough to make your trouble worthwhile. Step aside, and we will be on our way."
Leo tossed a small pouch of gold coins toward them.
The bandits laughed, their laughter harsh and jagged.
"Coins? Who do you think we are?" one of them shouted. "We take everything you have, and we'll have a little fun while we're at it!"
Marcelline's smile vanished.
"Leo," she said without hesitation, "take the log off the road... and kill them. I don't have time for this."
"Yes, my lady," Leo replied calmly.
Five bandits had already surrounded him near the fallen tree, while six more pressed close to the coach, weapons raised and teeth bared.
In the span of a few heartbeats, Leo struck.
His hands moved with immense speed, each blow precise and brutal.
Bones shattered.
Organs were torn apart.
Blood sprayed in arcs across the fallen tree and the ground.
"What's this?! So much bloodlust..." one of the bandits shouted, panic spreading through his voice. "Someone else is in that coach!"
The remaining bandits scattered into the forest.
Leo raised one hand.
Water suddenly materialized from nothing, flowing over his hands and washing away the blood.
He then casually tossed the massive log aside as if the obstacle had never existed.
Within seconds, five bandits lay dead, their screams silenced and blood pooling beneath them.
Leo returned to the coach, his composure completely unshaken.
"Some managed to escape," he said plainly.
"Move on," Marcelline commanded, her gray eyes scanning the road.
"We will reach Eiravon tonight. I won't spend another night in this coach."
The horses resumed their steady pace.
High above them, hidden among the trees, Derek watched silently.
His red hair caught the sunlight, while his perfectly fitted black suit allowed for agile movement.
With a fluid leap, he dropped down beside the fallen bandits.
"You were given a chance," he murmured, scanning the bodies.
"But your greed got the better of you."
He sighed.
"I'm sorry it had to end this way. I would have buried you... but I'm pressed for time."
He bowed briefly.
Then he turned and continued his silent pursuit of the coach.
WEEKS LATER
"My lady, we are here. Within a couple of days, we will be out of Daria," Leo said as the horses trod carefully along the road.
"Is that guard still following us?" Marcelline asked from inside the coach.
"Yes, my lady. Would you like me to put him out?" Leo asked.
"Not you, Leo. I want to see this myself."
Marcelline's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Mrs. Akatsuki's guards... I've heard they're very strong and not easily broken. Let's see what he's made of."
Leo bowed slightly.
"Understood, my lady."
"I'll drop you here," Marcelline said.
The coach came to a halt.
She stepped down gracefully, and the moment her feet touched the ground, the coach continued onward, its wheels turning as it disappeared into the distance.
From the canopy above, Derek observed silently.
"No guards. Just walking..."
He adjusted his stance.
"Is she sending a message that she knows she's being tailed, or does she realize I'm here?"
Marcelline's sharp gaze swept across the horizon, her expression unreadable.
"This is Eiravon," she said.
"Beyond the Great Ocean lies Tikka, Lake Vail. I'm almost at my destination."
She paused.
"Shy... or should I call you out?"
Her gaze shifted toward the trees.
"You've been following me for quite some time. Care to introduce yourself, or would you rather keep hiding?"
Derek dropped silently from the canopy, landing directly in front of her.
"You noticed," he said, running a hand through his hair.
He was tall and lean, with a toned, agile build.
"I thought I could follow you to Tikka without being noticed..."
He gave a faint smile.
"I guess I miscalculated."
"You were sent to gather information on me," Marcelline said, her voice cold and cutting through the air.
Derek remained calm.
"I'm not someone you can sneak up on."
Marcelline's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Knowledge is power. People die for it before it's extracted."
She allowed a small smile to form.
"I've heard about Mrs. Akatsuki's guards."
Her gaze moved over Derek.
"I don't see a human standing in front of me. I see information."
She stepped closer.
"Every heartbeat is a coin. Every thought is worth more than gold. Mishandle it, and it becomes deadly."
Her smile widened slightly.
"Connection is the key to wealth. Information is what keeps it moving."
Derek's lips curved into a faint, amused smile.
"Thanks for the compliment. I never thought I had this much value, to be honest."
A black shadow suddenly emerged beside Marcelline, forming from nothing.
The entity took shape like a living darkness—menacing, silent, and obedient.
"Bring him along," Marcelline commanded.
"Alive."
She turned and continued walking, leaving Derek to his fate.