The muffled sound of Evelyn's relentless complaining continued to drift down from the second-floor landing, her voice a mix of genuine irritation and dramatic coughing fits. I couldn't blame her; even though the chemical haze had mostly settled into the floorboards, the thick, heavy scent of crushed onions and concentrated black pepper still hung in the air like an invisible blanket. If I left the house looking and smelling like a chemical warfare factory, it wouldn't just annoy my sister… it risked tipping off any Bureau scouts lingering around the residential district later tonight.
It was time to clear the air.
Moving with practiced efficiency, I flexed my shoulders, allowing my massive, translucent blood wings to compress tightly back against the hidden muscle joints on my spine. Once the wings were flat against my back, I reached up with my right hand and systematically buttoned the front of Olive's fire-resistant crimson trench coat all the way to the collar. The heavy, premium fabric fell perfectly into place, entirely concealing my demonic anatomy and transforming me back into the imposing, sleek silhouette of the capital's 7th-rank bounty hunter.
With my identity safely insulated, I walked over to the large bay windows in the living room. I pulled back the heavy, light-blocking velvet curtains, wincing slightly as the fading afternoon light spilled across the hardwood floors. Grabbing the brass latches, I threw the windows wide open, along with the back kitchen vents.
A cool, crisp breeze instantly swept through House 132, swirling through the corridors and carrying the pungent, weaponized vapors out into the open sky. Within minutes, the refreshing draft began to filter the rooms, diluting the intense pepper sting until the air tasted like a normal, mundane evening again.
Just as the last of the haze cleared, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of heavy leather boots echoed on the wooden staircase.
Evelyn slowly made her way back downstairs, her jade-green eyes still slightly red and puffy from the initial exposure. She had changed out of her pristine ivory-and-scarlet Luminous Knight uniform, now wearing casual attire, but her arms were tightly crossed over her chest as she glared at me through the open kitchen doorway. Her brown hair's bioluminescent tips were finally beginning to pulse with a faint, healthy green glow again as her slime hybrid cells recovered from the toxic shock, but her expression remained completely unimpressed.
"Finally, I thought you were trying to commit a double homicide in here, Eirene. Seriously, what kind of terrifying, cursed recipe were you following? If that's what you call a home-cooked meal, I'm ordering takeout from the lower sectors for the rest of the week." she muttered, waving her hand in front of her nose as she sniffed the fresh air streaming through the windows. She marched over to the sofa, tossing herself onto the cushions right next to where Vanessa's closed manila folder sat.
I stood silently by the open window, the shadow of my canvas hood hiding the faint, cynical smirk playing on my lips. She could complain all she wanted about the "onions."
Before I could shift my focus to the midnight trek toward the Lulu Mountains, my analytical mind recognized a glaring biological deficit: my body required caloric fuel, and Evelyn had clearly trotted downstairs expecting to be fed.
I marched into the pantry and grabbed a couple of heavy iron tins of preserved meat ration. I didn't bother searching the drawers for a mechanical can opener. Channeling my baseline strength into the fingers of my single right hand, I dug my nails into the thick metal lids and pried them wide open with a sharp, metallic screech.
I grabbed a silver spoon from the counter, walked over to the sofa, and handed the open tin to Evelyn. She took it with a slight pout, but immediately dug in. I watched her eat in silence. From my extensive reading of anomalous biology texts, I knew that standard feral slimes primarily sustained themselves on damp cave fungi and organic decay. Seeing her sit there on a plush sofa, acting like a normal human teenager and enthusiastically eating civilized food, caused a rare, genuine wave of grounding warmth to melt through my cold, defensive armor.
Once our quick meal was finished, the ticking clock in my head reminded me that my operational window was rapidly shrinking.
I moved through the living room, drawing the heavy velvet curtains tightly shut once more to seal House 132 back into absolute, shadow-locked security. Stepping into my bedroom, I unbuttoned and removed Olive's fire-resistant crimson trench coat, hanging it carefully by the door. I flexed my spine, letting my massive, translucent blood wings fully expand in the dim air. I collapsed onto the mattress, allowing the sensitive, webbed appendages to drape comfortably over the edges of the bed as I closed my single jade-green eye. I needed to catch at least a few hours of sleep; my tactical deployment to the Lulu Mountains would begin at the stroke of midnight.
As I lay in the dark, my mind spun through the complex geometry of tomorrow's schedule. The logistics were tightly packed.
First, I absolutely needed to locate an alchemical forge or a specialized high-tier craftsman matrix within the capital to merge those nineteen elemental rings resting inside my inventory void. Fusing the six magic enhancement bands, five healing rings, and eight mana reservoirs into compressed, high-tier accessories was the absolute key to bypassing my physical limitation. Since my left arm was gone, I only had a single hand to work with. I had briefly considered utilizing my advanced Blood Manipulation to sculpt a fully functional, crimson prosthetic arm, but my knowledge of anatomy and fluid dynamics told me it was a dead end… synthetic blood constructs could never perfectly replicate the intricate neural pathways and organic bone density required to channel high-output mana strings. The merged rings were my only viable path to true, optimized power.
Furthermore, I had a binding administrative contract with the Bureau. I had given Nautilus my written word that I would track down the crimson-eyed, brunette reincarnated soul hiding within the 5th District tenements and safely deliver him to Father Columbia to unravel the mystery of the ninety-day countdown.
The pieces of the chessboard were moving rapidly. I had an army of mercenaries to gas, an Immoral Knight to capture alive, a grand commander's head to harvest for twelve royal gold coins, and a boy to save. As sleep finally pulled me under, the dark mana in my veins pulsed with quiet, lethal anticipation. The Crimson Phantom was ready to hunt.