The sprawling, militarized avenues of the 4th District hummed with the constant activity of Luminous Knight squads running drills and Bureau couriers carrying high-priority dispatches. I kept my head down, navigating the stone walkways with efficient, measured strides until I finally reached the massive archway that served as the threshold to the 3rd District.
Stationed at the iron-reinforced checkpoint was Renny, a familiar, easygoing gatekeeper who had monitored this sector line for years. Unlike the nervous, trembling guards at the lower slums, Renny had always treated me with a baseline of professional decency.
As I approached the ledger table, pulling back the heavy sleeve of my crimson trench coat to retrieve my documents, Renny's eyes locked onto my exposed right hand and wrist. He blinked, leaning forward slightly to get a better look under the shadow of my hood.
"Greetings, Eirene, you know, come to think of it... I just realized you're losing your tanned skin. You've become entirely pale again. Did you finally get some time away from those brutal southern plains?" Renny said, his tone a mix of casual warmth and sudden curiosity.
His observation struck a quiet chord behind my calcified bone mask. It was one thing to notice the change myself in the dim mirrors of House 132, but hearing it out loud from an acquaintance made the reality sink in. Sixty days of absolute isolation behind heavy velvet curtains… entirely starved of any sunlight to protect my volatile, half-vampiric biology… had completely erased years of weathered desert tan. The harsh, sun-baked brown was officially gone, replaced by the translucent, alabaster skin of my true nocturnal nature. Renny was only realizing it just now under the bright midday light.
I didn't offer a spoken reply, keeping my lips firmly sealed beneath Leech's Hollow. Instead, I reached into my leather purse, pulled out a single silver coin for the higher-district transit fee, and slid it across the wooden counter along with my official Bureau status card.
Renny quickly took the silver and ran the card through the heavy iron stamping device, recording my entry into the Residential Commons. He handed the card back to me with a friendly nod.
"Always a pleasure, Eirene. Get yourself some rest inside. You look like you've seen enough ghosts for a lifetime."
I tucked my status card away, pulled my hood down a fraction lower to shield my pale face, and walked through the opened iron gates. I was finally back in the 3rd District, only minutes away from the dark, quiet sanctuary of house 132 where the secrets of the Phantom could remain entirely undisturbed.
The heavy oak door of House 132 clicked shut behind me, the solid thud of the deadbolt sliding into place sounding like the final chord of a long, exhausting symphony. I leaned my back against the wood, letting out a slow, silent breath as the absolute security of my sanctuary washed over me.
As expected, the interior was pitched in a deep, comforting twilight. The thick, heavy velvet curtains I had meticulously drawn weeks ago remained completely sealed shut, creating an ironclad barrier against the punishing high-noon sun. Not a single stray beam of midday light could penetrate the glass to scorch my newly reverted alabaster skin. Here, in the perpetual gloom, my half-vampiric biology could finally settle into a state of stasis, free from the violent allergic reactions that threatened to blister my flesh and drain my core.
I hung my crimson trench coat on the rack, letting the cool, stale air hit my bare, pale right arm and the scarred, withered left stump that remained a permanent monument to my past struggles. Walking deeper into the house, I took a moment to observe the subtle, domestic changes that had redefined our living space over the last sixty days.
In the living room, a striking, light blue fabric sofa now occupied the center of the floor. It was a brand-new addition, a stark contrast to the worn, dark furniture that used to sit there. We had been forced to completely replace our old sofa because my anatomy was simply too destructive for standard upholstery; whenever I would relax or lose focus, the sharp, calcified joints and skeletal edges of the massive blood wings compressed against my spine would inevitably burst free, violently shredding the fabric to ribbons. This new, reinforced couch was a necessary investment to accommodate the monstrous physiology I carried.
Moving past the living room, I stepped into the dining area, which had long since lost its original purpose. Because our dining room was directly connected to the kitchen, the space had been completely overtaken by a meticulously organized, sprawling chemical laboratory. This was my personal alchemy workshop… or as Evelyn playfully dubbed it, my "meth lab." The wooden dining table and countertops were crowded with delicate glass beakers, bubbling retorts, copper condensing tubes, and heavy iron stands. It was here, using specialized lab equipment, that I brewed my own tactical gear, processing volatile chemical compounds to create the dense tear gas canisters, blinding flash powders, and caustic smoke bombs that allowed a mute, single-handed hunter to control the battlefield.
Further back, the bedroom and the bathroom remained entirely unchanged, preserving the quiet, minimalist routine I had established long before the S-rank hunts began.
Yet, despite the domestic shifts and the secret anchoring itself inside my womb, these past two months hadn't been a period of total, stagnant isolation. I hadn't simply locked myself away to wait out the clock. While my days of hunting catastrophic, high-level threats like the Immoral Knights were officially over, I still maintained my active standing as a bounty hunter to keep my instincts sharp and cover our mounting daily expenses.
I had intentionally downgraded my scope, focusing exclusively on weak, low-risk targets ranging strictly from D-rank to C-rank. They were simple, mundane tasks… tracking down petty back-alley thieves, neutralizing low-level street thugs, and clearing out minor monster infestations in the deep cellar networks of the lower districts. Over the course of sixty days, I had systematically eliminated three D-rank bounties and two C-rank bounties. They required no blood magic, no deployment of my wings, and absolutely no attention from the high-ranking Paladins of the Bureau.
I walked over to the dining table, setting my leather purse down beside a rack of test tubes. I reached inside and pulled out the modest earnings from those small-time contracts, counting the metallic pieces as they clinked against the wood. It wasn't a king's ransom like the ten gold coins currently hidden away, but it was honest, untraceable coin: exactly 32 silver and 46 bronze pieces.
I swept the coins into a secure wooden drawer beneath my chemical equipment. With my finances stable, my laboratory stocked, and my new sofa ready to accommodate my wings, I pulled out the chair and sat down in the dim light. I had one month left on my retirement clock, a growing demonic lineage inside me, and a quiet home completely cut off from the rest of the world.
The soft, light-blue fabric of the newly replaced sofa compressed under my weight, the reinforced, sturdy weave holding up perfectly against the sharp, calcified edges of the massive blood wings resting against my spine. In the dim twilight of the living room, a single candle flickered on the side table, casting long, dancing shadows down the narrow hallway that led toward my basement laboratory. The scent of ozone and sulfur from the alchemy equipment hung faintly in the air, a familiar comfort that grounded me in the reality of House 132.
I leaned my head back, my single right eye staring up at the dark ceiling as the memory of that secret Bureau briefing flashed vividly behind my bone mask.
Three months.
That was the exact timeline the frantic, sweating mages and Pope Corneas had laid out for their grand, desperate isekai summoning ritual. Two months had already bled away while I hid in the shadows, systematically hunting low-level D-rank and C-rank scum to keep my instincts sharp and pocketing those 32 silver and 46 bronze pieces. Which meant there was exactly one month left. One month until the dimensional barrier would be violently torn open. One month until a random, weaponized "hero" from another world would be dropped directly into the lap of the Holy Bureau, conditioned from birth to track down and slaughter high-tier demons exactly like me.
And more importantly, it was exactly one month before my official retirement from the bounty hunting registries.
A dark, freezing wave of calculation washed through my mind, mingling with the primal, predatory protective instincts of the maternal bond growing steadily in my womb. The child of the Crimson Phantom and the Immoral Commander was developing at an accelerated, monstrous pace. The doctor said the organs were already filled out; within a few more weeks, my body would begin to show the physical toll of carrying this high-tier lineage. I couldn't afford to be active when the new hero arrived, nor could I afford to leave any loose ends hanging over the 3rd District.
If I was going to retire in thirty days, if I was going to transition into total anonymity and protect my unborn child from both the Bureau and a summoned extra-dimensional executioner, I couldn't end my career on petty back-alley thieves and sewer monsters. The underworld needed to remember why the nameless bounty hunter was feared, and the Bureau needed a distraction so massive that they would be entirely too busy to look closely at the sudden retirement of a Vanguard hunter in the Residential Commons.
It was time for one last mission. My final hunt before I became a mother.
I reached out with my remaining right hand, pulling the folded, secret registries from the pocket of my tattered crimson trench coat. My fingers traced the names of the remaining high-tier targets on the Bureau's active blacklists. To secure an absolute fortress of safety for my child's future, I needed to eliminate one last catastrophic threat…
another S-rank monster whose demise would shake the foundations of the Triangulum Continent and leave me with enough leverage to vanish into the shadows forever.
I blew out the candle, plunging the house into total, pitch-black darkness. In the quiet gloom, my fangs elongated against my lips, and my blood wings flared open with an aggressive, lethal snap. The final countdown to the ritual had begun, and the Crimson Phantom was ready to collect her final bounty.