The morning air of the 4th District bit sharply against the exposed skin of my wrists as I stepped away from the flickering lamplight of the Bureau's grand entrance. Ducking my head beneath the voluminous hood of my crimson trench coat, I pulled the stolen document from my pocket with my pale right hand. My single, deep-crimson right eye scanned the crisp typography of the Bureau's residential registry under the dim moonlight, decoding the precise whereabouts of my silver-haired comrade.
The parchment read: 3rd District, Royal Sector, Manor 12 … Calico Manor.
I stopped dead in my tracks, an involuntary shiver tracing the jagged, calcified edges of the massive blood wings compressed tightly against my spine. The goosebumps that broke across my skin had nothing to do with the midnight breeze and everything to do with that specific, cursed surname.
Calico.
The architectural layout of the 3rd District was a masterclass in societal segregation. The district was split cleanly down the center by a massive, heavily fortified inner wall that separated two entirely different worlds. On one side lay the Residential Commons… the dense, quiet, middle-class labyrinth where I currently lived in the shadowy stasis of House 132 behind sealed velvet curtains. On the other side lay the Royal Sector, an opulent haven of sprawling gardens, marble fountains, and heavily guarded estates reserved strictly for the kingdom's elite noblemen, high-ranking military commanders, and prestigious bloodlines. In that sector, dwellings weren't assigned crude house numbers; they were designated as grand Manors. White Flower had apparently taken up residence as a guest or an associate within Manor 12.
But the memory of the Calico brothers hit me like a physical blow, dragging my mind back to the chaotic months preceding my full vampiric transformation. Back then, I still possessed my natural, dual-colored eyes, though I had already suffered the agonizing loss of my left arm at the ravine when our fight in goblin king. I had been vulnerable, adapting to a shattered body, and the Calico siblings had been an absolute nightmare to deal with.
They were an infamous trio of aristocratic brothers, and each possessed a unique flavor of psychological torment. The oldest brother, Calix, was a bureaucratic tyrant who weaponized his high-ranking position at the Bureau just to mock commoner vanguards. He was loud, deeply arrogant, and found a sick, predatory amusement in testing the boundaries of my patience. The middle child was the only decent one of the bunch, keeping to his duties with a baseline of martial discipline. But the absolute worst of them all… the man who made my blood boil with a white-hot, vengeful fury… was the youngest: Cassius Calico.
Cassius was a textbook sociopath masquerading as a charming rogue. He was a man completely obsessed with breaking past my stoic defenses, constantly trailing me like an expensive, unwanted shadow. He had been a relentless, mocking presence who looked at my battle scars not with pity, but with a terrifying, insatiable hunger to see the "beast behind the beauty."
As I tucked the file away and began my rapid march toward the high-security gates dividing the Residential and Royal Sectors, my hand instinctively hovered over my abdomen. The thought of walking straight into the Calico den while carrying the accelerated, two-month demonic lineage of Cameron Gal made the stakes incredibly dangerous. If those arrogant, prying brothers noticed the subtle shifts in my anatomy… or worse, if Cassius tried his infuriating, boundary-crossing antics on me now that I was a high-tier dhampir… the streets of the Royal Sector would run red with noble blood. I adjusted my bone mask, checked the 12 kg of weaponized tear gas resting securely within my spatial inventory ring, and prepared to confront the ghosts of my past.
The massive iron gates of the 3rd District checkpoint loomed ahead once more. As I approached, I found Renny leaning lazily against the stone guard post, his eyes glued to the magical parchment of the Caria Times, tracking the latest sensationalized reports of the underworld's collapse. When the heavy, dark silhouette of my crimson trench coat broke the treeline, he looked up and let out a soft whistle.
"Back again, Eirene? You know, marching back and forth through every single district line like this is the fastest way to get yourself entirely broke. But then again, you're the top hunter in the capital now, right? You've got deep pockets. Toll and status card, please." Renny joked, shaking his head as he set the paper down.
I didn't waste any movement. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out my official Hunter Status Card along with a single silver coin for the sector fee, sliding them across the smooth wooden counter. Renny efficiently swiped the card through the mechanical iron reader, stamped my transit log, and handed it back with a casual wave of his hand.
I pocketed the card and walked past the threshold, stepping officially into the 3rd District. But the moment the iron gates closed behind me, a stark, logistical reality hit me.
The 3rd District was an absolute behemoth of an urban labyrinth. Spanning a massive 15 square kilometers, its sheer geographic footprint was larger than the city of San Juan back in Manila on Earth. The district was a sprawling, dense network of cobblestone avenues, soaring stone townhouses, and hidden alleyways. While I knew every nook and cranny of the Residential Commons where House 132 sat hidden behind velvet curtains, I had absolutely no idea how to navigate the high-security layout of the Royal Sector. It was a completely fortified, segregated zone designed to keep out commoners like me.
Realizing that wandering blindly would waste precious time and drain the energy I needed to sustain my accelerated pregnancy, I turned on my heel. I marched straight back to the guard post. Pulling out my notepad, I quickly scribbled a direct inquiry beneath the address Sydney had given me and slid it in front of the gatekeeper.
Renny squinted at the parchment, his eyes widening slightly as he read the words Calico Manor, Royal Sector. He looked up at my calcified bone mask, his easygoing demeanor instantly shifting into a serious, guarded expression.
"Eirene... you're heading into the Royal Sector? I must say, under standard imperial law, people of your social standing are strictly prohibited from crossing that inner wall. It's reserved exclusively for the high-born noblemen, the royal counselors, and prestigious families like the Calicos. But... considering you carry the King's personal protection and high-tier Bureau clearance, the normal restrictions don't apply to you. Come on, follow me. I'll guide you through the secure transit routes myself." Renny asked, his voice dropping into a cautious whisper.
He grabbed his heavy halberd, locked up his ledger table, and stepped out from behind the guard post. With a trusted gatekeeper leading the way, I pulled my heavy hood low to shield my pale, alabaster face, keeping my right hand hovering close to my purse as we began the trek toward the elite, gated heart of the metropolis.
Following closely behind Renny, we navigated the secure transitional corridors until the towering, pristine white stone wall of the inner checkpoint rose before us. This was the boundary line where the dirt and common hustle of the Residential Commons was scrubbed away to preserve the pristine illusion of the aristocracy.
The Royal Sector gatekeeper stood at absolute attention, his armor polished to a mirrored sheen that reflected the glow of the expensive arcane streetlamps. Before he could even open his mouth to demand credentials or sneer at my tattered crimson trench coat, his eyes locked onto my calcified bone mask and the unmistakable, menacing silhouette of the Crimson Phantom. He immediately recognized the legendary vanguard who had dismantled three S-rank threats in three weeks.
He didn't dare question my presence. Looking from me to Renny, who gave a firm, authoritative nod, the royal gatekeeper quickly stepped aside and gestured toward the grand iron-wrought archway.
"Bounty Hunter, you may pass." the guard said, his voice laced with deep, cautious respect.
Since this transit occurred entirely within the geographical borders of the 15-square-kilometer 3rd District, no additional toll or status card validation was required. We crossed the threshold seamlessly, and the world changed instantly.
As I walked alongside Renny into the heart of the Royal Sector, an overwhelming sense of foreign discomfort washed over me beneath the absolute psychic barrier of my mask. The cobblestones beneath my boots were perfectly cut, polished marble, free of any grime or sewage. The air didn't smell like the charcoal and chemical precursors of my kitchen lab; instead, it was thick with the heavy, sickeningly sweet aroma of manicured rose gardens and expensive imported elixirs. Massive, sprawling manors lined the wide avenues, their towering glass windows glowing with warm, golden light as wealthy noblemen and royal families moved gracefully behind sheer silk curtains.
I felt completely out of place… almost embarrassed. Here I was, a technically "broke-ass" bounty hunter who had to carefully count out 32 silver and 46 bronze pieces from low-level street contracts just to pay for my chemical supplies and domestic upkeep, walking among the filthy rich elite of Andromeda. I was a creature of the dark slums, a half-vampire carrying a forbidden, heretical lineage inside my womb, stepping directly into the playground of the people who funded my execution orders.
But I kept my head held high, my single crimson right eye fixed forward as Renny confidently led the way past the intimidating estates. Finally, after navigating a grand, tree-lined boulevard, Renny brought us to a halt in front of a pair of massive, elegant silver-wrought gates.
Beyond the beautifully manicured courtyard and the flickering candlelit gardens stood Manor 12: Calico Manor.
"Here we are, Eirene, Manor 12. The home of the Calico bloodline. I'll head back to my post now. Just be careful in there… those noble brothers aren't exactly known for being easy to handle." Renny murmured, leaning his halberd against his shoulder and offering me a supportive, casual nod.
I gave Renny a final, silent nod of appreciation as he turned to trek back to the residential gate. Left entirely alone in the deep shadows outside the estate, my fingers instinctively tightened around the strap of my purse, weaponized tear gas and heavy firearms rested in my spatial ring. I could hear the faint, chaotic echoes of familiar voices drifting from the garden inside. The stage was set, and the Crimson Phantom was about to crash the Calico circus.