Rhona froze. She knew she had to answer carefully. She had to push aside every prejudice her father had planted in her since childhood—and the irritating image of Cyan, that arrogant Cygnus member.

  Finally, she chose the safest path.

  "I think every race has its good and bad. It depends on the individual, not the tribe." She smiled, hoping she sounded wise.

  Sewor smiled back, but his eyes suggested he saw through her mask.

  "Even without asking, I know how the outside world sees us."

  Rhona’s smile faltered. "Are you saying I’m lying?"

  "Not at all. I’m actually glad you think that way. It means you’re ready to judge people by their character, not by the color of their skin, eyes, or hair."

  Rhona fell silent. Her father had always said that "dirty blood" could never be cleansed. Yet here, she felt more accepted than she ever had in her own home.

  "Actually," Rhona said cautiously, taking back her necklace—now coated in a thin, dull layer to conceal its value—"I’m curious about Cygnus. Who are they, really?"

  "That pendant is safe now," Sewor replied, straightening slightly. "The Cygnus… Once, they were a fusion of forest guardians, spiritual adepts, and artists. They were highly respected—even by the village chiefs. Their duty was to protect both the people and the land. But the Cygnus of today…"

  He was interrupted as the front door swung open. A teenager burst in with a bright grin.

  "Brother! You’re home!"

  Rhona stared at the boy. He wore traditional Anex clothing. His face was innocent, his eyes bright—though slightly unfocused, as if his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

  "Rhona, this is my brother, Rufi. Rufi, this is Rhona—my friend."

  Rufi was nothing like Sewor. Where Sewor carried quiet authority, Rufi radiated boyish enthusiasm.

  "Is she your girlfriend? Are you getting married?" Rufi asked eagerly.

  "No," Sewor replied patiently. "I told you—she’s a friend. She’s staying the night."

  "Aww… then when are you getting married?"

  Sewor chuckled. "I haven’t thought about it. Why? Do you have someone in mind for yourself?"

  Rufi’s face flushed bright red. "Uh… well…"

  "Rufi, I wouldn’t mind if you married first. But you need to be mentally prepared. You’re still young."

  "I’m seventeen, Brother! That’s an adult!"

  Rhona blinked. In Anex culture, seventeen was apparently considered marriageable age.

  "Alright, Mr. Adult. We’ll talk later. I’d like to meet this girl of yours."

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  Rufi beamed, then turned to Rhona. "Your hair is beautiful! Blonde. Are you from Yodania?"

  "Yes," she replied.

  "Wow! We all speak Yodanian here!"

  Rhona smiled. Yodanian was the international language—even in remote villages.

  "It’s true," Sewor admitted, a faint trace of sadness in his voice. "Our native language is rarely spoken by the younger generation anymore."

  Dinner was warm and lively. Sewor’s grandmother loved to talk, sharing stories about Sewor’s late parents and how proud she was of him. She described him as the pillar of the family—working tirelessly in the city to support them, so tirelessly that at twenty-eight, he had forgotten to find a wife.

  Rhona listened, feeling an unexpected pang of envy for such a simple, loving family.

  Later that night, Sewor found Rhona sitting alone in the darkened living room. She admitted she couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of her father wouldn’t leave her. She confessed that she had run away—but wasn’t ready to return.

  "Do you want to send him a message?" Sewor asked, sitting across from her.

  "Can I borrow your phone?" she asked hesitantly.

  "Hm… my phone is secured with biometric authentication. If anyone else tries to access it, it automatically wipes all data. Workplace security protocol."

  Rhona was stunned. A village man with military-grade mobile security? Her curiosity about Sewor’s “city job” deepened.

  "But I have a laptop," he added. "It’s connected to the internet. I’ll get it."

  He returned with a slim, matte-black laptop, powered it on, and handed it to her.

  "Use it. You can take it to your room if you want privacy."

  Rhona watched him walk away until his bedroom door clicked shut. Silence settled over the house.

  She opened the browser and logged into a private chatroom.

  She needed Trad and Mist.

  ?: Hey, Rain. What’s up, buddy?

  : I’m feeling lost.

  : Hm... what happened?

  : I’ve committed so many sins.

  : We all have, friend. Recognizing it is the first step.

  ?Rhona paused. What if her father wanted her back in that world?

  ?: What should I do?

  : Don’t do it again... Rain, I’m just an ordinary person. The person I admire most is Mist. He made me a better man.

  : I know he’s good.

  : Do you know why he’s so wise and calculated?

  : I’m not that great, Trad...

  : Hey, Mist!

  : Rain, I am just a man who lives off sin and must carry that burden for a lifetime.

  In another room, the young man exhaled slowly after pressing Enter. He watched the screen for a moment.

  Rain… you still have a chance to change.

  He saw her log out.

  Then he clicked an icon in the corner of his desktop. A new window opened, mirroring another screen—Rhona’s screen.

  He watched as she opened an email.

  His eyes widened.

  Rhona, I understand you’re angry. But this is important. I have a massive project underway. We are going after the Golden Forest. We will seize it from the Cygnus. By eliminating them, we will rule Nirwana—and the Anex. I am waiting for you. Immediately.

  Rhona’s hands began to shake. Her father was serious. He intended to destroy the very people who were feeding her tonight. And he wanted her to help.

  Panic surged through her. She closed the email, cleared the browsing history, and wiped the cache.

  Then a memory surfaced.

  A year ago, Trad had told her about Ghost RATs—Remote Access Trojans.

  "If someone has physical access to the device—or admin privileges—they can mirror your screen in real time. Every keystroke. Even if you delete the history."

  The blood drained from Rhona’s face.

  Her gaze lifted slowly to the tiny camera lens at the top of the screen. It felt like an eye staring back at her.

  If Sewor was tech-savvy—and his phone suggested he was—

  Then he had seen everything.

  The chat.

  The email.

  The bedroom door opened.

  Rhona turned slowly.

  Sewor stood in the doorway.

  The warm, friendly man from dinner was gone. His expression was unreadable, his eyes cold as flint.

  He walked toward her, his footsteps soft—but deliberate.

  "Not sleepy yet?" he asked gently.

  The tone was different now. Sharper.

  Rhona forced herself to breathe. "Sorry… did I wake you?"

  Sewor shook his head. He sat down beside her, his gaze steady and unblinking.

  "Rhona…" he said quietly.

  "In your opinion… what should I do if I discover an enemy sitting comfortably inside my own home?"

  Rhona’s heart seemed to stop.

  She was in the lion’s den.

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