The atmosphere at Club Zenith seemed to have cooled a few degrees as Riku and Ayane headed for the exit, the soles of their luxury boots emitting a rhythmic, discreet sound upon the polished marble. They were nearly crossing the threshold of the immense mahogany doors when a familiar presence stepped into their path.

  Renji Takamura emerged from the side, gliding between the guests with the grace of a feline that never takes its eyes off its prey. He held a glass of cut crystal between his long, slender fingers, and the smile he wore was as sharp as the collar of his suit.

  — Leaving already? — Renji asked, his melodious voice carrying a note of curiosity that sounded like a polite challenge. — District 7 has barely begun to show its true brilliance. Club Zenith rarely receives visitors as... enigmatic as an Aquila agent and her silent companion. It is almost an insult to our entertainment that you depart even before the first vintage toast.

  He stopped at a calculated distance, his eyes, which seemed to harbor hidden embers, moving from Ayane to Riku. He analyzed them, searching for any sign of nervousness.

  Ayane did not look away. She kept her face like a marble mask, though Riku could feel, through the proximity of their bodies, that she was on high alert.

  — The brilliance of District 7 is admirable, Renji, but the Aquila does not fly for entertainment — Ayane replied, her voice firm and devoid of any emotion. — I have already resolved what I came to seek in this room. Time is a currency I do not usually waste on social formalities when I have urgent business to attend to with the "young man" by my side.

  She placed her hand lightly on Riku’s shoulder, a gesture that seemed protective to an outsider, but to Riku was a clear signal: "Keep your guard up and say nothing."

  Renji tilted his head, his smile widening minutely.

  — Urgent business... I see. It’s a pity. I was beginning to think we could find common points of interest. Especially now that District 7 is about to undergo an... unprecedented technological transformation.

  He took a step toward Riku, ignoring the usual safety zone. Renji was taller, and the aura of confidence he exuded was almost suffocating.

  — You, boy... — he said, lowering his voice to a whisper that only the three of them could hear. — You look like someone carrying a very heavy weight for such young shoulders. Make sure your mentor doesn’t take you into waters too deep before you learn to swim. It would be a loss of material... regrettable.

  Inside, Kael’Zhorun roared, wanting to manifest the bone gauntlet and tear that smug smile away, but Riku, remembering the "Cold Rage" Ayane had taught him in the forest, only held his gaze. He did not back down. He did not blink.

  — I learn fast — Riku replied curtly, his voice sounding deeper and steadier than he himself expected.

  Renji seemed genuinely surprised by the direct response. He let out a short, delighted laugh.

  — Oh, I have no doubt of that.

  Ayane intervened, stepping forward and cutting off the eye contact between the two.

  — Farewell, Takamura. I hope your "transformation" is as glorious as you imagine. But be careful... the fire that purifies is also the one that reduces everything to ashes.

  Without waiting for a reply, she signaled to Riku, and the two walked through the side doors, stepping out into the cool evening breeze of District 7. Renji remained behind, watching them depart while taking the last sip of his drink, his expression now thoughtful.

  Once they were two blocks away, hidden by the shadows of a closed art gallery, Ayane stopped and let out a long sigh, relaxing her shoulders.

  — That was too close — she murmured, looking around. — Renji is a natural predator. He sensed something was wrong, but his own arrogance prevented him from seeing what. He sees us as inferior pieces, and that is what will keep us alive for now.

  — Ayane, what they said in there... — Riku began, the urgency in his voice. — Project N.N., Doctor Morozumi... and this Hideo guy. If they are fusing demons into a single armor, we’re not talking about an ordinary fight. This is an abomination.

  — I know — she replied, her eyes fixed on the Central Tower shining above them. — We have less than 48 hours before the event at the Tower. If we don’t stop this, District 7 will be just the first place to burn.

  Ayane knew that adrenaline was a dangerous counselor and that, in District 7, fatigue was a mistake paid for with one's life. They needed neutral territory, a place where the hum of cameras and Renji Takamura’s piercing gaze could not reach them. She guided Riku through alleys lined with luxurious storefronts until they stopped before the Albedo Hotel, a neoclassical building that exuded silent exclusivity.

  As they crossed the revolving door, the dry heat of the street was replaced by the freshness of a climate-controlled environment and the soft sound of a water fountain in the center of the lobby. Ayane did not hesitate. She walked to the reception desk, where an attendant in white gloves and impeccable posture awaited them.

  — Good evening — Ayane said, shifting her posture from warrior to a calculated, almost vulnerable softness. She leaned slightly over the counter, reducing the distance between her and the attendant. — My boyfriend and I have had an exhausting trip. There was a setback with our previous reservation in another district and, frankly, all we need now is a cozy room, away from all this noise, where we can have total privacy for at least two nights.

  Riku, who was right behind her, felt as if the floor had vanished beneath his feet. The term "boyfriend" echoed in his mind like a burst of static. He felt his face heat up instantly, his ears burning under his new haircut. He tried to cough to hide his surprise, but ended up just staring fixedly at a vase of orchids on the counter, trying to look... well, whatever a high-class boyfriend was supposed to look like.

  — Vessel... your body temperature rose three degrees in a second — mocked Kael’Zhorun, laughing in the depths of the ring. — You can handle the ruin of cities, but a romantic lie makes you melt? Pathetic and hilarious.

  The attendant looked at Riku, noticing his embarrassment, but interpreted it as the fatigue of a young nobleman unaccustomed to unforeseen events. Ayane’s persuasion was a sharp tool; she didn't just use words, she used tone of voice and eye contact to create a narrative where the attendant felt like the "hero" who would save the couple's night.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  — I understand perfectly, ma'am — the man replied, typing quickly into the system. — We have an executive suite on the 12th floor available. Park view, reinforced soundproofing, and discreet room service. Exactly what a young and distinguished couple like yourselves needs to... rest.

  — Perfect — Ayane smiled, a smile that didn't reach her eyes, but was enough to seal the deal.

  Once the elevator dropped them off and the suite door closed with a metallic click, silence finally fell over them. The room was the pinnacle of luxury: a king-size bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, warm indirect lighting, and an immense window overlooking the distant lights of the Central Tower.

  Riku let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding and threw his overcoat over an armchair.

  — "Boyfriend"? — he asked, finally finding his voice, though he was still visibly awkward. — Did you really need that part, Ayane? I almost had a heart attack down there.

  Ayane began undoing the buckles of her boot, sitting on the edge of the bed with an exhausted but pragmatic expression.

  — It’s the best cover story, Riku — she explained, without looking at him. — Young, wealthy couples are common here. They don’t ask questions, they respect privacy, and more importantly, they don’t suspect we’re here to infiltrate a lab. If I said we were business partners or siblings, they would be more attentive to our movements. Love... or the appearance of it... is the best smoke screen there is.

  She stood up and walked to the window, watching the city.

  — Forget your ego for a moment. We have less than 48 hours. That boy, Renji, he sensed something in you. And what he said about Project N.N. and Hideo... that changes everything. Morozumi isn’t just creating armor, but a true monster.

  Riku approached the window, maintaining a respectful distance. The discomfort of the lie began to give way to the gravity of the situation.

  — What do we do now? — he asked, his gaze fixed on the Central Tower, which shone like a black needle on the horizon. — If Hideo is as powerful as they say, what can we—a demon of ruin and a demon of lament—do against him?

  — We are going to do what we do best — Ayane replied, the reflection of her eyes shining in the glass of the window. — We are going to be the error in their calculations. We’ll use this time to map the lab entrance. But now... rest. You’ll need every drop of energy if you want to survive what’s coming.

  The silence of room 1204 was dense, broken only by the almost imperceptible hum of the air filtration system. Riku sat in the armchair opposite the bed, watching Ayane. The amber light of the lamp created long shadows on her face, accentuating the fatigue she rarely allowed to show.

  Riku cleared his throat, feeling that this moment of quiet, after the "couple" act at the reception, was the only window he would have for the truth.

  — Ayane... — he began, his voice calm but firm. — You said time was a currency. But trust is too. We’re about to invade the heart of District 7 to face an abomination that could kill us in seconds. I changed my body, I changed my hair, I even changed the way I walk because of your instructions. But I still feel like I’m following a stranger.

  He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on hers.

  — How do you know so much about this place? Where did that brooch come from? You move among these nobles and soldiers as if you know the weight of every medal on their chests. We spent weeks in that forest, and I still know nothing about who you were before you found me. I think... I deserve to know who I am fighting alongside.

  Ayane remained motionless for a long time, her eyes lost in the city lights outside. She sighed, a sound laden with a weight that wasn't physical, and reached for the eagle brooch resting on the bedside table.

  — You are persistent, Riku. That is a quality... and a curse — she began, her voice sounding raspier than usual. — The brooch you saw... it belongs to the Talons of Aquila. I didn't steal it. I earned it. For years, I was part of that group. We were the most feared mercenaries in the central districts.

  She looked at her own hands, the hands that had trained Riku with such severity.

  — I wasn't on the front lines, at least not at first. I was the group's medic. My job was to stitch up the soldiers and ensure they could fight another day on missions the government classified as "suicidal." I saw the worst of humanity in District 7. I saw how they buy wars and sell peace as if it were merchandise.

  Riku listened in absolute silence. Even Kael’Zhorun seemed to have gone quiet in the ring, attentive to the account.

  — We were a family of renegades — she continued, with growing bitterness. — Until we received a mission to obtain an item: a Morrvhael cloak, the Demon of Lament. They said it was for national security to have it in government hands. In truth, it was just greed. But on that mission... everything went wrong.

  Ayane’s expression contorted, as if she were reliving a physical wound.

  — The group was decimated. Not by an army, nor by a technical failure... but by a single "person." Someone with a power that defied everything. I watched my friends be erased one by one. And there... I lost everything. I lost my unit, my identity, and I lost the man I loved.

  She paused, looking directly at Riku, and the sparkle in her eyes was a mixture of pain and painful nostalgia.

  — He was our team leader. He had a way... — she hesitated, with a sad, fleeting smile — a way of never giving up, no matter how ugly the situation was. His personality, his stubbornness, the way he tried to protect everyone even when he was broken... it reminds me a lot of you, Riku. When I saw you in that state, it was like seeing a ghost. That’s why I couldn’t leave you behind.

  She gripped the brooch tightly, her knuckles turning white.

  — I accepted Morrvhael to survive and to ensure that "person" didn't get him. Since then, I’ve been looking for a way to find that "person."

  Riku felt a lump in his throat. He finally understood why Ayane was so cold and demanding; she wasn't just training a soldier, she was trying to prevent history from repeating itself. She was trying to ensure that he, the boy who reminded her of her lost love, wouldn't end up as a bloodstain on the floor.

  — I’m sorry, Ayane — Riku said softly. — I didn’t know.

  — Don’t be — she replied, regaining her mask of coldness, though her eyes were still moist.

  The luxurious environment of the room suddenly felt small before the weight of that confession. Riku felt a tightening in his chest that didn't come from Kael’Zhorun’s pressure, but from a memory buried in District 9. That look on Ayane’s face... it was the same look his sister had on the nights when hunger and fear were overwhelming. It wasn't just sadness; it was the emptiness of someone who had already given everything and received nothing but loss.

  Riku stood up from the armchair. His movements, now precise and firm from training, became clumsy and human again. He walked over to Ayane, who remained sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the brooch as if it were the only anchor in a sea of ghosts.

  He stopped in front of her. The silence was absolute. Hesitant, Riku opened his arms, somewhat awkwardly, with the hesitation of one who had always lived on the defensive and never knew how to offer comfort. He said nothing, but his gesture said everything.

  Ayane looked up, meeting Riku’s gaze. For a second, the cold warrior, the implacable mercenary of the Talons of Aquila, tried to maintain the mask. But upon seeing the genuine compassion in the eyes of the boy who so resembled the man she lost, the barrier finally disintegrated.

  She leaned forward, hiding her face in Riku’s chest, and the silence of the room was broken by a muffled sob, followed by others more intense. Ayane burst into tears, her shoulders shaking violently as years of grief, guilt, and loneliness overflowed. She held him tightly, her hands clenched into fists against his expensive fabric, as if she were holding on to keep from disappearing into her own lament.

  Riku wrapped his arms around her, feeling the heat of her tears soak through his shirt. He just held her, offering what she needed most and least expected to find in that district of glass and steel: humanity.

  — Riku... — Kael’Zhorun whispered, surprisingly low and without sarcasm.

  For the first time in a long while, Morrvhael also went silent. In Riku’s embrace, the Demon of Lament found a moment of peace, as its bearer was finally letting the pain out instead of being devoured by it.

  Room 1204, which previously exuded the coldness of a spy operation, was suddenly filled with an aura of sacred vulnerability. As Ayane sobbed against his chest, Riku felt an old, comforting warmth rise from the base of his soul, something that even Kael’Zhorun’s destructive fire could not extinguish. It was the memory of Akane.

  With one hand still holding Ayane firmly, Riku used the other to gently stroke her hair, repeating the gesture his sister used to do when nightmares of fear and hunger woke him in District 9. His fingers slid through the strands with delicacy.

  Then, he began to sing.

  His voice was low, a melodic whisper that seemed to vibrate directly against Ayane’s heart. It was an old lullaby, a simple melody that his mother used to sing before disappearing into the mists of history, and that Akane had preserved as a precious treasure. The lyrics spoke of a star that guided the lost back home, even when the sun refused to rise.

  Riku remembered every note, every pause for breath. He sang as the boy Akane had protected. In that moment, he channeled all the compassion and sacrifice of his sister toward Ayane. He understood that, although Ayane was the master and he the apprentice, in the arena of pain, they were equals.

  The effect on Ayane was immediate. The spasms of her crying began to subside, turning into deep, rhythmic breathing. The tension she had carried in her shoulders for years—the tension of being the medic who couldn't save anyone, the survivor who carried the lament of Morrvhael—began to dissolve. Riku’s song acted as a balm that sealed the invisible wounds of her soul.

  Inside the ring, Kael’Zhorun watched everything in absolute silence, something extremely rare for the entity of ruin. He felt the frequency of the music and the power of Riku’s compassion acting as an anchor for his own chaotic power. It was a lesson that physical training could never give: the strength that comes from preservation, not destruction.

  Slowly, Ayane calmed down until the weight of her body relaxed completely against Riku. The emotional exhaustion, added to the hypnotic effect of the song, led her into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in a long time.

  Riku gently settled her onto the silk pillows, covering her with the hotel’s luxurious blanket. He sat on the floor by the bed, leaning his head against the polished wood of the frame.

  He looked at his hands—the same hands that could crush steel—and realized that his greatest power that night had not been fire, but the memory of Akane.