MOON

Velmont City Outskirts 

Under the silver glow of the moon, Lionheart Manor loomed like a crouching white lion—majestic, yet teeming with hidden peril. 

The manor was the private property of a powerful magnate. High walls and vigilant guards isolated it from the outside world, leaving ordinary people to only admire it from afar. 

In a dimly lit corridor, a young woman pushed a silver serving cart forward at a steady pace. Moonlight streamed through tall windows, faintly illuminating her side profile—a plain face, devoid of presence. Clad in a maid's uniform, she appeared to be nothing more than a lowly servant. 

New faces were a constant in Lionheart Manor. Each month, its master, Zachary Shawn, purchased a fresh batch of maids from the black market. Some left alive, while others disappeared without a trace.

Everyone here understood one truth: the manor's rules were ruthlessly unforgiving. Even the smallest mistake could cost a life. 

"Need help? You look a bit tired." At the end of the corridor, a tall head maid noticed her. Her tone was gentle, almost kind—a rare gesture in this cold place. The head maid had been here long enough to understand the rules, and she made a point to be kind to newcomers. 

The young maid paused, covering a yawn with practiced ease, then offered a faint smile. "No, thank you. I can manage." 

Concern flickered briefly in the head maid's eyes, but she nodded and walked away. She knew too well what failure meant in this place. 

As the head maid's footsteps faded, Ellara's expression hardened. She glanced at the blinking red light of a surveillance camera in the corner, sighed softly, and muttered, "What a hassle." 

She wasn't supposed to be here. As Samuel had said earlier in the day, Zachary Shawn was a matter for the Federation. But Shawn had obtained something he shouldn't have, sealing his fate. 

Ellara pushed the serving cart to a door at the end of the corridor. The fingerprint lock glowed faintly in the dark. She pulled off a glove, pressing her fingertips to the sensor. The door clicked open, revealing a shadowy study scented faintly of sandalwood. She placed the tray on a coffee table, then turned and moved to the adjoining room—her target was there. 

Approaching the door, she could hear labored breathing and stifled laughter from within. Her brow furrowed. She didn't like this sort of scene. 

The door opened. Chaos erupted—a cacophony of enraged shouts and terrified screams—only to be silenced within seconds. Ellara stood at the threshold, coldly observing the two lifeless bodies sprawled on the bed. Her expression was calm, almost bored. 

This scene was all too familiar to her, so routine it bordered on dull. The man before her reminded her of a pig she had seen during a holiday last year in Caledara—a bloated, clumsy, unappealing creature. 

She turned to the bedside table, revealing a hidden safe. Unlocking it was child's play, and she quickly retrieved a file. Skimming a few pages, she nodded in satisfaction. 

Before leaving, she restored everything to its original state. With a glance at the corpses, she muttered with mild disdain, "What a waste of fine sheets." 

Exiting through a side door, she narrowly avoided the patrolling guards. Pressed against a shadowed corner, she overheard snippets of their conversation. 

"Did you hear? The Federation's Samuel Orme is in Velmont City." 

"Yeah, there's a council meeting tomorrow." 

Dodging the patrols, Ellara slipped through the manor's garden and reached the outer wall. Scaling it effortlessly, she landed on the other side. 

The humid night air clung to her skin as she unbuttoned the maid uniform, revealing a fitted black T-shirt beneath. The edges of the silicone mask she wore began to lift, making her skin itch. 

Not far away, a sleek black car waited in the shadows, like a knight standing vigil. 

Minutes later, she slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a sigh of relief. Peeling off the thin mask, she tossed it into a paper bag at her feet. Without the disguise, her face emerged—delicate features and flawless skin, like a masterfully crafted work of art. 

The short-haired woman in the driver's seat glanced at her, smirking. "Every time you take that off, it's like watching a magic trick." 

"Want to try? I can get one made for you." Ellara chuckled, leaning back and closing her eyes. "Drive." 

The driver, Mora, didn't respond, her gaze lingering briefly on the white earpiece glinting at Ellara's ear. Shaking her head, she sighed. "Goodnight." 

Ellara hummed softly in acknowledgment, her voice trailing into a drowsy murmur. 

The car's engine growled to life, headlights slicing through the darkness as it sped away. Behind them, alarms blared from Lionheart Manor—a belated lament echoing through the night. 

Inside Lionheart Manor 

"Damn it!" Shawn's widow stood trembling, her eyes fixed on the lifeless pair on the bed. Her fury distorted her voice into a near-scream. 

"Mother, calm down!" Her youngest daughter supported her, though her icy gaze swept the room's occupants with cutting precision. "How long has it been? Why haven't they caught the intruder?" 

The silver-haired butler bowed slightly, his voice shaking yet respectful. "Madam, Miss, the cameras were disabled. Judging by the method, this isn't an ordinary assassin." 

Before the younger woman could retort, her mother raised a hand to silence her. Her sharp eyes bore into the butler, but anger soon gave way to fear. 

"No... Seal the information! Immediately!" Her voice quivered with urgency, almost desperation. She had overlooked a critical fact—Samuel Orme was currently in Velmont City. If he learned about Shawn's death, everything the Shawn family had done would be exposed to the public.

"It's too late, Madam." 

A deep, steely voice from the doorway shattered the tense atmosphere. 

All eyes turned to see a man in a crisp white Federation uniform standing there. In his forties, his imposing presence was matched by the precision of his attire. His gaze swept over Shawn's widow like a blade, freezing the room. 

"Madam Shawn, it's been a while." His voice, low but commanding, brooked no resistance. 

Shawn's widow turned stiffly, her face draining of color. Her lips moved, barely forming a name. "General Orme..." 

Samuel Orme, Andre Magnus's right-hand man, stepped aside to reveal another figure—a younger man with an ethereal beauty that bordered on inhuman. Pale skin, flawless features, and piercing emerald eyes emanated a chilling charisma. 

"Madam, I think it's time we had a chat," Samuel said coldly. 

The young man, Kieran, surveyed the room, his gaze landing on a small black card atop the serving cart. Picking it up, he smirked. "Samuel, look what I found." 

Samuel's expression darkened as he read the card: a blood-red crescent moon and four bold letters——MOON.