Threat

A tense silence filled the room as Asha's golden eyes flickered with shock. The paralysis crept through her limbs, locking her in place, though her mind remained sharp, racing through possibilities. She had underestimated him.

Sol snapped his fingers again, dispelling the noise cancellation. Asha's body remained paralyzed from the neck down, but her voice was now free. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she felt the sharp, unmistakable press of a blade against her neck, a single drop of warm blood trickling down. Her breath hitched, fear gripping her heart.

She couldn't see it.

Sol leaned back lazily in his seat, twirling the orange flower between his fingers as if nothing had happened. "You know, Asha," he mused, tilting his head, "for someone so refined, I thought you'd have better manners." His voice carried an edge of mockery, his eyes gleaming with challenge.

Unbeknownst to her, he had crafted the dagger using his plant affinity and cloaked it with his illusion, seamlessly weaving it into their conversation. And she hadn't even noticed.

Asha fought to keep her breathing steady, the muscles in her jaw tightening. "You little..." she started, but her voice failed her as the paralysis held firm. Her frustration was evident, though she masked it well, her tails flickering weakly behind her.

Sol chuckled at her struggle. "Don't strain yourself. It'll wear off soon enough," he assured her with a grin. "Though, I must say, I expected more from you. Threatening me with your 'restless men'?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Come on, Asha. That was a little cliché, don't you think?"

She said through gritted teeth, her voice laced with hate, "What do you want?"

Sol was taken aback by the question and couldn't help but get annoyed. He laughed, the sound sharp and devoid of humor. "Me? Are you being serious right now? There's no way you're that stupid."

Asha was about to retort, but Sol's voice cut through the air, cold and furious. "You people are the ones following me, sending shitty thugs after me. And for what? For a job at a damn bar?" He let out another laugh, but this time, there was no joy in it—only deep, piercing fury reflected in his star-like eyes.

Asha's breath hitched. Each time he laughed, she saw the storm behind his expression, the growing rage that made her stomach twist with unease. She had miscalculated. Badly.

For the first time, true fear settled in her chest. She knew—she had fucked up.

Still, Asha wasn't the type to crumble. Forcing herself to suppress her panic, she steadied her breath and forced a smirk onto her lips, even as the cold steel of Sol's blade pressed against her skin. "You're overreacting," she purred, trying to regain control. "You think too highly of yourself. This isn't about you, kid. I wanted information on the bar. That's all."

Sol's expression didn't shift, but his eyes darkened further, as if he were peeling away the layers of her deception. "Oh? And you expect me to believe that?" he said, voice low and unimpressed. "Sending goons after me, luring me here, then threatening me—and it was just for information on the bar? You must think I'm an idiot."

Asha held back a flinch. He saw through her too easily. She had to tread carefully. "You're new here. You don't know the undercurrents of this ship, of this district. Lover's Bar isn't just a dive—it's tied to bigger things. More dangerous things. I needed to know who was working there." She paused before carefully adding, "And who might've put you there."

That made Sol pause, his expression unreadable. A crack of uncertainty flickered in her sharp golden eyes. She had said too much.

He leaned in slightly, his grip on the illusionary dagger unwavering. "Who's interested in the bar?" he pressed. "Who are you working for?"

Asha hesitated, then attempted one last play. "You're clearly smart," she murmured, her tone shifting to something smoother, almost inviting. "We don't have to be enemies. I made a mistake, and I see that now. But we can help each other."

Sol raised a brow, unimpressed. "Oh? And what exactly can you offer me?"

Asha's lips parted, but no words came. She had nothing. Nothing that would tempt him. And she knew it.

Sol chuckled darkly. "That's what I thought."

The weight of his presence pressed against her, making her feel smaller despite her usual control. He could end this entire conversation with a flick of his wrist, and they both knew it.

He sighed dramatically, as if bored, before withdrawing the blade from her neck. "You're lucky I'm such a good person," he mused. 

He stood, stretching as if he hadn't just terrified one of the most influential figures in the district. "We're done here. Unless you want to try me again?"

Asha remained silent, her pride warring with her sense of self-preservation. She knew better than to push her luck.

Sol smirked. "That's what I thought. See you around, Asha."

Before he reached the door, Sol paused and turned back, his gaze cold and calculating. "Actually nevermind, you better hope to never see me again," he murmured, his voice low but laced with something dangerous. He scratched his chin for a moment, then smirked. "Oh, wait. Let me show you exactly what'll happen if we do meet again."

With a flick of his finger, a small purple ball of energy shot forward, phasing directly into Asha's forehead. She wanted to scream, to demand what he had just done to her, but the words caught in her throat. Cold sweat broke out across her skin as an unbearable dread crawled up her spine. Her vision blurred, her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and then—

Darkness.

Asha slumped in her chair, unconscious.

Sol clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he turned back toward the exit. "Even the thugs lasted longer," he muttered before stepping out, leaving her in silence.

Casually, he walked through the halls of the den, whistling a light tune as if he hadn't just turned the top floor into a nightmare. His carefree attitude, however, was disrupted when a security guard stepped in his path, suspicion flashing in his eyes. "Hold it. What happened up there?"

Sol sighed, barely breaking stride before flicking his fingers, sending a nightmare illusion straight into the man's forehead. The guard's body jerked violently, his eyes rolling back as he convulsed on the ground, cold sweat dripping from his face. Sol didn't spare him another glance as he casually stepped over him, continuing on his way.

Though his face remained calm, irritation simmered beneath the surface. He just wanted a normal job, a quiet existence where he could stay out of trouble. And yet, trouble seemed to follow him like a shadow.

Reaching up, he patted Peach on the head. "Let's go home, buddy. We need to ask that old bastard for a raise."

With that, he waved his hand, shifting his appearance entirely. His long black hair shortened into spiked locks, his delicate features roughened with the illusion of scruff, and his entire frame seemed taller and broader. His transformation complete, Sol blended into the crowd, disappearing into the shadows just as distant shouts of panic erupted from the upper floors of the den.