[Deal]

Kael offered a half-smile—the kind that revealed nothing, yet implied far too much.

"Oh… you could say he's a special friend of mine."

Seraphine blinked.

The words hung there—light on the surface, but heavy underneath.

Her expression shifted.

Amusement flickered, touched by surprise… and something colder.

Caution.

Kael saw it in her eyes—that subtle flicker of doubt.

She doesn't know if I'm bluffing.

Perfect.

By calling the Devil his "Special friend," Kael hadn't just spun a lie—he'd drawn a line.

A veiled threat wrapped in velvet.

No one with sense would risk crossing a man who might be tethered—however loosely—to that monster.

Not unless they wanted to gamble with their life.

Seraphine leaned back, folding her hands in front of her with a polished, careful smile.

"Well then, Kaelion…" she said softly,

"It seems we have the privilege of hosting a very special guest."

Kael's thoughts flickered like steel catching light.

That's right.

Keep wondering.

As long as you think the Devil might come for me… I stay untouchable.

Across the table, Seraphine leaned back, her smile thoughtful—measured.

"So," she said softly, "What do you want in return?"

Kael gave a half-shrug.

Casual.

Precise.

"I want nothing," he replied, voice smooth.

"He—the Devil—wants all important information.

And gold.

For selling his loot to you."

A pause.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, not with suspicion—but consideration.

Then she laughed.

A soft, genuine sound that curled in the air like smoke.

"Clever," she said.

"Alright. I accept."

A beat passed.

Then: "And the map?"

Kael nodded once.

"I'll take a look. Give me a copy. If I can decode it… I'll return."

She gestured with two fingers, and from the shadows, a parchment was brought forward.

Kael accepted it without ceremony.

"No pressure, then," she said lightly.

And then, almost as an afterthought—

"Oh.

There's no urgent intel today, so for now… take 10,000 gold per scroll."

Kael's eyes flicked with interest.

Market value is 7000.

She's paying 3000 more.

He gave a faint, knowing smirk.

"Deal."

She offered no handshake—only a nod.

After some time, the quiet man from the corner returned.

In his hands—balanced with reverent care—was a tray.

And on that tray sat a single object:

A space ring.

Kael exhaled through his nose.

Of course.

They paid in space rings.

Meanwhile, he'd shown up with priceless scrolls stuffed like lunch bread into a sagging satchel.

How very dignified.

He took the ring without ceremony and slipped a thread of mana inside.

The contents revealed themselves instantly.

Approximately two hundred thousand gold coins.

Kael nearly blacked out.

His jaw wanted to drop.

His lungs wanted to scream.

His soul considered ascending out of pure, stunned joy.

But none of that happened.

Instead, he merely blinked, nodded faintly toward Seraphine, and forced out a casual breath—like this sort of thing happened all the time.

"I'll take my leave," he said, voice smooth as ever.

Seraphine's smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Please," she replied,

"Feel free to visit anytime, Kaelion.

And do pass my regards… to your friend."

Kael turned on his heel, cloak whispering behind him.

The weight of two hundred thousand gold pressed against his chest like an invisible storm.

But his back stayed straight.

And his expression? Still Devil-friend perfect.

He turned toward the door without another glance.

But as his hand touched the handle, he spoke—voice calm, clear, and edged with cold iron.

"One more thing."

He didn't look back.

"Don't keep eyes on me."

A pause.

A shift in the room's air.

"Because the Devil?" he continued, almost gently.

"He's… protective.

If he senses a threat, he won't hesitate.

He won't warn.

He'll simply bring your entire organization to ruin."

Silence.

Then tension snapped taut.

One of the masked guards stepped forward, rage sparking behind his eyes.

But Seraphine raised a single hand.

"Enough," she said quietly.

Kael didn't wait.

He opened the door and stepped through.

The soft click of it closing behind him sounded less like an exit—

And more like the first hush before a storm breaks.

***

After putting some distance between himself and their little den of crime, Kael started laughing.

Quiet at first.

Then louder.

He could practically hear Yue in his head—stunned, clapping with ghostly glee.

"You threatened a criminal syndicate with the Devil?

Really?

Who raised you?"

Pride curled in his chest like smoke.

He wasn't even guaranteed to survive the month, and yet here he was—blackmailing an absurdly powerful underworld cartel with a bluff and a smile.

He laughed again, shaking his head.

Madness.

Pure, polished madness.

After regaining his composure, he ducked into an alley and swapped into his Kaelion disguise.

Cloak, ring, shadow-draped calm.

The Devil's courier reborn.

By the time he stepped onto the main street, the city had returned to its usual rhythm—crowds flowing, vendors shouting, lives moving on.

No one gave him a second glance.

No whispers of "Isn't that the Duke's son?"

No bowing nobles, no gasping servants.

Old Kaelion had been a ghost—a quiet, anxious heir with the charisma of wet bread.

The kind of man people forgot mid-conversation.

In fact, Kael suspected half the city didn't even know the Duke had a third son.

Kael gave no reaction.

Just kept walking, calm as dusk.

Destination: The finest artifact shop in the duchy.

Because after bluffing the underworld and walking away with a small fortune?

He was in the mood to spend.