Early morning. The time when the academy's routines settled into a lull, a moment of peaceful vulnerability before the day's chaos began.
Five of the infiltrators were already geared up, dressed head to toe for the mission.
Their coveralls and work boots were replaced with dark, fitted gear; their usual worker-like air was gone, replaced with a suffocating heaviness, the kind that made it clear they weren't simple laborers anymore.
Masks, gloves, hoods—every trace of identity erased. They looked less like men and more like shadows, waiting in silence.
All except one.
"Where the hell is he? How long does it take to use the damn toilet?" one of them finally muttered, impatience creeping into his voice, sharp as a pulled thread.
The leader's eyes, visible through the slits in his mask, narrowed to lethal pinpricks. "Tch. Maybe he's shitting himself to death in there."
That cracked a smirk out of another man, a cruel glint in his eye. "Heh. Who knows? I heard if you force your stomach too much, your soul comes out along with the shit."
The group chuckled darkly, a dry, rasping sound.
"Wow. Imagine that. Dying on the toilet… soul slipping out through your asshole. What a way to go."
The laughter was brief, sharp, and then silence fell again—heavy as a blade.
The mission clock was ticking, and the missing member's absence was becoming less of a joke and more of a problem.
"If he doesn't hurry, we leave him," the leader snapped. His voice was clipped, economical. "Mission moves, not waits. Newbie's already proven he's unreliable."
"We picked morning for a reason," another agreed, checking the edge of a specialized, non-metallic knife. "Sunday. Guards laze around. Shift changes. Five minutes is all the window we get. If he doesn't show, we go without him. He'll face the consequence later—mission comes first."
Nobody argued. There was no talk of loyalty or comradeship here; loyalty ended where profit and success began.
This crew ran on efficiency and appointments, not feelings. The weak links were meant to be shed.
A dark little laugh slid through the room. "Guess he really is a disappointment," someone muttered, a dismissive sneer in their tone. "Serves him right."
They tightened straps, checked blades, and settled into that tense, expectant quiet that comes before violence.
Underneath it all sat a single ugly thing: the thrill of watching the world tilt into chaos. That wasn't just part of the job for some of them—it was why they'd signed up in the first place.
The clock ticked. Seconds bled into minutes, and the air in the room grew heavier, thick with anticipation and adrenaline.
"Five minutes," one of them muttered, his gaze fixed on the door. "He's not coming."
"Then we don't waste time," the leader said, his voice clipped and final, already motioning toward the door. "We move—"
Before he could finish, the door creaked open.
A figure stepped in, dressed exactly like the rest of them. The dark hood shadowed his face, but his frame was slight, and his movements had the nervous edge they were expecting. He looked around the room, almost curious, before straightening his posture, mimicking the rigid formality of the crew.
"S–sorry for being late. My stomach, it just—"
"Enough." The leader cut him off with a sharp wave, silencing the stammered excuse. His jaw tightened, but he didn't let his frustration spill further. "As much as I'd like to drag it out of you, now isn't the time. What matters is the mission. Everyone knows the plan already—lackey, fill him in while we move."
"Tch, what a pain," the lackey muttered under his breath, barely loud enough to be heard, but loud enough to show his contempt.
The leader didn't bother to respond. He simply jerked his chin toward the door.
"Without further delay—move."
At once, the room shifted into motion. Six figures slipped out, silently splitting into three neat pairs, like shadows falling into formation.
The newly arrived figure—the so-called newbie—fell in beside the lackey, his steps steady, his newly acquired persona completely unreadable beneath the mask.
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[Liliane Hall — Girls' Dormitory]
The backyard of the girls' dormitory, Liliane Hall, was quiet.
It was the kind of unnatural stillness that only settled upon the campus on a Sunday morning, when the routines of lectures and drills were suspended.
Their target, the elven princess, was located on the third floor.
Lacey, the lackey, crouched by the stone wall of the dorm, fiddling with a small, ugly-looking device. The figure beside him—the newbie—hovered, a nervous tension radiating from his posture.
"…So, uh, what does that thing even do?" the figure asked, breaking the silence with a whisper.
Lacey let out a dry, contemptuous laugh. "Figures you'd ask that. If you hadn't wasted half the night blowing up the toilet, you'd already know."
The figure scowled under the mask. "Tch. Real funny."
"Cheer up, rookie. I'll spell it out for you." Lacey tapped the device with a gloved hand. "This little artifact releases a fine crystalline powder into the air. Can't see it, can't smell it. But once it spreads? It seeps into the body. Makes people drowsy, unfocused. Like they're stuck between being awake and dreaming."
The figure blinked behind his mask. "…So basically, it drugs them?"
Lacey smirked, a cruel twist of the mouth. "If it helps you sleep at night, sure, call it that. Think of it like smoke used on bees. You puff it on them, and instead of stinging you, they just wobble around while you take their honey. Same deal here. The girls won't scream, won't fight. They'll barely know what's happening."
The figure rubbed the back of his neck, the nervous gesture feeling oddly out of place for an infiltrator. "And if someone resists?"
"Then we move fast before they can. That's why this thing matters. Without it, we'd have half the dorm yelling their lungs out, and the whole mission would be screwed." Lacey's eyes narrowed, cold and hard. "So don't screw up, newbie. Stick close and do exactly as I say."
"…Got it," the figure muttered.
A faint light flickered in one of the third-floor windows, a single moment of activity in the silent building. Lacey clicked his tongue in irritation, then calmly pressed the trigger on the artifact.
A soft hiss escaped the device. Fine, glittering powder—a synthetic mana compound—drifted into the night air, invisible after only a breath. It was a silent, insidious fog, seeping into the ventilation and under the window sills.
"Where are the rest?" the figure whispered, his voice tight.
Lacey answered, low and practical. "Leader and the tech went to the teacher dorms. They'll trigger the artifact there—isolate the ward posts, put up a barrier around the instructors' rooms. If anyone tries to rush in, that barrier buys us time. If they break through, it still takes time. Time equals our escape window."
"And the others?" the figure asked.
"The mech and the electrician are securing escape routes and sweeping the patrols. They're checking soldiers and lines—making sure the guards' beats get delayed or rerouted. Once that's done, they join us." Lacey shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.
"That's the plan. You keep your head down and move when I say."
He meant it; everyone there knew how fragile the timing was. The whole elaborate scheme hinged on a few precise minutes.
"So, newbie boy, let's move." Lacey stretched his shoulders, scanning the dorm facade.
"Aren't we supposed to wait for the others?"
"Yes and no," Lacey replied flatly. "We're not rushing ahead, but we're not sitting here either. Best way is to keep moving toward the third floor, slowly and steadily."
The boy frowned, a visible crease in his brow. "And… how do we go in?"
Lacey turned and gave him a look heavy with scorn. "What do you think? Through the front door, handshakes and smiles?" He smirked, pointing upward. "We're climbing. Window route."
"You serious?"
"You really thought we'd walk through the entrance? Fucking idiot." Lacey chuckled under his breath. "Come on. You'll thank the elves for their love of trees."
The boy followed his gaze. A massive oak tree, ancient and sprawling, leaned right up against the building, its thick, sturdy branches brushing the windows of the third floor.
"No way," the figure muttered. "That thing actually reaches?"
"Of course. Elves don't cut trees, no matter what. Even if one grows so close it could let anyone crawl into their dorm."
Lacey shook his head, a gesture of dark amusement. "Their stupid reverence for nature makes our job easier."
Without another word, he grabbed the lowest branch and started climbing.
The bark was rough, solid, with just enough hold for boots and gloved hands.
The figure hesitated for half a second before following, his initial shake quickly subsiding as a focused intensity replaced it.
The branches creaked but held firm under their weight. Each step higher, the quiet courtyard below looked smaller and smaller.
The air felt heavy, not from the physical strain, but from the silence—any noise here would give them away.
"Don't drag your feet," Lacey hissed, a sharp warning from above. "One slip and you'll wake the whole building."
The figure swallowed, the mask muffling the sound, and nodded, keeping his movements tight and economical.
Bit by bit, the tree carried them upward until the third-floor window came into reach.
The frame was slightly ajar, just enough to catch the breeze. Lacey leaned against it, listening intently for sounds inside.
Nothing but the faint hum of the dormitory wards, a sound that was already being dulled by the dust they had released.
He pushed the window wider and slipped through without hesitation, a silent, fluid shadow.
The figure followed, slightly clumsy but careful, his boot brushing the sill as he pulled himself inside.
Behind them, the ancient tree swayed gently in the breeze—a silent, unwitting witness as the new newbie and the lackey disappeared into the girls' dormitory.
The two masked figures paused just inside the dim dormitory hallway.
"Man, that climb was dramatic as fuck," Lacey muttered, rubbing his hands together.
The Newbie immediately fixed him with an intense stare. "Aren't you making noise now? You'll wake everyone."
Lacey scoffed, a dry, dismissive sound. "Chill, newbie boy. The artifact did its job. The powder spread fast; you just didn't realize it because of the mask." He waved a hand dismissively. "Anyone in these halls is currently dreaming about fucking butterflies, not noise."
"But didn't you just say while I was climbing—"
"Man, chill with the details!" Lacey cut him off, already moving down the corridor. "Anyway, let's explore until the rest arrive. I've never been in a girl's dorm in my damn life, let alone a princess's."
The air was heavy, but silent. Lacey moved with a quiet, predatory excitement, while the Newbie followed, tense and observant, as the muffled thump of the leader's barrier artifacts signaled the trap was fully sprung.
"Ooh, looks like the barriers are up,"
Lacey said, looking at his pocket watch. A small, faint red dot glowed on the face of the timepiece, confirming the signal.
"And it seems the other one as well, from the tech and electrician, huh? Well, we're moving. All is well."
Lacey pocketed the watch and continued exploring the magnificent hallway. He lingered over the intricate, elven-inspired woodwork, the quality of the tapestry on the walls, and the quiet opulence of the girls' dormitory—a lifestyle he'd only dreamed of.
"Quite the room, ain't it? All the fucking glory and all. They treat these pampered brats like royalty, like humans have forgotten all the previous bad blood between us."
The Newbie followed the line of his gaze. "Sounds like you have a grudge."
"Nah, I hadn't," Lacey replied, his voice flat. "I've lived a fucked-off life enough; I don't have anything more to offer to other races. Us humans are enough to crawl each other out. It's just a job for me, newbie."
The Newbie paused, tilting his head as he assessed the elaborate decorations. "But still, it looks kind of dull compared to other noble—especially human royalty. It lacks... flash."
"Hmm. You say so." Lacey shrugged. "I've done other work, and yeah, it lacks here and there. I heard something like the elves' nature is that they don't like materialistic things. Their nature is their treasure and blah, blah, blah."
"Well, you heard right, but I believe everyone is materialistic towards something," the Newbie countered smoothly. "It's just knowing what exactly they lust after. Be it money, women, power—we just don't know what they want."
Lacey threw his head back and laughed, the sound thankfully muffled by his mask.
"Hahaha! Newbie, man, I like that thought! Everyone is a whore for something; we just have to know what they truly lust after."
"What the fuck are you two clowns laughing for?" a third voice broke through their dark mirth.
When they turned, there stood another figure, masked and dressed in the same dark tactical gear. This was the Tech.
"Hey, Tech man, you took your time, huh? Where's the other guy? Are we going to wait more?" Lacey asked, slightly annoyed at the interruption.
"No, the rest are not coming," the Tech stated flatly. "The leader's monitoring the place, running the show from the outside to see if things go well or not. And as for the mech and electrician, they'll secure the escape routes and all that noise. We three—" he gestured between himself, Lacey, and the Newbie—"will be the ones kidnapping the elf princess."
"Okay. Too many cooks spoil the broth," Lacey conceded with a shrug, seemingly fine with the shift.
"Yeah, yeah, well the main task was the setup; the kidnapping is the easier part anyway. Let's go."
After saying that, the three figures moved down the main corridor of the third floor.
They passed through heavy curtains and into a common room. It was quite big enough for a small flat, decorated with luxurious but understated elven taste.
They passed a few doors, probably leading to rooms for servants or fellow students, and then saw it.
At the far end of the hall, near a low table, lay an elf girl, curled up on a sofa. She was pretty, even under the effects of the sleeping powder, her long ears brushing the cushions.
"Man, the princess is sleeping on a sofa," Lacey whispered, a bewildered note in his voice.
"Check your fucking eye, Lacey," the Tech snapped back, his voice sharp. "She may be a fellow student working as a guard. And why the fuck would a princess sleep on a sofa?"
"Who knows, priorities," Lacey muttered with a shrug.
The Tech simply sighed, shaking his head. He ignored the girl on the sofa and slowly moved towards a large door at the end of the hall, which looked like it surely led to the master bedroom.
He slowly rotated the knob. The door clicked and swung inward silently.
The room hit them with a wave of scent: a pleasant, fruity, decidedly girly fragrance.
"What a smell," Lacey whispered.
The Tech took a silent step inside. Their eyes were drawn to the center of the room, where, on a massive bed that could easily hold four or five people, lay a single figure.
The elven princess was sleeping soundly, a picture of tranquil beauty, her peaceful breathing the only sound in the opulent room.