Meanwhile, on the upper floor, behind a thick door engraved with the guild's symbol, the atmosphere seemed to thrum with an invisible weight, heavy and suffocating. The air itself felt thick, as if each breath had to fight its way in. The walls, polished dark wood etched with symbols passed down through generations, seemed to absorb every whisper and turn it into a quiet, menacing hum.
Velmira sat behind her desk, perfectly upright, still as a statue. Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers pressed together—a gesture that revealed as much control as it did tension. Her deep green eyes scanned the space ahead, yet it felt like they were searching the shadows themselves, expecting something to emerge from nowhere. The silence wasn't empty; it carried the weight of unspoken expectations, a pressure ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
Across from her, Ryo stood, arms crossed over his chest. His posture was casual, almost too casual for the situation, but his eyes betrayed an alertness he couldn't hide. He knew this room was a minefield—every word, every gesture, could be weighed and misinterpreted. Beside him, Eyrin remained silent, almost detached, like her presence was only a formality. Yet her gaze was cold and distant, untouchable. She wasn't absent; she simply existed on a different plane.
Velmira tapped her fingers slowly against the desk, the sharp, measured rhythm echoing through the room like a metronome marking the countdown to a storm. Each tap seemed to measure time itself, and in the silence, it was clear this wasn't a casual question. It was a demand, a command hiding behind a calm voice.
"So," she finally began, her voice steady and precise, "what happened?"
There was no room for evasion. Every word carried weight. She didn't want a watered-down explanation; she wanted the raw truth.
Ryo drew a deep breath, a rare gesture of composure. For once, he seemed to measure his words carefully, as if each one bore real weight.
"The Black Veils."
The words hit the room like a cold hammer. Sharp. Brutal. Instant.
Velmira froze. Her face, usually composed, stiffened under the weight of the revelation. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a fleeting shadow crossing them. The air seemed to compress, and a shiver ran down her spine.
"…What?" she murmured, disbelief lacing her tone.
She stood slowly, every movement deliberate and measured. The tension radiating from her posture betrayed the depth of her concern.
"How… here? On a mission of this level?"
Ryo, calm and steady, replied:
"I don't fully understand it myself," he said. "But they weren't impostors. I faced one."
He paused, letting the weight of the statement settle in the room.
"He was strong. Really strong."
Velmira clenched her fists, nails biting slightly into her palms, a subtle manifestation of her contained frustration.
"And their goal?" she asked, her voice low, sharp, almost a hiss.
Ryo's gaze drifted into the distance as he measured his words.
"Hard to say. But one thing's certain—they wanted this place to remain hidden. Very hidden. Too hidden for it to be a simple hideout."
Velmira averted her gaze for a moment, thinking at lightning speed. Her mind raced, calculating every implication. The world was unpredictable, but this threat seemed to have direction, intent—something she needed to understand immediately.
"I see… We'll report this to the king. And I'll send men to sweep the area. Force will be used if necessary."
Her attention then shifted to Eyrin. Slowly, deliberately, she fixed her gaze on her, cold and cutting, sharp as a blade.
"And her."
Eyrin didn't flinch. Her face remained an impassive mask, a wall of ice between her and the judgment aimed at her.
"Who is she? And why did you bring her along?"
Velmira's tone left no room for evasive answers, sharp and unforgiving.
"Édouard and you would have been more than enough," she added, voice hardening further. "No matter how dangerous the mission was."
Eyrin held Velmira's gaze, unyielding, almost provocatively calm. No gesture, no twitch, no breath betrayed the slightest emotion. Ryo blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
"Wait… is there a problem?"
Velmira crossed her arms, a gesture of defiance and focus.
"Yes. There is."
She stepped closer to the desk, her movements slow but purposeful, heavy with authority.
"I asked you to let me accompany you if you wanted to leave. You refused. And yet, you brought a woman with you."
Silence fell, thick and suffocating. Each second stretched endlessly, amplifying the tension.
Then, unexpectedly, Ryo laughed. Genuine, unrestrained, but layered with that familiar playful irony. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, still amused by the scene before him.
"Seriously… it really feels good to see you again."
Velmira's brows furrowed, her expression melting from icy composure into a flush of red-hot irritation in an instant.
"RYO!" she shouted, her voice a mix of indignation and barely restrained frustration.
But Ryo, unfazed, was already moving toward the door.
"We'll talk about all this later."
He opened the door smoothly, creating space for Eyrin, who followed silently, calm yet present, like a ghost silently observing.
The door clicked shut behind them with a crisp thud, reverberating through the empty room.
Velmira remained alone, her shoulders slowly sagging into the chair behind her desk. The room, now quiet, seemed to breathe alongside her, the storm having passed, if only briefly. She stared at the door, lost in thought, the polished wood and carved symbols silently mocking her with their permanence.
"Idiot…" she murmured, voice low, trembling with a mix of frustration and relief.
Yet this time, a faint smile betrayed her, subtle and almost shameful. A small, fragile sign of relief and recognition. Despite the anger, despite the looming danger, they were back. Alive. And that was all that truly mattered.
She let herself sink into the chair for a moment, allowing the weight of fear and relief to mingle, knowing this calm was temporary. The world, relentless and cruel, would not leave them unchallenged. Every mission, every fight, every decision would serve as a harsh reminder that peace was never given—it had to be taken, often at the cost of blood and courage.
Velmira straightened slowly, posture perfect, but now with renewed determination. She couldn't falter, couldn't let fear dictate her actions. Every second, every choice, every glance now carried critical weight. And if Ryo could afford irony and amusement in such moments, she had to remain the guardian of discipline, strategy, and focus.
Still, the smile lingered, subtle, nearly invisible, but real. A crack in her armor, a reminder that humanity—what little remained of it in this brutal world—was still alive. And for her, for them, for everyone counting on her, it was enough. For now.
The guild, the Black Veils, the king, the dangerous missions… all of that could wait. Just for a moment, to savor the return of those who had been gone too long, to feel that, despite everything, life carried on, and they were still there to fight, protect, survive.
And as Velmira's fingers traced the cold wood of the door, she knew a new battle was brewing. Yet, for the first time in a long while, she felt ready—not alone, but with those who, against chaos and the cruelty of the world, had returned.
The world had once again reminded them it would grant no respite. But in this brief solitude, in the calm before the storm, Velmira found a strange peace. Danger lurked, ever-present, but life moved forward. And for now, that was enough.