The dining table still carried the smell of roasted chicken and garlic sauce when the knock came. Henry glanced up from his wine, annoyed at the interruption, but before he could stand, the door eased open on its own.
A woman stepped in.
Her beauty didn't belong to this world. She was tall, her figure draped in sleek, fashionable clothing that shimmered faintly under the warm lights of the house. Every thread looked expensive, her heels tapping lightly on the wooden floor. Her long hair, raven-dark with emerald undertones, framed a face so striking that silence fell across the table like a spell.
"I'm terribly sorry," she said, her voice smooth, warm, polite — but carrying an undertone that made the daughters instinctively clutch at their dresses. "I may have walked into the wrong house."
For a moment no one spoke. Then Henry cleared his throat, suddenly smiling too wide. "No, no, you're welcome. Please — come in." His son, Kyle, hadn't taken his eyes off her since she entered, his pupils dilating as lust crept across his expression.
Linda shifted uncomfortably. The two daughters exchanged nervous glances, shoulders tense. It wasn't just beauty — it was pressure, an oppressive air that made their own existences feel… lesser.
The woman stepped forward, her heels clicking softly. "I'm looking for a friend. His name is Ramiel. Perhaps I've mistaken the address?"
At the mention of the name, Henry laughed harshly. "Ramiel? Then you're in the right house. But what could someone like you want with that useless freeloader?"
Linda chuckled bitterly, nodding. "He's been living off us for years. A shame to even call him family."
The daughters sneered, emboldened by their mother's tone. "Ramiel isn't even an awakening. He left few minutes ago, probably ran off to avoid shame."
The woman smiled faintly, though her eyes stayed unreadable. "We're just friends. I only came to return something to him."
Henry leaned back in his chair, his smile widening. "Ah, well. Ramiel left a while ago, probably gone for good. But if you're looking for capable men, my son here—" he gestured proudly toward Kyle "—is already a C-rank hunter."
Caleb straightened, puffing his chest. "That's right. C-rank awakened. My specialty is earth manipulation. With a stomp I can shake the ground and crush enemies. You won't find someone stronger in this district."
In her mind, Lythara laughed. A toad boasting of the pond while dreaming of swan meat.
Her polite smile remained in place. "I see…"
The family kept talking, mocking Ramiel in passing while praising Kyle. But for Lythara, the conversation had confirmed everything she needed: Ramiel no longer lived here.
Her eyes shifted. Once warm, now cold — cold enough to still the air in the room.
The family froze. They didn't understand why, but instinct screamed danger.
From the shadows at her side, a whip materialized. Long, emerald-black, alive with slithering movements as if it carried venom in its very fibers. The daughters gasped. Henry pushed his chair back, face paling.
Kyle, ever the fool, leapt forward, stomping the floor. The ground cracked, sending jagged rocks spearing upward toward her. "I'll protect you!" he shouted, mistaking her presence for a threat.
Her whip moved once.
CRACK!
The rocks split apart mid-air, crumbling like sand. Before Kyle could even process it, the whip coiled around his chest, burning through his skin with a hiss. His scream tore through the house before she flicked her wrist — and his body slammed against the wall, bones shattering.
"KYLE!" Henry roared, flames igniting around his hands. His ability — fire palms, short-ranged but deadly. He rushed forward, palms blazing, swinging at her with desperate fury.
She barely moved. The whip lashed across his midsection, searing through flesh and fire alike. He staggered, coughing blood, eyes wide with disbelief.
Linda shrieked, lunging at her with a kitchen knife in some mad attempt. The whip snapped again, slicing her arm clean off. She collapsed, screaming, the blade clattering across the floor.
The daughters tried to run. They didn't make it to the door. The whip lashed twice, carving through their spines in smooth arcs. They dropped like dolls with strings cut, eyes still frozen in shock.
The smell of blood filled the house. The flames on Henry's hands flickered and died as he crumpled, broken and burned. Kyle twitched against the wall, choking out a final breath before his skull cracked under another strike.
Silence followed.
Lythara stood amidst the carnage, not a spot of blood touching her clothes. Her whip hissed once before dissolving back into shadow. Her expression was calm, as though she had simply brushed away an inconvenience.
She turned, heels clicking once more against the floor, and stepped out into the night.
Ramiel was no longer here. But she would find him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ramiel pushed open the glass doors of a sleek real estate office in Orange County. The place smelled of polished wood and fresh coffee, filled with men in suits and women in tight skirts, all typing away at computers or showing glossy brochures.
Behind the counter, a young receptionist with heavy makeup looked up, scanned Ramiel's plain clothes, and gave a quick, mocking smile.
"Uh, sir… this is a real estate firm. You're probably looking for the rental board down the street."
Ramiel's expression didn't change. He adjusted the strap of the black bag on his shoulder and simply replied, "I'm here to buy."
The receptionist snorted and covered her mouth to laugh.
"Buy? Here? Houses start at five million—"
"Jessica."
A cold female voice cut through the air. The receptionist's face paled as she turned to see a woman in a sleek black coat, short hair brushed neatly to the side, walking toward them with calm authority. Theresa May. A B-rank Hunter who worked for the real estate company, known in Orange County for her razor-sharp mind and uncanny ability. Like Tobias, she was a...Psionic.
Jessica immediately stood up straight. "M-Miss May, I didn't mean—"
"Then don't mean." Theresa's eyes lingered on her for a second before she shifted her attention to Ramiel. Her expression softened, curious but guarded. "You said you're here to buy?"
Ramiel gave a slight nod. "A house. Quiet, outside the city. Nothing noisy."
Theresa tilted her head, studying him as though she could peel away the layers of his mind. Something about him didn't fit—too calm, too sharp.
"Of course. May I ask your budget?"
Ramiel placed the black bag on the counter and unzipped it just enough for the shimmer of mana crystals to catch the light. The receptionist gasped and stumbled back, her hands trembling. Even Theresa's usually composed face flickered in surprise.
He zipped the bag shut again, his tone flat. "Enough."
For a moment, silence gripped the office. Even nearby staff glanced over, whispers already starting. Theresa quickly raised a hand, silencing the receptionist before she could blurt something out.
"I see…" she said carefully, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of respect. "Then follow me. I'll personally show you some properties."
Ramiel gave a casual shrug. "Lead the way."
Jessica opened her mouth to protest but shrank when Theresa's cold gaze landed on her again. Inwardly, the receptionist cursed herself—she'd mocked the wrong person.
Moments later, Ramiel and Theresa stepped out together, heading toward her sleek black SUV. Theresa glanced at him as she started the engine. She wanted to ask where he'd gotten that quality dark crystal from—but her instincts told her not to. Some answers were better left unknown.
"Orange County has its share of estates," she said as the car pulled out. "But I think I know the one you're looking for. Quiet. Secluded. Perfect for someone who doesn't want to be found."
Ramiel smirked faintly, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
"That will do."