Returning a favor.
There were only a handful of things more honorable than that. Especially when the person who gave you the favor never expected anything in return.
"Master, you don't have to choose," the Thief King said, his voice smooth as silk. "You saved my life once. I'm taking this opportunity to return the favor."
He extended his Ang Elixir to Asher.
Giovan's eyes widened. Once at the young man, and again at Asher. Even Kim Hang felt his heart plummet. It was over.
"Well, apparently someone's past good deeds are catching up," Eno scowled. Now that the Thief King had declared himself here to repay a life-saving debt, the other three—yes, even Eno with his "free" offer—didn't stand a chance.
After all, it was the least politically compromising option.
Everyone knew Eno's elixir came with a free lifetime subscription to his endless bragging. "He'd be drowning in trouble if it wasn't for me!" See? You could practically hear him rehearsing the line already. For someone like Asher, retired and running an inn, thriving on neutrality, that was reputational poison.
Kim Hang's offer, while honest, urgent, and desperate, came with the unspoken moral contract: Asher would have to dive into an 88th-floor rogue rift rescue. Not that he couldn't handle it, but that kind of operation would blow a hole in his five-year streak of staying out of everyone's mess.
The moment Asher accepts, he would be bound to act on Kim's behalf immediately. This was why Giovan felt he had some leverage. Giovan didn't need to force Asher to give him the favor right away.
But as we knew, Giovan's deal was too strategic. It was practically a work of art. A long-term political bear trap disguised as a handshake. Sure, it could be beneficial, but it would plant Asher firmly onto someone else's chessboard. Slow, sticky, and impossible to escape without losing a piece.
The "favor" he asked would be called in at a time and place that suits him, which, of course, would inevitably drag Asher back into politics.
Eventually.
The Thief King's, in contrast, was just tying up an old loose end. Clean and contained. Asher saved his life once; now the Thief King was paying it back. No lingering strings. No awkward alliances. Just ledger balanced, case closed.
In the underworld, that was gold. Accepting the Thief King's repayment wasn't "taking sides" either. It was finishing a transaction. A man of his word closing the book.
For someone like Asher, that was the perfect deal. It got what he wanted for Lim Miao, didn't shatter his neutrality, kept his public image spotless, and most importantly, avoided opening a brand-new debt while erasing an old one.
And if he didn't take it? Well, that would be insulting.
Because for someone like the Thief King (a literal thief if it wasn't obvious enough) to show up in under an hour, like the other four, just to pay off a life debt? That was him sticking his neck out. Risking his life to settle the score. Even Eno, of all people, respected that.
Vanity, ambition, desperation, and karma. Four kings stood in front of him.
Silence swelled in the breakfast hall. For one or two heartbeats, the outcome felt carved in stone. The third second slid by, then the fourth… and the fifth…
The extended elixir was still poised in the Thief King's hand.
Before the question mark stamped across everyone's face could fully ink itself, a sound interrupted.
From the stairs, she appeared. Black-haired, descending like a slow punctuation to the moment. The inner robe of her traditional dress clung with the softness of lingering warmth, the outer robe drawn close across her chest in a casual, almost negligent clutch of her porcelain hand.
Droplets still clung to the pale curve of her neck, sliding to vanish somewhere just beneath the fold of fabric. Her hair, a messy bun barely disciplined by a white jade hairpin, looked as though it had argued with the bath steam and lost.
Her fair skin, half-hidden by lazy, indifferent layers, was damp. Steamy. Flushed. Not in a self-conscious way, but in the way heat leaves its fingerprints on someone.
Lim Miao stepped down in her inn slippers, her 'boudoir miss' look drawing five pairs of dangerous men's eyes, and more besides. She said, "Master, I need a hair dryer."
Like a young wife requesting the most harmless of favors from her husband after a bath.
Silence.
Slowly, everyone's eyes turned to Asher.
Why? What were they expecting? Would he flinch? Blush? React in any kind of way?
Well, of course. Asher, the inn master, simply nodded. "Coming right up," he said, giving the four other men a casual little wave before following her upstairs.
Like a dutiful husband.
Something felt… fishy.
Were they… patron and innkeeper?
Doesn't look like it somehow.
But again, everyone knew the context. They were just that. But—oof—even as the narrator here, I'll admit it: the casualness, the familiarity, the laid-back aura… everything else besides the "official" context was aallllllll… you know, suggestive.
That unhurried ease that made you feel like you'd just walked into the wrong room, at the wrong time, in the middle of something you couldn't quite prove happened.
Awkwardly, the Thief King stashed his elixir back inside his cloak, telling himself it was purely about timing, not because his mind had just been ambushed by an image of steam and silk and damp hair.
Giovan narrowed his eyes, in a deep, speculative train of thought that, frankly, didn't stay purely political for as long as he'd like to admit.
Kim Hang racked his brain about what he would do next, now that it was obvious Asher wouldn't accept his offer, while a tiny corner of his mind replayed the way she had clutched her robe, thinking how it was a pity she was already engaged to that Namgoong boy and not his son.
Eno, meanwhile, was blushing. Hard. He cleared his throat a couple of times, trying to regain his composure. Even accidentally catching his parents having sex wouldn't make him this flustered, which, given his current mental slideshow, was not the comparison he wanted.
They were Asher Fourstorms and Princess Lim Miao, okay? They practically had their own fanbase out there on the internet. Two fandoms that never crossed paths before now. Well… until today, perhaps.
The four decided to take a step back and reflect. Everything seemed ordinary. Everything matched their source. It was Miss Lim asking for a favor and Asher accepting (about the elixir). But also, it was Miss Lim asking for a hair dryer and Asher accepting (because she was the inn's guest).
So why just now did both feel… Hmmmmmmmmm…
Still, despite their suspicion about this… thing… that might be something unrelated, the four were burning to make it so Asher chose their elixir. Nope, the four would even agree to give all four.
But Asher only needed one.
And Asher would only take one.