The morning of the date arrived, bringing with it a golden light that slipped through the gaps in the curtains like an omen of something unforgettable.
I put on the new clothes the princesses had given me. After having all my old clothes stolen, I treasured each garment like a treasure.
I left the palace, and there at the gate, waiting for me, was Iris. She wore a one-piece white dress that hugged her silhouette with the elegance of a marble sculpture, and an elegant hat with a feather on the side that danced in the morning breeze.
"Good morning, Razel-kun," she said, with a smile that shone brighter than the sun.
"Good morning."
"Before our date, there's a place I want to go."
"Sure."
I followed Iris without asking, but I never imagined that destination would be *that* place.
"Good morning, Iris onee-chan!" a chorus of childish voices rang out in unison.
"Good morning to you too," she replied, with a tenderness she rarely showed.
We had come to the temporary house where we had been staying while in the capital. Inside, the orphan children welcomed us.
Before going to rescue Iris, I had to stop some idiots who were destroying the cardboard church where these little ones lived. Calling it a "cardboard church" was offensive, but it was the best example I could give.
Apparently, they were having breakfast, because I found the main group gathered around the table. Seated in order were:
"Good morning, Razel, Iris. You look very elegant to come for breakfast," said Angie, a girl with blue hair and purple eyes who made a living playing guitar on the streets.
"Indeed. I understand you've been giving statements at the palace, but this seems too exaggerated," interrupted the next one, Veronica Rapha Richmond, with long light-brown hair and reddish eyes. She worked as a secretary at the adventurers' guild.
"I agree. You look too formal just for breakfast, but it doesn't matter. It's never a bad thing to be well-dressed to eat together," said with a smile the sister who guarded the cardboard church, Monika Rapha Klaudia, with violet-blue hair and eyes of the same color.
"It's normal for them to dress like that. The palace is not a place you can enter in rags. Come on you two, sit down for breakfast," added the last of them, Baroness Louisa Rapha Hamilton, with a kind gaze despite not fully opening her green eyes, her long black hair resting on her shoulder.
All these women had something in common: they had been affected by the Black Spiders and their lives had been in danger. I saved them, and they all gave their statements here in the capital.
They should have already returned to their homes, but they seemed comfortable in this place. I wasn't complaining; I was just recounting how we had come this far.
Iris spoke as she was pulled toward the table. I was also pulled, but reluctantly. *Little shits.*
"Thank you all for inviting us," Iris said, regaining control. "I would really like to stay for breakfast, but I came to give you some important news."
Everyone stopped eating to pay attention.
"The time I spent with you was brief, but I enjoyed it very much. I felt at home, and nothing would make me happier than to keep spending time with you. But unfortunately, I have to leave to study at another academy, and I will leave the capital."
"You're leaving?" asked Angie, with a sadness reflected on the others' faces as well.
"Yes. I'll leave in exactly three days."
They began murmuring among themselves.
"Iris-san, you can't just leave like that." Monika didn't want her to go. Truly, in a short time, women forge very deep bonds. How beautiful.
"It's true. At least let us prepare a farewell party for you," Louisa proposed.
"Thank you, but I must decline, Louisa-san. I have to pack my bags and try on my uniform to check for any problems. I only came to inform you of this. Ah, I almost forgot," she added, pointing at me. "Razel-kun will also come with me as my escort."
"Really?!" This time their shout was in unison. They couldn't believe it.
"Y-you're really leaving? When will you come back?" Veronica asked me as if we would never see each other again.
"I have no idea how long it will take, but my reason for going is to protect Iris. I hope to resolve it as soon as possible."
Suddenly, the four women gathered together and went off to talk in the kitchen. After a while of murmuring, they nodded and came out all together. The spokesperson, Veronica, said to me:
"We understand that you have to leave, but we want one last favor from you."
"What is it?"
"Please, have a date with all of us today, since we don't know when we'll see you again."
It was incredible that they had all said that in unison. I was speechless. Even Iris brought her hand to her mouth, though I could hear her murmur:
"Impossible. I have more rivals."
I didn't know what she meant by that, but even I was surprised. Agreeing to have a date with five girls… Since my brain had stopped working long ago from going out with so many women, I accepted the proposal without hesitation.
"Sure, why not?"
"Yes!" they shouted with joy.
Having a date with five different women… I hope it doesn't end up making me look like a cheater. Again.
◇
We had to wait a good while for them to get ready and prepare. Apparently, to decide the date, Iris had also joined the plan.
The result was as follows: I had an hour and a half to go out with each of them. Four girls. Four dates. One after another, like a freight train heading straight for the abyss of my social endurance.
This really did feel like a damn dating sim.
I sighed as I looked at the pocket watch they had lent me at the palace. The hands advanced mercilessly.
"The first one to come is Angie," announced Iris, with a smile that I was already beginning to dread.
And sure enough. Through the door of the temporary house appeared Angie, and my heart gave a small, unrequested leap.
She wore short shorts that showed off her firm, white thighs, a loose sleeveless blouse that moved with each gesture as if made of clouds, and homemade fabric slippers that barely made a sound as she walked. Her blue hair, usually tied up, now fell loose over her shoulders like a cascade of seawater. It wasn't the most elegant outfit in the world, but on her it looked like a treasure.
"Ready?" she asked me, with that beautiful voice of hers.
"Born ready," I lied, because in truth my stomach was already starting to churn.
Angie and I strolled through the street food area. It was a place I didn't know well, but she did: steaming noodle stalls, carts of skewers grilling over coals, the smells of spices and fried dough mixing in the air like a chaotic symphony. Paper lanterns hung from the awnings, dyeing everything in a warm, orange tone.
She walked with her hands in the pockets of her shorts, looking at the stalls with a nostalgia that needed no explanation.
"You know?" she began, buying two chicken skewers and handing me one. "I never thought I'd walk through a place like this again without being afraid."
"Afraid?" I asked, taking a bite. It was delicious, slightly spicy.
"Afraid of being robbed. Afraid that someone might see me and know I have nowhere to go. Afraid that… well, that what almost happened that day would happen to me."
Her voice faded for a moment. The night she was referring to was the one when the Black Spiders tried to kill her along with the others, and I showed up to smash their faces.
I remember it well. She was trembling, her arms full of scratches, and her eyes… her eyes had that gleam of someone who had already lost hope.
"But then you came," she continued, nibbling timidly on her skewer. "You came, you made a scene, you broke things, and… suddenly, I wasn't afraid anymore. Is that weird to say?"
"A little," I admitted, laughing. "Normally people run away from me, not toward me."
She laughed too, a small, sincere laugh that got lost in the street's bustle.
"You're funny, Razel. Sometimes you seem like a fool who doesn't know which way the wind blows, but when it counts… you become an immovable mountain. That's why I want to get to know you more."
(What do you mean by fool?)
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. I don't know if it's love or just gratitude, but I want to find out. Can I?"
I fell silent. Deep down, my brain was screaming.
(NO! You already have enough problems with Eli!)
But my lips, traitors as always, said:
"Sure."
Angie smiled, and that smile was worth every single problem waiting for me at home.
We walked a while longer, bought some candied fruits that she chose because they reminded her of her childhood, and finally, I accompanied her back to the temporary house. Before entering, she gave me a quick hug that lasted less than a second but left a strange warmth in my chest.
"The next one is waiting," she said, winking. "Don't keep her waiting."
And she went in. I stood at the door for a moment, breathing deeply.
(This is going to be hell.)
◇
Between dates, I had barely ten minutes to drink water and compose my face. I didn't want the next ones to think I was exhausted. Even though I was. God, I really was.
"Razel!" I heard an energetic voice behind me.
I turned around.
And almost had a heart attack.
Walking out with quick steps, as if she were going to hunt insects or set an anthill on fire, was Veronica.
She wore thick fabric overalls, a white-and-blue striped shirt peeking out above the collar. On her head, a red handkerchief gathered her hair.
"I didn't know we were going to catch insects," I said, raising an eyebrow at the net she was carrying.
"With this heat, it's better to wear something cool," she replied with a mischievous smile. "Did you really think I'd put on a dress so you could drool over my legs? I'm not that easy."
"I never said…"
"You thought it. It shows on your face."
I fell silent. Because it was true.
After going outside the capital to catch insects — she liked collecting them, it seemed — we returned to the city.
Veronica took me for a walk near a theater. It was an old building, one of those that had seen entire generations pass through its oak doors. The marquees were dark, the posters torn, but you could still feel the grandeur of what it once was. There was something poetic about it: a beautiful but forgotten place, like a dream no one remembers anymore.
"I like coming here," she said, sitting on the stone steps. "As a girl, I wanted to be an opera singer."
"Really?" I sat down next to her.
"Really. I'd spend hours listening to the songs, the narrations of the stories, it was amazing. I'd walk down the street singing at the top of my lungs, and people would look at me like I was crazy."
"What happened?"
"I had no money, despite my family's economic crisis," she replied with a sigh. "To sing opera you need to go to a school, and to go to a school you need money. My family didn't have it. So I worked, first in a shop, then at an adventurers' guild, and in the end… I missed the train. I'm too old for those dreams now."
"I don't think you're too old for anything," I said without thinking.
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, those reddish eyes seeming to glow in the dim light.
"You're an eccentric man, Razel. And faithful to your ideals. I liked that from the first day. I really liked your confidence when you went to defeat those bears and later during the Black Spiders' attack. I liked that you didn't leave me alone. And I like that you're here now, listening to the nonsense of a nearly mature woman who no longer even knows what she wants."
"You're not old," I corrected her. "And it's not nonsense."
"Oh, no?"
"No. In fact… why don't you sing now?"
She fell silent. Her cheeks flushed red, not from the sunset.
"H-here?"
"Here. There's no one else. Just me."
"Well, just a little bit," she murmured, and then, to my surprise, she straightened up a little, closed her eyes, and began to sing.
Her voice wasn't perfect. She didn't have the training of a diva or the brilliance of a star. But there was something about her… something broken and beautiful, something that sounded like hope and melancholy at the same time. She sang a song I didn't recognize, perhaps one of those arias she learned in her childhood, and when she finished, the silence that followed was more eloquent than any applause.
I clapped. Long. Loud. Until she looked away, embarrassed.
"Enough," she said, with a trembling smile.
"That was beautiful, Veronica."
"You're lying."
"I never lie about important things."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she gave me a little tap on the shoulder.
"You're an idiot, Razel. But an adorable idiot."
"Thanks, I think."
I accompanied her back to the house as the sun began to tint the sky a deeper hue. Veronica was happier than I had ever seen her, and that made me happy too.
(But you are ruining it, Razel. You're giving hope to four women who aren't your fiancées. Eli is going to kill you. Literally. She'll kill you with her own hands. Or worse: she'll give you that disappointed look that hurts more than any punch.)
◇
After a short break to go to the bathroom — and to secretly vomit the food I'd accumulated during the first date, because my stomach couldn't take any more — I was heading for the exit when a group of children surrounded me.
They were led by the white-haired brat. Oz, I think his name was. The same one who had looked at me like an idiot on more than one occasion.
"Don't you dare do anything weird to Sister, you weird-faced pervert," he spat, arms crossed, with an expression that mixed hatred and possessiveness.
My good mood, already on the floor, completely collapsed.
"I wish it were what you think, you little shit," I replied, bending down a bit to his height. "We're just going to have a date between responsible adults, while stinky brats like you stay here sniffing each other's asses like animals."
To top it off, I made a grotesque face, sticking out my tongue and crossing my eyes.
The little bastard, instead of getting scared, stuck his fingers up my nose.
"It stinks!"
"I wasn't the only one who went to the bathroom," I responded, pushing his hand away.
"Little devil…"
I was about to murder the brat when she came down the stairs.
"Sorry for the delay," said a soft voice.
I stood looking at Monika.
For the first time, she had left behind her nun's habit. She wore a one-piece dress, but the kind you'd wear at home: it was pale pink, like cherry blossoms in spring, and reached mid-thigh. Over it, she wore a short cream-colored coat, and black shorts peeked out. Her violet-blue hair, normally hidden under her bonnet, was tied in a ponytail that revealed her nape, white and delicate.
It was a simple style. Captivating. Human.
"Children, I'll be gone for a while. Behave," she said with a maternal smile.
"Yes, Sister," the little bastards chorused, smiling and nodding as if they were watching their mother leave home after a long time.
Monika approached me.
"Let's go," she said, taking my hand naturally.
Before leaving, I threw one last glance at the little bastard Oz. He flipped me off just as the door closed.
(I swear I'll hit you, you little shit. I won't let some damn kid make a fool of me.)
But more importantly, our date awaited.
"Where are we going?" I asked her as we walked down the street.
And she replied with a smile:
"To eat something sweet. Do you like desserts?"
"I love them," I admitted, and it wasn't a lie.
Monika took me to a small dessert shop hidden on a side street. It was an intimate place, with wooden tables and paper lanterns casting dancing shadows on the pastel-colored wallpaper. It smelled of cinnamon, vanilla, and freshly baked dough.
"I used to come here when I was young," she said, as we sat at a secluded table. "The owner would give me broken pastries because she knew I couldn't pay."
"And now you can?"
"Now I can pay for both of us," she replied, winking.
We ordered a selection of little cakes, fruit tarts, and a couple of cups of steaming tea. While we ate — she with a delicacy unbefitting a nun, me with the voracity of a man who had been fooling his stomach for hours — the conversation flowed like a calm river.
"Angie told me what she said to you," Monika began, in a casual tone. "That she likes you because you're funny and strong. Veronica told me she likes you because you're eccentric and faithful."
"Do you talk about this among yourselves?"
"Of course. We're friends. Friends talk about the men they like."
"And you?" I asked, taking a sip of tea. "What did you tell them about me?"
Monika was silent for a moment. She fiddled with her cup, turning it between her fingers.
"I also have problems with my family, but not like they think," she finally said, without looking at me. "Like Angie. But in my case, it was different. My family kicked me out."
"They kicked you out?"
"I opposed them stealing money from the church. My father wanted to use it to pay off gambling debts. I said no. I said it was immoral. And the next day, I had my bags in my hand and the order never to return. They punished me by sending me to a church lost in the middle of nowhere. That was years ago."
"And now you're a nun."
"Now I'm a nun," she nodded, with a sad smile. "Not out of vocation, but out of survival. But I love the church where we lived, me and the children. They were difficult days, it's true, but I don't regret them… since I met you, Razel, I feel like something changed for the better."
"What changed?"
"I felt safe. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid that something might happen like that time. I lived in constant fear, but that feeling went away when you arrived… I want to keep feeling it. I want to keep getting to know you."
Her violet eyes looked at me intently. There was something in them that reminded me of Eli, of Lily, of all those I had left behind. Something that said, *"Please, don't leave me."*
"Monika…" I started to say.
But I couldn't finish. Because at that moment, I felt a gaze on the back of my neck. A cold gaze. Murderous. Childish.
I turned around.
There, pressed against the dessert shop window like a slimy snail, was Oz. The little shit. He watched us with eyes that promised revenge.
"What are you doing here?" I growled.
"Watching over Sister," he replied, with a diabolical smile. "So the weird-faced pervert doesn't do anything weird."
"I'm not going to do anything weird, you stinky brat!"
"Horny dog," he spat, and then ran off.
"SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"
I shot out of the shop like a rocket. I chased him down the street, amid the laughter of passersby and Monika's shouts for me to come back. I caught Oz in an alley — why is it always alleys? — and lifted him by the collar of his shirt.
"You owe me an apology," I said, out of breath.
"Never," he replied, with a dignity unbefitting his age.
"Well then, you're staying hanging here all night!"
I left him dangling from an iron hook on the wall, high enough that he couldn't climb down but not high enough to hurt himself if he fell. He screamed, kicked, called me everything. I just ignored him.
When I returned to the dessert shop, Monika was laughing. A clean, sincere laugh that lit up her face like the sun breaking through clouds.
"You're terrible," she said, wiping away a tear of laughter.
"That brat asked for it."
"I know. That's why."
Without realizing it, the clock had advanced mercilessly. It was three in the afternoon. We had spent more time than planned, but she didn't seem to mind.
We returned to the house. At the door, the children welcomed us with shouts of joy. Monika brought them some food from the shop, and I, for my part, went straight to find Oz to hit him.
I found him still there. Still hanging in the alley. I laughed for a good while before letting him down.
◇
Again I had a break to go to the bathroom. And to vomit again. I hadn't done anything obscene, and I was already tired as if I'd had to make them all happy at once.
I sat on the step outside the house when the door opened.
There stood Louisa. She wore the same clothes as in the morning: a long beige dress, simple but elegant, accompanied by her handbag. Her long black hair rested on her shoulder like a silk mantle. Her eyes, always closed, gave her an air of mystery and sweetness that disarmed.
"You look tired," she said. "Shall we stop?"
"Of course not. It's just that I never expected having so many dates to be so exhausting."
"Ufufu," she laughed, with that laugh of hers that sounded like a distant little bell. "Normally a man would never say that in front of a woman. But with you it sounds so natural, and even normal, for some reason."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Perhaps."
"So, where do you want to go?" I asked, expecting some suggestion.
She stood up and offered me her hand.
"Let's go have some coffee."
"Coffee? At this hour? Do you write book reviews or something?"
"You're very funny, Razel-kun. Come."
I stood up. Her fingers were soft and warm. We walked to a small coffee shop she knew, where the owner greeted her with a familiarity that spoke of years of visits.
Louisa ordered two cups of black coffee, no sugar. I, being more into sweet things, had to struggle not to make a face at the first sip.
"You don't like it," she said, watching me with a half-smile.
"It's not that I don't like it," I lied. "It's just… I have a childish palate."
"There's nothing wrong with that."
We drank in silence for a moment. The coffee was bitter, yes, but it also had a hint of chocolate and wet earth that eventually grew on me. Or perhaps it was the company.
"You know?" Louisa began, setting her cup down on the table. "Since my divorce, I've never been close to a man. None were interested in me."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it's true. I'm a baroness, yes, but I'm also an older woman, divorced, and without great wealth. To the men in my circle, that's synonymous with 'useless.'"
"Those men are idiots," I said, without filter.
She laughed, that laugh of hers that felt like a caress.
"Maybe. You're very direct, Razel-kun. I like that. Truth be told, I agreed to this date because the girls pressured me. They insisted so much that I finally said yes. But I don't think a young man with a promising future like you would be interested in old women like me."
"Old? You?" I interrupted, setting my cup down harder than necessary. "That's not true. You're beautiful, Louisa. And I'm not saying that to be nice. I'm saying it because it's true."
"You're very kind…"
"I'm not kind. I'm honest. And I'll tell you more: if I could, I'd monopolize all of you."
"All of us?"
"All of you. Angie, Veronica, Monika… you. Each of you is special in your own way. And yes, I'm a selfish bastard who wants to keep everything he likes. That's how I am."
Louisa looked at me intently. Her green eyes, normally hidden behind sleepy lids, opened wide. They were bright, deep, like two emeralds that had been asleep for years and were now awakening.
"If there were a chance for me to be selfish too," she said, in a whisper, "I would take it. I would take you, Razel-kun. I would make you mine without asking."
"Then do it," I replied, without thinking.
She shook her head, but smiled.
"No. Not now. I'll wait for your return. When you've fulfilled what you need to fulfill, when you no longer have any ties… then I'll be selfish again. Because with you, Razel, I feel like the others: safe. Safe in your arms."
I didn't know how to respond to that. So I just finished my coffee, paid the bill — against her protests — and accompanied her back to the house.
The sun was already setting. Shadows stretched like pointed fingers across the ground.
"Thank you for today," she said before entering. "It was a beautiful day."
"The pleasure was mine."
She went in. And I stood there, feeling that my heart weighed twice as much.
(What the hell am I doing?)
◇
Before I knew it, night began to fall. The streetlights turned on automatically, just like in the empire, bathing the streets in an orange, ghostly glow. Night had arrived, and with it, the last date.
The first girl I had to escort.
Iris.
She was at the door of the house, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, with an expression that mixed impatience and curiosity.
"Where were you?" she asked.
"Taking a walk," I lied.
(I'm not going to tell her I was vomiting to make room in my stomach. But I feel awful right now. If she gets close, I'll lose it.)
The last date arrived. The sky was a black vault speckled with stars, and the streets of the capital, once bustling, were now quiet, almost empty. Only the lampposts accompanied our steps.
Iris walked beside me. She wore the same white dress as in the morning, but now, under the moonlight, she looked like a beautiful ghost, an apparition from another world.
"How were your dates with the others?" she asked, intrigued.
"Exhausting," I replied honestly. "But nice. They all confessed."
"And you? Did you accept?"
"I wanted to," I admitted, putting my hands in my pockets. "I wanted to accept each one. But I didn't."
"Why?"
"Because of my goal."
Iris fell silent. For some reason, she blushed.
We walked like that, without speaking, until we reached a small street stall that was still open. We bought two skewers — though my stomach protested violently — and continued strolling.
"My stomach is growling," she said suddenly, letting out an embarrassed laugh.
"I thought you said you'd already eaten."
"I ate, but… it was little."
"You're a liar."
"And you're a glutton."
We burst out laughing at the same time. It was a short laugh, but sincere, the kind that soothes the soul.
"Razel-kun," Iris said, when the laughter faded. "If it weren't for your goal… would you accept?"
"Accept what?"
"The girls. All of them."
"Well, saying it is easy, but doing it is another thing…"
She stopped short. She looked at me. Her blue eyes shone under the moon like two fallen stars.
"Would you include me?"
I didn't know what to answer. But my mouth, that damned mouth that always gets me into trouble, spoke for me.
"If it weren't for my goal, I would take you too. And the others. All of them. I'm selfish, Iris. I want everything that shines. And you… all of you shine."
The silence became eternal.
Then Iris smiled. A small, shy smile, but full of hope.
"That makes me happy," she whispered. "Because it means I have a chance."
And we kept walking, in silence, under the stars, each with their own thoughts and unspoken promises.
◇◇◇
A man walked through the cobbled streets of the capital with the nonchalance of someone who fears nothing and no one.
He was a survivor of a place known as "The Underworld," an underground hideout hidden in the depths of the kingdom where illegal activities took place: arms sales, drugs, etc. But the most profitable were the underground fights.
Fights where life and death were the bread of every day.
That man with the untrustworthy smile had a name. Frankie Tommyroad was his real name, but in the world of underground fighting they called him by another: "Dark Smile," because he was covered in blood after beating his opponents to death.
But one day he was visited by a mysterious figure who asked him if he wanted a new life, where he could earn more money serving a master.
He accepted the proposal and ended up becoming part of the Phantom Troupe, the seventh seat of the Thirteen Night Swords, under the pseudonym "Sting."
Members of the Phantom Troupe always used code names, a custom as old as the organization itself, intended to dissolve their real identities like salt in water. No one should know who they were. No one should trace them.
He, in particular, was a man of imposing musculature, the kind that seemed sculpted from granite with hammer blows. His size and dangerous look were enough for common passersby to avert their eyes and quicken their pace around him.
He had extremely short, light blond, slightly messy hair, but what really caught the eye was the pink mohawk that stood on the center of his head like the crest of a fighting rooster.
His skin, slightly tanned, had the matte tone of dry earth. He had a large, prominent nose, a face with hard features, marked by years of violence, and eyebrows so thick they looked like two caterpillars curled over his eyes. Those eyes… they were a blackish-green color, like the bottom of a well where light does not reach.
And then there was his smile.
Wide, exaggerated, almost horse-like. When Sting smiled — and he did it often, for pleasure or contempt — he showed a row of white, sharp teeth that had earned him his nickname in the Underworld. It wasn't an honorary title. It was a warning.
He wore a dark green tank top, white silk pants that hung loosely over his legs, and leather sandals that barely muffled the sound of his footsteps. His way of walking was that of a neighborhood thug: swaying hips, shoulders thrown back, gaze fixed ahead as if the whole world owed him something.
Hours earlier, he had made a bet with the two troupe members assigned to get rid of Razel. They both lost, since he had cheated.
Now, on this beautiful night, Sting roamed the capital with a single purpose: to find that unusual young man and finish the job himself.
Thanks to Baron Olston, he knew he was there; he just had to search for him like a dog after its prey.
(It shouldn't be difficult. He's just a lucky brat, nothing more.)
(I'll beat him up, take him to our hideout, and everyone will praise me.)
(Hahahaha! It's a perfect plan. I can't wait to get my promotion.)
(I guess I'll go to the best brothel in the capital and do them all. My crotch is burning with excitement!)
He thought all this as his sandals echoed on the flagstones.
"A guy who fights with his fists… an adventurer with no trade or benefit. Ha!"
But fate, whimsical as a hungry beast, decided to place its prey right in front of his nose.
He watched, in that narrow street full of people, two young people walking calmly, enjoying their evening.
(Ooh la la! A noble beauty.)
(Getting women like that, virgins or with all their teeth, was really complicated and expensive.)
(And next to her is...)
Sting showed his famous Dark Smile.
(Bingo!)
Razel walked toward him on the same street, chatting animatedly with Iris.
"Did you really fall off a cliff and you're okay? Hahaha, I don't believe it!"
"I tell you it's true. It was a huge height, and I survived by luck."
Sting didn't hesitate for a second upon seeing his prey happily enjoying his life, unaware that he would soon be his prey. In a movement so fast it seemed rehearsed, he brushed against the young man's side and, with the skill of a professional thief, extracted the wallet from his pocket.
"Oops. Sorry."
"No problem."
He felt it between his fingers like a small leather heart.
Razel then stopped, moved his hand to his pants, and then turned to look at Sting, who turned into an alley, not without making sure he saw him with his unsettling horse-like smile.
"Is something wrong?" asked Iris, worried.
Razel replied with a smile.
"It's nothing. I just dropped something. I'll be right back."
Razel walked toward where Sting had entered. Iris remained concerned.
The alley was narrow, damp, with brick walls covered in moss and a floor that reeked of urine and stagnant moisture. The moonlight barely filtered in a thin strip that fell on a pile of broken boxes. Sting waited sitting on those boxes at the far end, arms crossed, with that perpetual grimace distorting his face.
"You should have stayed away, kakaka!" he said, laughing sinisterly because he knew very well what would happen, and his voice bounced off the walls like an echo from beyond the grave.
But Razel showed neither fear nor surprise. His face remained impassive, almost bored. It was an expression Sting knew well: the expression of someone who has already seen too much to be impressed by a neighborhood thug.
"Meh, let's get this over with quickly," was the only response Sting received.
Something broke inside the huge man. *"Meh"? That's all?* he thought at that moment.
He felt the blood boil in his veins. He raised his right arm, an arm as thick as a young tree trunk, and prepared to unleash a blow that, under any other circumstance, would have fractured a wall.
He never got to throw it.
Outside, Iris heard a dry, fast sound, repeated three times in less time than it takes a clock to tick: tac, tac, tac. Then silence.
Razel came out of the alley as calmly as he had entered. He scratched the back of his neck.
"What happened?" asked Iris, a slight tremor in her voice.
"Nothing. My wallet fell in there, and I had to get it back," he replied, showing that he had recovered his wallet.
"That person didn't…?"
"Nope. He was very kind. He was shy, that's why he looked for the darkness to return it."
"I-I see. So there are people like that."
"Yes. Let's keep enjoying the night."
Then, without further explanation, they resumed their walk. Iris followed him, though not without glancing toward the darkness of the alley, wondering:
(Did that really happen?)
Inside that dark alley, Sting lay on his back on the broken boxes. His face had received three punches, and a lot of blood was coming from his nose and bleeding gums. His face, once so arrogant, was now a map of confusion and astonishment.
Blood dripped from his forehead and mixed with the dust on the ground. He tried to get up, but the pain ran through his side like a flaming blade.
"One second…" he murmured, in a halting voice. "He took one damned second to hit me three times."
He rested his head against the wall and let out a bitter, broken laugh that turned into a groan.
"That guy… he's not human. He's a monster. A monster with no place in this world."
And there he remained, under the faint strip of moonlight filtering between the buildings, defeated before he had even begun to fight.
__________________
I hope you enjoyed this chapter with the girls, because we won't see them again for the rest of the volume.
The fanservice goes to Iris, who is so beautiful that she inspired this image:
https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/11328192