Night, like thick ink, slowly seeped across the sky over Sixth Street. The daytime noise and street-smoke warmth had mostly withdrawn, leaving only tireless neon—smearing the wet pavement into blurred, lonely patches of color.
Qianye sat alone in the small second-floor room above Heal, a space that doubled as bedroom and study. The occasional engine sound from outside felt distant, unreal.
The blue glow of his personal terminal lit his slightly pale face.
His fingertips hovered over the screen for a moment. Then they fell, and he typed line after line of encrypted text.
Recipient — Wise and Belle.
The message was concise and direct: the current state of Calydon's Children, the challenges ahead, and the Hellfire Ride—a decisive race that would reshape the Outer Ring's balance and determine Calydon's Children's future.
He attached the shareable files and data. With Wise's rigor and Belle's sharp instincts, they'd see the risks and opportunities immediately.
Send. The message dropped into the network like a stone into deep sea—silent, swallowed by the current.
He didn't have to wait long.
He'd barely lifted the lukewarm herbal tea beside him and taken a sip—trying to smooth out his churning thoughts—when the terminal chimed softly.
The screen brightened. Two replies arrived almost back-to-back.
First came Wise—structured as always, calm and objective, with a quiet warmth underneath:
"Info received. 'Hellfire Ride'… not a race we've dealt with before. But we didn't really get a break last week anyway—and if you need us, we'll treat it as an Outer Ring trip."
Then came Belle—bursting, lively, practically bouncing off the screen:
"WOOOOW! Sounds suuuuuuper exciting!! No problem, no problem—leave it to Phaethon! (^▽^)Perfect timing to meet Qianye's new friends! See you tomorrow!!PS: Don't tell me they're all other women, okay?!"
Qianye's tight lips curled upward before he noticed.
Different voices, perfectly complementary—like them.
Warmth slid through him, gently pushing away some of the shadow stuck in his chest.
With them around, even the nastiest knot felt like it might have an answer.
But the relief didn't last.
His gaze drifted—toward downstairs—and the warmth thinned at once.
Zhu Yuan was still there.
Her presence… and what had happened at Hot Hope Point—that kiss, a storm that had swallowed his senses—the abnormal flicker of the sealing patterns, Lucy's brutal intervention…
All of it tangled into a mess in his head.
Her identity as a law officer. Their history. The dangerous, delicate situation he was in now.
Instinctively, Qianye chose caution.
He reopened the terminal, found Lucy's contact, and sent a single short line:
"Phaethon contacted. They'll arrive tomorrow morning."
Some things had to remain hidden from Zhu Yuan—for now.
Lucy's reply came fast and efficient, just one word:
"Received."
Blunt and clean. Exactly like her.
Almost at the same time, Lucy's voice carried up from downstairs—clear, cutting through the shop's sticky tension with the decisiveness of Calydon's Children's "house manager":
"Everyone, it's late. The route back to the Outer Ring isn't short, and night driving is risky. We're staying in the city a few days to resupply anyway. I propose we borrow Qianye's place for the night. Any objections?"
The response was immediate—and enthusiastic.
"Sure! Saves the hassle of going back and forth!" Caesar's booming voice was first, carefree and loud. "My back's kinda sore anyway. Qianye, lend me your sofa!"
Burnice gave a soft, unreadable giggle—honey-thick and dangerous.
"Hehe Sounds great. I can be closer to little Qianye"
Qianye's ears warmed.
From some corner came Piper's sleepy drawl:
"Mmm… anywhere I can flop is fine… I'm dead tired…"
Upstairs, Qianye listened to their shameless agreement, shaking his head helplessly—while a quiet warmth rose in him too.
They trusted him. Leaned on him.
He stepped out, began clearing the second-floor guest room, putting away scattered herbs and books, making space for people who had already decided they belonged under his roof.
As he moved, he could faintly hear the mismatch downstairs—Zhu Yuan and Calydon's Children sharing the same air, the same room, and none of the same temperature.
Sure enough, not long after, Zhu Yuan's voice rose—trying to stay calm, but failing to fully hide a thin urgency beneath it:
"If lodging is a problem, I can arrange a partner hotel near Lumina Square—under the name of the New Eridu Public Security Bureau. The environment and security will be more… complete."
She hesitated, searching for the right words, then lowered her tone and added awkwardly:
"As for the cost… I'll cover it personally. It won't come out of official expenses."
Wrapped in professional language, the offer still carried something she might not even have been able to dissect herself.
That sudden kiss—born from impulse and tangled emotion—had hit her tranquil inner lake like a boulder. The ripples were far beyond her control.
The restraint she'd built from not seeing Qianye for so long now melted like spring ice, eating into her reason.
A fierce, unfamiliar possessiveness and protective urge had begun to grow.
She didn't want these women—close to Qianye, and openly… suggestive—like Lucy with her cold precision, like Burnice with her sweetly dangerous smile…
…to have too much unmonitored access to him.
Especially at night.
Especially in his private space.
But Calydon's Children shut it down without hesitation—dismissive, even.
"No need, Miss Officer."
Lucy answered first, her voice frost-clean, boundary-sharp.
"Calydon's Children are used to our own people's places. We're comfortable. A hotel can be as soft as it wants—nothing beats a partner's roof."
Her words were airtight. And they made it clear: Zhu Yuan was not 'our people.'
Caesar was even more direct, laughing as she waved a hand.
"Exactly! Hotels aren't as comfy as little Qianye's place! We're sleeping here! Thanks anyway, Miss Zhu Yuan—haha!"
Piper didn't even open her eyes. Just mumbled:
"Trouble…"
Zhu Yuan stood there, facing a refusal that didn't even bother pretending to be polite.
The authority and goodwill she'd relied on as an officer felt weightless here—pale and useless.
A blend of embarrassment, loss, and a small sting of grievance crawled up her throat.
She lifted her eyes to the staircase, gaze trying to pierce the wooden boards—toward the silver-haired figure moving upstairs.
In the end, she pressed her bloodless lips together and swallowed everything she still wanted to say.
"…If that's the case, then I won't disturb you. Everyone… good night."
Her voice trembled, just slightly.
She turned, pushed open Heal's door, and her silhouette was quickly devoured by the deep Sixth Street night—leaving behind only a faint trace of her scent lingering for a moment before it, too, thinned and disappeared.
Upstairs, Qianye froze for a beat at the soft click of the door closing.
Something complicated flickered through him.
But it was quickly buried by tomorrow's work.
He kept tidying, preparing.
The next morning, the sunlight was gentle. It slipped through Heal's front window and scattered broken light across the wooden floor.
Belle arrived right on time.
Her deep-blue bob looked energetic, and that T-shirt—still that T-shirt—printed with bizarre characters reading "Genius" (or something close enough) bounced with her steps.
The moment she entered, her moss-green eyes swept the room with open curiosity, not even trying to hide it—locking onto Calydon's Children: Caesar's imposing aura, Burnice's sweet smile, Piper's lazy sprawl.
Ah… figures. All women…
…Whatever. I'm used to it.
She sighed internally, then straightened up, forcing brightness back onto her face.
"Morning, everyone! I'm Belle—Qianye's big sister!"
She tapped the communicator at her ear, where a small indicator light blinked faintly.
"My brother's online listening in! Little Qianye already told us—you need Phaethon's help!"
No excessive small talk. No probing. Both sides were straightforward.
Lucy, as the representative, re-laid the essentials—clean and clear: the importance of Hellfire Ride, and the rope-maker support they needed inside the Hollow: navigation, route planning, real-time guidance, and handling unexpected incidents.
Belle folded her arms and listened seriously, occasionally murmuring into her communicator to exchange quick opinions with Wise.
In the end, she clapped once, eyes shining with excitement.
"Got it! Sounds super challenging. Phaethon accepts the commission! Right, bro?"
Wise's calm voice came through the comm:
"Mm. Risks are controllable. Objective is clear. We can cooperate."
Deal sealed.
Lucy immediately distributed tasks for maximum efficiency.
"Piper and I stay behind to purchase Outer Ring shortages and race parts.
Once we're done, we'll drive Big Steel Fang back at top speed.
Caesar, Burnice—you escort Qianye and Miss Belle. Take Billy's truck and head out first.
We need to return to Wildfire Town as soon as possible."
Everyone moved fast.
Billy's truck roared up outside Heal in no time—rough, loud, and out of place on Sixth Street.
Qianye, Belle, Caesar, and Burnice climbed in one after another.
Caesar looked thrilled, like this was a party, not a dangerous event.
Burnice sat by the window, smile soft and unreadable, red eyes watching the city slide backward.
The truck left orderly Sixth Street and merged onto the wide road leading out of the city.
Speed climbed. Wind began to howl along the body of the truck.
In the back, Qianye and Belle lowered their voices, chatting. The topic quickly drifted from Hellfire Ride to what he'd experienced during his "vacation."
Caesar jumped in now and then, asking about Weifei—places she'd never been.
Burnice went quiet.
Quiet in a way she rarely was.
Her gaze stayed on Qianye and Belle as they talked, something hard to read flickering deep in her eyes.
The trip started smooth: straight highway, city skyline fading behind them, replaced by increasingly barren outskirts.
But roads into the unknown always hid thorns.
As the truck entered a narrow highway curve—
a suffocating crisis struck without warning, like a snake lunging from ambush.
From the opposite bend, a massive tanker truck—loaded with unknown liquid—came roaring toward them like an out-of-control steel beast.
Its tires shrieked against asphalt.
The huge cylindrical tank caught the sun with a cold glare.
A death-shadow dropped over them in an instant.
"What's wrong with that truck?!! Ah—IT'S GONNA HIT—IT'S GONNA HIT!!!"
Belle's scream sliced through the cabin.
Then her voice snapped into something else—fast, razor-clear, pure rope-maker instinct:
"Billy, RIGHT! Billy, turn right into the Hollow! That unstable Hollow fissure—drive into it! NOW! It's the only way we live!"
There was no time.
Billy acted on the rope-maker's order almost on reflex—stomping the accelerator and wrenching the wheel.
The truck bellowed. The engine screamed at full output.
The chassis twisted under inertia with a bone-grinding groan—
and the whole vehicle veered off the road in a near-suicidal swerve—
straight into the freshly-formed Hollow fissure at the roadside, its edges warping with ominous instability.
The moment the truck was swallowed by the chaotic entrance—
the out-of-control tanker howled past the fissure's edge, missing it by a hair, then screeched to a stop with a heavy, dull slam.
The tanker cab door flew open.
A driver, death-pale and shaking like a sieve, tumbled out and dropped to his knees on the rough asphalt, retching air, terror and exhaustion crushing his face.
Then—footsteps.
Unhurried. Close.
He looked up, trembling.
Lucius—a blond young man in a well-cut jacket, face arrogant—strolled over at a leisurely pace.
Behind him, a bit farther back, Morse leaned like a shadow against a black motorcycle.
Mask on. Grey-white wolf ears twitching faintly in the wind.
Cold green eyes swept the scene, then fixed on the Hollow fissure the truck had vanished into—sharp as a blade, as if mapping prey routes.
"L-Lucius—sir!" the driver whimpered, clinging to him like a lifeline while drowning in deeper fear. "I did what you told me! Please—please let me go! My family—"
Lucius acted as if he hadn't heard.
He didn't even look at the driver.
His gaze stayed locked on the Hollow.
His brows knitted.
Then, as though something inside him spasmed, his body began to tremble. He clawed at his scalp hard enough to rake his own skin, the calm mask twisting into something jagged.
"No… no—this isn't right." His voice came out harsh, frantic. "Morse! You're damn sure that was Calydon's Children's truck?!" The anxiety in him was raw.
Morse's voice slid out behind the mask—low, sure, wolf-raspy:
"Not wrong. Model, mods, and that… disgusting free-and-loose stench Calydon's Children carry."
His green eyes never left the fissure.
"What's wrong with you, Lucius?"
"I felt it…" Lucius sounded borderline hysterical now. He punched his thigh hard. "Damn it—damn it! There was something on that truck that made me feel wrong!"
"No—no no no—damn it! What the hell was on that truck?!"
Morse's brows drew together slightly, but he didn't indulge the outburst. He stayed cool.
"Lucius. Calm down. The plan deviated, but the prey ran into a dead end. No need to care."
At the edge of Lucius's breakdown, something flickered inside his pupils—
a thread of pink light, flaring like a fire about to erupt—boiling with terrifying rage—
then, amid frantic flicker, it vanished.
As that pink glow disappeared, Lucius sucked in a few breaths and forcibly shoved down the irritation and the inexplicable palpitations.
The mania drained from his face.
His usual false, in-control smile returned, as if nothing had happened.
"Heh. Sorry. I got… a little excited."
He spoke lightly, then finally turned toward the driver, who was still kneeling, sweat-soaked and shaking so hard he looked like he might wet himself.
Lucius crouched and patted the driver's face with his palm—mocking, humiliating—while his voice stayed unnervingly gentle.
"Good job. Shame I didn't get to watch that junk truck explode into fireworks. I'll give you a passing score—sixty-one."
He paused, watching despair rise in the driver's eyes, then smiled wider.
"But if you're willing to help me with one tiny extra favor… I might consider giving you a perfect one hundred."
"Even… a bonus."
The driver's voice cracked, terror twisting it into something almost unrecognizable.
"Y-You… what do you need me to do?! I'll do it—I'll do anything!"
"What?"
Lucius smiled—cold, cruel, amused like a cat toying with a mouse.
He leaned closer to the driver's sweat-wet ear, and like a serpent flicking its tongue, he spoke each word cleanly.
"I want you… to restart that tanker."
"Drive straight—full speed—into Wildfire Town."
"Let flame and chaos become its new decoration."
The words were soul-freezing.
The driver's blood turned to ice.
Even Morse—arms folded, stone-still against his bike—let out the faintest nasal hum beneath the mask.
As if he found this kind of brute-force destruction… lacking "technical elegance."
Still, he didn't intervene.
Only the slightest glint passed through his wolf-green eyes—an unhealthy anticipation of what large-scale chaos could breed.
"No… no! I can't! That's—massacre!"
Lucius's voice stayed terrifyingly calm, more lethal than any shout.
"Think about your family."
"Your mother in Cixin Nursing Home."
"And your son—lung disease—waiting for surgery in the hospital."
"If you refuse… then unfortunately, they won't see tomorrow's sun."
"After all, New Eridu has accidents every day. Doesn't it?"
He rose, pulled out a silk handkerchief, and slowly wiped his fingers—as if his hand had been dirtied by touching the driver's face.
Then, without looking back, he spoke to Morse with the casual tone of discussing weather:
"Looks like our driver needs help making up his mind."
"Morse—contact our people in the city."
"Have them help this gentleman's family… go on their way. Cleanly."
"No—! I'll do it! I'll do it!!"
The driver's scream tore out of him. He collapsed completely, body turning to mud, only terror keeping him capable of answering.
Lucius's eyes skimmed over him with contempt—like a tool, nothing more.
Then his gaze lifted past the scene, toward the distant, blurred, grand silhouette of New Eridu.
A sudden, twisted devotion ignited in his eyes.
He murmured, so softly only he could hear—yet thick with sickening worship:
"Lady Sarah…"
"I wonder if you, far away in the city, can see the flames about to rise?"
"The overture of chaos."
"This tiny… firework I'm offering you."
"I hope this crude performance can please you a little."
"Prove my value."
"But, Lady Sarah…"
"What was that awful guilt I suddenly felt just now…?"
His words scattered in the wind—subordinate to mastermind, worship to shadow—quietly pointing the hierarchy of this vile scheme toward the true operator hidden in darkness:
Sarah.
Morse watched Lucius's "devout" posture and felt a little speechless.
He looked away—then, as his gaze dropped toward the Hollow fissure below, a puzzlement tugged at him.
Lucius is so young…
When did he get white hair? And that kind you can't even hide?
He didn't have it a few days ago…
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 155)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter200)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter110)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter230)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 200
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 180
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass Volume2/5
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 230
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 220
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 154
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player Volume4/30
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 120
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 135
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 110
I Can Copy Unique Skills 100
Summoning an Evil God, but the 70
Supernatural Multiverse 100
My Harem Is Indescribable 90
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 95
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 68
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 105
Still playing traditional Honk 69
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 80
What Should I Do After Switchi - Volume2/3
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 70
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 55
Transmigrated as Sukuna 75
Checking In in Demon Slayer 80
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 85
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 70
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 65
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 70
What Do You Mean by Using a Lab Mod to Be the Hero? 70
Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 65
Why did they assign me to Uma 65
MYGO Beauties 65
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 55
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 65
Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 45
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 45
The Uma Musume Who Became 40
I'm Definitely Not the King of 45
After Maxing Out Every Class 45
My patreon : patreon.com/queen_sin
My patreon : patreon.com/queen_sin