"The first of the VVIPs arrived—Micah Frey."

  "Thank you." Marianna rose from her desk. The golden clock on the opposite wall showed that it was midnight.

  Right on time.

  She stepped out of her office and into the private halls at the back of the Gilded Siren. The opulent corridor glowed with warm chandelier light, reflecting off the golden jewelry on her wrists and ears, and the ruby silk of her gown. Each of her steps sent a subtle shimmer through the fabric.

  Today was not the monthly syndicate meeting. It was a meeting between individuals far more curious.

  Marianna pulled out her red embroidered fan and fluttered it, more out of habit and as a fidget to occupy her hand, than for the actual breeze.

  Micah rounded the corner, dressed in a light blue suit with golden detailing.

  She nodded her head toward him, and he inclined his ever so slightly back. He had been the one to request the meeting room. A few days ago, he was crowned King. A King Consort, to be precise, but the new King of Adovoria nonetheless.

  A King with ambition sharp enough to repress the nobles against him, and the charm to pull the long pushed-aside commoners to his side.

  A slight shiver danced beneath Marianna's skin. She stilled her fan.

  She had always been careful with the heads of Garden, the oldest syndicate in Adovoria's existence. Micah's mother, Elizabeth, the previous Golden Rose, had handed him the Garden syndicate far earlier than Marianna believed sensible. But Micah's first month in power had proven her wrong. In his first month at the mantle, he had successfully absorbed an entire rival syndicate effortlessly. Since then, she never again underestimated him.

  And he has only grown more formidable since then.

  Just as Micah disappeared down the corridor, the next VVIP arrived.

  Claude Noire.

  Marianna's expression remained pleasant and light, but her pulse tightened. He was a shrewd businessman, much like herself, and was happy to cut off an arm if the profit margin was high enough.

  Claude, in typical fashion, wore a long black coat that swept behind him like a shadow. His shoulder-length hair looked artfully disheveled. Everything about him suggested aesthetic care masquerading as indifference.

  He was as dangerous as Micah, calculating, ruthless, and decisive, but preferred to remain in the shadows, while Micah preferred to bask in the spotlight. Despite many similarities, the pair's ambitions had kept them practically at each other's throats not that far in the past. Yet now, the daggers had been sheathed and out of sight.

  They were no friends by any means. Oil and water could not mix. But they had come to a truce of some sort. Knowing the two young men, it was likely based on some cold, calculated arrangement that benefited them both.

  Just as she had with Micah, Marianna merely nodded toward Claude as he passed by. She was not part of their meeting, and there was no time or interest in small talk.

  Claude's eyes flicked to her briefly—sharp and slightly amused—and then he vanished around the corner.

  Her gaze turned toward the third arrival.

  Grandov Lyman.

  He strode across the hall wearing the standard uniform of The Order, and his presence garnered attention. Barely in his twenties, yet he was already second-in-command of the entire institution. Under his leadership, The Order had undergone rapid reform: harsher training, more efficient procedures, and, most notably, the introduction of cutting-edge weaponry crafted by none other than the child genius, Elda Frey.

  Grandov was justice incarnate. A soldier who loved Adovoria and was fiercely loved in return.

  He was the true light that shone against the manufactured benevolence of Micah and the unapologetic, blatant self-serving of Claude. Yet, here he was. Attending a secret meeting with men whose reputations would usually set him at odds.

  Marianna offered him a polite nod.

  He returned the gesture, stiff but courteous.

  As expected.

  Before she could dwell further, a smooth voice breezed through the hall.

  "Do you mind sending up some of your Pelindaur wine? The year of Adovoria's late King's crowning. And fresh grapes—the Sun Drop variety, not Muscat."

  The fourth guest strolled in wearing round mirrored blue shades, radiating the confidence of someone who had grown up with a golden spoon and a flurry of attendants to meet his every need. He had never set foot in the Gilded Siren as far as Marianna knew, yet he moved comfortably as if he were walking his own halls.

  Prince Chase Daylan.

  The youngest child of the late Queen Yadana Daylan, and the black horse that no one expected to make the waves that he had. Not only had he captured the minds and pockets of much of the population into his Golden Triangle cult, but he was also a Queen-maker. If rumors were to be believed, he had quietly orchestrated the removal of all rivals to ensure his sister Deanna's clean ascension to the throne of the Daylan Dynasty.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  To think: beneath that veneer of childlike gaiety was a man who paid no mind to having all his siblings, save for two, killed off in a matter of a few months.

  He flashed Marianna a bright, carefree grin, radiant with mischief, and vanished around the corner.

  What might they be here to discuss? So curious.

  But Marianna's reputation was built on absolute and utter discretion. Her casinos had seen countless unusual gatherings—political, criminal, spiritual, and everything in between. She was paid handsomely for ensuring silence, not stirring curiosity. And her curiosity was quenched sufficiently, knowing who met whom, when, and in what order.

  She smiled.

  Ah, what Lady Agnes would have given to have a fly on the wall, listening to their every word.

  Marianna's gaze drifted toward the entrance, her fan fluttering.

  But perhaps she'll learn a sliver of it anyhow.

  The last of the VVIPs arrived. It was none other than Lady Agnes' niece, Princess Sedna Ozeryn.

  The girl walked on her own two feet, but her stride was uneven—whatever treatment she was undergoing clearly hadn't provided the cure she sought.

  Poor thing. She was walking so well three months ago.

  Marianna had heard that the young woman was secretly bankrolling The Order's current expansion. However, there was no public indication that she had aligned herself closely with the previous four attendees. Not enough to meet in private.

  Marianna fluttered her fan slowly, thoughtfully.

  But once Luca Frey's name entered the equation, the picture made more sense.

  Sedna bankrolled The Order's growth. Grandov led The Order. The Order purchased weapons exclusively from the Frey Merchant Guild—soon to fall under Luca Frey's leadership. Luca, in turn, was close friends with Chase Daylan and… something far more ambiguous with Claude Noire.

  A web of connections. All traced back to a single thread.

  "All of the VVIPs have arrived," her assistant stated.

  Marianna snapped her fan shut and frowned.

  Luca Frey, the one binding these five together… Why oh why are you not here?

  * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  Grandov watched the reactions ripple around the round private chamber—each a different shade of shock, annoyance, or barely restrained excitement.

  "He's gone?" Sedna's golden eyes widened, disbelief sharpening her voice.

  "What do you mean exactly by another realm?" Claude inquired, his hands clasped in front of his mouth, elbows leaning on the polished glass circular table. His tone was cool, but his pulled-in eyebrows showed his displeasure.

  Across from him, Chase let out a delighted laugh, flicking a yellow grape into his mouth like he had been waiting for this twist all day. "As expected of Luca. He's really done it."

  Sedna whipped her head toward him. "You knew he'd go to another realm?"

  Chase slid his circular blue-tinted shades down the bridge of his nose, revealing eyes as golden as hers. "Of course. I'm his best friend." He grinned. "He filled me in on his intentions in the previous Round. Ah—but I can't say more. He didn't tell you after all."

  Sedna bristled, arms crossing as she leaned back in her chair.

  Grandov ignored Chase's theatrics. Instead, his gaze drifted to the one man at the table who had displayed no reaction whatsoever.

  Micah Frey.

  In part, his lack of reaction stemmed from Grandov's personal meeting with him days ago, when Grandov informed him of Luca's disappearance. But even back then, his response was muted, focusing on the next needed steps. There was no panic, no grief. Only questions. And a cold, unnervingly clear strategy toward an intended goal.

  That was how this peculiar meeting had come about. There was one more individual who was to be included, but until they figured out how to break into a Magic Tower and get out unscathed, that person would have to wait until the following loop.

  "My brother left instructions," Micah finally said. His voice cut neatly through the rising conversation. "Across future loops as well. In his absence—however long it may span—certain tasks must be completed if we are to put an end to these loops."

  He spoke as if he were discussing inventory. Not their missing friend. His own brother.

  It was impressive. That sort of emotional control and resolve was rare, even amongst Players. But it was also deeply unsettling.

  "Of those present," Micah continued, "Claude and I are merely Aware. Sedna and Chase are Awake. Grandov is a partial Player and," Micah's gaze flicked toward him, "not originally from this realm."

  Claude's lips curled into a thin smile. "Ah, so you're not the real Grandov. That explains quite a bit." His eyes gleamed with dangerous curiosity. "Tell me this: if Luca is gone and you die, does the Game reset?"

  Grandov shook his head slowly.

  "No," he replied. "Per the System, that privilege remains with Luca."

  Sedna paled. "Does that mean the loop will only end once Adovoria loses to Kobar?"

  "Yes," Grandov confirmed.

  Sedna's clasped hands trembled just slightly. Her eyes gazed without focus at the center of the table, and her mind moved somewhere far away.

  "And what if we win before Luca returns?" Claude asked lazily. "What if they toss it?"

  Three voices sounded at once: Grandov, Micah, and Chase.

  "That won't happen."

  "Impossible."

  "We won't."

  Grandov elaborated. "I've attempted to beat this Game sixty-seven times before Luca became a Player. And, not to brag, but I am the second-highest-ranking Player in existence. Thousands of others tried to win against the Kobar Empire's invasion. All failed."

  The room filled with thick silence.

  Chase waved a hand dismissively. "You heard him, kids. If this ancient one couldn't do it, we don't have to worry about accidental success."

  He poured himself a glass of wine and twirled the red liquid before taking a sip.

  "I'm quitting by Year 784," Sedna muttered, voice ice-cold. "I refuse to wait around for my illness to kill me off again."

  "That's one of the tasks," Grandov said, turning toward her. "Luca left instructions for producing a cure for you. But it may take several loops to complete."

  Sedna's eyes widened.

  And Claude's face took on a wolfish grin. "And what other instructions did Luca provide?"

  Grandov met Micah's gaze. They exchanged a silent nod.

  It was time.

  Micah reached into his coat and withdrew a rune-locked scroll. From it, he produced three slim blue leather-bound notebooks, each marked with a shimmering sigil. "We organized the tasks based on relevance and capability. And anything you write will reappear in the notebook in the next loop."

  Claude accepted his notebook, and after fluttering through the pages, his gaze settled on Micah. His expression was a mix of confusion and suspicion. "If you had an artifact like this all along, how did you fail to make it into the original timeline?"

  Micah merely smiled. "That is, actually, one of the tasks: saving me on Day 1 of every subsequent loop." His gaze slid smoothly to Chase. "Entrusted to you, as per Luca's instructions."

  Chase beamed, pleased with such an important task entrusted to him.

  Truth and lies were stitched together seamlessly by Micah Frey. Luca had indeed left instructions. However, they were not directed to any particular individual for implementation. The 'who' was a decision that Micah and Grandov crafted together, after combing through the many instructions that Luca Frey had left behind. And adding additional instructions that aligned with Luca's intentions and their shared goals.

  Grandov—BlueLizard—watched Micah continue outlining the next steps. The more she observed him, the more certain she became. This handsome, blonde man was terrifying.

  He reminds me more and more of her.

  The calculating likeness to the number-one-ranking Player, hailing from the same realm as Magdalena, was uncanny.

  I wonder what she's been up to.

  Ch 264 on Patreon. :)