With one hand, Keiser reached into the concealed seam of his dagger's sheath, fingers brushing the cool metal hidden there. He drew out three small silver coins, and the soft 'clink' they made seemed to echo far louder than their size should allow.

All eyes turned to him.

The sixth princess, seemed to understand at once. Her gaze flickered, widening with recognition, with alarm, with… something fragile underneath.

And when Keiser lightly tapped the fiery red head of the little dragon child clinging to him, little flame hesitated, puffed out an indignant breath, then reluctantly loosened her grip just enough for him to step forward.

"One moment, little flame," he murmured.

She huffed but obeyed.

Keiser closed the distance between him and the princess. Her hand, trembling, exhausted, yet still attempting dignity, lay waiting as if she already knew what he was about to do.

This hand had healed him. This hand had accepted a bargain she never should have been asked to shoulder.

A half elven child of the king. A saint revered by the same kingdom that despised beings like her. A miracle the temple praised with hymns but a girl who doubted herself every time their worship turned into expectation. And still, she had agreed to the tenth prince's impossible demand.

Her younger brother's heart for his vassal's.

'Three minutes after Lenko's death, the prince would follow.'

Three minutes. She had tried to bargain for more. Her mana had backlash, surging violently whenever she pleaded with her elven mana. It could have shrunk to seconds, but she insisted… three minutes will be enough.

And it was.

Keiser used every one seconds of it. Or at least… he thought he had.

He still didn't understand what happened while he was unconscious. Sir Keiser's words only hinted at something wrong, something beyond Aisha's mana manipulation. But the fact remained…

He was alive.

The deal had been honored.

Her part of it, at least, had been paid in full.

And because of that, he owed her.

The first 'payment' she'd invoked after saving them in that alleyway, more courtesy than a true bargain, but you never risked ignoring something tied to an elven.

Keiser gently placed the three silver coins into her palm.

Her fingers curled around them, and their Aurex eyes locked, her stare steady, his unwavering.

He spoke softly, but the words carried through.

"And now," Keiser said, "for my final payment."

The pain was instantaneous.

A scorching pain shot across both wrists, burning from skin to bone.

Sigils… his, and the one belonging to the elvens he had bargained with, erupted in glowing lines, fierce and blistering. Light flared, red and gold and searing.

Gasps broke out around him.

"W-What are you doing!?" the elven snapped, but his voice cracked, more startled than angry.

Even Lenko swore under his breath, taking a half-step forward as if prepared to drag the tenth prince away bodily.

But Keiser didn't move. Didn't flinch. He simply let the pain burn through him until…

Gradually.

Slowly.

Both sigils dimmed.

The light faded to embers. Then to nothing.

Silence thickened.

Only one meaning could exist for that kind of stilling…

'Both elvens' demands had been fulfilled.'

Keiser exhaled once, steady.

Then he turned toward the 'man'.

The elven was frozen, jaw clenched, expression twisting into something ugly and begrudging, anger? Panic? Resentment at the sudden severing of whatever hold he thought she had?

Keiser extended a hand toward him, his gesture slow and deliberate, pointing right at the 'man's' hand resting over his chest, precisely where Tyron's blood vial pendant lay hidden under the tunic.

"Your turn," Keiser said.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

"You've taken your payment. Now return what is not yours."

He knew the moment he demanded the pendant, Althira would feel it, the sharp sting on her wrist where the sigil is.

The balance of the bargain always sought equality, reclaiming his payment meant taking back what she had held for him.

So when the elven finally scoffed and tossed the pendant toward Keiser, the air itself seemed to lighten.

The blood vial hit Keiser's palm with a warmth that startled him. Not merely warm… he swore it pulsed like the dragon's heart. That one had better be kept safe, after all, they had gone through too much trouble to retrieve it.

He closed his fingers around it, steadying the strange thrum.

Tyron's eyes widened, fixed on the pendant.

Keiser didn't hesitate. "Here," he said, stepping toward the boy and pressing the vial into his hands.

Tyron instinctively clutching it to his chest. A massive breath of relief escaped him, shaky and so raw it made the boy look younger than he was.

"Don't ever bargain with an elven again," Keiser warned, voice low and sharp.

Tyron flinched.

"I-I wasn't planning to," he muttered, eyes darting upward to meet Keiser's before skittering away again.

"Not ever. Your highness… I couldn't even… my mother's heart too---"

"Exactly," Keiser cut in.

He didn't have the strength or time to reassure him. He barely had time to turn before the entire dome trembled.

The ground hummed.

The air rippled.

The vine-like runes woven across the fabric walls flickered, their glow dimming in sputtering pulses.

Keiser spun toward the source just in time to see the sixth princess collapse forward, her knees buckling.

"---Althea!" Olga lunged, pulling her before she hit the floor.

The girl was trembling violently, breath fractured, face drained of color.

"Your highness, calm down," Olga urged, trying to steady her upright. "You're overexerting yourself. You're completely exhausted. You're going to pass out at this rate---"

"---You're here!" the princess snapped, her voice cracking as she tried to surge forward again, eyes burning in the direction of the 'man.'

The 'man' merely stepped back with a mirthless curl of the lips. "Ah-ah. Getting emotional won't help, little Saint."

"You---!" she tried again, but Olga held her firm.

At that moment, the man clapped his hands once, sharply.

"This place won't hold much longer," he announced, tone abrupt. "I'll guide everyone out. We need to travel beneath the ground for a while. If we surface here, the knights sniffing around will swarm this place instantly."

The dome shook again, harder this time, dust drifting from the ceiling.

Althira gave the runes a pointed look.

"Move quickly. Before your saint collapses completely and brings the whole place down with her."

Keiser's jaw tightened.

He stepped closer to the princess, ready to steady her himself, because the way her breathing hitched, the way her fingers dug into Olga's sleeve, she was seconds from blacking out.

And the shaking was getting worse.

But the princess, Althea, wasn't done.

Even with her knees buckling and Olga practically holding her upright, her hand shot out weakly, fingers trembling as they curled around the man's sleeve.

The moment her skin touched the borrowed fabric, her breath stuttered, hitched, and then she exhaled a single pleading word.

"…Mom."

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