Reed stood in the service elevator, watching the heavy iron chain rattle as it pulled him upward.

He was wet.

Not "damp from a light drizzle" wet. He was "fell into a pool fully clothed" wet.

His black velvet coat, which was supposed to project an aura of gothic mystery, was currently heavy and smelled like expensive bath salts. His silk shirt clung to his chest, translucent enough to show the faint violet glow of the Void Shard embedded in his sternum.

"System," Reed muttered, slicking his wet hair back with one hand. "Do I have a 'Blow Dry' spell?"

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[Mana Reserve (Blue): 120 MP (CRITICAL).]

[Mana Reserve (Void): 18,400 MP.]

[Option: Void Fire to evaporate the water.]

[Warning: High probability of setting the coat on fire. And the elevator. And yourself.]

"Right," Reed sighed, watching a droplet of water run down his nose. "Wet look it is. We'll call it... aesthetic."

The elevator shuddered as it climbed out of the humid depths of Floor 2. The brass dial above the door ticked from 2 t0 1.

The stakes were absolute. He had exactly zero Gold in the treasury. The bridge repair: dwarven steel, reinforced masonry, and the specialized runes required to hold a span over a gorge would cost at least 5,000 Gold. Without that bridge, the regular adventurers, the "Farmers" who generated his stable Blue Mana income, couldn't reach him.

He needed the "Whales" to pay for it.

"Showtime," Reed whispered.

The doors ground open, revealing the polished black marble of the Floor 1 Lobby.

The atmosphere in the Grand Foyer was tense enough to snap a bowstring.

Maira stood behind the reception desk. She was perfectly motionless, her hands clasped behind her back, her posture so rigid she looked like a statue carved from obsidian and disapproval. Her eyes were locked on the two men standing in the center of the room.

Kaelen stood between the guests and the grand staircase leading up to the Mezzanine.

The Inquisitor looked like she was having a breakdown in slow motion. Her hand hovered near the hilt of her sword, not to draw it, but to give her shaking fingers something to grip. Her face was flushed, her breathing shallow.

"This is preposterous," a deep, gravelly voice echoed off the black marble walls.

Commander Thorne of the Iron Legion was exactly as Kaelen had described: a slab of a man who looked like he ate rocks for breakfast. He wore battered plate armor that had clearly seen war, not parades. His face was a map of scars, and his eyes were cold, hard flint.

"I smell perfume," Thorne spat, kicking at the plush "Shadow-Moss" rug with a muddy boot. "I smell incense. I do not smell blood. I do not smell rot. This is not a dungeon, Inquisitor. It is a brothel."

"It is a... recreational facility," Kaelen corrected, her voice straining to remain professional. "Sanctioned under Vassal Treaty 4-B. As I noted in my report, the Threat Level is minimal."

"Minimal?" Thorne scoffed. He turned to his companion. "You hear this, Valerius? The Silver Flame has gone soft."

Lord Valerius laughed. It was a rich, cultivated sound, like coins falling on velvet.

The nobleman was the polar opposite of Thorne. He was draped in silks of crimson and gold, wearing enough jewelry to buy a small kingdom. He held a handkerchief to his nose, sniffing delicately.

"Oh, lighten up, Thorne," Valerius drawled, inspecting a gargoyle that looked suspiciously like Grika. "It's charming. A bit... edgy. My sources say the wine is excellent and the entertainment is... exotic. I didn't come here to kill goblins. I came to be amused."

"You came to lose your inheritance," Thorne grumbled. He scanned the room, his hand tightening on his sword. "Where is the security? Where are the monsters? If this is a dungeon, where are the teeth?"

"I keep the teeth upstairs," Reed said. "We don't like to bite on the first date."

He stepped out of the shadows of the archway.

He walked with the slow, deliberate stride of a man who owned the mountain. He ignored the fact that his boots squelched slightly. He ignored the water dripping from the hem of his coat.

He let the Void Mana bleed out just a fraction.

[SKILL ACTIVE: OVERLORD AURA (LOW)]

[Effect: Radiates 'Command' and 'Cold'.]

[Cost: 50 Void MP/sec.]

The temperature in the lobby dropped ten degrees instantly. The candles in the wall sconces flickered and turned a deep, ghostly violet.

Thorne's hand flew to his sword hilt. Valerius raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Gentlemen," Reed said, his voice smooth and dropping an octave. "Welcome to The Twilight Estate. I am Reed. The Lord of this... establishment."

He stopped next to Kaelen.

The reaction was immediate.

Kaelen gasped softly. As Reed stood beside her, the cold radiation of his wet, Void-soaked coat collided with the warm, holy aura of her Paladin training.

Szzzzzt.

Invisible steam curled up between them, smelling of lemons and ozone. Kaelen's knees knocked together audibly. A flush crept up her neck, turning her ears pink. She stared at his chest, where the wet silk shirt was practically transparent.

"Lord Reed," Kaelen stammered, looking anywhere but at his nipples. "I was just... explaining the... the safety protocols."

"Excellent work, Inquisitor," Reed said, placing a cold hand on her armored shoulder.

He felt her shiver. He felt the spike of "White Mana" flare in her chest, a mix of panic and euphoria. It fed into the room, mixing with his Void to create a heady, electric atmosphere. Kaelen leaned imperceptibly into his touch, her breath hitching.

Reed turned his amethyst eyes to the guests.

"You're wet," Thorne stated flatly. He didn't seem impressed by the aura or the sexual tension. He was staring at the puddle forming around Reed's boots.

Reed didn't blink.

"I was conducting a ritual in the lower sanctum," Reed lied smoothly. "The Abyssal Spa requires... constant calibration. The water is quite spirited today."

"A Spa?" Valerius stepped forward, his eyes gleaming greedily. "I heard rumors of such a thing. Heated pools? Underground?"

"Heated by the heart of the mountain," Reed confirmed. "And serviced by a staff that is... eager to please."

"Hmph," Thorne snorted. "I came to inspect a threat, not to soak in a tub." He gestured around the empty lobby. "Inquisitor Kaelen claims you have subdued the monstrous instincts of your minions. That you have 'civilized' them. And I ask again, Monster. Where are your minions? This hall is empty. If I were a raiding party, I would have breached your sanctum by now."

Reed smiled. It was a practiced, predatory smile.

"We value discretion, Commander," Reed said. "My Orc Matrons are currently stationed on the Casino Floor above. I find that massive green women with biceps the size of honey hams tend to... startle the more delicate guests upon arrival."

He glanced at Valerius's trembling bodyguards.

"We prefer to ease you into the experience. But if you wish to test the durability of your armor against a woman who can bench press a cart... they are waiting upstairs."

"I think you are hiding the teeth because they are rotten," Thorne growled. "I think if I scratch the paint, I will find the decay."

Reed felt a cold spike in his chest.

It wasn't fear. It was Elara.

The Banshee hiding in his ribcage woke up. She sensed the hostility. She sensed the "Purist" intent, the desire to purge.

He hurts, Elara whispered in Reed's mind. He wants to break us.

Reed's heart gave a painful, icy lurch. Frost began to form on his eyelashes. His breath came out in a visible white puff.

[SYSTEM WARNING]

[Internal Temperature Dropping.]

[Elara Status: PANIC.]

[Effect: Freezing Aura.]

Reed clamped down on the reaction. He couldn't freeze now.

"We have no rot here, Commander," Reed said, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the chill spreading through his veins. "Only... overhead. If you want to test the teeth of my dungeon, you are welcome to visit the Arena. Our General is waiting."

"I might do that," Thorne sneered. "After I inspect the perimeter."

"And I," Valerius interrupted, clapping his hands, "would like to inspect the tables. I brought five thousand gold, Lord Reed. Do try to take it from me."

Reed's internal calculator practically screamed. Five thousand. That was the bridge. That was the steel. That was the future.

"Maira," Reed called out.

"Master," Maira responded instantly, stepping forward. She adjusted her glasses, her amber eyes scanning Valerius like a predator scanning a wounded gazelle.

"Escort Lord Valerius to the High Roller Suite on the Mezzanine. The Blackjack table is reserved."

"Of course," Maira said, bowing slightly. "If you would follow me, My Lord. I have prepared a fresh deck. I do hope you are good at mathematics."

Valerius chuckled, offering Maira his arm. She stared at it for a second, then gestured for him to walk ahead.

"After you," she said coldly. "We do not touch the merchandise until the buy-in is cleared."

Valerius laughed again, delighted by the rejection, and headed for the stairs.

That left Thorne.

The Commander didn't move. He was scanning the room, his eyes darting to the shadows, the ceiling, the ventilation grates.

He touched the Silver Commendation Medal pinned to his chest. It was a sunburst of pure silver, pulsating with a faint holy light.

"I will watch," Thorne said. "And if I see one slip... if I see one monster lose control..."

He tapped the hilt of his sword.

"I will burn this place to the bedrock."

High above them, perched on the dark obsidian chandelier, a pair of eyes dilated.

Riva was holding her breath.

She was supposed to be a statue. She was supposed to be "decorative".

But the Shiny...

The medal on the metal-man's chest was beautiful. It pulsed. It called to her.

Mine, the bird-brain whispered. Nest-Boss needs Shiny. Metal-Man is mean. Riva take Shiny.

She shifted her weight. A single feather drifted down, spiral-dancing through the violet air. It landed on Thorne's shoulder.

Thorne brushed it off, looking up.

"Rats in the rafters?" he muttered.

"Ventilation," Reed said quickly, stepping into Thorne's line of sight to block his view of the Harpy. "The air circulation is... old. Shall we proceed to the Arena, Commander? Or perhaps you'd prefer a drink first?"

"Arena," Thorne barked. "I want to see your 'General'."

"Right this way," Reed gestured.

He glanced at Kaelen. Her face was pale, but she gave him a tiny, terrified nod. Her eyes lingered on his wet shirt one last time before she snapped back to professional mode.

As they walked toward the stairs, Reed checked his HUD.

[QUEST STARTED: THE GRAND OPENING]

[Objective 1: Bankrupt Lord Valerius (Maira).]

[Objective 2: Humiliate Commander Thorne (Seraphine).]

Objective 3: Don't let Riva steal the medal (Impossible difficulty).]

[Time Limit: 6 Hours.]

Reed suppressed a shiver as Elara curled tighter around his heart.

"Welcome to the show," he whispered.

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