As Edric finally faces her, Lyra gets straight to the point.
"Sir Edric, I'm sorry."
Lyra thinks that it's best to apologize now to ease the tension between them and in order to pacify him. Seeing his seething red face back to normal as soon as she apologizes, Lyra sighs with relief in her mind.
Edric stiffens hearing what she said.
She called me Sir again,
Edric can't decipher why hearing her say that bothers him so much. When he wants her to be part of his elite squad, addressing him as sir would eventually be a natural thing, and yet...
"Sorry for what?" Edric blurts with a sharp voice. Hearing his own sharp cold voice, immediately regrets doing so.
"I'm sorry I cut your cheeks the last time we fought. And, I apologize for not doing so immediately."
Lyra states not breaking her eye contact with Edric.
"That... was nothing, I'm not so petty that I would hold a grudge against such a thing. We fought fairly."
Edric swiftly declares as he too keeps his eyes locked on Lyra's.
Did she really think I would hold my defeat against her? What does she really think about me?
Edric thinks in frustration.
"Is that so,"
Lyra answers with a quiet voice and keeps quiet afterward. She then briefly looks away, breaking eye contact with Edric.
"You wouldn't really think that I would hold such a small thing against you, did you?"
Edric with disbelief written on his face, he questions.
Lyra keeps quiet.
Seeing how Lyra keeps quiet, Edric is disappointed but still responds.
"Don't worry Ms. Lyra, I promise you I don't hold such a thing against you."
Lyra stares at Edric searching for any signs that might contradict what he said but finds nothing.
Edric tries his best to control his expressions and meet her gaze.
It's unfair how just one look from her frustrates me and delights me at the same time. When my own gaze seems to have no effect on her...
Edric then can't help but search Lyra's face too for any sign of...affection? But instead, he finds himself drawn.
Seeing my reflection in her eyes draws me in ways I find it difficult to explain. Does she feel drawn to me too I wonder?
"Sorry and Thank you," Lyra states as she leans close to Edric to ensure he hears her without being startled. Since she notices his unfocused gaze.
Lyra's words grab his attention back to the present from his wandering thoughts.
"There's no need for thanks nor apologies. It was just a small thing and besides, I wasn't really angry about it anyway."
Edric nonchalantly answers while repeating the words Desciple. Control. over and over in his mind to keep himself focused and not be distracted by Lyra's closeness.
"That might be so, but, I still need to apologize for my wrong assumption, and thank you for your time today."
Lyra answers with a gentle smile. Lyra hopes her smile placates whatever resentment is left.
Edric finds himself flustered and his emotions out of his control as soon as he sees her captivating smile.
Edric clears his throat with a cough.
"Well um. I had a good spar Ms. Lyra," Edric blurts whatever words pop up in his mind so as to not be obvious that he is enchanted by her smile.
Hearing him say Ms. Lyra once again makes Lyra uncomfortable.
I get it now why he wants to be called Edric without the sir...
"Just call me Lyra. It feels uncomfortable when you call Ms. Lyra,"
"Better remember to address me as Edric not your prince of combat then, Lyra," Edric voices with a hint of teasing in his tone.
Unfortunately, Edric teasing tone is lost to Lyra.
"Alright Edric," Lyra seriously answers.
He did tell me to call him Edric at the theme park...
Seeing Lyra's sincere look as she answers with her clear, unwavering, and trusting eyes locking into his—
Cute!
As soon as that thought emerges, Edric looks away from Lyra to hide his grin.
Then as his mind replays Lyra calling his name over and over again, his grin gets wider making him cover his mouth with his hand.
Lyra decides to leave when she catches a glimpse of Edric hiding his smile.
It might embarrass him to know that I saw him smile when he thought about something unrelated to our conversation.
"Again thank you for the match. Seeing what time it is, I'm afraid I have to go Edric."
Lyra states as she starts to walk out of the training hall.
"My thanks as well for letting me spar with you." Edric hurriedly calls as he sees Lyra walk out of the training
Lyra waves goodbye and exits the training hall
Edric watches Lyra exit the training hall. He watches until even her shadow is gone.
Edric closes his eyes for a moment and lets their sparring replay in his mind
Lyra
He shakes his head
I better be going as well
Edric too exits the training hall and lets his aunt know he is leaving.
After Lyra excuses herself, she goes straight to the kitchen to make breakfast for the twins and Madam Cherry. Madam Cherry only asks Lyra to cook breakfast as payment for staying with them. Which Lyra didn't mind at all.
"What you got there Lyra dearie~" Theresa states while trying to swipe some chocolate scones from the food tray.
Lyra smacks Theresa's hands before it can even land on the chocolate scones.
"Breakfast, as usual. Here Claire," Lyra answers while handing Claire some chocolate scones.
"That's not fair!" Theresa snatches the scones from her twin's hand.
Claire then shoves one scone in Theresa's mouth as retaliation.
Cough! Cough!
Theresa coughs as she almost chokes on the scone and glares at Claire.
"hmph!" Claire ignores Theresa and quickly enters the dining area to eat the leftover scones.
"Claire!" Theresa shouts trying to catch Claire.
Unknown to the twins their plan to put some chili peppers on Madam Cherry's soup again has been foiled by Lyra. While they are busy with their antics, Lyra switches the tempered soup of Madam Cherry with Claire's.
Upon entering the dining area, Lyra sees the twins were still busy with their banter with each other, Madam Cherry enjoying her tea and no Edric.
So he didn't stay for breakfast huh? guess more portion for the twins.
Lyra then sets the food at the table and they start to eat.
"Lyra after breakfast meet me at my office. I have a task for you."
Lyra nods and tries to finish her food.
"How about us Master? Any mission yet?" Theresa inquires eager to get out and explore.
"Hmm," Madam Cherry looks at the twins passingly and goes back to eating.
"Master!" Both Claire and Theresa exclaim.
"Soon," that is all Madam Cherry states as she wipes her mouth with a napkin and finishes her tea leaning back.
Theresa shrugs.
Claire then pokes Theresa's side, "It's your fault we're stuck here."
"How is it my fault?!"
"You tried putting peppers on Master's soup again."
"What? Me?" Theresa yells as she jumps out of her seat wanting to smack her twin.
"Yeah, you." Claire too gets out of her chair, nimbly evading her twin's attempt to smack her.
"Oh hell no, I didn't, IT WAS YOU!" Theresa indignantly proclaims as she tries to grab her twin.
And so the twins start bickering again. Madam Cherry slips away as the twins go on with their antics, leaving Lyra to marvel at how the twins never get tired of bickering with each other.
Lyra finds the twins' antics boisterous yet endearing.
Eventually, she too slips away to meet Madam Cherry at her office, still hearing the twins bickering even after she's out in the hallway.
Lyra shakes her head.
They sure are close.
Lyra muses.
****
Edric sees George waiting with a sullen look.
"You should've let me know you were staying the whole night young master!"
Edric just gives George an indifferent look and enters the hovercar.
"If an aide didn't let me know you were gonna stay the whole night, I would've stayed here outside waiting for you young master,"
George complains of feeling wronged when he too gets into the driver's seat.
"You have a brain and not to mention, the top crop of the Solis Corps who they entrusted me, the heir of the organization, to their most capable personnel. So of course, in that line of thought, I knew you would use it to assess the situation and ask for me when I took longer than expected."
Edric flatly states as he looks out the hovercar window.
"I don't quite get it. It feels like you're making fun of me underneath those flattery words you just said, young master!"
George retorts as he glances at Edric in the rearview mirror to gauge the young master's reaction.
"Glad to know you could pick up sarcasm George," Edric replies flatly once again.
"You were making fun of me."
Geroge declares dejected as he sees the indifferent look on Edric.
"Just being sarcastic George," Edric answers impassively.
"What's the difference?!"
Edric sighs.
"Nothing, since you deem it so." Edric, not wanting to converse with George who he doesn't trust yet, voices nonchalantly.
"So rude, young master," George exclaims.
"Just drive, George," Edric commands dismissively.
"Fine," George complies with a sour look on his face.
Edric on the whole ride, his thoughts keep going back to Lyra.
He notices that a grin is slowly forming. He sees his smile in the reflection in the car's window.
Control. Control...what am I grinning for? There are a lot more important things to think about!
Edric scolds himself in his mind. He can't afford any more distractions. He's in a foreign land, by himself. He has to keep himself vigilant because there are always unexpected things...
Besides, the information that his aunt shares with him is a lot more troubling. Adding to the matters that he has to keep a look out for.
A conspiracy? Factions gathering? Sounds like a prelude to something big.
Then there are the fugitives that the council assigned for him to track down. Why? Is something behind these fugitives? Is there more to these individuals than meets the eye?
There's so much more he wasn't aware of.
And a lot more preparation and planning to do...
***
A soft chime echoes in the quiet room, signaling an incoming message. He glances at the sender's name—his aunt. His frown deepens as he opens the file.
Sending me a message despite me not giving her my contact I.D. My aunt is quite a formidable person indeed.
Edric reads,
A fugitive. Dead.
A fugitive on your list found dead on a virtual actress house, sending someone with you.
The image of the crime scene flickers on the screen—a body sprawled on the pristine marble floor of a lavish high-rise apartment. Blood seeped across the glossy surface, dark against the artificial lighting. A single bullet to the heart, is precise and efficient.
The report identifies the location as the residence of Eris Lorne, the virtual actress. His frown hardens.
A combat elite dead on a civilian's house?
Edric ponders what could've possibly happened for that fugitive to die without as much as a hint of struggle.
His fingers swipe through the report, scanning the details. Then, he stops.
WZ 089, Lucian Rourke, renounced his life as part of the mafia in Killmore continent, expertise: sniping
His grip tightens on the edge of the tablet.
Whoever had done this wasn't just a random killer. The target had been precise, the execution flawless. His former mafia family? A hidden player he wasn't aware of? Another arms dealer family?
The fact that someone could smuggle elite combat personnel into an AI-governed city without alerting the system sends warning signals through his mind.
How powerful are they?
The questions circle like vultures, but the answers elude him.
His eyes flicker back to the image of the body, and he leans back in his chair, deep in thought. Whoever is behind this has just thrown an unexpected piece onto the board.
Now, it is his move.
I need to anticipate the worst scenario, I promise my Dad to come back home alive after all.
Edric stands before the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket with practice precision. His expression is calm, and composed—yet beneath the surface, his thoughts churn like a storm. The death of the fugitive raises too many questions, and he needs answers.
A sharp ping from his tablet cuts through the silence. Another message. His aunt again.
He taps the screen, expecting more details about the case, perhaps a new lead. Instead, a single name appears.
His breath hitches.
Lyra
His fingers tighten around the device as he rereads the message. His aunt has sent her to be his partner for this investigation.
Why her?
His mind races through the possibilities. Is it a coincidence, or has his aunt orchestrated this deliberately? She never makes decisions lightly. If she chose her, then there is a reason.
He exhales sharply, pressing the tablet against his desk as tension coils in his chest.
"So she's sending Lyra huh, Lyra..."
Edric takes a deep breath trying to calm his chaotic thoughts.
Why send her though? Not her disciples?
Their last encounter had left him losing his control and he finds that worrying.
Her gaze, her beautiful eyes, and her closeness leave him unsteady and wishing for what? wanting more of...
Dangerous! I need to steel myself!
Edric forces himself to take a deeper longer breath and releases it very slowly. He then meditates hoping to clear his mind and yet the thought of Lyra clings...
Would she still see him as just his family name? As a Solaire? Or this time, would she see him as Edric and not just the prince of combat?
And more importantly…
Would he be able to focus on the mission when she is standing beside him for a long while?
Control. Descipline
This is no time to be distracted, he needs to double-check his preparations, and reevaluate his options.
No more mistakes.
The little girl clinging to Lyra and with her muffled sobs flashes in his mind.
Edric stares at the mirror, at his reflection with a resolved gaze. A young man, no longer a helpless child.
I can't afford to make mistakes.
***
Edric stands at the designated meeting point, arms crossed over his chest, his expression schooled into practiced indifference. He has gone over this scenario a dozen times in his head, rehearsing the exact way he will greet her—calm, composed, unaffected.
He will acknowledge her presence with nothing more than a curt nod and move straight into business. No hesitation. No unnecessary words.
Then she arrives.
The moment he sees her approaching, his breath catches for a fraction of a second—a detail he forced himself to ignore.
She looks just like she did yesterday at the training hall: sharp-eyed, effortlessly confident, and completely unaware of the chaos she could stir within him.
"You're early," she notes, stopping a few paces away.
Edric with a lot of effort manages to cooly reply. "So are you."
Lyra notices the way Edric stands with subtle pressure and composed posture for some reason hints at tension,
"You seem… tense."
His posture stiffened imperceptibly. "Is that so?"
Lyra narrows her eyes slightly. "Hmm. I guess my eyes were just playing tricks on me" she shrugs not wanting to make a big deal out of it.
He can feel her scrutiny like a blade against his composure, and his mind scrambles for ways to divert the conversation. Before he can speak, however, his own subtle betrayers reveal themselves—his fingers tapping ever so lightly against his forearm, his throat clearing just a second too soon.
And George—standing just behind him—sees everything.
George grins and is barely keeping it together. His lips press into a thin line, shoulders trembling slightly with suppressed laughter. Edric ignores him.
Focuses on ignoring him.
"Is everything alright?" Lyra asks as she sees the contrast between Edric stern expression and George's clearly feigning serious expression.
"I'm fine," he interruptes, voice steady, crisp. "Let's get started."
She tilts her head, clearly unconvinced, but lets it go for now. "Alright."
George coughs—definitely a disguised chuckle.
Edric shoots him a warning glance, but the damage is already done.
Internally, he wills himself to stay composed.
Cool. Indifferent. Unaffected.
Yet, as he turns toward the briefing table, he clenches his fists once, just to steady himself.
This mission is going to be much harder than he thought.
Edric inhales deeply, pushing aside all unnecessary thoughts as he straightens his posture. His expression hardened, slipping into the cool, precise professionalism he has honed over the years. Whatever lingering personal distractions exist, they have no place here.
With a flick of his fingers, the holographic display activates, casting a detailed dossier of the fugitive above the briefing table. His voice is measured, clipped, and devoid of hesitation as he begins.
"Lucian Rourke. Formerly an elite combat operative from the WZ 089, a former part of the Akai mafia family in Killmore continent. Highly skilled, and trained in infiltration and snipping. If the reports are accurate, this is the man who was allegedly killed by an obsessed stalker of Eris Lorne, the virtual actress who took him in. On paper, it seems absurd."
His eyes dart toward the young woman to gauge her reaction, but she remains impassive, arms crossed as she studies the dossier.
He continues, his tone sharp. "We're dealing with someone who survived the worst battlefields and evaded high-level security forces for years. The idea that he was so easily taken down by a civilian—without a fight, without a trace of struggle—is, at best, suspicious. At worst, it's deliberate misinformation."
He gestures, pulling up crime scene photos and the official report from the local authorities. "The scene was clean. Too clean. There's no indication that Rourke fought back. No significant collateral damage, which is unheard of for someone with his reflexes. Either he was caught off guard in an extremely controlled manner… or he never saw the attack coming at all."
Lyra finally speaks, her voice calm but thoughtful. "Could he possibly just let the killer kill him?"
His brows furrow slightly as he considers the angle. "Possible, but unlikely. There's no indication that he had a death wish. If anything, all evidence suggests that he had started adapting to life in the city. Whatever his past, he wasn't actively looking for a fight anymore."
She nods slightly, acknowledging the point, before glancing at the last image on the display—the body of Lucian Rourke, lying motionless in the actress's luxurious penthouse, a single stab wound through the heart.
Edric exhales before continuing.
"The official report states that the murderer was apprehended on-site—an alleged stalker obsessed with Eris Lorne. A civilian. We'll review that report, but I don't trust it at face value. There are too many gaps. Too much precision for something that's being brushed off as a crime of passion."
He turns to fully face her now, his gaze steady. "Our first step is verifying the authorities' findings. If there are inconsistencies, we track down what's missing. After that, we speak to Eris Lorne herself. She was the closest person to Rourke before his death, which means she either knows more than she's let on or someone made sure she wouldn't know anything."
Lyra nods, her expression unreadable. "It seems that this case is as complex as Madam Cherry implied."
"My Aunt already gave you a briefing?" Edric inquires.
"Yes. A quick one. She told me to help you get to the bottom of this case and not to miss anything."
"I see." Edric replies with a slight frown.
"Madam Chery instructed me to help you in any way I can. So please feel free to ask for any assistance you need. Unfortunately, I might not be as much help as I wanted to though. It's my first time dealing with such a case after all."
Lyra admits with an apologetic tone.
"We'll figure out what you and I can do and what we can't in the process so don't worry. After all, it just so happens that this case is linked to my other tasks which is why it makes it difficult to look over it, even though I too have no experience dealing with such cases as well."
Edric assures Lyra.
Then a brief pause settles between them, the weight of the case pressing down. Edric seeing the time declares.
"We leave in ten minutes. Be ready."
Without another word, he deactivates the holographic display and turns away, his mind already running through potential scenarios.
This isn't just an assassination.
It was a message.
And they were about to find out who sent it.
***
The investigation takes them through multiple layers of red tape, accessible because of the Solis Corps' influence, but nothing about it sits right with Edric. His instincts scream that something is off, and his partner's sharp eyes tell him she thinks the same.
Their first step is revisiting the crime scene. The luxurious penthouse, once pristine, now holds the weight of an unfinished story. The AI city's crime scene analysts have already swept through, but Edric insists on reviewing the security feeds personally.
They watch the footage in the dim glow of the terminal screen.
Eris Lorne had been out for the evening, leaving Lucian Rourke alone in the penthouse. The stalker— Victor Hale—had bypassed security with disturbing ease, using a stolen access code.
The moment Victor entered the apartment, he moved with an unnatural precision—no wasted motion, no hesitation. He found Lucian sitting on the couch, seemingly unaware of the danger. Then, a single strike—one smooth, perfect motion—pierced the ex-elite combatant's heart. No struggle. No delay.
Lyra leans forward. "Rewind that."
Did Rourke not feel any presence at all? Was there no bloodlust?
Edric complies, watching it again in silence. When Victor struck, Lucian didn't react. No attempt to dodge, no counterattack. It is like he has been paralyzed or… has simply never expected the attack to land
"He underestimated him," Edric murmurs. "He didn't see him as a threat."
Hearing his own words, he thinks how it sounds ridiculous.
Is that even possible? Someone who left the mafia would be extremely paranoid. So why didn't Rourke counter?
Edric frowns again.
Lyra's eyes narrow. "There might be something more to Rourke's decision or perhaps Rourke became overconfident from living too long in the city... And Victor a civilian, his execution was just too... flawless."
"Maybe there might be more to Victor Hale and how he, a civilian, could move that way,"
Edric states as he rewinds the part where Victor with precise control stabs Lucian Rourke.
"I suggest the archives young master," George advice with goodwill in mind.
Edric stares at George.
Is there a hidden agenda behind his suggestion? But there is no other choice but to do as he suggests since I'm not familiar with things here on the mainland. And I don't want to look unreliable to Lyra.
So their next stop is the archives—pulling everything they could on Victor Hale. Edric scrolls through the files, expecting some hidden military background, and some record of black ops training.
Instead, he finds nothing.
Victor is exactly what he seemed: a civilian. A man with no combat experience, no prior record of violence. A nobody.
Except for one thing.
"He's a high-ranking player in VR combat arenas," Lyra notes, reading over his profile. "Top one percent."
Edric frowns.
VR combat arena?
"You think that's enough?"
She didn't answer immediately, her fingers tapping the terminal thoughtfully. "Depends on how dedicated he was."
And as they dig deeper, the truth becomes clear.
Victor Hale isn't just another obsessed fan. He is obsessed with perfection.
His logs show years of near-constant engagement in virtual combat simulations, refining his technique to an inhuman degree. Against elite players, against AI combatants, against anything the digital world can throw at him. His kill rate is terrifying. His adaptability is even more so.
Edric sits back, astonished. "He trained himself to kill in a game… and then applied it to real life."
Lyra folds her arms. "And Rourke dismissed him as a civilian. That was his mistake."
It is absurd. Unbelievable. And yet, it had happened.
The next step is interviewing Victor himself.
****
They meet him in a secured holding facility, sitting behind reinforced glass. Victor Hale is a wiry man, unremarkable in every way except for his eyes—bright, fevered, and unwavering.
The moment they step inside, Victor's gaze locks onto them. Or rather—onto Lyra.
"I see you," Victor murmurs, his voice eerily calm. "You understand, don't you?"
Edric's jaw tightens,
"Understand what exactly?" Lyra questions.
"How I did everything for a great cause, for my dear beloved person! Your eyes tell me so!" Victor declares with madness etched on his face.
"What do you mean her eyes tell you so?" Edric interrogates Victor in a sharp and cold tone.
"Her eyes holds the same passion that tells a tale of a person who gets stronger only to gain their special person! Aren't I right, girl?" Victor answers with a dark smile.
Hearing his answer Edric wants to hit Victor till he's black and blue.
How dare he compare himself to Lyra!
Edric is seething and about to confront Victor once again when Lyra gestures to him to let her handle it.
"Why did you do it?" Lyra asks evenly. Ignoring Victor's accusation of them being the same.
Victor blinks as if the question itself is ridiculous. "Why? Because she asked me to."
Edric coldly states, "Eris Lorne ordered you to kill him?"
Victor burst into laughter. A hollow, fractured sound. "No, no, no. You don't understand. She didn't have to ask. She saved me. Gave me purpose." His fingers twitch. "All I did was remove the parasite clinging to her."
Lyra's expression remains unreadable. "And you believed it was your right to decide that?"
Victor tilts his head as if puzzled by her question. "Of course. I trained for it. I devoted myself to perfecting it. He was nothing. He didn't even see me coming. You know why? Because I was better. I won."
Edric clenches his fists. "That's not how reality works"
When he hears Victor's answer, fragmented scenes of past battles and missions flash into Edric's mind.
Victor's smile is thin, detached. "Isn't it? You think I don't know what you are? What you do? You and your kind decide who lives and who dies every day. The only difference is you do it under orders."
The words land harder than Lyra expects. She has faced killers before. But this… this was different.
Am I really any different from him? A gold-gilded killer?
Victor leans closer, his voice turning almost pleading. "You understand, don't you? I wasn't the parasite. He was. I proved it. I made it real."
Edric, silent for a moment, finally exhales. "You're wrong."
Victor's eyes widen, his expression almost… betrayed. "No, no. She wanted me. She needed me. But she threw me away!" His voice cracks, a desperate, frenzied edge creeping in.
Edric's voice is cold. "Because she never saw you as more than a deluded fool."
Victor slams his hands against the glass. "I was perfect! I did everything right! She should've—she should've—"
He didn't finish.
Edric didn't wait to hear more. He turns, stepping away from the glass as the guards move to restrain Victor, his manic ramblings continuing behind them.
As they leave the facility, Lyra exhales, tension unwinding from her shoulders.
"People like him…" she states. "He seems to think that the world owes them something for their obsession."
Edric glances at her. "You've dealt with them before?"
She pauses and answers, "Not quite like this. But the pattern's the same."
"Is that so."
They walk in silence for a few moments before Edric finally speaks again. "It looks like even here, where people live in a safe environment still face the uncertainty of life. And death, still a constant reminder of human greed and unpredictability."
She didn't respond.
Because they both know the truth.
Even in a world ruled by logic and precision, human nature remains unpredictable.
And that, more than anything, is what makes it dangerous.