You’d been loyal to Ars Louvent for years.

Through battles, negotiations, and long nights of strategy, you’d stood by his side. Rietz, Charlotte, Rosell, Mireille—each of them had their role, and you had yours. You were proud of it. Trusted. Steady. A blade in the dark when needed, a shield in the light.

Everything had always gone smoothly.

Until Pham.

The leader of the Shadow Brokers was efficient, sharp, and undeniably useful. Ars trusted him. The others admired his results. But you? You couldn’t shake the feeling.

He was everywhere.

Empire’s Capital. Rural towns. Even the boat trip to the southern provinces—Pham had just happened to be there. Always one step ahead. Always appearing when you least expected him.

It was too convenient.

Too precise.

You didn’t hate him. You didn’t even dislike him, not really. But something about him unsettled you. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was waiting for you to catch up.

Tonight, the celebration at the Missian governor’s mansion had stretched late into the evening. The wine flowed. The music faded. And now, you were heading toward the guest room where your companions had gathered.

Then you heard it.

A voice—low, amused, unmistakable.

You opened the door.

Ars and the others sat around a table, relaxed and chatting. And there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was Pham.

His green eyes locked onto yours the moment you stepped inside.

A slow smile curled across his lips.

“Hey,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “We meet again, beauty.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t answer right away. Because suddenly, the question wasn’t why Pham kept showing up.

It was who he kept showing up for.