Season 3, Chapter 5, Part 2.
The Party of Friends or Enemies?
The sun hangs high in the sky as Asta and the others chat among themselves, still waiting for Captain Yami. Finally, they spot him approaching the group.
"Hey, numbskulls!" Yami calls, his deep voice catching everyone's attention.
"Hi, Captain Yami, sir!" Asta and Magna shout eagerly, practically vibrating with energy. Noelle, standing nearby, glances over to watch the interaction.
"About time!" Finral mutters under his breath.
Yami shoots him a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, the captains' meeting took a while and—" Finral starts, rubbing the back of his neck.
"And how is that my fault exactly?" Yami cuts in, not missing a beat.
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," Finral stammers, looking increasingly nervous. "I was just saying—"
"Don't care. Open a portal. I've got something to tell the group before I take a dump." Yami barks the order, his tone as casual as ever.
Finral sighs but does as he's told, opening a shimmering portal. Yami steps through first, the others following. Millie, noticing them moving, stretches her wings and slips through the portal just before Finral, who closes it behind him.
They arrive back at the Black Bulls' hideout, greeted by the usual scene of chaos. The rest of the squad is scattered around, doing their own thing. Vanessa, predictably, is already opening a bottle of wine.
And Millie transforms into her human form and looks at her hands (''my hands are begining to act up again'') Millie thinks to her self. While the bulls begin to interact whit each other.
"Oh, you guys are back. How was the trip?" Vanessa asks, taking a casual sip from her glass.
"It was fine, I guess," Noelle answers with a shrug, sounding uninterested.
"Put the wine down, Vanessa. You've got a mission," Yami's voice cuts through the room like a blade.
Vanessa blinks, raising an eyebrow. "Huh? This late in the day? What for?"
"It's not just you," Yami continues, ignoring her protest. "Noelle and Gauche are going too."
"What? Why us?" Gauche grumbles from his spot, barely looking up from the Mari doll in his hands.
"Because you three can handle things... discreetly," Yami says, and exhales his smoke. "You'll be patrolling up north in the Forsaken Realm. Now stop complaining and get ready."
He tosses Vanessa a scroll with the mission details. She catches it, unrolling it quickly and scanning the contents. "Ugh, I guess it can't be helped," she mutters, setting the wine bottle down and rising to her feet.
"I suppose if I must…" Noelle adds, her voice a mix of reluctance and determination. Gauche, on the other hand, grumbles under his breath, clearly displeased.
"I don't have time for your attitude, Gauche," Yami says, already turning toward the bathroom. "Just get going. I've got more important things to do."
"Fine, fine, I'll go," Gauche mutters, dragging himself to his feet.
Asta, watching the others prepare, looks a little disappointed. "Man, I wish I could go too…"
Vanessa chuckles, adjusting her witch hat. "Looks like you're stuck here at the hideout tonight, Asta."
"Not exactly!" Asta says, perking up. "I got invited to a networking event with Mimosa later!"
Noelle's eyes widen, and she spins around, cheeks burning. "Wait, WHAT? When did this happen? Not that I care or anything!" Her voice is a little too loud, her blush spreading across her face.
Asta scratches his head, confused. "Uh, when you were explaining something to Finral. But I guess I can't go now since you guys have that mission."
"Well, networking's a big deal, Asta," Finral chimes in, a charming grin spreading across his face. "What are you planning to wear?"
Asta blinks, glancing down at his usual outfit. "This, of course! What's wrong with it?"
Finral shakes his head, chuckling. "Oh no, no. It's a high-end event. You'll need something... a bit more elegant. Like a tuxedo or something."
"A tuxedo?" Asta's eyes widen in panic. "But I don't have anything like that!"
"Don't worry, leave it to me," Finral says, clearly enjoying the idea of playing stylist for Asta. "We'll go to the capital and get you something perfect. You'll look like a real gentleman."
Asta brightens up. "Alright, Finral! I'm counting on you!"
''you've got it'' Finral replies.
Meanwhile, Haze exits Wilbert's inn, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder before mounting his broom. He flies through the streets and lands smoothly in front of a tailor shop. As he steps inside, a chipper man behind the counter greets him.
"Good day, sir! What can we do for you?"
"Just need something quick," Haze mutters, handing over the details.
The tailor glances over the request. "Say no more. Uh, are you sure about the size?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm sure," Haze replies, settling into a chair near the counter.
"Alright, but we'll need to adjust one of our models a bit. Shouldn't take more than 15 minutes. It's a quick fix," the man clarifies, already moving toward the back.
"That's fine," Haze says, disinterested. He leans his head into his hand, hunching over the counter, letting his mind drift to a conversation from earlier that day.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we're fully booked. If you wanted to offer aid or contribute, it should have been arranged yesterday at the latest," the maid had said firmly.
"But I really need to," Haze had replied, his voice soft but desperate.
A second maid, passing by, had paused. "Wait, aren't you the one Wilbert takes care of?"
"I am, yes. Why?" Haze had asked, feeling a flicker of unease.
"Well, Wilbert's always been a great help, and he's spoken highly of you since you were little," she said thoughtfully. After a brief hesitation, she asked, "Do you really need something addressed here tonight?"
"Yes. I can't go into details, but it's important," Haze had said, his urgency clear.
The maid's expression shifted to suspicion. "Is this to help your family save face?"
Haze had faltered, his mind flashing to his sister, his father, and the struggles his family had faced over the past year. "Well... yes," he admitted, his voice barely audible.
"Please," he had finally said, his tone pleading, unsure of what else to offer.
The maid had studied him for a moment before sighing. "Fine, one extra won't hurt."
Relief had flooded through Haze. "Thank you."
But before he could move, she had raised a finger. "I'm not doing this for you," she had said sharply. "I'm doing this for Wilbert. He's always had faith in you, told us you were different. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't even consider this. Now, you need to pick out proper attire for her. This is a high-class event, so all staff must wear neutral attire—black dress, white apron. Got it?"
"Got it," Haze had nodded, feeling the weight of her words.
His mind returns to the present as he glances around the tailor shop. The racks are lined with elegant dresses and tuxedos, each finely crafted in a variety of shapes and sizes. Shelves display accessories—delicate shoes, gemstone earrings, and sparkling necklaces. The shop clearly caters to both men and women, and while the clothing is of high quality, Haze knows there are only a handful of places with finer, more specialized designs. Rumor has it that none can compare to the royal seamstress, who's said to be capable of sewing magic into her garments.
Haze's gaze drifts to his hand resting on the counter, where his family ring gleams in the light. The ring, with two butterflies clasping a sharp purple stone, stirs memories of his youth. He recalls standing on a beach with his mother, watching others play in the sand, just after receiving the ring.
"Mother, why is our family crest two butterflies and a gem?" he had asked, his young mind curious.
"Well, in many cultures, the butterfly symbolizes cause and effect," she had explained.
"Cause and effect?" Haze had echoed, not fully understanding.
"Yes," she had said gently. "It means that everything you do, whether big or small, has an impact. No one is too insignificant to make a difference."
Though the concept had gone over his head at the time, Haze had felt that he grasped some of it. "But what about the gem? And why two butterflies?" he had pressed.
She had smiled warmly. "The gem represents something beautiful that can be created when two people work together with the same goal in mind. It shows that when we combine our efforts, we can achieve more than we could alone."
Haze had stared at her, still confused. "I don't really get it."
"Someday you will," she had said softly. "Just promise me you'll hold onto that ring until you do."
Now, in the present, Haze looks again at the sharp purple stone held by the two butterflies. His heart aches as he remembers how ill his mother has become in the medical ward. "I still don't get it, Mom," he mutters under his breath. "And all this working together stuff hasn't done much for me."
A flash of a brunette crosses his mind, and Haze clenches his fist. ("It doesn't matter. I need to focus on finding her now,") he thinks, his resolve hardening.
The tailor returns, interrupting his thoughts. "It's ready, sir," he says, handing Haze a bag.
Haze places it inside his duffel bag and hands the man the required coins. Stepping out of the shop, he spots a few familiar faces approaching, chatting amongst themselves. His eyes catch on Millie, who walks behind them, staring at her hand thoughtfully.
"Oh, Haze! Hello!" Asta calls out as Haze steps out of the tailor shop. Beside him, Finral notices and asks, "Did you pick up clothes too?"
Asta's eyes light up, jumping to conclusions. "Oh! Does that mean you're coming to the networking event tonight as well?"
"Maybe," Haze responds nonchalantly. "I've got a few things to take care of first. Can I borrow Millie for the rest of the day?"
Asta shrugs. "Sure, no problem. If she's fine with it," he says, glancing back at Millie. She's still staring at her hand, lost in thought, and only notices everyone's attention after a moment. Blushing, she lowers her hand. "I'm sorry, I am confused, what was the question?" she asks softly.
Asta grins. "Would you mind helping Haze out for a while?"
"Oh, I don't mind at all, Master Asta," she replies in her usual gentle tone.
"Great. See you guys," Haze says, not wasting any time. He strides past Millie, grabbing her hand tightly as he pulls her along. She bites down lightly on her lip, wincing. ("Wrong day for my hands to act up,") she thinks, trying to keep up as he drags her forward. She glances back, noticing Asta has already turned his attention back to Finral, chatting again. "Why does he keep asking for my consent when I'll do whatever's asked of me regardless?" she wonders, feeling the weight of Haze's unyielding grip.
"How well do those ears of yours work again?" Haze suddenly asks, breaking her from her thoughts.
"My hearing is perfectly fine, sir. Nothing impairs my senses," she replies politely.
"No, I mean…" He pauses, thinking over his words. "How far can you hear if you focus?"
"If I concentrate, I can hear noises up to half a mile away. Voices, though, are clearer within about 150 meters," she explains.
"Through walls?" he asks, his eyes narrowing in thought.
"That depends on the material and thickness, sir," she responds, her face composed but curious.
He nods, thinking out loud. "It shouldn't matter... it should still work."
Millie tilts her head slightly. "Are you asking me to eavesdrop on a conversation, sir?"
Haze glances at her, taken aback for a second. "Kind of," he admits, letting go of her hand. He mounts his broom, and Millie shifts into her cat form, climbing up behind him.
"You'll be eavesdropping from a place most people won't even notice, invisible to nobility," he tells her as they fly off.
"How good is your memory?" he asks as they soar above the evening-lit capital.
"I am quite adept at remembering things accurately," Millie replies.
"Good," Haze says with conviction. "It'll have to do."
They travel in silence, the sky awash with soft shades of yellow and orange as the evening descends upon the capital. Soon, they move just beyond the city's center and land quietly near a large house with a purple roof. The mansion is small by noble standards, but ornate, with intricate details along its balcony. In the center, butterflies surround a gem—a symbol that feels familiar to Millie.
As they fly closer, she takes in the quiet surroundings. Haze guides them to a third-floor window, using his mana to unlock it from the inside. The latch clicks open, and he slips in, leaving his broom floating outside. Millie jumps in after him, transforming back into her human form. They find themselves in a spacious bedroom. A king-sized bed dominates the room, with white and gold-painted furniture adorning the space. Everything looks expensive—luxurious, even. The faint glow of the moonlight makes the golden-framed mirror gleam eerily in the corner.
Haze heads straight to a closet, rummaging through it, while Millie's attention drifts to a nearby desk. Several framed photographs are displayed, showing a younger Haze alongside people who look like his mother and sister. Her gaze lingers on a particular image of a brown-haired girl with striking blue eyes and a bright smile. She notices the name "Laura" inscribed in the corner of the photo. "Is this the girl Haze is so desperate to find?" Millie wonders, her heart softening at the thought. "He must care about her deeply."
Before she can dwell on it, Haze's arm reaches over and snatches the photo out of her view, placing it face down. "No one said you could be nosy," he says coldly, his tone unamused.
"I apologize, sir. I didn't mean to intrude," she replies quickly, bowing her head.
Haze pulls a few items from the closet and stuffs them into his duffel bag. "I've got what I need. Let's go before anyone shows up," he mutters. With that, he leaps back out the window, landing smoothly on his broom. Millie shifts into her cat form again and jumps onto the back as they take off, Haze using his mana to lock the window behind them.
The sky has grown colder, and Millie notices the moisture from Haze's breath as it condenses in the crisp evening air. By the time they return to the castle town, the sun has dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets.
They land near the inn, and Haze dismounts without a word, heading inside. Millie shifts back to her human form and quietly follows.
"Haze, back so soon?" Wilbert greets as they step inside.
"Yeah. Got things to take care of," Haze replies, his tone flat and uninterested.
"You know I'm closing soon, right? I've got a family waiting for me, and I can't stay up late for your shenanigans tonight," Wilbert says, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
"My shenanigans?" Haze's tone sharpens. "Is that why you quit working for us?"
Wilbert sighs. "Haze, you know it wasn't like that…"
"I don't want to hear it. Just do what you do," Haze snaps, his voice tinged with conflict.
Millie watches as Haze's mood darkens. He grabs her hand again, dragging her along as they head upstairs. "Haze? Sir?" she asks cautiously, sensing his agitation.
"Not now," he barks, brushing off her concern. They walk down the corridor and into a small, simple room whit a bed, an end table, a closet, and a desk with a single chair. Haze walks in, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed and rummaging through it.
"Sir?" Millie tries again, but he cuts her off.
"Not now!" he repeats, his frustration boiling over. He throws a paper bag at her. "Put these on," he orders.
Without another word, Haze grabs his own change of clothes and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Millie stands there, stunned for a moment. "(His heart... it's hurting, but I can't seem to reach him. Not yet, at least.") She looks inside the bag.
Moments later, she is wearing black flat shoes, a black silk skirt, and a black short-sleeved shirt with a simple corset hugging her bust. A white apron hangs loosely around her neck as she struggles to close the corset.
Click. The door opens, and she looks behind her. "You aren't done yet?" he complains.
"My apologies, sir, I cannot seem to close this properly," she says, trying to fasten the upper part of her corset.
He walks up beside her and notices that the corset is a size too small. "No, the mistake is mine... I guess I underestimated your chest size," he says. Moving behind her, he grabs the edges of the corset and begins to adjust the straps.
"Pull everything in," he instructs her, and she inhales sharply. He tightens the strings. "It'll have to do. This has to turn out the right way," he mutters, his voice mellow as he gets lost in thought. He tightens the corset again. "It has to succeed tonight, got it?" he tells her, giving it one last pull.
"Understood, sir," she replies as he tightens it once more.
"How is it?" he asks.
"It's a little too—"
"Good," he interrupts. She adjusts her shirt and properly secures the apron, looking down. (Uh!? It looks like they're about to burst).
"You should probably fix your hair," he tells her.
"Alright," she mutters and pulls her hair into a bun, securing it with a red ribbon and a feather.
"No, that ruins the outfit," he says, rummaging through the closet. "Use this one," he hands her a white ribbon that matches her apron.
"Right," she says, replacing the red ribbon with it.
Haze goes to the bag and pulls out a white maid's headpiece, placing it in her hair, then looks her over.
"Is there any way you can remove the collar?" he asks.
"Sadly no, sir," she says, gripping each side of the collar and giving it a tug. "If I try, it only tightens around my throat," she demonstrates.
"But if it's displeasing, I can do this," she says, touching the bell on her collar. In an instant, the collar becomes invisible.
"Looks perfect," he says. "But why is there a cut right below where the collar was?" he asks.
"That's a long story, sir, and I believe we're short on time," she replies.
"Right," he says, and they head out.
He lands behind the building, dismounting his broom. Millie leaps to the ground, shifting back to her human form. He remains silent, his gaze fixed on the large balcony above.
While he seems lost in thought for a moment, Millie takes the opportunity to retrieve her brooch. It sparkles delicately in the fading evening light before gradually vanishing. She looks up, seeing that only the stars remain to illuminate the late evening
"Time to go," he tells her, turning toward her. "You know you can't wear that to an event like this."
"I understand, sir," she says, touching her bell and making it disappear again.
She glances at him, and he notices her gloves. "Do you think you can keep those on?" he asks.
"I'd rather they stay on, sir," she says.
"Fine," he concedes, opening the door for her. She gives a grateful bow and walks inside.
"Now, I want you to listen carefully. Remember the faces of these five people and pay close attention to their conversations," he instructs. She notices two blond individuals, one of whom is unmistakably Kyle Menercy, along with a gray-haired lady with purple streaks, clearly his sister. The other two have red hair and brown eyes. "I'll show you a few signals for communication. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," she replies.
"Is there anything specific I should focus on?" she asks.
Haze looks off to the side. "Just pay attention. I'll ask about it later."
"Understood, sir."
He proceeds to show her the hand signals, which she memorizes.
"Make sure you stay on top of it," he reminds her.
"I'll do my best, sir," she says.
They see a couple of women approaching them. "Good evening, sir. Is this the one who will be working with us?" one of them asks.
"She is. Make sure to show her the ropes," he says.
"Of course, sir. But first," the woman says, "we'll need to cover up your legs and arms." Haze looks back at Millie, noticing the clear scars on her skin.
(How did I not see notice those before?) he wonders.
"Will it be a problem?" he asks.
"It won't be an issue, sir. It's amazing what makeup can do," the woman says with a smile and a bow. "We'll take care of it," she assures him, grabbing Millie's hand and leading her away.
"Come, we'll show you around," the other woman says.
"Of course, miss," Millie replies.
"Oh, there's no need to be so formal. We're all on the same level here," the woman says warmly.
"I— I prefer it, please," Millie responds.
"Well, alright," the woman says. "I'm Ulva. It's nice to meet you, um..."
"Millie Millenty," Millie introduces herself with a bow.
Sometime later:
"There you go, fit and ready. Those scars were deep... how did you get them?" Ulva asks.
"I... I got them from different places," Millie says quietly.
"Do they ever bother you?" Ulva asks.
"How do you mean, Miss Ulva?" Millie responds.
"I mean, do people ever get put off by them?" Ulva clarifies.
"Not as far as I know," Millie says.
"So, looking like you've been put through a grinder doesn't bother you?" Ulva asks.
"Not at all. They're proof I've been through something. Besides, each scar has a story to tell, almost like a map of my life. It would be odd for me to live the life I've lived without getting a few scars," Millie replies.
"A few scars, Millie? You're covered in scars," Ulva says.
"Right... Anyway, we should probably get to it," Millie mutters, standing up with a bow.
"Right. I'll show you where to refill and how we're expected to serve drinks and food," Ulva says.
"This is the ballroom where most of the event will take place," she explains as they walk into a huge room with white pillars supporting a granite roof edged in gold with Victorian detailing, including diamonds within the design.
The floors are white marble, and half the room is filled with standing tables but no chairs. One part of the room has a stage, and the walls are adorned with glittering bows in shades of blue and gray.
"Have you served at events like this before?" Ulva asks.
"I have, Miss. I used to work for a noblewoman for a time," Millie replies.
"Oh? Of which house?" Ulva asks.
"It wasn't a noble from this continent," Millie says.
"Huh, so you were in another country?" Ulva asks.
"I was," Millie says, her eyes drifting toward the large glass doors leading to the balcony, with thick curtains hanging against the glass, tied with bows.
"Oh, that's the balcony, but sadly it's far too cold to use it tonight," Ulva explains.
On the other side of the room, Millie notices two doors, which Ulva catches her looking at. "There's nothing we need behind those doors. One leads to a small library with a few chairs and a table for the nobles who frequent this place," Ulva explains.
"And the other?" Millie asks.
"Just a closet," Ulva says.
"Honestly, I was surprised when I saw on the list that the House of Werrant would assist with the event, sending one of their staff," Ulva says.
"How so?" Millie asks.
"Well, before, during, and after the war with the devils, there were a few rumors surrounding their house. I heard it was related to something that happened in the Diamond Kingdom," Ulva says.
"You haven't heard of it?" Ulva asks.
"No, Miss, I haven't. He keeps his affairs private," Millie says.
"I see. Well, the kid was a lot different after that. He used to be so sweet, from what I saw of him," Ulva says.
"Do you think his heart is hurting?" Millie asks.
"Most likely. I heard he lost his best friend during that time," Ulva replies.
"I see," Millie utter thinking everything over.
"Ah, but these are just rumors. I'm sure it's better to hear it from him in person," Ulva adds.
"Of course, Miss..." Millie notices a subtle wince in Ulva's movements. "Is your back hurting?" Millie asks.
"A bit, but it's nothing to worry about," Ulva replies.
"You seem too young to have back problems," Millie says.
"You think so? Well, I hurt my back a year ago doing an extra job for someone, and I fell off a ladder. I've been in pain ever since. I requested a healer, and it helped a little, but if I want to fully recover, I'll need someone more skilled. I don't have the money to take a day off for that," Ulva explains.
"Shouldn't you take it easy?" Millie asks.
"No, I'm fine. Besides, if I stopped working, my mother and siblings would suffer," Ulva says.
"I see," Millie replies, placing her hand gently on Ulva's back. "Life Shield Magic: Shielded Healing," Millie murmurs as she casts a small healing spell.
"Wait... you can heal?" Ulva asks.
"A bit. It's not as strong as a grand healer's magic, but it's something. I've never been able to improve it, no matter how hard I tried. This is all I can do," Millie explains.
"I already feel some of the pain easing. Thank you," Ulva says.
"It was my pleasure, Miss Ulva," Millie replies.
"I knew I liked you the moment I saw you. I get the feeling there's more to you than meets the eye," Ulva mentions.
"How so?" Millie asks.
Just then, a lady with gray hair, glasses, and a few wrinkles, showing her age to be about fifty or more, walks in, followed by the rest of the staff.
"Are you two ready? We'll be opening the doors any minute now," the older lady asks.
"We're ready," Ulva says.
"You can stop now, even though it was just a little, it helped a lot. Thank you," Ulva says, looking at Millie.
"It was my pleasure," Millie replies with a respectful nod. Ulva looks at her, her eyes softening, and moves to hug Millie. Millie flinches and takes a step back.
"Oh, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just wanted to thank you properly" the Ulva explains.
"It's alright, I just... Let's work hard," Millie stammers. The lady smiles as the doors open.
"Good, everything is in place as it should be."
"Oh! Lord Fuegoleon Vermillion, welcome. Everything is as requested, sir," the older lady says with a deep bow, adjusting her glasses.
"Good. My niece will be here in my stead later this evening, as I need to coordinate with my squad about tomorrow's missions," Fuegoleon says, looking around the room.
(I can feel it. There's a fire spirit's presence nearby, Millie thinks to herself.)
Fuegoleon makes his way around the room, ensuring everything is in order.
"Good, everything is as it should be. I'll greet the first few guests, and then I'll be off. I will ensure that the House of Vermillion's Great Lions are as present and welcoming as always, and we will show them the spirit of a great lion," he says, releasing flames around him, a dragon of fire appearing on his shoulder.
(That's Salamander. He's beautiful...) Millie thinks as she watches in awe.
The dragon's gaze shifts, locking onto Millie.
(The flames are strong, yet careful not to harm anyone... They feel so... incredibly... pure...) she thinks to herself.
"Well now, let's open the doors," Fuegoleon says. Two servants open the double doors, and the first guests, elegantly dressed and ready for the evening, begin to enter.
(''here it goes, I will need to focus completely'') Millie thinks to her self taking a deep breath to ready for the evening.
