Regulus Corneas deeply inhaled the smoke from his pipe and slowly exhaled, releasing gray clouds into the cool air of the room.
The open windows barely managed to cope with the smoke, which seemed to lazily drift above the heads of those gathered.
It was early morning, barely past four. For the Hyades team, this was a familiar time—they always rose before dawn to prepare for their upcoming missions.
Sitting in a leather armchair in the corner of the room, Regulus appeared unusually relaxed. His golden eyes intently followed the smoke rings he deliberately released, as if savoring a rare moment of peace.
He smoked rarely, no more than once a day or even less—not out of fear for his lungs, but because the effect of nicotine was stronger after long breaks.
On the couch across from him, Mirzam sprawled in a casual pose. She had just set her manga down on the table, as if reluctantly pausing her reading.
Her long black hair fell softly over her shoulders, and her single bright pink eye, uncovered by her patch, watched Regulus with a slight smirk.
Next to her, Chelsea, fiery-haired and perpetually cheeky, lazily stretched and pulled another candy from her pocket. Popping it into her mouth with obvious delight, she closed her eyes and relaxed, looking utterly carefree.
Nembus stood in the middle of the room. His figure, clad in his usual simple yet tidy attire, seemed both calm and reassuring.
His green eyes carefully scanned the group before he spoke, his voice carrying its usual confident tone.
"Listen closely," he began, tilting his head slightly to underscore the seriousness of the moment. "We have reliable intel. Our target enjoys visiting a specific bar in this city late at night. Tonight, we're taking him out."
Regulus, idly twirling a lock of his snow-white hair around his finger, nodded to show he was listening.
His gaze lingered momentarily on his pipe as he gently set it down on the wooden table beside his chair.
"And what bar is that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.
His voice was calm, but there was a hint of interest mingled with mild amusement.
Nembus, ignoring the tone, continued with measured precision.
"The Blue Goat. He visits it almost every night. Tonight will be no exception."
(Note: "The Blue Goat" is a reference to a bar in Minsk.)
Mirzam raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly.
"The Blue Goat?" she echoed with a hint of irony. "Sounds like he's more drawn to the name than the place itself. Maybe he just enjoys a drink with a cute little goat?"
Chelsea burst into laughter, taking the candy out of her mouth to avoid choking.
"A cute little goat! Yeah, right! He probably just goes there to flaunt his fat wallet to the poor souls who can't even afford a glass of water."
Regulus smirked but didn't join the wave of laughter. His gaze remained focused, and his thoughts seemed already occupied with the evening's plans.
"So," he interjected, steering the conversation toward more serious matters, "what's our approach? Are we waiting inside, or setting up an ambush outside?"
Nembus paused briefly, as if weighing his words, then said slowly:
"An ambush outside. Too many witnesses inside. We'll let him leave, then strike. Chelsea and Mirzam will monitor him in the bar to confirm his presence. Regulus, you'll cover the back exit. Difda will provide backup if anything goes wrong."
Mirzam nodded, settling more comfortably on the couch. Her face took on a focused expression, though the glimmer of mockery in her eyes remained.
"Sounds like a job for professionals," she remarked with a shadow of a smirk. "Well, since I'm a professional, why not?"
Chelsea snorted, popping the candy back into her mouth, but said nothing. She only nodded, signaling her readiness.
Regulus slowly rose from his chair and said curtly:
"Then it's up to us."
His voice was steady, but a spark gleamed in his golden eyes.
Mirzam, stretching lazily, barely managed to shove her manga aside before turning to Regulus. Her pink eyebrows arched slightly, as if she were about to say something snarky.
Crossing her legs on the chair, she smiled mischievously, adding a touch of playfulness to her face.
"You know," she drawled as though debating whether to speak further, "you still owe me a beer from yesterday. So, when we're at the bar, you'll buy me three glasses of wine! Her tone carried such mock indignation that it was hard to tell whether she was joking or genuinely upset.
Regulus, sitting across from her and thoughtfully puffing on his pipe, abruptly exhaled smoke through his nose, lifting his gaze to her.
His golden eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't expected such an accusation.
"No, no, no," he waved his hands defensively, as though fending off an invisible attack. "First of all, I never promised you anything. Secondly, I couldn't yesterday! They thought I was a kid, can you believe it?" His face tensed slightly, and he cleared his throat, trying to mask his awkwardness. "And anyway, you have your own money, so there!"
Mirzam demonstratively turned away, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing loudly as though deeply offended.
However, a faint smirk appeared on her face, betraying her real mood.
"Fine," she said after a brief pause, her voice regaining its sly, playful tone that often signaled the start of her "attacks."
"By the way, you came back pretty late yesterday. Care to explain? Flirting with some beauties? Or perhaps…" She paused dramatically, narrowing her eyes and leaning closer. "Screwing them?" she finished with a cheeky grin.
"Nope, stargazing," he replied lazily, releasing a puff of smoke into the air. After a brief pause, he added, as if confessing something almost amusing:
"Although, to be honest… I did meet one beauty. Quite clumsy, though."
Mirzam, sitting nearby and lazily twirling a strand of her hair, immediately perked up.
A mischievous grin spread across her lips, and her eyes sparkled with that familiar gleam that usually heralded the beginning of her teasing.
"And what did you do with this beauty?" she interrupted him mid-thought, leaning forward slightly as if she couldn't miss a single word.
Regulus paused for a moment, thoughtfully scratching his chin, as if trying to recall something significant.
His pipe rested in his hand, still faintly smoking, while he deliberately delayed his response.
Finally, shrugging slightly, he answered with feigned indifference:
"Well… nothing. Really, nothing."
The admission was so casual that Mirzam couldn't help but burst into laughter. She leaned back, clasping her hands behind her head, her laughter echoing throughout the room.
"You're just a master of seduction!" she exclaimed between chuckles, wiping away nearly-formed tears. "First, you find beauties, and then… nothing! Genius! I'm impressed by your talent."
Regulus only smirked in response, pretending not to notice her mockery. He picked up his pipe again and took a drag, this time gazing straight into her amused pink eyes.
"I have my methods," he replied with a hint of smugness, releasing another puff of smoke. "Not everyone needs to jump straight into romance, you know."
Mirzam, feigning deep thought, rested her chin on her hand and shook her head.
"Methods, you say?" she muttered, leaning forward with a suspiciously serious expression. "Is this some new way to stay single for life? Share it with me; I might need it."
Regulus was about to retort to Mirzam's jab when they were abruptly interrupted by Difda. Her irritated voice rang out across the room like a clap of thunder.
"Would you two just stop it already?!" she shouted, suddenly rising from her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.
Her pink hair glinted under the light, and her stern gaze seemed to pierce both of them.
"You're ruining my mood with your endless chatter and pointless bickering! Go argue outside if you must, but not here!"
Difda spoke loudly and commandingly, her words almost sounding like an order, and the massive scythe strapped to her back only amplified her imposing presence.
Mirzam, clearly unwilling to continue the quarrel, let out a heavy sigh and grudgingly stepped back.
She flopped onto her mattress, crossing her legs and folding her hands behind her head, as if trying to show she didn't care.
"Boobs on legs decided to intervene," she thought irritably, shifting her gaze from Regulus to Difda. Her face momentarily took on a pensive expression, but soon she relaxed again, as though deciding the argument wasn't worth her attention.
Regulus, however, smirked slightly at the corners of his lips, observing Mirzam's reaction.
He knew her weak spot well: though she was a master of crude jokes and sharp remarks, when it came to romance, her confidence vanished like the smoke from his pipe. And he wasn't about to pass up the chance to exploit that.
"Listen, Mirzam," he said slowly, his voice soft and almost gentle.
She turned to him with an annoyed look, expecting another jab, but instead, Regulus took a couple of steps forward, moving closer to her.
He leaned in slightly, so their faces were within arm's reach, and his eyes, glowing golden, looked directly into hers.
"You're quite beautiful," he added with a faint smile that was both friendly and daring.
Mirzam flinched slightly. Her eyes, usually narrowed in a mocking manner, widened a fraction in surprise.
She quickly averted her gaze, as if the direct contact was too intense for her.
A faint blush appeared on her cheeks, which she tried to hide behind a mask of indifference.
"Really?" her voice trembled, carrying an unexpected softness, almost vulnerability.
"Yes, really," Regulus replied with the same smile, stepping back as if to release the tension.
For a moment, an odd silence hung in the room, broken only by the creak of the mattress as Mirzam shifted to make herself more comfortable.
She glanced at the ceiling, pretending to ignore his words, but the telltale blush on her face revealed more than she intended.
"Good work," Regulus noted to himself. "Too bad I didn't even catch that beauty's name. Well, maybe we'll meet again. Such encounters aren't accidental, right?"
His golden eyes narrowed slightly, as though already envisioning the next conversation with that mysterious girl.
The silence in the dusty library was broken by the faint creak of wood as a young girl carefully pulled on the spine of a blue book.
The shelf before her began to rotate slowly, revealing a hidden passage.
She held her breath, checking to ensure everything was proceeding as it should, before stepping forward with slight clumsiness, balancing a stack of books in her hands.
When the secret door closed behind her, the girl found herself in a dimly lit corridor.
The soft light of lanterns barely penetrated the thick brick walls, creating an atmosphere of quiet and solitude.
She walked quietly forward, carefully watching her step as if afraid of stumbling—something that happened far more often than she would have liked.
"Late again… They must be waiting for me already," she thought, adjusting her glasses, which were precariously close to sliding off her nose.
She pursed her lips in slight anxiety, her thoughts revolving around the upcoming conversation with her comrades.
At the end of the corridor, she pushed open a heavy door and entered a large room. The brick walls were illuminated by several lamps, and in the center stood two massive couches, already occupied by those who worked in the shadows—the Night Raid.
Their appearances, so different yet complementary, immediately drew her attention.
"Finally, you're here!" the first to speak was a girl with bright pink hair tied into two playful pigtails.
She was petite, but her gaze and voice carried an inner fire. This was Mine, and her displeased tone came as no surprise to the latecomer.
"What, tripped over something again? Or lost your glasses?" she continued with a faint smirk, though her voice lacked malice, leaning more toward familiar irritation.
The girl smiled sheepishly, quickly setting the stack of books on the table.
"Sorry," she said quietly, adjusting her glasses. "I just… got a little delayed."
"Oh, give her a break, Mine," lazily chimed in a young man with tousled green hair, lounging on the couch. He leaned back, his arms behind his head, his expression radiating absolute calm.
"Maybe she was picking out books especially for you. Anyway, I hope it's not some garbage. I'm really not in the mood to read nonsense," he added with a grin. This was Lubbock, and his usual cheekiness was evident in every word.
"Garbage?" interrupted another girl suddenly, seated across from him. Her light blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her amber eyes sparkled with mild amusement. Her name was Leone.
"You're the garbage, Lubbock. Maybe you shouldn't read at all—you wouldn't understand anything anyway," she drawled, adjusting the neckline of her outfit and crossing her arms under her chest.
Lubbock merely shrugged, completely unfazed by her jab.
"Hey, don't fight," the girl in glasses said softly, adjusting her frames. Her voice was gentle, but there was a note of care in it. "I tried to pick useful books…" She trailed off, unsure how else to justify herself, then quickly added, "Really!"
Leone smiled, leaning back against the couch.
"Alright, kid, relax," she said more kindly this time. "You tried—that's what matters."
Mine only crossed her arms over her chest but remained silent, apparently deciding that arguing further wasn't worth it.
"Well, Sheele, since you tried, tell us—what's interesting in the stack?" asked Lubbock, nodding toward the pile of books.
The girl with purple hair nervously adjusted her glasses. She glanced away guiltily, her brows furrowed, and her expression was one of embarrassment.
"I… forgot," Shelly murmured, carefully placing the stack of books on the table.
Her voice wavered as though she was about to say more, but instead, she quietly apologized.
"Sorry," she said, bowing politely, as if seeking to atone for her mistake before her comrades.
Mine immediately reached for the top book in the pile. Casting a glance at its cover, she read the title aloud, raising an eyebrow slightly.
"'A Hundred Ways to Overcome Frivolity'… Hmm," she drawled with faint sarcasm, her gaze sliding toward Sheele. "Did you pick this one for yourself?"
Sheele froze, her face suddenly turning bright red, and her eyes reflected pure horror. She raised her hands as if to explain herself, but her words came out almost like a cry:
"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, nearly shouting, as if apologizing to everyone at once. "I just… I wanted to find something useful, but… I accidentally mixed up the books… I'm sorry!"
Her genuine embarrassment seemed to disarm even Mine, who simply shook her head and sighed. A faint shadow of a smile appeared on her face.
"Relax, no one's going to scold you," Mine said with mock severity, though her tone was softer than usual. "Just… try to be more careful next time, alright?"
Lubbock, who had been silently observing until then, couldn't resist chiming in:
"You know, Sheele, maybe you really should read that book," he said, barely stifling a laugh as he dodged a pillow thrown at him by Leone.
"Shut up, Lubbock," the blonde said with a lazy smile, shaking her head. "Alright, Sheele, you can take a break."
"The Blue Goat, after all," thought Regulus, stopping in front of the bar. The sign above the entrance swayed in the wind, its faded letters glimmering faintly in the lamplight.
The bar looked unimpressive—chipped paint on the door, worn walls. Yet, according to rumors, this place was a favorite haunt of those worth observing.
"Alright, time to scout the place before the mission," he decided, narrowing his golden eyes briefly.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. He pushed open the door, and the jingling of bells announced his arrival. Regulus stepped inside, immediately enveloped by the scent of aged wood and alcohol.
The bar turned out to be surprisingly lively: dim lighting, soft lamp glow, and a mix of patrons. Groups laughed and talked animatedly, while others sat alone, quietly sipping their drinks. Men and women chatted, laughed, and occasional toasts echoed through the room.
Regulus made his way to the bar counter, choosing a spot from where he could observe the hall. He sat down, propped an elbow on the counter, and scanned the space, careful not to draw attention to himself.
"A glass of sparkling wine," he said calmly, looking at the bartender.
The bartender, an older man in his sixties with a neatly trimmed silver beard, nodded briefly and reached under the counter for a glass.
"Right away, sir," he replied, heading to the shelves lined with bottles.
Meanwhile, Regulus began studying the crowd. His gaze flitted across faces, not lingering long on any one of them.
"So many fine ladies," he noted with mild interest, slightly raising an eyebrow. "Would be nice to meet one. But not now. After the mission, maybe."
The bartender returned, holding a bottle of wine. With a soft pop, he uncorked it and carefully poured the drink into a glass before placing it in front of Regulus.
"Here's your sparkling wine, sir," the bartender said with a slight smile.
"Thank you," Regulus replied with a curt nod.
He picked up the glass and took a small sip. The cold, slightly tart wine pleasantly tingled on his tongue.
"Tasty," he thought, smacking his lips softly before leaning back in his seat and scanning the room again.
His calm was interrupted by a soft sound—someone sat down next to him. Regulus instinctively turned his head, his golden eyes widening slightly in surprise.
It was her—the girl with glasses and the scar on her cheek. She looked a bit more modest than he remembered, but her appearance was just as endearing.
"Could I have… a glass of red wine, please?" she said, addressing the bartender. Her voice was soft, polite, and the corners of her lips twitched into a slight smile. "Dry."