Regulus froze, recognizing the familiar figure.
His golden eyes widened slightly, betraying a rare crack in his usual composure. Then a faint, self-assured smirk curved his lips.
"Well, I didn't expect fate to bring us together so soon, my dear lady," he drawled lazily, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice carried a tone as soft as rustling leaves—effortless yet with an undertone of hidden strength.
Sheele, adjusting her glasses, froze as if caught off guard. The lenses reflected a brief glint of the warm bar lights, catching the faintest spark of light.
Her expression mixed surprise and awkwardness, as if she were torn between being pleased about the encounter or finding an excuse to leave immediately.
Her fingers nervously brushed against the frame of her glasses, slightly tilting them, adding to her disheveled appearance.
"Uh… you?" she squinted slightly, her gaze darting to his face as if trying to recall where she had seen him before. For a moment, she paused, but then her eyes lit up with recognition, and she lowered her hand to fix her glasses back in place. "Ah, yes, you're that… strange guy I ran into earlier."
Regulus chuckled, tilting his head slightly so that a few snowy strands of hair fell across his forehead.
He looked both amused and faintly irritated by her response.
"Not strange—impressive," he corrected with lazy confidence, his tone suggesting he was accustomed to being the center of attention. "Lost in thought again, am I right?"
Sheele flushed, her fingers reaching for her glasses again, but she stopped herself and folded her hands in front of her. A faint pink hue crept onto her cheeks.
"No, I just…" she started but hesitated, her gaze drifting aside for a moment. "I didn't expect to see you."
Her voice sounded genuine, but she quickly tried to adopt a more composed posture, crossing her arms over her chest. Still, there was a hint of timidity in her stance.
Regulus noticed her attempt to appear bolder, and his smirk widened. He leaned forward slightly as if closing the space between them.
"Well," he said with a teasing lilt, "perhaps it's fate. Or maybe you came here on purpose to see me?"
Sheele's face turned crimson as she almost dropped her glasses. Her hands quickly caught the frame, and she clumsily adjusted them before shaking her head vigorously.
"What? Of course not!" she exclaimed, her voice a pitch higher than usual. Then, realizing how loud she had been, she softened her tone, as if embarrassed. "I was just… running errands."
Regulus raised an eyebrow, his gaze turning mildly mocking, though now tinged with genuine curiosity.
He leaned back in his seat, his movements so casual it seemed he had been born in bars, effortlessly conducting such conversations all his life.
"Whatever the case," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, wrapping around her like velvet. "You've caught my attention, klutz."
Unexpectedly, Sheele let out a small laugh. Her shoulders shook slightly before she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, as if afraid that her slip might become more fuel for his teasing.
"Maybe so," she murmured, turning away to hide her blush. Her fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of her cloak. "But please don't call me that."
Regulus swirled the glass in his hand slowly, watching the sparkling wine catch the light. His golden eyes lingered on her face for a moment before drifting to her hands.
"You ordered dry red wine, didn't you? I can't imagine how anyone drinks that stuff. Once, I decided to try it myself. Finished a whole bottle. And guess what? Nearly died from that sour crap. Still remember throwing up afterward. It's just disgusting. That wine's trash."
The purple-haired girl, taken aback by his blunt statement, tapped her chin thoughtfully.
Her gaze briefly lifted to the ceiling, as if searching for an answer there, before returning to him.
"Maybe you just overdid it?" she suggested with a sweet smile, her voice carrying a mild reproach. "I mean… even your favorite wine would make you sick if you drank too much."
Her eyes widened slightly as if contemplating something deeper, and then she suddenly asked:
"You seem like you drink often. Are you healthy?"
Regulus, clearly not expecting such a direct question, leaned back in his chair, his gaze momentarily distant. Then he snorted softly and smirked.
"And why do you care? Worried about me? How touching," he said, his voice laced with mockery, though free of malice.
Sheele, visibly flustered, rubbed her chin before replying:
"Well… I just think drinking too much is unhealthy. Isn't that obvious?"
Her gentle tone, almost tender, caught Regulus off guard. He nodded slightly, shrugged, and with a lazy air of interest, asked:
"And what's your name? Rare to meet someone so… unusual."
The girl glanced at the bartender, who was busy pouring her order, then returned her gaze to Regulus. In her eyes, a flicker of cautious trust shone briefly.
"Sheele," she said simply. "And you?"
Regulus tilted his head slightly, his voice taking on a deliberately measured, almost theatrical tone:
"Regulus Corneas."
He seemed to savor the moment as if his name alone should make an impression.
The bartender, with a professional smile, set Sheele's glass down. The crimson wine shimmered beautifully under the light.
"Your dry red, miss," he said, giving a polite nod.
"Th-thank you," she replied softly, lowering her gaze slightly. Her voice was tender and almost shy.
Sheele carefully picked up the glass, holding it as though afraid to spill it. Taking a small sip, she let the taste linger on her tongue for a moment before turning back to Regulus.
Her purple eyes studied his face for a second before flicking briefly to his hair.
"You know, I'm curious… why is your hair so white? You don't look old at all," she said, tilting her head as if trying to get a better look.
Regulus, caught off guard by the question, froze for a moment before lazily running his fingers through his snowy locks. His hand moved carelessly through the strands.
"Why?" he echoed with a faint smile, meeting her gaze. "I don't know. It's been this way since birth. Maybe it's my personal gift from nature, or perhaps someone's idea of a joke."
His voice was soft, carrying a hint of pensiveness. For a brief moment, his gaze shifted away as though he were lost in thought, before returning to her.
Her eyes shone with genuine curiosity, prompting him to squint slightly in thought.
"And what? Think I should dye it black? Or maybe bright green?" he added with a playful tone, masking a slight hint of discomfort.
"No, not at all," she replied, shaking her head. "I think white suits you. It's... unusual. Even beautiful."
Her words sounded sincere, and for the first time in a long while, Regulus felt a slight sense of surprise at such simple kindness. He tilted his head slightly, allowing a faint smile to play on his lips.
"She's really soft and… simple. Wouldn't mind adding her to my circle," he thought briefly, but aloud he said, "Well, thank you for the compliment, lady. It's nice to hear."
Sheele took another sip of her wine, her gaze still fixed on Regulus.
After several hours of pleasant conversation at the bar, Sheele was the first to leave, leaving Regulus with a rare sense of lightness. He finished the remainder of his sparkling wine, allowed himself a lazy smile, and, after paying the bill, headed for the exit.
Regulus turned a corner, opting for a random alley to shorten his path. By this time, he had consumed a little over a bottle, and the slight intoxication relaxed him pleasantly.
But the silence was broken by a rough voice.
"Hey, man, are you drunk?" came a shout from ahead, and Regulus squinted, noticing two figures.
Standing before him were two men clad in heavy armor, the kind worn by imperial guards. Their posture exuded a mix of overconfidence and boredom, their gazes fixed squarely on him.
"Just what I needed," he thought to himself.
His golden eyes briefly flared with irritation, but he quickly regained his outward composure.
"No," he replied curtly, aiming to avoid conflict. "I'm not drunk."
One of the guards stepped forward, scrutinizing him closely. A faint smirk played on his lips as if he had already passed judgment.
"We'll see about that," the guard declared with exaggerated seriousness.
The other man, shorter and stockier, suddenly produced a water-filled bag from somewhere. Inside floated a goldfish, lifeless and bobbing at the surface.
"Blow into this," he said, thrusting the bag toward Regulus. "If the fish dies, you're drunk. And then we'll take you in."
Regulus froze, dumbfounded by the absurdity of the situation. His gaze lingered on the bag for a moment before he raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Are you joking? It's already dead," he said calmly, locking eyes with the guards.
The first guard frowned, stepping closer. His face twisted with irritation, and his voice grew harsher.
"Don't get smart. Blow, if you've got nothing to hide."
Regulus slid his hands into his pockets, his posture growing even more relaxed. Tilting his head slightly, he studied them as if gauging how far they were willing to go.
"You know, guys," he began with a lazy smile, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I've always wondered how someone can reach this level of stupidity. Are you serious? Testing sobriety with a dead fish? Or are you just trying to entertain me?"
The men tensed. The shorter guard gritted his teeth but instead of replying, shoved the bag closer to Regulus's face.
"We're not joking. Blow. Now."
The archbishop took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as a glint of coldness flashed in their golden depths. He stepped forward.
"Well, as you wish, noble enforcers of the law," he said with mock humility, his voice so soft it carried an underlying threat.
He leaned down, bringing his face close to the bag. With a theatrical sigh, he touched the tube to his lips and exhaled sharply.
The next moment, the bag burst with a loud crack. Water splashed onto the ground, and the goldfish was torn in half.
"Oh," Regulus said with exaggerated regret, stepping back. "Seems I overdid it."
At that instant, the first guard froze, and then his upper body collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.
His lower half remained standing for a few moments, as if refusing to believe what had happened, before following suit.
Blood gushed from the cleaved torso, pooling at Regulus's feet. The final sound escaping the man's throat was a gurgling rasp.
"Oh dear, my apologies," Regulus continued with the same innocent smile, addressing the second guard, who was already retreating, his trembling hand clutching the hilt of his sword. "Well, you know, these things happen with men. Sometimes, you just can't keep yourself in check."
Regulus made a single, seemingly lazy swipe with his hand. No ceremony, no visible effort.
But it was enough.
The second guard didn't even have time to blink before his head separated from his shoulders, his body collapsing to the ground with a dull thud, the head following shortly after.
"Well," the Archbishop remarked proudly, glancing at the lifeless remains. "Maybe this will teach you not to conduct idiotic inspections or extort people at random."
His smug smile suddenly faded. He froze, as if remembering something, and scanned his surroundings.
His eyes narrowed, like those of a hunter searching for a potential threat.
"Wait… I didn't check if I was being followed," he muttered, his voice tinged with surprise, as though he'd made an annoying oversight in an otherwise flawless plan.
Quickly surveying the alley, he noticed nothing suspicious. Only a few disheveled crates and the wet ground from the burst bag remained.
"Seems like no one…" he added, shrugging.
Scratching the back of his head, as if deciding whether he'd overlooked anything important, Regulus calmly turned and walked out of the alley, as if nothing had happened.
"Ugh, you reek of booze, Reg," Chelsea quipped, her index finger jabbing firmly into his chest.
The temporary Hyades hideout felt unusually uncomfortable for Regulus at that moment.
The red-haired girl stared at him with a look of distrust that was hard to ignore.
Standing next to her, Mirzam crossed her arms, her pink eye boring into Regulus like lasers.
The rest of the Hyades seemed to be waiting for an explanation as well, except for Difda, who smoked peacefully in the corner, exuding an air of complete indifference.
Regulus scratched the back of his head, desperately trying to come up with an excuse, but instead, he simply shrugged sheepishly.
"Well… yeah, I drank. I admit it. Just a little. Barely anything," he mumbled, trying to look as harmless as possible.
Mirzam raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer.
"Barely anything?" her voice was almost mocking.
"Uh…" Regulus lowered his gaze guiltily. "Well… one bottle."
At that, Mirzam couldn't suppress a snort, her face a mix of surprise and barely concealed irritation.
"One bottle?" she repeated, a mocking smile spreading across her lips.
"We've got a mission coming up, and you decided to get wasted?" Difda cut in sharply, flicking her cigarette, sparks flying from the tip.
Chelsea crossed her arms, her red hair swaying slightly as she tilted her head.
"Care to explain what brilliant idea led to this 'genius' move?" she asked sarcastically.
Regulus sighed and raised his hands as if surrendering, though his expression remained nonchalant.
"Alright, alright," he said, pausing briefly, as if adding a dramatic flair to his words.
"I just wanted a glass of sparkling wine, but..."
"Ended up drinking the whole bottle?" Chelsea interrupted, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.
"Yeah," Regulus replied succinctly, nodding as if it were an unimportant detail.
Nembus, standing a little further away, let out a heavy sigh. His face was a blend of irritation and exhaustion.
He ran a hand down his face slowly, as if trying to wipe away all his accumulated disappointment.
"You're off this mission," he announced in a dry tone. His voice was controlled, but the reproach was unmistakable. "And there's no pay—or, as you call it, 'compensation'—either."
Hearing this, Regulus frowned and stomped his foot on the floor in frustration.
"That's not fair," he muttered, looking off to the side as though hoping someone might take pity on him.
Chelsea snorted, her fiery hair swaying slightly as she turned toward him.
"Oh, Reg, 'fair' means doing your job instead of downing a bottle of wine before an important mission," she said sarcastically.
"Maybe you'd like to contest it in court?" Mirzam added, her pink eye gleaming with mockery.
Exhaling a puff of smoke, Difda chuckled darkly.
"Go on, let him try. It'd be fun to see him justify his 'inspiration' from a bottle of sparkling wine," she said.
Regulus sighed heavily, crossing his arms as he sank into a chair and deliberately turned away from them.
"Fine, whatever," he grumbled. "I didn't want to be part of your stupid mission anyway."
Nembus, shaking his head tiredly, waved a hand dismissively.
"Good. Then stay here and sober up. We've got work to do," he said, turning and signaling for the others to get ready.
Regulus watched them leave, snorted softly, and muttered under his breath:
"Boring as always. Where's the fun in any of this?"
Regulus stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the distance. Yet, it felt as though he wasn't looking at the street but rather deep into his own thoughts.
The Hyades had left only minutes ago, but their words and expressions still echoed in his mind.
He exhaled heavily, as though trying to shake off an invisible burden, and muttered under his breath, his voice low and tinged with anger:
"To hell with them. Screw this. I'll handle everything myself, without them."
His golden eyes glinted sharply as he turned abruptly.