Chapter 4: Fem's Casa Part 3

Another quick update, this one was already 70% finished when I update the previous chapter. However, for the next one might take longer to update.

Shirou's gaze hardened as Juste's cold words hung in the air, issuing a challenge neither of them could back away from. Millarca was still incapacitated, her body frozen from the effects of Juste's shock grenade, but her presence felt heavy between them. Juste's hand twitched near his weapon as if daring Shirou to make the first move.

"Fine," Shirou said, stepping forward with measured calm. His expression, though stoic, hinted at the resolve burning beneath. "You want a duel? Let's settle this."

Juste's eyes narrowed behind his helmet as a brief silence passed between them. It was an acknowledgment—a mutual understanding that this fight would not be a mere skirmish but a battle of survival. Both combatants knew what was at stake.

In the blink of an eye, Shirou's magic surged through his circuits, and two shimmering swords appeared in his hands—Kanshou and Bakuya. The twin blades felt familiar, their weight perfectly balanced in his grip as he took his stance. His eyes locked onto Juste's, already calculating the best way to approach this.

Juste responded with deadly efficiency. In one smooth motion, he fired a mini-missile from his wrist launcher. The projectile screamed toward Shirou with terrifying speed, leaving no room for hesitation. Shirou's instincts kicked in as he raised both swords, crossing them just in time to deflect the missile. It ricocheted off into the sky, exploding in the distance.

Before the shockwave had fully dissipated, Juste was already on the move. He closed the distance between them with a burst of speed, and with a mechanical roar, twin chainsaws extended from his forearms, buzzing menacingly as he brought them down toward Shirou.

Shirou sidestepped the first attack, the whir of the chainsaw blades slicing through the air where he had just stood. The sheer power behind Juste's swings was relentless. Sparks flew as the chainsaws screeched against the pavement when Shirou blocked a strike, but the force behind it almost knocked him off balance. Juste moved fluidly, bringing the chainsaws in a continuous barrage of slashes, aiming for Shirou's chest and head.

The rooftop echoed with the grinding, metallic sound of the chainsaws as they came within inches of Shirou's body. Every movement was a deadly dance as Shirou's twin swords met the buzz of the spinning blades, parrying each blow with practiced precision. Sweat ran down his brow as he reinforced his body, barely keeping up with Juste's brutal assault.

CLANG!

The blades locked once more, and for a moment, the two combatants stood frozen, each pushing against the other. Shirou could feel the strength in Juste's arms—he wasn't just fast, he was strong, stronger than Shirou had initially anticipated. The chainsaws roared, pushing Kanshou and Bakuya to their limits as sparks flew from the contact.

Juste's fighting style was wild but calculated, and his strength was undeniable. Each swing of the chainsaws came with terrifying precision, and Shirou was forced to stay on the defensive, blocking and dodging with everything he had. The chainsaws were heavy and vicious, a clear attempt to overwhelm Shirou with brute force.

As their blades locked, Shirou noticed something in Juste's movements—a tactical precision that went beyond brute strength. There was strategy behind every swing, a cold efficiency that reminded Shirou of another deadly fighter.

Kiritsugu.

Shirou gritted his teeth as the realization hit him. Juste was fighting with the same ruthless efficiency Kiritsugu had once shown him—the same cold, detached pragmatism that turned every battle into a chess game of survival.

But Shirou wasn't just a novice anymore. He had fought against impossible odds, had endured battles where victory seemed unattainable. He had learned to adapt, to think several steps ahead. And now, facing someone like Juste, those lessons would serve him well.

Juste suddenly pulled back, using the momentum of their locked blades to create distance. As he did, he reached into his belt, producing a small cylindrical device. Shirou's eyes narrowed in recognition—an alchemical grenade, designed to incapacitate with lethal efficiency.

With a flick of his wrist, Juste tossed the grenade toward Shirou, its smooth surface gleaming in the moonlight. Shirou acted on instinct, projecting a shield in front of him as the grenade detonated. A cloud of green gas erupted from the device, spreading rapidly and enveloping the rooftop.

Shirou coughed, his vision blurring as the gas spread around him. The toxicity of the fumes burned his lungs, and he quickly reinforced his body to resist the effects. But even with his magic, the gas was disorienting. He could barely see through the thick cloud, and his ears rang from the explosion.

Juste wasn't giving him time to recover. Through the haze, Shirou saw the alchemist charging again, chainsaws raised high as he aimed for the kill. Shirou blocked the first strike, barely managing to deflect it, but Juste followed up with a spinning kick that caught Shirou off guard. The blow struck Shirou's side, sending him skidding across the rooftop.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Shirou quickly projected a massive sword and hurled it toward Juste. The massive sword sliced through the air, homing in on its target with deadly precision. Juste raised his chainsaws to block, but the force of the impact knocked him back, giving Shirou a brief window to regain his footing.

Breathing heavily, Shirou wiped the sweat from his brow, his mind racing. This wasn't just about strength or speed anymore. Juste was using every tool at his disposal—alchemical weapons, strategic planning, and superior combat skills. Shirou would need to push beyond his limits to defeat him.

He closed his eyes briefly, focusing his magical energy, before opening them again with renewed determination. It was time to end this.

With a deep breath, Shirou changed his tactic as he dismisses his twin swords and projected Archer's bow.

In a fluid motion, Shirou materializes three arrows from thin air, each one glowing with magical energy. He notched them onto his bowstring, pulling back as the power surged through him. His eyes locked onto Juste's form through the gas, tracking every movement, every twitch of his muscles.

And then, he released.

The three arrows shot forward in perfect unison, splitting the air with a sharp whistle. Juste saw them coming and moved to dodge, but the arrows curved mid-flight, tracking him like guided missiles. The first arrow struck Juste's shoulder, spinning him around from the force. The second pierced his thigh, dropping him to one knee. The third arrow embedded itself in his abdomen, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Juste gasped in pain, his body trembling from the force of Shirou's attack. Blood seeped from his wounds, staining the rooftop beneath him. He struggled to stand, his legs shaking as he tried to regain his balance, but his strength was fading fast.

Shirou approached slowly, his eyes still focused, but there was no malice in his gaze. Still, considering that Juste could be a hindrance to his mission, he decided that it would be better if he kills him. With that, Shirou projected an executioner blade as he slowly approach Juste with the intends to deliver the killing blow.

But Juste wasn't finished yet.

With one last desperate move, Juste reached into his belt and pulled out another grenade—this one smaller, but its effects no less dangerous. He threw it at Shirou and Millarca without hesitation, and the grenade exploded in a cloud of thick, poisonous gas. Shirou cursed under his breath, immediately projecting a shield to cover both himself and Millarca from the toxic fumes.

By the time the gas cleared, Juste was gone, leaving only the faint trace of blood behind. Shirou's grip tightened on his sword as he scanned the area, but the rogue alchemist had already made his escape.

Shirou turned to Millarca, who was still struggling to move, her body stiff from the lingering effects of the shock grenade. Without hesitation, he bent down and carefully lifted her into his arms, carrying her in a princess carry.

Millarca's eyes fluttered open, her expression soft as she looked up at him, her voice weak but teasing. "My, my, Shirou. I didn't expect you to be such a gentleman."

Shirou's face remained serious, though the faintest hint of embarrassment crossed his features. "You're injured. Don't push yourself."

She smirked, despite her condition. "I wouldn't dream of it."

With a steady pace, Shirou began carrying her down the building, heading toward the hotel where he was staying. Millarca nestled into his arms, the tension of the battle slowly fading as they retreated from the scene.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its soft glow over the rooftops of Monaco as Shirou carried Millarca through the narrow streets toward the hotel. The sounds of the city at night, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional chatter of late-night revelers were a faint backdrop to the quietness that settled between them.

Millarca lay in his arms, her body still weakened from Juste's shock grenade, her head resting lightly against his chest. Despite her condition, she maintained a mischievous glint in her eyes, the same teasing look she always seemed to wear. But tonight, there was something softer in her gaze—something vulnerable, almost tender, that Shirou couldn't ignore.

Shirou's expression remained neutral, though inside, he was more troubled than he let on. Millarca's injuries weren't fatal, but the paralysis she suffered from the alchemical device left her body rigid, preventing her from moving freely. Her magic had been temporarily blocked, and until he found a way to reverse the effects, she would be stuck in this condition.

But more than that, Shirou found himself uncomfortable with the close proximity, not because he disliked Millarca—quite the opposite. He was too aware of the warmth of her body against his, the way her slender frame fit perfectly in his arms, and the faint scent of her perfume that lingered in the air. His mind kept telling him to stay focused on the task at hand, to treat this as he would any other mission, but his heart betrayed him, stirring emotions he wasn't ready to confront.

They reached the entrance of the hotel, an elegant building that stood quietly at the edge of the city's more secluded district. Shirou pushed through the heavy glass doors with his shoulder, still carrying Millarca with ease. The night staff at the reception desk gave them a curious glance, but no one questioned him. Perhaps they assumed Millarca was simply drunk, a common enough sight in a city like Monaco. Or perhaps they simply knew better than to ask questions when it came to unusual guests.

Shirou ignored the curious looks, heading straight for the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor, the gentle hum of the elevator rising through the building as they ascended. Millarca remained quiet in his arms, her breathing steady, though her eyes fluttered open occasionally, watching him with an amused expression. She didn't speak, but her smile told him she was enjoying the attention far more than she let on.

When the elevator doors slid open, Shirou stepped into the quiet hallway, walking down the carpeted corridor toward his room. He shifted Millarca slightly in his arms as he reached for the keycard in his pocket, swiping it against the door. It clicked open, and with a gentle nudge, he pushed it inward.

The suite was modest but comfortable, a far cry from the luxury penthouse where their night had begun. Still, it had all the necessities—a small kitchen, a bathroom with a large tub, and a spacious bed that now seemed to dominate the room's layout. Shirou gently set Millarca down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her too much as he propped her against the pillows.

"There," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper in the stillness of the room. "You should rest."

Millarca chuckled softly, her voice teasing as she looked up at him. "You sound like a doting nurse. Is this how you treat all the ladies who need your care?"

Shirou rolled his eyes but couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "You're lucky I'm doing this at all," he replied, moving toward the bathroom. "I could've just left you there, you know."

"Ah, but you didn't," she shot back, her tone light despite the strain in her voice. "You couldn't resist helping a damsel in distress."

Shirou didn't respond immediately, his mind occupied with finding a way to help her recover. He rummaged through the small first aid kit he'd packed in his bag—a habit he'd developed from years of working as a mercenary. The shock grenade's effects were unlike anything he'd dealt with before, but he knew enough about alchemical devices to understand that there had to be a way to neutralize its influence.

As he prepared a few salves and ointments, Millarca watched him with curious eyes, her expression softening as she observed his movements. There was something comforting about the way he worked, his hands steady and sure, his focus entirely on her well-being. For someone who claimed to be cold and detached, Shirou had a surprising tenderness to him when he allowed it to show.

When Shirou returned to her side, she raised an eyebrow playfully. "You really know how to spoil a girl, don't you?"

Shirou gave her a pointed look, though his voice remained gentle. "Hold still," he instructed, uncapping a small vial of liquid. "This might sting a little, but it should help."

Millarca didn't flinch as he applied the salve to her skin, though her lips curved into a smirk. "You know, I didn't expect you to be so gentle, Shirou. I've seen you fight—this is a side of you I didn't think existed."

Shirou's hands paused for a moment before he continued his work, his eyes focused on the task at hand. "It's nothing," he muttered. "Just doing what needs to be done."

Millarca's gaze softened as she watched him, her teasing tone fading into something more sincere. "You don't always have to hide behind that wall, you know," she said quietly. "It's okay to show a little kindness."

Shirou didn't respond immediately, but her words hung in the air between them, sinking deeper than he cared to admit. He finished applying the salve and stepped back, wiping his hands on a cloth as he regarded her carefully.

"You should be able to move soon," he said, his tone deliberately matter-of-fact. "The effects of the shock grenade should wear off once the salve takes effect."

Millarca stretched her fingers experimentally, feeling the magic beginning to return to her body. Her limbs were still stiff, but she could sense her strength returning, the paralysis slowly fading.

But instead of moving, she let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the pillows. "Oh, I don't know," she said with a playful lilt. "I think I'm still too weak. You might have to take care of me a little longer."

Shirou frowned, looking at her skeptically. "You're fine, Millarca. You can move."

She pouted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But I've been through so much tonight! Surely you wouldn't abandon me in my time of need, would you?"

Shirou sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You're not as helpless as you're pretending to be."

"Maybe not," she admitted, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. "But you've been so serious tonight, Shirou. Always the professional, always focused on the mission. Sometimes, it's nice to just… let go, you know? To relax a little."

Shirou blinked, caught off guard by her shift in tone. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Millarca tilted her head to the side, her eyes softening as she looked at him with something almost akin to fondness.

"You're always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, aren't you?" she murmured. "But you don't have to, not all the time. You can take a break, even if just for a moment."

Shirou felt a lump form in his throat at her words, and for a brief moment, he didn't know how to respond. Millarca's teasing, flirtatious demeanor had faded, revealing a glimpse of something deeper—an understanding that he hadn't expected from her. She wasn't just playing around; she was seeing through him in a way that few others ever had.

The silence between them stretched, and Shirou found himself at a loss for words. Millarca's gaze lingered on him, waiting for a response, but she didn't push him. Instead, she smiled softly, her earlier mischief returning.

"Well," she said, breaking the tension with a light laugh, "if you're going to be so cold, the least you can do is feed me."

Shirou blinked, taken aback by the sudden request. "Feed you?"

Millarca nodded, her smile widening. "I'm still too weak to cook for myself. Besides, I hear you're quite the cook. How about it?"

Shirou hesitated, unsure if she was serious or just teasing him again. But the look in her eyes was genuine, and despite himself, he felt a flicker of warmth at the thought of doing something so simple, so normal, for once.

"Fine," he muttered, moving toward the small kitchen area. "But don't get used to it."

Millarca's laughter followed him as he rummaged through the fridge, gathering a few ingredients. As he began to prepare a simple meal, he could feel her watching him, her presence a quiet but constant reminder that, for the first time in a long while, he wasn't alone.

Shirou worked in silence as he prepared the meal, the soft sound of vegetables being chopped filling the room. The kitchen was modest, but he had everything he needed to make something simple yet satisfying. He wasn't one to show off, but over the years, cooking had become a small comfort—one of the few ways he could bring a sense of normalcy into his life, no matter how chaotic it got.

Millarca watched him from the bed, her legs now stretched out, but she made no effort to move. Despite her recovery, she seemed to enjoy the attention, her playful smile lingering as she lounged like a spoiled cat. Shirou glanced at her from time to time, his gaze briefly locking with hers before he returned to his work.

"So," Millarca began after a few moments of quiet, "you're really not going to ask me what that was all about? The whole fight with Juste?"

Shirou paused, stirring the ingredients in the pan with a wooden spoon. "I figured you'd tell me when you're ready," he replied calmly. "If you want to."

Her smile faltered for a moment, replaced by something more contemplative. "Not as nosy as I thought," she murmured. "Most people would be pressing for answers by now. But you… you're different, aren't you, Shirou?"

He didn't respond immediately, simply continuing to cook. "People have their reasons for doing things," he finally said. "I don't need to know everything right away. Besides, right now, my priority is making sure you're okay."

Millarca tilted her head, her golden eyes studying him with interest. "You really are an odd one," she mused softly. "For a man who's fought in so many battles, who's seen so much bloodshed, you're still kind. That's rare."

Shirou didn't answer, his focus seemingly on the food, though her words left a faint echo in his mind. Kind? It wasn't a word he would use to describe himself. Pragmatic, maybe. Duty-bound, certainly. But kind? He had his doubts.

Soon enough, the food was ready, and Shirou plated the simple meal—grilled vegetables with a side of rice and some sautéed chicken. It wasn't extravagant, but it smelled inviting. He carried the dish over to the bed and set it down on the small table next to her.

"Here," he said, his voice returning to its usual pragmatic tone. "It's nothing fancy, but it'll do."

Millarca sat up a little, glancing at the plate before casting him a sly look. "And how am I supposed to eat this in my delicate condition?"

Shirou's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before it dawned on him. He sighed, knowing where this was going.

"You're not still pretending you can't move, are you?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Millarca batted her eyelashes innocently. "Oh, I would never pretend. It's just… after everything I've been through tonight, I think I deserve a little pampering, don't you?"

Shirou stared at her, exasperation clear in his eyes, but there was also a hint of resignation. He knew that Millarca wasn't going to drop this unless he indulged her, at least a little. With a deep sigh, he picked up the fork and held it out to her, the food poised between the tines.

"Open," he muttered.

Millarca grinned, clearly pleased with herself, and opened her mouth obediently. Shirou fed her a small bite of the chicken, and she let out a contented hum as she chewed.

"Mmm, not bad," she said after swallowing. "You've got some hidden talents, Shirou. You might just make someone a very lucky husband one day."

Shirou's face turned slightly red, though he quickly covered it with a scowl. "Just eat," he muttered, feeding her another bite.

They continued like that for a few minutes, the atmosphere between them unexpectedly warm and easy. Millarca, despite her teasing, seemed genuinely appreciative of Shirou's care, and Shirou, though reluctant, found himself softening to her more than he expected. For a moment, the tensions of the night, the danger they'd faced, seemed far away, replaced by this strange, almost domestic calm.

After the meal, Shirou set the plate aside and began cleaning up, but Millarca wasn't finished with him yet. As he turned back toward the bed, she looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, though the glint of mischief was still there.

"There's just one more thing," she said sweetly.

Shirou raised an eyebrow, wary. "What now?"

Millarca stretched lazily, her body moving more fluidly now that the paralysis had mostly worn off. "Well, after such a long, exhausting night, I think I deserve a little extra care. You wouldn't leave me in this state, would you?"

Shirou narrowed his eyes, sensing a trap. "What are you getting at?"

She smiled, that mischievous edge returning to her expression. "I was thinking… a nice, warm bath would really help me recover fully. And, since I'm still feeling a little weak, maybe you could… help me with that?"

Shirou froze, his mind blank for a second as her words sank in. *Did she just…?*

He stared at her, his face heating up as he struggled to find a response. "You… you can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am," Millarca purred, her tone teasing but with an undeniable hint of seduction. "After all, you've been so kind to me already. What's one more favor?"

Shirou's face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he quickly shook his head, backing away slightly. "No. Absolutely not."

Millarca pouted, though her eyes sparkled with amusement at his flustered reaction. "Oh, come on. You've already seen me in worse states. What's the harm?"

"The harm is—" Shirou stammered, trying to collect his thoughts. "No. I'm not doing that."

Millarca let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him. "You're so easy to tease, Shirou. You should've seen the look on your face."

Shirou shot her a glare, his embarrassment turning into mild annoyance. "You're impossible."

"And you're adorable when you're flustered," she replied with a wink.

Shirou turned his back to her, trying to hide the faint flush that still lingered on his face as he gathered his thoughts. He didn't know why he let her get under his skin like this, but somehow, Millarca always managed to push his buttons. Still, despite the teasing and the ridiculous requests, there was something about her that made it hard to stay mad for long.

With a sigh, he turned back toward her, his expression softening just a bit. "Get some rest," he said quietly. "You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

Millarca smiled, reclining back against the pillows as she stretched once more. "I suppose I'll let you off the hook this time. But don't think this is the last you'll hear of it."

Shirou shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his lips as he walked toward the small sofa by the window, taking a seat and leaning back with a sigh of his own. The night had been long, and the challenges ahead were still uncertain, but for now, they had this brief moment of peace. And for reasons he didn't fully understand, Shirou found that, in Millarca's company, that peace was just a little bit easier to enjoy.

As Millarca settled into sleep, her breathing evening out, Shirou sat in the quiet, his gaze drifting toward the window where the city lights twinkled in the distance. Tomorrow, they would have a busy day, and there were still many dangers ahead. But tonight, at least, they could rest.

Morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting a soft glow over the room where Millarca and Shirou had spent the night. Despite the relatively peaceful conclusion to their battle with Juste, the tension from the previous night's events still hung in the air. The stillness of the morning felt like the calm before the next storm.

Shirou stood near the window, already fully dressed and alert. His keen eyes scanned the street below, taking in the flow of traffic and the pedestrians going about their business. Monaco had returned to its usual glamorous self, its polished streets and luxury cars masking the darker undertones that lurked just beneath the surface.

Millarca, on the other hand, was still in bed, lazily stretching as she woke from a deep, much-needed sleep. Her vampiric nature meant she recovered quickly, but even she wasn't immune to exhaustion after the series of battles and close calls they'd faced. She sat up, propping herself against the headboard, watching Shirou with a curious expression.

"You've been up for a while, haven't you?" she asked, her voice soft but carrying that playful tone that seemed to come naturally to her.

Shirou glanced over his shoulder at her. "We need to stay ahead of whoever's after us," he replied, his voice steady but serious. "Juste was a warning. There are more players in this game, and we can't afford to fall behind."

Millarca let out a soft sigh, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Always so serious. You should learn to relax a little." Her tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of understanding there. She knew the kind of pressure Shirou carried with him—it was the burden of someone constantly walking the line between life and death.

"You know why I can't afford that," Shirou said quietly, turning back to the window. "We still don't know why Juste targeted us, or who's pulling the strings behind the scenes. And then there's the matter of Elmenhilde and Valerie. If we don't find them soon, this whole situation could explode. And not to mention that tomorrow we still the Fem's Casa game that we have to attend as well."

Millarca slid out of bed and began getting dressed with clothes that Shirou have likely prepared for her. They are not as fancy as the one the she wore from last night, but it's still pretty stylish. Shirou also has added a hooded coat so that she can protect herself from the sun. Her movements graceful and unhurried as she get dressed, and then she said. "Elmenhilde's not going to make it easy for us to find her. She's careful, especially when she's working with someone as dangerous as Valerie. If she's using Valerie's Sacred Gear, things could get messy."

Shirou didn't need to be reminded of that. The Sacred Gear, Sephiroth's Graal, was one of the most powerful artifacts in existence, capable of altering reality itself. In the wrong hands—or rather, in the hands of someone as unpredictable as Elmenhilde—there was no telling what kind of chaos it could unleash. But even more dangerous than the artifact itself was the potential conflict brewing among the Carmilla, Tepes, and Van Fem factions. Shirou knew that if they didn't stop Elmenhilde, Monaco could become ground zero for a supernatural war.

"We still have a day before the first round of the Fem's Casa game starts. So, I think we should start searching for Elmenhilde right now." Shirou said, still looking out of the window while thinking of where to start their search first.

"That's a good idea. And I think I know where to start." Millarca said as she put on the last piece of her new clothes.

Once Millarca was dressed, the two of them left the hotel, slipping into the crowded streets. The day was bright, and the sun glinted off the elegant buildings and shimmering sea in the distance. Tourists and locals alike moved about, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath the city's glitzy exterior.

As they walked, Shirou cast a sideways glance at Millarca. "Do you have a lead on where we should start looking?" he asked.

Millarca nodded, keeping her eyes forward. "There's an underground network of information brokers in Monaco. The one we're looking for is connected to a rogue alchemist named Morte. He's been active in the city for years, running a criminal syndicate from the shadows. If anyone knows where Elmenhilde is hiding, it's him."

Shirou nods his head thoughtfully. "Morte, huh? I've heard a bit about him."

"Yeah. He's slippery, even for an alchemist. We'll need to be careful." Millarca added.

Shirou gave a curt nod. "I know. That's why we're going in quiet. We'll observe first, see what kind of operation he's running, and then decide our next move."

They continued their walk, the atmosphere between them settling into a comfortable, if tense, silence. As they made their way through the winding streets, the glitz of Monaco began to fade, replaced by narrower, less tourist-friendly alleys. Here, the buildings were older, worn, and the people less friendly. This was where the underworld thrived, hiding in plain sight amid the wealth and luxury of the city.

Shirou and Millarca finally arrived at a nondescript building tucked away in one of these alleys. The establishment itself looked like a regular bar, but Shirou knew better. Behind its doors, Morte and his criminal network operated, dealing in everything from illegal magic artifacts to human trafficking.

"This is the place?" Shirou said quietly as they stopped a few feet away from the entrance.

Millarca nods as she glanced at the bar's plain exterior, then back at Shirou. "Subtle, isn't it?" she remarked, though her eyes were sharp with focus. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well... We're definitely not going in guns blazing," Shirou replied, keeping his voice low. "We don't want to alert anyone yet. I'll slip in through the back and see if I can find anything useful. You stay out here and keep watch."

Millarca raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You expect me to sit here and wait while you go in alone? I'm not exactly the damsel-in-distress type, you know."

Shirou gave her a pointed look. "I know you're not. But we can't risk both of us being spotted. If things go sideways, I'll need you to create a distraction. Can you handle that?"

She sighed, but there was no real argument in her tone. "Fine, fine. But don't take too long. If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming in after you."

Shirou nodded and disappeared down a side alley, moving with the practiced stealth of someone who had infiltrated countless dangerous places before. Millarca watched him go, her keen senses attuned to the street around her. Despite the calm appearance of the area, she could feel the tension, the underlying danger that lurked just out of sight.

Inside the bar, the atmosphere was thick with smoke and low murmurs. The patrons looked like typical lowlifes—grizzled men with rough edges, some nursing drinks, others eyeing their surroundings with suspicion. Shirou moved carefully, keeping to the shadows as he navigated the cramped space. He wasn't here to cause a scene, just to gather information.

As he moved toward the back of the bar, he noticed a door guarded by two burly men. That was likely where Morte conducted his more private dealings. Shirou crouched low, using the cover of dim lighting to inch closer, his senses heightened as he scanned the room for potential threats.

Just as he was about to make his move, a soft voice spoke behind him. "I wouldn't try that if I were you, Nyaa~."

Shirou froze, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of a projected blade, but the voice continued.

"No need for weapons. I'm not your enemy, Nyaa~."

Shirou turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the figure standing a few feet away. It was a woman with long black hair cascading down her back, sharp golden eyes gleaming with amusement, and two distinct black cat ears perched atop her head. She dressed in a revealing black kimono with red accents that clung to her body in just the right places. Her long black tail flicked behind her lazily.

"Who are you?" Shirou asked, his voice low but steady.

The woman smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Let's just say I'm someone with an interest in your little investigation, Nyaa~. You're looking for Myorte, correct?"

Shirou's grip on his weapon tightened slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. "What if I am?"

The woman's smile widened slightly. "Then you're wasting your time here, Nyaa~. Myorte isn't inside. He's already moved his operations elsewhere. But if you're really interested in finding him, I can help, Nyaa~."

Shirou didn't trust her, not for a second. But he also knew that time was running out. If Morte had already left, this could be their only lead.

"And why would you help me?" he asked, his tone cautious.

The woman shrugged playfully. "Let's just say our goals align, for now. I have no love for Myorte or his business dealings, Nyaa~. But I do have an errand in keeping certain faction from gaining too much power." Her eyes flickered with something dark. "I believe we have a mutual enemy in Elmenhilde Karnstein."

Shirou's expression remained unreadable, but his mind raced. This woman clearly knew more than she was letting on. But whether she was a potential ally or another threat remained to be seen.

"I'll think about it," Shirou said, his voice measured. "For now, I have my own methods."

The woman gave a small nod. "Fair enough, Nyaa~. But don't take too long. The longer you wait, the more dangerous this game becomes."

With that, she turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Shirou with more questions than answers. He would have to weigh his next move carefully.

He quietly slipped back out the way he came, rejoining Millarca in the alley outside the bar. Millarca had been leaning casually against the wall, but her eyes sharpened the moment she saw him approach.

"Anything useful?" she asked, straightening up.

Shirou shook his head slightly, his expression tight with thought. "Morte's not there. He's already moved. But I did get an offer for help."

Millarca raised an eyebrow, curiosity flashing in her crimson eyes. "An offer? From who?"

Shirou hesitated for a moment, still processing his brief encounter with the mysterious woman. "I'm not sure who she is. Someone who claims she's working against Morte and Elmenhilde. But I don't trust her."

"Smart," Millarca muttered, her tone thoughtful. "This city is full of people with hidden agendas. Still, if she knows about Elmenhilde, we can't just ignore her."

Shirou nodded. "I know. But we'll have to be careful. This feels like a trap, or at least, someone trying to use us for their own ends."

Millarca shrugged, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Well, that's the fun part of these investigations, isn't it? Everyone's always trying to play a bigger game."

Shirou sighed, though there was a trace of agreement in his expression. "We should regroup. I'll see if I can find any more leads about where Morte moved his operation."

As they started walking again, the energy between them felt different. The chaotic pace of the previous night had subsided into something quieter, more deliberate. They weren't running for their lives anymore, but that didn't mean they were safe. Danger was still lurking around every corner, and Shirou's mind raced with possible scenarios of what might come next.

"I can't shake the feeling that we're walking right into a web," Shirou muttered after a moment, his thoughts slipping into words.

Millarca chuckled softly, her steps light beside him. "Of course we are. But that's the only way to catch the spider."

Her nonchalance drew a slight smile from Shirou, though he quickly hid it. Millarca had a way of diffusing tension with her charm, but he knew better than to let his guard down completely. This was still the beginning of their search, and each step forward could bring them closer to danger—or, hopefully, to answers.

As they walked back toward the hotel district, the streets slowly began to fill with people. Tourists, wealthy locals, and even a few familiar faces from the supernatural underworld passed by, their gazes lingering for only a second on Shirou and Millarca before continuing on their way. The two of them moved unnoticed through the crowds, blending in with the flow of the city's daily life.

Monaco was a place of glittering appearances, but as they ventured deeper into the city's heart, Shirou couldn't help but feel the weight of the hidden conflict brewing beneath the surface. Every corner they turned, every building they passed, felt like a stage for unseen forces working against them.

Once they returned to the hotel where Shirou had been staying, they made their way up to his suite. It was a quiet, comfortable space—a far cry from the chaos they had faced the night before. But even here, in the relative safety of the hotel, Shirou couldn't fully relax. His mind was already spinning with plans for their next move.

Millarca, however, seemed more at ease. She sank into one of the plush chairs by the window, her gaze drifting out to the cityscape beyond. "So, what's the plan now?" she asked, her tone casual.

Shirou glanced at her, his expression serious. "I'll look into Morte's movements, see if I can find where he's hiding now. There has to be a trail. Elmenhilde wouldn't have chosen Monaco if she didn't have connections here, and Morte is one of the few alchemists capable of providing her with the resources she needs."

Millarca nodded thoughtfully. "And what about our mysterious informant? Are we going to take her offer?"

Shirou hesitated for a moment, weighing the options in his mind. "Not yet. We need to gather more information before we can trust anyone. For now, we focus on Morte. If we can track him down, we'll be one step closer to finding Elmenhilde."

Millarca stretched her arms lazily, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sounds like a plan. I'll send my familiar to scope for information about Morte's operation places later. Rogue alchemists can be tricky after all."

Shirou turned his gaze toward the window, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Tricky, yes. But no one's unbeatable. We just need to be patient."

Millarca's smile widened, though there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Patience isn't really your strong suit, is it, Shirou?"

Shirou shot her a sidelong glance, but there was no real bite to his tone. "I've learned to wait when it's necessary."

The tension between them, though subtle, hung in the air like a thread waiting to be pulled. They were partners now, allies in a dangerous game, but there was something more—something unspoken—that lingered just beneath the surface.

As the evening wore on, the city outside began to shift. The bustling streets quieted, and the warm glow of twilight settled over Monaco. But even in the fading light, Shirou's mind remained focused on the task ahead. Morte, Elmenhilde, Valerie,—each of them represented a different piece of the puzzle he was trying to solve. And somewhere in the shadows, Juste was still lurking, waiting for his next move.

Shirou and Millarca shared a brief, knowing look before settling into their respective spaces for the night. They both knew that the real fight was still ahead of them, but for now, they had a moment of calm—a moment to prepare for the storm that was sure to come.

As Shirou sat by the window, watching the last light of the day fade into darkness, he couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. This wasn't over, not by a long shot. The conflict that he has gotten himself into in Monaco could escalate pretty quickly, however, this isn't anything new to him. He just have to plan out his move and play his card carefully.

After all, with good planning and careful preparation, come a good result.

To be Continued.

And with that another chapter have been finished. The conflict that Shirou face in Monaco seems to escalate pretty quickly. His initial plan to just enter the Fem's Casa so that he can meet Van Fem, but now he has to get involved into Millarca's problem in finding her relative that intended to conduct an assassination attempt on Van Fem using the power of a Longinus Class Sacred Gear that belongs to an innocent Damphire. But, to find where Elmenhilde is hiding, first they have to find Morte whom Millarca thought might now where Elmenhilde is.

In the next chapter, Shirou and Elmenhilde will continue their search for Morte, however, their search will be cut short because they have to attend the first round of the Fem's Casa game in the evening.

Find out the continuation of Shirou's Adventure in Dragon Ball Super- I mean Fate AxA.