"Three kilos," one said.

"Thirty copper," Viktor replied. "Minus six for tax. Twenty-four."

"Seven kilos!" another announced proudly.

"Seventy. Minus fourteen. Fifty-six."

The rhythm was set. Viktor paid, taking his cut with surgical precision. The villagers took their coins, faces bright with greed for a split second before they turned and faced the final boss at the door.

Kaida stood there, relentless. Every single villager who tried to leave had to pay the toll.

Some tried to argue, looking to Viktor for help, but one look at his bored, dangerous expression silenced them instantly.

Others tried to sneak past, but Kaida would just clear her throat, and they'd freeze, hand over the coin, and scurry away.

It was a perfect ecosystem of extortion.

Finally, the last villager scurried out, lighter by one copper but heavier by a pouch of earnings.

The hall went quiet, save for the clinking of coins as Kaida tossed her collection in her hand.

"Not bad," she mused, walking over to the table. "Though I expected more resistance."

"They're sheep, Kaida," Viktor said, leaning his head back against the sofa. "Scare them once, and they'll shear themselves for you."

Just then, the heavy wooden door creaked open again.

Gareth slipped in. He looked better than he had outside—his breathing had slowed, though he still looked pale and sweaty. He glanced around the empty hall, then bowed low to Viktor.

"Young Lord," Gareth said, wringing his hands. "The villagers... the ones waiting outside... they are asking why you called them here if the buying is done."

Viktor blinked, as if he had forgotten there were more people. He looked at the window; the sky was turning a deep, bruised purple as evening set in.

He yawned, stretching his arms.

"Tell them to come tomorrow," Viktor said, waving his hand dismissively. "I changed my mind. They earned money today—let them go enjoy it. Let them drink and feast and forget their fear for a night."

Gareth paused, surprised. "You... you want me to send them away?"

"Did I stutter?"

"No! No, My Lord!" Gareth bowed frantically. "I will tell them at once!"

Viktor watched him turn. Through the open door, he could see the villagers lingering near the gate, mostly men he had told to be brought here for construcyion of a forge.

But since he saw how effective it was to build one using Rust's abilities, he dropped the idea and decided to use them to build the Village of Sooning Hunters.

"Hey!" Gareth shouted from the porch, his voice cracking with authority he didn't really have. "Lord says go home! Come back tomorrow! He says... he says to go enjoy your earnings tonight!"

The villagers looked at each other, confused. But then, relief washed over them. They didn't have to face the demon lady? They didn't have to face the scary Lord? And the ones who had sold their herbs were already jingling their pouches.

Swiftly, they gave hasty bows toward the manor and practically ran down the road, eager to escape before the Lord changed his mind—or before they lost more of their hard-earned money to some new 'tax'.

Gareth watched them go, his fists clenching at his sides. He saw the heavy pouches swinging from their belts. He saw the copper glinting in the fading sun.

Jealousy, hot and bitter, rose in his throat.

'Those ungrateful peasants,' he thought, biting his lip. 'I did the work. I brought the messages. I suffered the fear. And they get paid? They get to drink tonight while I...'

He felt a sudden weight hit his chest.

"Catch."

Gareth fumbled, his hands instinctively snapping closed around a heavy velvet pouch that had been thrown at him. He nearly dropped it, juggling it for a second before gripping it tight.

He looked down. He opened the drawstring slightly.

Inside, nestled like precious gems, were pills. Small, round, green pills.

Antidotes.

Gareth's eyes widened. He quickly did a mental count. There were dozens. Enough for... enough for two, maybe three months.

His breath hitched. He looked up at Viktor, shock written across his sweaty face.

"Young Lord... this..."

Viktor was standing now, brushing imaginary dust off his black pants. He didn't look at Gareth; he was looking toward the window, toward the distant silhouette of the Tower.

"Go," Viktor said, his voice low. "Go to the nearby Hunter Guild's branch."

Gareth blinked. "The... the Guild? But why—"

"Spread rumors," Viktor interrupted, turning his dark eyes onto Gareth. The look in them was cold, calculating, and terrifyingly intelligent. "Tell them about the Tower. Tell them about the dungeon's arrival. And make sure..." Viktor's lips curled into that dangerous smirk again. "Make sure to mention the dragon. Throw a honey trap and bring a rich hunter's party here."

Gareth stood frozen. Spread rumors? About a dragon? To the Hunters? That was like inviting a swarm of hornets to a picnic.

He wanted to ask why. He wanted to say that was madness. He wanted to scream that bringing Hunters here would get them in trouble, as being in the countryside made it a hassle to keep in check those who held attack or defense-type awakened abilities.

But he looked at Viktor's expression—the absolute confidence, the terrifying calm—and the words died in his throat.

"I..." Gareth swallowed hard, clutching the pouch of antidotes like a lifeline. "I understand."

"Good. Now run."

Gareth didn't need to be told twice. He turned and bolted, his boots slamming against the floorboards as he sprinted out of the hall, running into the gathering night to do the devil's bidding.

Viktor watched him go, the silence of the empty hall settling around him.

"Well," Kaida said from behind him, leaning against the table and crossing her arms. "You sure know how to stir up a hornet's nest."

Viktor chuckled, turning to face her. "Hornets make honey too, if you squeeze them hard enough."

"That's bees, you idiot."

"Same thing." Viktor walked past her, heading deeper into the manor. "Come on. You did well, place the herbs in your ring and then we will head to our new home."

"Ohh?" Kaida rolled her eyes, but followed. "I expected you to pounce on me now that others are away, might use this opportunity to break my hips but..."

"I am sorry."

"Huh?"

Kaida blinked, her red eyes wide with genuine confusion. She had expected a crude remark, a slap on the ass, or perhaps him dragging her into the nearest room to break the table. But an apology? From 'him'?

Viktor stopped. He turned back, stepping into her personal space with a fluidity that made her breath hitch. He didn't grab her waist or grope her chest. Instead, he reached out, his large, warm hand landing gently on top of her head.

He ruffled her hair.

It wasn't a possessive grip. It was... tender. Affectionate. Like one would pet a beloved animal or a cherished partner.

"I can't help it, you know," Viktor said, his voice dropping to a husky murmur that vibrated straight through her armor. His dark eyes bore into hers, no longer cold or calculating, but burning with a raw, terrifying honesty. "I try to hold back. I really do. But when you look at me like that... when you stand there looking so damn beautiful that it makes my chest hurt... I can't control my lust."

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