The city hadn't slept. It just pretended.
The dawn broke like a dull blade against the cracked skyline, painting the streets with cold, pale light.
But the alley where Leon and Aria had danced with death hours ago still stank of blood — fresh, sticky, and full of unspoken stories.
Leon's cigarette barely clung to life between his lips as he sat on the rooftop of a run-down hotel, legs swinging lazily over the edge. His eyes, half-lidded, watched the world below like a bored god waiting for something interesting to happen.
Beside him, Aria lay stretched out on the cold tiles, her snow-white dress still painted with dried crimson, like a walking canvas of last night's massacre.
She didn't bother cleaning it. She liked the way the blood smelled on her skin.
"You ever wonder," Leon muttered, exhaling a thin line of smoke, "how many idiots sign their lives away to the Guild... just to end up worm food before sunrise?"
Aria tilted her head, a soft hum vibrating from her throat.
"Probably the same number of fools who think they can take you from me."
Her voice dripped with sweetness, but her crimson eyes flashed — that same dangerous glint, a reminder of her obsession.
Leon chuckled dryly.
"Possessive much, sweetheart?"
Without missing a beat, Aria rolled over, propping her chin on his thigh, her lips brushing the skin just above his belt.
"Mine," she whispered. "Every inch of you."
Before Leon could toss another sarcastic reply, a faint sound cut through the lazy morning air.
A bell — sharp and mechanical. A signal only mercenaries would recognize.
A contract request.
Leon plucked the small, black communicator from his pocket, watching the old runes on its surface pulse faintly. A soft vibration buzzed against his palm as a hollow, metallic voice echoed from the device:
"Mercenary Leon Valenheart. Contract Priority: Red. Reward: 2 Million Crowns. Objective: Eliminate target Aria Velrosa."
Silence.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Leon blinked once, twice, then slowly turned his head toward Aria, who hadn't moved an inch — her lips still curved in that dangerously sweet smile.
"Tch... Two million, huh?" he muttered, flicking the cigarette away.
Aria's fingers curled around his wrist, her nails sharp enough to break skin without pressure.
Her voice came soft, but heavy with a possessive chill:
"You wouldn't, Leon."
He tilted his head, flashing her that crooked, lazy grin of his.
"Please. You think I'm cheap enough to sell for two million?"
Aria's lips twitched into a sharper smile, her fingers tightening just enough to draw a thin line of blood from his wrist.
"Good. Because if you even thought about it..." she purred, "I'd carve my name into your heart."
Leon let out a dry laugh, brushing his free hand against her cheek.
"Yandere-level threat confirmed."
She leaned up, pressing a lingering kiss to his jaw.
"Threat? No, darling. That's a promise."
Before the moment could melt into something warmer, the wind shifted — bringing with it the scent of iron and ash.
Another visitor. No footsteps, no sound. Just presence.
A shadow detached itself from the neighboring rooftop.
Not human. Not entirely.
A masked figure, wrapped in black bandages, floated inches above the ground. Its voice was distorted, more growl than words:
"Leon Valenheart. The Guild has raised the bounty. Your death is inevitable."
Leon stretched his arms behind his head, sighing like a man inconvenienced by a boring chore.
"You assassins need better pickup lines."
Aria stood, her fingers already brushing the hilt of her blade, her crimson eyes locked onto the creature with the excitement of a child spotting a new toy.
"Do we kill this one slow or fast, my love?"
Leon smirked, standing up beside her.
"Surprise me."
The battle, of course, would leave the city with fewer buildings than it started with.
And their story — still soaked in blood and jasmine — was just beginning.