Sent on behalf of the Cabal, Lotte walked up to the luxury hotel, each of the stoic doctor's steps calculated. She looked around for any signs of Alice, Chie, or Juniper, but for such an impressively fancy hotel...things sure are dead around here. There's no one around, not in the pools, not in the resort area, nothing...except for one lone man basking in the quiet of the night.

  ...It was Fjord.

  Lotte spotted the man sitting by himself by the pools, taking in the peaceful silence. He was sitting in a comfortable-looking lounge chair, nursing a drink in one hand. He was dressed in a crisp, fitted suit, the moonlight making his features appear almost statuesque as his gaze was fixed on the still waters in front of him.

  Lotte strode over, trying to make her footsteps as quiet as possible. She stopped behind him, clearing her throat to get his attention. "Excuse me…”

  Fjord didn’t even flinch at Lotte’s presence—only took another slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly against the crystal.

  Then, without turning around:

  "Ah. A Cabal messenger." His voice was smooth as poisoned silk. "How… predictable."

  Lotte's fingers twitched toward her concealed weapon, just in case this went south fast. "You expected me?" she asked flatly.

  Fjord finally glanced over his shoulder at her with half-lidded amusement. "Expect? No. Anticipate? Absolutely." He swirled his glass lazily before adding, "Though I must admit... you're less subtle than your employers like to pretend they are."

  Lotte's flat sharpened into something more predatory at Fjord’s remark. "Oh? And here I thought you were the one playing games," she countered, her voice low and smooth as steel sliding from a sheath.

  Fjord chuckled—actually chuckled—as if she’d just told an amusing joke. "Games? No." He tilted his head slightly, moonlight catching the cold amusement in his eyes. "I prefer… negotiations with built-in consequences."

  A beat of silence passed between them before Lotte let out a dry laugh of her own:

  "Then let me rephrase: You're sitting all alone in a hotel pool area when you could be leading your little cult to war... Why?"

  Fjord’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around the glass, just enough to betray irritation.

  "Ah," he said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "So you do know something." He took another sip before setting the drink down on the table beside him with deliberate calm. "But here’s my question for you: Did Chelsea send you expecting me to panic? Or are we just having a pleasant chat between two people who already know how this ends?"

  Lotte's ears perked at hearing Chelsea's name. As secretive as the Cabal members are... "...How do you know our names?"

  Fjord cracked the faintest of a smirk at her question. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the arm rail. "I make it a habit to know of those with goals that coincide with mine," he replied, his voice nonchalant. "And I must admit…Chelsea's quite the charming little firecracker. She likes to wear her heart on her sleeve, that one."

  Lotte's face was carefully blank, not giving away her surprise. "You know Chelsea personally?”

  Fjord exhaled a slow, amused breath, like the wind through dead leaves. "No," he admitted smoothly. "But I know enough to recognize when someone’s being… unusually chatty for their own good."

  His gaze sharpened slightly as it settled on Lotte. "Chelsea isn’t just charming, she’s reckless when she gets excited about new toys—like that little gem sprite she snatched up for the Cabal." A pause, then a razor-edged smile: "...Elara Vexis? That her name?"

  Lotte stiffened almost imperceptibly, but Fjord didn't miss it. He leaned forward now, voice dropping to something conspiratorial and dangerous:

  "Ahhh... so they do have plans for you beyond mind games and theatrics. Tell me..." His eyes gleamed like polished obsidian under moonlight...

  "...how long do you think your Cabal masters will let you live once they realize what kind of war Elara is really starting?"

  Lotte clenched her fists, nails biting into her palm. She refused to give this smug bastard the satisfaction of knowing how much of what he said was getting to her.

  She took a deep breath, schooling her features into cool confidence. "You seem pretty confident about what I—what Elara is up to," she said, deliberately keeping her tone light.

  Fjord hummed, clearly unconvinced but willing to play along for now. "Confidence isn't the same as blind faith," he replied, studying her intently.

  Lotte met his gaze, refusing to blink first. "I have a question. I heard you're an extremely powerful Void Magic user. Is this true?”

  Fjord's lips twitched in a half-smile, as if he found her question mildly amusing. "I have a talent for it," he acknowledged nonchalantly. "Why do you ask?"

  Lotte shrugged nonchalantly, though her every instinct was on high alert. "Just curious," she replied sweetly. "I've heard a few interesting rumors, that's all."

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  Fjord took another languid sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving Lotte. He seemed to be watching her like a cat playing with prey. "And what… rumors have you heard?"

  Lotte tapped her chin mock-thoughtfully, playing up the theatrics. "Oh, you know, the usual. 'Fjord the Unbreakable', master of Void Arts so potent he can unravel reality itself... or so they say."

  She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper:

  "But between you and me? I think that’s dramatic even for a cult leader."

  Fjord didn’t react at first, just studied her with those unnervingly calm eyes. Then... he laughed. A rich, genuine sound that somehow made the air feel colder.

  "Oh, Lotte," he sighed, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye"If only your bosses were half as entertaining as you. But I can tell you that the rumors are true. I've mastered faster-than-light travel.”

  Lotte raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance even as her heart thumped in her chest. "Fast-than-light travel? As in, actual FTL? That should be impossible. Nothing can outrun a light particle on the same density of space-time."

  Fjord chuckled again, swirling his glass to make the ice clink. "You sound surprised," he said with a sly grin. "But you're not incorrect. It is indeed impossible to beat a stray light particle in a race under ordinary circumstances. However, there's a catch."

  Lotte's face remained carefully neutral. "...A catch?" She let the question hang in the air for a beat before asking Fjord to:

  "Go on?"

  "If I manipulate the space-time around me, to where the space-time ahead of me gets compressed, and the space-time behind me gets elongated…”

  "...then the effective speed at which you travel is magnified significantly." Lotte finished for him, voice flat as the realization dawned on her. "By essentially cutting the distance between two points down to almost nothing."

  Fjord inclined his head faintly, his smile sharp as a knife's edge. "You catch on quickly," he said, sipping his drink with lazy ease. "A crude analogy, but...yes. That's the gist.”

  Lotte swallowed silently. She was a smart woman, but to comprehend what Fjord was describing—the sheer level of skill it would take to use it like...that, was almost unfathomable.

  "So technically, you yourself aren't actually moving faster than light, but rather shortening the distance you have to travel?”

  Fjord nodded, taking another slow sip of his drink. "Precisely," he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "I'm not cheating relativity so to speak, I'm bending the very fabric of space-time itself."

  Lotte frowned, still trying to wrap her head around the ramifications of something so...impossible. "But that level of precision... The raw amount of aura it would cost alone would be astronomical—”

  Fjord chuckled again, the sound a soft, deadly purr in the night air. "Oh, it does. And trust me, the toll it takes can be... taxing, shall we say?" He twirled the glass in his free hand, eyeing her with a hint of challenge. "But I didn't say I could do it without consequences, did I?"

  Lotte's mind reeled. She had been sent on this mission to scout out Fjord's weakness, but if anything, she was more puzzled than when she arrived. "You are correct. With such a unique and mind-bending skill, the conditions you need to clear in order to use it shouldn't be anything to scoff at.”

  Fjord's smirk deepened, but there was a flicker of something else—something almost tired—in his gaze for just a fraction of a second.

  "Conditions?" He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the word. "Let’s just say... I pay in time."

  Lotte narrowed her eyes. "What does that even mean?"

  Fjord swirled his drink again before finishing it with one last sip, ice clinking hollowly against the glass. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter—less performative, more... real.

  "Every time I fold space," he said slowly, "I lose a little of my own lifespan in exchange." A humorless laugh escaped him. "Poetic irony, isn’t it? To steal distance from the universe... only to have it steal time back from me."

  Lotte went very still. That wasn’t just a condition, that was sacrifice. And if Fjord was willing to admit that so casually… either he didn’t see her as a threat at all… or he wanted her to know exactly what she was up against.

  Lotte had to force herself to blink, to keep her own face blank. The guy was sacrificing years of his own life, just to bend space-time.

  The idea was so outlandish, so insane, that she half thought Fjord was just pulling her leg—but no, judging from the somber gleam in his eyes...he was telling the truth.

  Lotte let out a low whistle, shaking her head in a mix of grudging respect and disbelief. "Well damn. Talk about commitment to the whole 'cult leader aesthetic.'" Her smirk turned razor-edged as she leaned forward slightly. "To be honest, I don't think anyone would want to fight you after learning of that Void Magic ability...no matter how strong they are, even a team of elite Void Mages would have a hard time going against you.”

  Fjord chuckled, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, I suspect most have the self-preservation to avoid trying," he agreed. "The price of such a contract isn't exactly something one can... ignore."

  Lotte frowned again, her mind still reeling from the implications. Fjord was already strong, with skills that even the most elite Void Mages would struggle against—but now, with the added risk of shortening his own lifespan? He was borderline unstoppable. Which is why she has to shoot her shot, it's now or never.

  "If you don't mind me asking...would you be interested in joining the Imago Cabal? Your ability would be immensely useful for our cause, and we can help you advance in your own goals and ambitions as well.”

  Fjord raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers thoughtfully under his chin. "The Imago Cabal," he repeated slowly, the words rolling over his tongue. There was something calculating, almost hungry, glinting in his eyes now. "And you're asking if I'm interested in...allying with you? Is that right?"

  Lotte nodded, keeping her expression neutral. "Yes," she answered simply. "We could offer access to powerful equipment, resources, and allies on a level that you've never dreamed of. Your ability seems absolutely perfect for the Cabal, and I feel like you would be an excellent addition to our organization.”

  Fjord's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "A tempting offer." He tapped a finger against the rim of the glass, the sound oddly sharp-edged in the quiet. "However..."

  Lotte braced herself, sensing that the 'however' was coming. Fjord was clearly intrigued, but whether it was out of genuine interest or mere curiosity, she wasn't yet sure.

  She waited, holding his gaze with cool confidence. Whatever his answer was going to be, she could handle it. She had to.

  Fjord let the word hang in the air a few moments longer, as if savoring the anticipation. Then, he took a deep breath and leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes bright and sharp.

  "Before I give you my answer," he said, his voice quieter now. More serious. "I have a few conditions of my own."

  Lotte resisted the urge to arch an eyebrow. Of course he does…