The first thing that hit Lucien as his eyes slowly opened was the verdant smell that made him instinctively know he was surrounded by grass.

He opened his eyes with a sweet smile, feeling like he'd woken up back in reality. That's how it felt with that rich, earthy scent—until disappointment stung sharply when he discovered he was still trapped in the cursed game.

Much worse, his hands, legs, and entire body were bound by lustrous black chains. He tried moving, only to topple sideways from where he'd been propped against a tree.

Upon falling, his gaze traced the ground to a wooden log. On it, he glimpsed revealed ivory skin—what looked like upper thighs, though positioned rather high, somewhere between the lower curves where he could even make out the defining line. He had to admit, it was spectacular.

Lucien wasn't typically given to such perverseness, but his throat went dry before a cold voice snapped him back to reality.

"That blow must have knocked you out cold."

He frowned and craned his neck to study the woman sitting on the log. He caught a glimpse of her jet-black hair and frigid expression before tilting back to stare at the interwoven canopy of tree branches above.

"So... let me guess—bounty hunter?"

The woman scoffed.

"You'd be lucky if that were true. But every bounty on you has been pulled. Nobody seems concerned anymore. Whoever posted the reward suddenly lost all interest in you."

She seemed to sigh—Lucien wasn't sure.

"Well, now that you've stolen such a magnificent kill, your value will skyrocket. I've never seen anyone treat reputation like a stock market. I'll give you kudos for that."

Lucien twisted his mouth in irritation.

'What is she talking about?'

But from her words, he could already deduce where she came from. Realizing it made him pale with dread.

The time between whatever had happened and his capture was barely five hours. How had they tracked his location so quickly?

Had he underestimated these people? He certainly had.

If he'd known they were this dangerous, he wouldn't have waited for daylight—he'd have fled the moment he returned.

The woman's cold, serpentine voice slithered out again.

"You know, Player Cien, these past five hours have been the most exhausting in my three years playing Evolution Online."

Lucien smiled wryly.

"You're welcome, I guess."

He strained and managed to sit upright, then studied the woman clearly.

She sat on the log, roasting meat over a crackling fire pit.

When she looked at him, her expression was dark and glacial—so cold that Lucien felt he might be devoured by the sheer pressure of her stare. Like facing a deadly but devastatingly powerful serpent.

"Look, miss, I understand that whatever happened cost you all dearly. But it was pure luck. I swear—I'm just as bewildered as you are. One minute, I was—"

The woman's eyes blazed with such murderous intent that Lucien immediately fell silent.

Then she said icily:

"In Evolution Online, luck doesn't exist. There's only input and output. Even if you claim it's luck, it stems from some action on your part. If I were swayed by your silver tongue, I might say you're a magnet for fortune—that would explain how the main quest is advancing because of someone like you, while in the five years since this game launched, countless others have tried without achieving meaningful progress."

She paused and rotated the spit holding the meat.

"However, I think you're a cunning liar who knows exactly what he's doing. You possess knowledge the rest of us lack. Perhaps you're one of those regressors they write about in novels? Or you used to be a developer? Maybe your father was?"

Lucien stared at her, blinking in bewilderment. Then he burst into laughter, making the girl's face contort with annoyance.

"What's so amusing?"

Lucien's laughter faded with a touch of embarrassment. He cleared his throat to dispel the awkward tension.

"Ahem... I apologize. It's just funny—both your theories are wildly off the mark when I consider my actual approach to this game."

She fixed Lucien with a withering glare.

"Are you calling us fools?"

Lucien's eyes widened in bewilderment.

"Damn, that's quite a leap in interpretation."

She frowned darkly, making Lucien sigh before speaking sternly.

"See, miss, all I'm saying is—this wasn't intentional. I was on a side quest, laying low in Vel'Rhameir, when suddenly a metal bird attacked me. Before I knew it, something in me reacted. I had to kill the bird and save myself—and the one who gave me the quest. How is any of that my fault?"

The lady's glare was sharp and venomous.

"You vile boar."

Lucien's brow furrowed.

"Boar? That's pushing it. Tell me, what about this face screams boar to you?"

She scoffed.

"With that hideous scar carved across your cheek, you're no better than them."

Lucien fell silent, clearly stung, though he forced a hearty smile.

"Wow… after being called handsome all my life, I guess it feels refreshing to finally be called ugly. Especially by a porcelain jar with curves spilling everywhere and her ass on full display."

His smile didn't reach his eyes.

The woman's face instantly flushed red. She bit her lip, yanked the shirt skirt of her armor lower, and turned away, fists trembling as though in pain. Her voice broke into a furious mumble.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it… this is all the High Matron's fault. Why did she have to make such a vile dress for me, after using such rare materials? Damn it… she always forces me into vulgar clothes. That's why this bastard—"

She froze, then shot Lucien a glare so sharp it could kill.

Lucien didn't need her to finish the thought—he could feel she was debating whether or not to gut him on the spot.

But what shook him wasn't her anger—it was the crack in her armor. Fierce and iron-willed one moment… yet so fragile when the right strings were pulled.

He swallowed hard, shifting the mood.

"Do you really have time to be entertaining me right now? My partner's probably searching for me. Listen... you and I... we need to run."

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