Chương 264: Chapter : 264

Not the gentle, everyday opening of a door being pushed by a person walking through it. The dramatic, forceful, wall-rattling opening of a door being pushed by someone who considered doors to be mere suggestions and noise to be a professional obligation. Grandmaster Finlay marched into the living room. He was enormous. A mountain of a man wrapped in massive silver armor that clanked and clattered with every thunderous step. His thick gray beard bristled with strict military authority.

His deep-set eyes swept across the chaotic scene with the grim, unimpressed gaze of a career soldier who had seen many strange things on the battlefield but had never expected to find a full-scale card war in the living room of a Royal unit. Naomi froze mid-lunge, her hands still reaching for Ken's collar. Ken froze mid-scramble, his butt hovering six inches off the floor. Risa froze with both arms wrapped around Naomi's waist. Laxmi froze with both fists aflame.

Luna, alone among them, continued to snore peacefully on the couch. Grandmaster Finlay planted his armored feet squarely in the middle of the room. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and commanding and carried the unmistakable weight of someone who was not accustomed to being ignored.

"At ease," he rumbled. Then he looked at the scattered cards, the flames on Laxmi's fists, and the general state of chaos.

"Or whatever this is." His gray eyes swept the room one more time. His jaw tightened. His beard bristled.

"Your vacation is over," he announced, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

"The Upper Council has dispatched your next mission. Report to the strategy room immediately." Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. The cards lay scattered on the floor like fallen soldiers. The flames on Laxmi's fists sputtered and died. The warmth and laughter of the morning evaporated, replaced by the cold, sharp reality of their duty. Ken looked down at his scattered cards. He looked at the ceiling. He looked at Grandmaster Finlay's enormous, armored form filling the doorway.

"Well," he muttered, scratching his head.

"That was fun while it lasted." One by one, the girls of the 13th Unit got to their feet. The card game was over. The lazy morning was over. The peace was over. And whatever was coming next, they would face it together. Luna, somehow, was still asleep on the couch. Risa gently shook her awake, and the sleepy lightning user blinked in confusion at the armored giant standing in the middle of the living room.

"Is it dinner time already?" Luna mumbled.

"No," Ken said, pushing himself off the floor with a groan.

"It is back-to-work time." Stolen story; please report. Luna groaned louder than Ken had groaned all morning. It was, quite possibly, the most heartfelt sound anyone in the room had ever heard. Grandmaster Finlay turned on his heel and strode toward the strategy room, his silver armor clanking with every step. The girls followed in his wake, their playful energy replaced by the focused, disciplined expressions of warriors preparing for duty.

Ken shuffled along at the back, his hands in his pockets, his messy hair catching the light from the hallway lamps. The scattered cards remained on the living room floor, a silent testament to the brief, wonderful peace that had just come to an end. Ken glanced back at them. Just for a second. Just long enough to see the ace of hearts lying face-up on the carpet, its painted design catching the afternoon sun through the window. He turned away and kept walking.

The strategy room of the 13th Unit estate was not a grand place. It was a rectangular room on the ground floor with a long wooden table in the center, a few mismatched chairs scattered around it, and a large chalkboard on the wall that had not been properly cleaned since the previous mission. Faded tactical diagrams and half-erased notes still clung to the surface like ghosts of briefings past.

But right now, with every member of the unit seated around that table and Grandmaster Finlay standing at its head, the small room felt very, very serious. Finlay placed the file on the table. It landed with a thick, satisfying thud that made the wood creak. The file was enormous. A heavy, leather-bound dossier stuffed with so many pages that its edges bulged outward, held together by a single red string tied in a tight, official knot.

A wax seal stamped with the crest of the Upper Council sat in the center, gleaming in the lamplight like a silent, authoritative command.

"This dossier is classified at the highest level," Finlay said, his deep voice filling the room. His gray eyes swept across the assembled unit, making sure each one of them understood the gravity of what he was about to say.

"What you hear in this room stays in this room. Is that clear?" A chorus of nods and murmured affirmations circled the table. Even Laxmi, who normally could not sit still for more than thirty seconds, was quiet and attentive. The playfulness of the card game had evaporated the moment Finlay walked in. These were soldiers, and when a Grandmaster spoke, they listened. Well. Most of them listened.

Ken Eliot was sitting at the far end of the table, tilted back in his wooden chair, balancing on the back two legs with the casual, reckless confidence of someone who had never once considered the possibility of falling over. His arms were crossed over his chest, and a piece of toast was jammed into his mouth, half-eaten, with a small crumb clinging to the corner of his lip. He had apparently stopped by the kitchen on the way to the briefing. Because of course he had.

Finlay gave him a look that could have curdled milk. Ken, oblivious or indifferent, took another loud, crunchy bite of toast. Ira sat two seats away from Ken, her silver-white hair neatly tied back, her posture composed and attentive. Her eyes, however, kept drifting sideways toward the toast-eating disaster at the end of the table. She caught herself each time and refocused on Finlay, but the pattern repeated with the regularity of a metronome. Luna sat near Iris, her half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open.

She had propped her chin on both hands, and every few seconds her head would dip forward before she caught herself with a tiny snort. The recovery from the Blue Decay had given her energy back, but it had not cured her fundamental personality. Luna would always be Luna.

"The Upper Council has assigned your unit an investigative mission," Finlay continued, choosing to ignore the human vacuum cleaner at the end of the table. He untied the red string and opened the dossier, spreading the pages across the wooden surface. Photographs, handwritten notes, official police reports, and annotated maps fanned out in a carefully organized display of intelligence.

"The target is not a magical artifact," Finlay said, his voice low and grave.

"It is not a dungeon, and it is not a monster. It is a cold-case murder mystery."