Against all expectations, the girl began to laugh.
"How about I offer you some croissants... a whole table full of macarons... maybe a crème brûlée? Or a religieuse? A soufflé? A parfait? And of course, a petit gâteau to crown it all." She recited the list with playful theatrical flair, her eyes gleaming. "And maybe a coffee—just to cut the sugar overload?" she continued, piling on temptations with a mischievous smile.
It was a light, sincere laugh, almost childlike — so unexpected that it dissolved the room's tension like a sunbeam piercing through heavy clouds. Alistair blinked, surprised. It wasn't every day she laughed at something he said. Even less when the joke was at her expense.
With an absurdly serious expression, Alistair replied:
"You really needn't worry so much... I'll gladly take everything you mentioned. And the coffee—if it's a cappuccino, all the better." he said, the tone laced with hidden irony beneath his studied solemnity. "But don't delude yourself… that doesn't cancel your previous debt."
He tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised, never letting his mocking smirk fade.
"You've really changed..." he added, feigning contemplation while keeping his teasing tone. "Under normal conditions, you'd have already lashed out—verbally or physically. And with those terrifying eyes of yours, of course."
"Well, after everything that's happened…" the girl responded with a half-smile. "It'd be a shame if I hadn't changed. But I'm glad to see you're exactly the same."
Their brief verbal duel left Kenneth blinking in confusion. The two attendants who accompanied her also looked somewhat out of place — the sharp exchange between the two felt too intimate, as if they were witnessing something they weren't supposed to.
Kenneth was the first to regain composure, carefully choosing his words.
"Young lord… is that not… Lady Diana? The one who had gone missing?"
The air thickened instantly. The younger servant — a dark-haired boy with youthful features — gripped a sword with both hands, or at least tried to. It was obvious the weapon was heavier than he was used to. His eyes darted between Alistair and Kenneth, uneasy. Beside him, a woman in her thirties held a dagger firmly, though her stance betrayed more nerves than training.
"Yes." Alistair responded with disarming calm. "And she's the reason we're here."
The words dropped like stones into still water. The two attendants flinched.
"My lady, we should leave now. I... I'll distract the knight. You go with Matilda." the boy said, trying to sound brave, though the trembling tip of his sword betrayed him.
Diana sighed. "There's no need for that, Nathan. I called them here." she said gently, almost maternally, looking at both with kindness.
Nathan's eyes widened. Matilda's grip tightened on her dagger, her gaze flickering between confusion and caution.
"They're allies," Diana said with a soft sigh, turning her eyes back to Alistair. "Unfortunately, the kind I can trust in any situation."
Alistair smiled, tilting his head with a satisfied expression. "I'm genuinely touched," he said with irony. "The others would be thrilled to hear such words… coming from you."
Then he lazily sank into an armchair placed in the center of the room. It was an old piece, but surprisingly comfortable. Alistair crossed one leg over the other and began skimming the books laid out on the coffee table as if he were at home.
"Now… care to explain how, exactly, we ended up in this situation?" he asked, casting her a sidelong glance. "And while you're at it… where the hell are we?"
Diana also sat in a nearby armchair, though she raised an eyebrow when she noticed Kenneth — the ever-formal knight — leaning casually on the arm of Alistair's chair. He looked more like an exhausted squire than a noble guard. Still, she ignored the sight and exhaled.
"Before anything else…" she murmured, her expression shifting into seriousness.
Her eyes fell to a delicate bracelet fastened around her ankle — a magical artifact disguised as subtle jewelry. Closing her eyes briefly, she focused.
— Private Area — she thought.
The activation was instant. A soft green glow pulsed around the bracelet, then faded. Kenneth furrowed his brow as he realized the sound had changed — or rather… that something around them had. He sensed an unnatural silence — a magical one. But seeing the two attendants remain calm, he relaxed.
He lived in a world filled with inexplicable phenomena. Magic like that, which isolated spaces for private conversations, was not rare — but it still never failed to impress.
"Leopold really gave you something quite useful," Alistair commented, his tone one of someone who had seen something similar before... but still respected the choice of the gift.
Diana glanced at him sideways, a small smile crossing her lips. "Still, your eyes seem more useful."
Alistair didn't respond, only raising an eyebrow slightly, as if to silently thank her. But Diana knew exactly what she meant. She had orchestrated the entire situation with careful planning — her escape, her hiding place, every step meticulously calculated... all predicting that, in the end, if things went wrong — and they would — someone would come to find her.
And who better to find her than someone whose eyes could see even the truths others couldn't?
Diana sighed once more, her shoulders finally relaxing as though she were shedding a weight she had been carrying for months.
"Let's get straight to the point," she said, her voice soft but worn. It carried an exhaustion that came not just from the body, but from the soul.
She crossed her legs, adjusting herself in the armchair with a careful motion. Her eyes — those red eyes with hints of gold, now tired — turned to Alistair. Then she began to speak.
What she said in the first few minutes was no surprise to Alistair. He already knew she had separated from the group when they arrived in this world and that she had been taken in by the renowned Phoenix family. But the details... the details were new. And painful.
"When everything happened... when we were separated... I thought I had ended my life. But I was taken in by the Phoenix family. At first, it was like a dream," she said, a faint nostalgic smile dancing on her lips before fading away. "They were kind. Caring. I was treated like a rare jewel. And little by little, I began to love this family and everything they stood for."
Alistair listened in silence, his fingers lightly tapping the arm of the chair, attentive to every nuance.
"Their history is fascinating. They started as simple merchants... and now they are one of the most influential families in Allytheón. Of course, excluding Dracknum and Snaken," she added with a slight nod in Alistair's direction, referring to his surname.
"Their territories are... peculiar," she continued. "But Phoenix built its power through trade, diplomacy, and sharp intellect. They're the wealthiest family in the entire kingdom. They dominate entire markets. And they have the power to back up that dominance… some of the most powerful fire mages come from their bloodlines."
She took a deep breath, her expression changing. The sparkle in her eyes was replaced by a silent shadow.
"But everything started to fall apart two months ago," her voice lost its sweetness. "When my older brother, Victor, returned home."
She furrowed her brow, her hands tightening around the arms of the chair.
"He came back different. With dangerous ideas. Inflamed speeches about uniting with Ragnar, about expanding our power, our influence, doubling our vassals, inflating the armies... He spoke as if we were at war. The Grand Duke, our father... even though he was ill, remained lucid. And he rejected all these absurd ideas."
Diana lowered her gaze, her voice catching slightly. "But... that wasn't enough." She lifted her eyes, darker now. "Two weeks after Victor's arrival, our father died. Just... like that. No warning. No explanation. And, on the same day, Victor assumed the role of patriarch."
Matilda and Nathan — who had been watching in silence, unable to hear — exchanged tense glances. Kenneth, still unaware of what had been said, observed Alistair and Diana's movements, sensing the growing tension in the air.
"The strangest part," she said, her voice almost cutting now, "is that no one opposed it. My mother supported him. With fervor. The vassals followed him as if he were a messiah. Those who showed any resistance, either aren't in the county, or... were silenced. By force."
She lifted her gaze to Alistair, and her eyes finally showed the pain she had been holding back.
"I... I began to be treated like a possession. A commodity. A precious object that could be used to seal alliances," her voice remained firm, but the weight in each word was heart-wrenching.
She paused, her fingers digging into the upholstery of the armchair as if she wanted to tear it apart. Her face began to darken, her expression blurred by the accumulated emotion. Then she exploded:
"He held meetings. He... held an auction..." The word came out like a spit of hatred.
Alistair, who had been standing still and motionless, shuddered. It was as though every syllable struck him like a sharp blade.
"He held an auction, Alistair!" she screamed, and her voice shattered the silence like thunder in a clear sky.
The atmosphere in the room shifted. The fireplace flickered for a brief moment, as though the flames themselves had heard Diana's laments. The air grew heavier. Denser.
Alistair felt her words like a bullet in the chest. He was breathless. His fists clenched so tightly that the leather of his gloves creaked under the strain.
"He auctioned me off as if I were a possession. A... slave," she continued, now in a whisper.
"No... not even a slave. As if I were nothing more than an object a whore" The words came out with visceral disgust. Quiet, but carrying a pain that reverberated in the air.
"It was an auction to decide who would marry me. And in the end, the winner was a High Noble from Ragnar. A decrepit monster, with dozens—no, hundreds—of wives. They say he's harmed many, regardless of age. And he takes pleasure in childs..." Her voice cracked. "He wanted to make me one of his concubines. And the wedding would be soon. Urgent."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm only nine years old... in this world!" The tears nearly escaped, but she held them back, swallowing the sobs as one would swallow poison.
Alistair hadn't moved. But his face…The veins in his neck were bulging. His eyes, normally calm, cold, and sarcastic, were now dark, intense, like embers.
Kenneth, even without hearing the words, felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of that expression. 'I've never seen the young master like this… what could have angered him so?' he thought.
"Enough!" Alistair said, finally. His voice cut through the air like a blade. It wasn't a shout, but a sharp strike, as deadly as steel forged for combat. He stood with such force that the chair behind him nearly tipped over. Kenneth, who was standing beside him, was shoved by the shoulder without even realizing it—perhaps without Alistair realizing it.
"I can already figure out the rest," he said, his voice low, but heavy with quiet, concentrated, lethal anger.
Diana didn't say a word. She simply nodded, slowly. A nearly imperceptible gesture, but one that carried the weight of months of anguish and a plan carefully crafted on the edge of a precipice.
She knew what she had to do. She knew she was being watched. That Victor's eyes were everywhere. Even the corridors of the Phoenix mansion—full of nobility and glamour—had become gilded prisons. Freedom was an illusion. And the magical keyboard, though secure, didn't provide the privacy needed for a true cry for help.
That's why she had devised a quiet plan. A crack. A space between the gaps. She knew when Alistair would come to Phoenix.
And she knew more: if there was anyone in this world capable of reading a cry in the silence, of deciphering a plea for help buried in codes and gestures... it was Alistair Tzanetos Duskweld.
And now he was here. Flesh, bone, shadow, and fury.
Alistair looked at his own hands—small, childlike, limited by the fact that they were still those of a child. The veins in his arms, despite their youthful appearance, were bulging, pulsing with the weight of anger and the instinct to protect.
"This guy is lucky..." he growled. "If Dalton, Benjamin, and Lucas were here, I wouldn't be able to control myself. And the other luck he has is the situation we're in."
He took a deep breath, the shadow of a sigh closer to a suppressed roar than relief. "But... revenge is a dish best served cold," he murmured, his black eyes fixed on a point in the distance.
"I can get you out of here, but... what will you do from now on? None of us can be seen with you. Not even take you in without raising suspicions."
Diana remained silent for a few seconds. Long enough to compose herself. To let the pain return to where it came from and allow reason to take its place in her mind.
"I think I'll go to Emberhold... or StormHaven," she said, her voice now more firm, though still husky.
She glanced at the wall beside her, deep in thought.
"In Emberhold, red hair is common. My shade would still be rare, but it wouldn't draw too much attention. As for my eyes... I can say my father was from the north. No one questions a northern face. The only problem would be passing through Silvermoon to reach Cromwell. Once in Cromwell, crossing the border shouldn't be difficult..."
She paused for a moment
"In StormHaven, I can say I'm from Emberhold. Change my accent, adjust my posture, and no one would suspect. I've thought of everything. The only hassle would be having to go through Silvermoon again, to reach the port in Cromwell, i just need to reach GoldenPort"
Alistair watched in silence, his mind turning like the gears of an ancient clock.
"The borders are the least of our worries. And how will you survive?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Diana arched a slight smile—the first since everything began. Her expression, though still heavy with pain, now held a sharp glint in her eyes, like a predator who knew exactly what to do.
"I think you've forgotten what area I specialize in, haven't you?" she said, her voice brimming with confidence.
The memory came like a flash in Alistair's mind, a spark amidst the chaos of the past few hours. In Diana's world (Nicole), she had been a brilliant mind in business. From an early age, she had shown an exceptional ability to make money. She understood the value of exchanges, the weight of words, and the power that coins held in the world.
No matter where she went or what she was doing, Diana loved money so much that in Ragnarok—the MMO where their fates had crossed—she was the one responsible for opening a virtual market that allowed players to exchange items for real currency. Something that seemed absurd to many at the time, but which became a revolution for the economy within the game. The Ragnarok market had become a link between both worlds, and Diana was the mastermind behind this transformation.
"Alright," Alistair said, now calmer. "I'll provide the funds. At least then we'll have a place of refuge if things go wrong with our families. And... an emergency fund when we start acting together."
He frowned. "But I can only do this five times at most without raising suspicions."
"Once is enough," she said, confident. Determined.
Alistair pulled something from inside his coat—a small object wrapped in dark cloth.
"Here."
"What is this?" Diana asked, carefully taking it.
"It's a magical keyboard. Still a prototype. But it should work. Smaller, easier to hide. With it, you can contact us directly. The only downside is that I haven't managed to make it multi-channel yet... it can only communicate with one point at a time. The others' points are already saved. Except for Alexander's..." He hesitated for a moment. "He's still unreachable."
The air seemed to grow colder.
Diana furrowed her brow. "Alexander..."
"After the meeting in Arcadion... he vanished," Alistair said, his voice low, almost as if each word carried the weight of a deep mystery. "Not even Elijah, who was missing for three months, was completely unreachable."
He paused, as if weighing what to say next. Diana watched him in silence, noticing how deeply this situation was affecting him.
"The worst part," he continued, his voice now deeper, "is that no one knows where he is. It's as if he disappeared. The only certainty is that he returned with his family, but after that... nothing."
Diana tightened her grip on the keyboard, feeling the weight of her own doubts.
"Do you think he...?" she began, the question hanging in the air.
Alistair turned slightly toward her, his dark eyes reflecting a suppressed anxiety. "I don't know. But something is wrong. Either with him or with the place he's at." He took a deep breath, seeming to momentarily lose himself in his thoughts. "But I believe the Dracknum family knows something."
Diana shifted, the sound of her movement breaking the tense silence between them. "We'll find him. One way or another," she said with renewed determination, as if those words were a silent promise.
Alistair watched her for a moment, absorbing the firmness of her reply. He then gave one last look at her, placed his hand on his head, his expression resolute. "But first... we need to get you out of here," he said, specifying their priorities.
"Dalton? No, Alexander can handle himself. He always has."