"Honored Mage Punk, it is my privilege to meet you. The patriarch of our Victoria's Secret family, Mr. Zweig, has long admired you. He has prepared a banquet in your honor and eagerly awaits your visit."
A young girl, dressed in lavish garments, stepped forward and spoke with a deep bow, her posture one of complete deference, as if a subject addressing a monarch.
"The Victoria's Secret family? Isn't that the one with Minister Hutt?"
Punk didn't spare a glance at the girl's carefully adorned face. The mention of Hutt caught his interest—he distinctly remembered that name.
Hutt was the so-called "Minister of the Interior," the man who had seized control of Dolez's political affairs.
Curious about what game this noble was playing, Punk decided he had time to entertain the meeting. After all, his other arrangements required some time to unfold.
Without a change in expression, he uttered three words:
"Lead the way."
Inside the Victoria's Secret Estate
The lavish stone mansion was the epitome of opulence.
However, unlike Punk, who entered in silent indifference, Hutt was pacing within, his mind in turmoil.
The situation was spiraling out of control.
The Tishachar Church's actions were no longer just reckless—they were suicidal. They had dared to extend their reach into Dolez and spread a plague so openly that their intentions were undeniable.
This wasn't mere madness—
it was outright self-destruction.
Hutt knew that even if the church was being ignored now, the Dylan Kingdom wouldn't stay silent for long.
Within three months, a military suppression was inevitable.
Even the nobles—who typically turned a blind eye to trouble as long as it didn't reach their doorstep—were now preparing to strike.
The plague didn't discriminate between commoners and aristocrats.
And, to Hutt's utter dismay, those same nobles had elected him to spearhead the purge.
Now he was standing on the razor's edge, balancing between being a noble leader and a potential scapegoat.
His involvement with the Tishachar Church was undeniable.
He had previously aided Zweig in selling off refugees—human cargo for the church to convert into "believers."
If anyone found out, the Victoria's Secret family would be branded as traitors.
Hutt had only one path left—
to cut ties and bury the evidence.
And the best way to do that?
Hand over the remnants of that sordid deal to someone else.
Someone like Punk.
The mage was notorious for conducting human experiments. If Hutt could ensure that those "missing" slaves vanished under Punk's hands, any loose ends would be tied up.
Yes, it would be costly.
But survival took priority over wealth.
With that decision made, he had no choice but to welcome the dangerous young mage into his home.
The Arrival of Punk
"Please, Lord Sian."
The girl led Punk through the towering gates, where an elderly butler in stiff attire welcomed him.
The interior was a masterpiece of extravagance—a grand dome adorned with an immense crystal chandelier, gilded walls lined with rare gems, and corridors filled with priceless porcelain vases.
A dozen young maids in pristine uniforms stood in perfect formation, bowing as Punk passed.
Punk, however, didn't spare a single glance at the grandeur.
His boots moved across the plush, silver-furred carpet without hesitation.
The golem at his side halted precisely one step before the threshold, as if understanding that its presence was not required.
"This must be Lord Sian! My sincerest apologies for not greeting you at the entrance. Please, forgive me."
Hutt emerged from the hall with a beaming, ingratiating smile.
"Hello, Mr. Hutt."
Punk's response was flat, indifferent.
He didn't wait for Hutt to respond before pulling out a chair and sitting down as if he owned the place.
"Master Sian…" Hutt started hesitantly.
"Let's not waste time," Punk interrupted, his voice devoid of warmth.
"If you have something to say, say it."
Hutt's first instinct was to be offended.
He was, after all, the de facto ruler of Dolez. Who was this mage to speak to him in such a dismissive tone?
But then he remembered who Punk was.
An official-level mage.
A man whose power eclipsed the entire Victoria's Secret family.
A man who had no use for flattery or indulgence.
Swallowing his pride, Hutt took a deep breath.
He dismissed the servants, including the girl, until only the two of them remained.
Then, putting on his most pitiful expression, he spoke:
"Master Sian, the Victoria's Secret family has lost everything. We have severed all ties with the Tishachar Church—we want nothing more to do with them. And now, we wish to pledge our loyalty to you. Absolute loyalty, never to betray."
Hutt had played his hand.
He knew that with someone like Punk, trying to form an equal partnership was foolish.
The best he could do was offer subservience and hope for mercy.
But to his growing unease, Punk didn't even react to his declaration of loyalty.
Instead, his cold blue eyes glinted with something else—
something sharp.
"Just now… you said you had cooperated with the Tishachar Church?"
The mage's voice was suddenly tinged with interest.
Hutt stiffened.
That wasn't the response he expected.
Wouldn't Punk ask what benefits he was offering?
Wouldn't he be interested in wealth, power, or rare resources?
Why was he fixated on that?
Hutt felt a chill run down his spine.
"Y-yes…" he admitted hesitantly.
"I… made some mistakes in the past. But now, I have completely cut ties with those lunatics."
"Oh?"
Punk's lips curled ever so slightly—
a smile that wasn't a smile.
"That is interesting. Why don't you tell me everything?"
A faint shimmer of blue flickered in his eyes.
Hutt's body tensed.
At that moment, he realized—
He had made a terrible mistake.
A mistake that could very well cost him everything.