As a young man navigated the bustling city streets, his piercing silver eyes swept across the crowd with quiet intensity, searching for any trace of the person he sought.

  Draped in a dark hooded robe, he moved with purpose, attempting to fade into the sea of people. Yet, his striking presence-both in appearance and the sharp vigilance in his gaze-only made him stand out more.

  Stopping passersby, he held up a small picture, his voice steady but edged with urgency. "Have you seen this person?" he asked repeatedly, but each time, he was met with a shake of the head or a murmured apology.

  Frustration flickered across his delicate features, but he refused to let discouragement take hold. Exhaling a deep sigh, he reached up and pulled back his hood, allowing the robe to slip off his shoulders. His fingers glided through his silver hair, tousled and unruly, cascading down to his nape and partially framing his youthful face.

  His parted bangs swept elegantly to the sides, revealing silver lashes that fluttered against his pale skin, complementing the ethereal glow of his silver eyes. A subtle ponytail, secured neatly at the a small pin, added to his distinct, almost otherworldly presence.

  At 174 cm (5'8.5), his slender yet well-proportioned frame carried an effortless grace, further emphasizing his surreal beauty. He was clad in a black and blue jean jacket, worn unzipped over a plain white shirt. The casual fit of his black trousers balanced his enigmatic aura, making him look both unassuming and striking at the same time.

  Undeterred, the young man pressed on, his silver eyes scanning every face with unwavering determination. Yet, despite his relentless efforts, he found nothing. Frustration gnawed at him as he turned back, his once-burning enthusiasm fading with each step.

  By the time he arrived home, his shoulders were heavy with exhaustion. Stepping through the door, he let out a weary sigh.

  "Hey, Grimm."

  Grimm glanced up from his tea, his sharp gaze assessing Damon's posture. "Tough day, huh, kid?"

  Damon collapsed onto a nearby chair, dragging a hand through his silver hair. "Not a shred of luck."

  Sitting up straighter, he frowned, disappointment evident in his expression-yet a spark of confidence remained in his voice. "Honestly...., I have the worst luck in the entire world."

  Grimm's lips curled into a faint, amused smile. "That's a new one."

  Damon exhaled sharply, resting his arms on his knees. "I've been searching forever, and every time, I end up with nothing."

  Grimm let out a deep sigh, his exasperation evident. "We've been in Valtoria for nothing less than three days, and you're already falling into the same pattern," he remarked, crossing his arms. "Kid, I understand-she's your little sister."

  A flicker of amusement danced across his face. "Even if she does see me more as her older brother... but who's keeping track?"

  Damon shot him a look but said nothing. He didn't have the energy to argue-at least not about that.

  Then Grimm's tone shifted, the warmth in his voice replaced by firm concern. "But for your own sake, take a step back and recharge. When was the last time you had a decent sleep? Scratch that, when was the last time you slept at all?"

  Damon ran a hand through his hair as he got up, his silver eyes weary but still burning with determination. "I know that, but... you know." He hesitated, frustration tangled with understanding. Then, snapping back to himself, he jabbed a finger at Grimm, eyes narrowing. "And for the record—not the big brother part, okay? Got it? She's my sister—my little sister... and she looks up to me as her big brother."

  Grimm merely smirked, sipping his tea. "Whatever helps you sleep at night-oh, wait." His smirk widened knowingly. "You don't sleep."

  Damon groaned, rubbing his temples. "You are insufferable."

  Grimm chuckled but didn't press further. Instead, he leaned back, watching Damon with an unreadable expression.

  A heavy silence settled between them before Damon let out a deep sigh, slumping back in his chair. His voice was quieter now, less defensive. "But it's hard, you know? Not to keep searching. Knowing she's out there somewhere, despite every lead ending in a dead end... It feels like I'm just spinning my wheels."

  Grimm set his cup down, his gaze softening as he walked toward Damon. "I know it's hard, kid. It's just as hard for me," he admitted, leaning in. "But sometimes, the journey matters just as much as the destination." With a playful wink, he tapped Damon on the forehead. "You never know what you might find along the way."

  Damon scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. "Yeah right? And what exactly am I supposed to find, huh?"

  Grimm simply smiled, his emerald eyes twinkling with a knowing look. "Life has a funny way of surprising even the most stubborn of souls. You'll see."

  Damon rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the slight lift in his chest. Even if just for a moment.

  Then, as if a fire had reignited within him, his silver eyes burned with renewed determination. Grimm's words, meant to be cautionary, had the opposite effect. Exhaustion and pain no longer mattered-he would press on. He had to. He would not abandon his quest.

  Grimm, sensing the shift in Damon's resolve, sighed. "Child, wait-"

  "Thank you, Grimm," Damon cut in with a respectful bow. "Your words have given me newfound strength. I'll keep searching, no matter what."

  Grimm narrowed his eyes. His voice was quiet but laced with warning. "...You scare me sometimes."

  And it was as if in the blink of an eye that the onset of dawn came. Damon set out once more, his steps filled with unwavering resolve.

  The Great City sprawled before him, its winding alleys and bustling marketplaces a maze of noise and movement. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced fruits, and smog from distant chimneys. Voices clashed in a chaotic symphony-traders shouting deals, children laughing, street musicians plucking lively tunes.

  He pushed forward, silver eyes scanning every face, searching for even the faintest glimmer of hope. Every stranger held potential. Every alley could be a hidden clue. He couldn't shake the irrational belief that if he just searched hard enough, his sister would somehow appear before him-drawn by the sheer force of his will.

  As he wandered deeper, the streets widened, the buildings grew taller, and the air seemed lighter. Ornate fountains and grand statues marked the city's wealthiest quarter. He barely spared them a glance.

  Stopping at a vendor's stall, Damon purchased a steaming pastry and a flask of tea, taking a much-needed break. Between bites, he held up a worn sketch. “Have you seen this girl?”

  The vendor glanced at the drawing before shaking his head. “Can’t say I have, son. But folks tend to go missing near the east gate—it’s a huge place, or so I’ve heard.”

  Damon's eyes brightened with sudden hope, a smile spreading across his face as he slammed his palm on the table and stood up. “Do you know where that is, sir?” he asked politely.

  The vendor chuckled, noting the determination in Damon's gaze. Whoever she was, it was clear she meant everything to him. “I’m not too sure, kid, but if you keep heading right and ask around, you’re bound to find it.”

  Damon’s smile radiated pure gratitude, as he bowed respectfully. “Thank you very much, sir.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The vendor smiled back warmly. “No problem, kid. I hope you find her.”

  As dusk fell, his search carried him to the edge of the city, until finally, he say it.

  THE EAST GATE:

  A towering structure, made entirely of pure gold, glowed warmly in the fading light of the night. Standing over twenty meters high, its surface was etched with intricate designs, and at its center, bold letters gleamed: East Gate.

  Damon's heart raced with excitement as he reached for the handle, only to find it locked. Of course, it was nearly midnight.

  For ten long minutes, he paced around, searching for a way in, but no solution came to mind.

  Then, with a decisive breath, he made up his mind.

  He would return at dawn, prepared, hopefully, it will be open by then.

  A renewed sense of hope filled him as he made his way home. He hadn't found her yet, but for the first time in years, he felt like he was getting closer.

  Each step was charged with excitement. When he finally stepped through the door, Grimm was waiting with a cup of tea in hand, an amused knowing gleam in his emerald eyes.

  "Welcome back," Grimm greeted, his voice smooth.

  Damon, still catching his breath with excitement, swung the door open wide. "Guess what I found?" he asked, cutting Grimm off.

  Grimm smirked knowingly. "The East Gate."

  Damon's face fell with exaggerated disappointment. "Well, you're no fun."

  Grimm chuckled softly in amusement.

  “It was locked, though,” Damon continued, stepping inside and kicking off his shoe. “Do you know anything about the East Gate?”

  Grimm’s expression darkened, as if a shadow had descended over him. “Ah, the infamous East Gate. A place where the dead rise, where people die, a place of pure darkness... A place not for the faint of heart.”

  Damon raised an eyebrow. “Why are you always like this?”

  Grimm’s dark cloud instantly vanished. “Well, you’re the one who’s no fun,” he replied, feigning disappointment.

  Damon chuckled warmly in amusement.

  Grimm went on. “But seriously, the East Gate isn’t what you think. It’s a place where you’ll encounter the unpredictable, the unexpected... A place where you shouldn't believe everything you see. And even though you tend to act impulsively, I’m a thousand percent sure you’ll do just fine.”

  Grimm got up, clearly ready for bed. “So, get some sleep. I’m pretty sure you’ll head back tomorrow.”

  Damon’s heart raced with every word Grimm had said. “I don’t think I can,” he said, breathing heavily.

  Grimm’s eyes widened. “You don’t think you... Okay.”

  Though, having said that, Damon still headed to bed. But as he had feared, sleep evaded him. His eyes remained wide open, his gaze locked on the clock, every passing second feeling like an eternity.

  The next day, Damon set out before dawn, his resolve unshaken. He strode toward the East Gate, anticipation buzzing in his veins. This was it-his next big lead.

  Stepping inside, he braced himself for danger, mystery, something-

  Instead, he was met with a marketplace.

  Bustling stalls stretched as far as the eye could see, vendors hawking their wares in a chaotic symphony. Creatures of all shapes and sizes haggled animatedly, their voices mixing with the scent of spices, sizzling meats, and freshly baked bread.

  Damon's face fell.

  He inhaled sharply.

  And then-

  "GRIMMMMMM!"

  Heads turned as his frustrated yell rang through the air. He barely noticed. "This is a-A MARKETPLACE!"

  As if the universe itself had conspired against him, a deep, rumbling laughter echoed in the distance. Grimm. Damon could practically hear the unspoken words woven into that laugh-"I told you it wouldn't be what you expected."

  Damon groaned, running a hand down his face. "Of course."

  Resigning himself to reality, he yanked out his map-a crude, scribbled mess that only deepened his confusion. He squinted at the chaotic lines. "Did I draw this in the dark?"

  Sighing, he tucked it away and ventured forward, absorbing the vibrant scene.

  "Come on, Valtoria, give me something," he muttered, silver eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of a real lead.

  That's when he spotted an elderly man struggling to transport heavy crates of fruit. Without hesitation, Damon moved to help, easily lifting the burden from the man's frail hands.

  "Oh, bless you, child!" the old vendor beamed.

  Damon offered a modest grin-only to be immediately flagged down by another struggling merchant. Then another. And another.

  Soon, he found himself caught in an endless loop of gratitude and enthusiastic requests. Hauling sacks of rice. Fixing a broken cartwheel. Chasing down a rogue chicken.

  By the time he aided the last merchant, the sun had long passed its peak. His stomach grumbled, his arms ached, and his once-crisp jacket was now dusted with flour and fruit stains.

  Collapsing onto a bench, he exhaled sharply,u retrieving his crumpled map. He unfolded it-only for it to mock him with its utter uselessness.

  With a frustrated groan, he ripped it in half and discarded the remnants.

  Fishing out his notebook, he flipped to the list of potential leads and, with a firm stroke of his pen, crossed out Valtoria.

  "Another dead end, huh?" he muttered, disappointment etching into his features.

  For a moment, he simply sat there, staring up at the vast sky, letting the weight of the day settle over him.

  Exiting the gate, Damon started to head back when a sudden, loud noise caught his attention. Without hesitation, he followed the sound, slipping into a nearby alley in an attempt to blend into the shadows,-though, given that it was past noon, concealment was hardly an option.

  That's when he saw her.

  A lady of about 169 cm (5'6.5") moved with effortless speed and precision, her presence both striking and untamed. Her messy, **two-toned hair—green with streaks of red—**fell just past her neck, framing a face that was both fierce and captivating. Piercing emerald eyes held a mischievous glint, reflecting a spirit as wild as an unchained flame.

  Her beauty was an enigma—not delicate, yet undeniably mesmerizing. There was a raw, untamed elegance in the way she carried herself, as if she belonged to both chaos and grace. She wore a practical yet stylish outfit: a long-sleeved shirt, combat trousers, and a red shirt casually tied around her waist, an effortless combination that only added to her rebellious charm.

  She was in the midst of battle, effortlessly taking on a group of uniformed, armed men. With each strike, her blows landed with devastating force, bones shattering upon impact as she tore through them with brutal efficiency.

  After taking down the last of the armed men, she grabbed one by the shirt, yanking him closer to question him-only to realize he was already unconscious.

  As she scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of life, Damon cautiously moved forward, ensuring every sound in his body—his breathing included—was silenced. She had her back to him, offering the perfect opportunity to observe without being noticed.

  Or so he thought.

  "I can hear you, you know. I can hear you breathing," her voice sliced through the stillness.

  Damon froze, his attempt at stealth immediately foiled. His face fell in disappointment, letting out a small sigh as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. So much for sneaking up unnoticed. Though he tried to play it off as if it were no big deal, he couldn’t help but think that he’d never been this quiet even when sneaking up on Grimm. Not that it would have mattered—Grimm would’ve caught him no matter what he did.

  "I'm not an enemy, I promise," Damon said.

  The lady turned to face him, her gaze calm yet observant.

  "I'm obviously aware of that," she replied softly.

  "You looking for something?" Damon asked respectfully.

  "Answers," she said simply.

  "Can I help?"

  She tilted her head slightly, considering him. "Sure, you can. Find me one who's still conscious."

  Without hesitation, Damon pointed to a barely conscious man nearby. "That's one."

  Wasting no time, the woman grabbed the soldier by his collar and yanked him closer. "Where's your key card?"

  Trembling, the man immediately but slowly reaching into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small card.

  Damon, observing the scene unfold, blinked in surprise. His curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but ask, "Uhhhm, sorry, but like, why didn’t you just check their pockets to begin with?"

  The lady froze for a brief moment, her mind racing for a reasonable explanation before settling on the most absurd excuse she could muster. With a smirk and a dramatic shrug, she replied, "I didn’t want to touch their gross bodies, that’s why."

  Damon narrowed his eyes, clearly confused but deciding not to press any further. "O...k," he muttered.

  Gwen, completely unfazed by her ridiculous answer, grinned proudly.

  Damon shook his head, a disapproving look on his face, before nodding towards the key card. "Is that the answer you were looking for?" he asked, watching as she continued to examine the keycard.

  "Yh, something like that." she said, flipping it between her fingers. "It's just a key for the side entrance."

  Damon raised an eyebrow, about to question her when she suddenly swiped the card along a barely visible slot between the walls. With a faint beep, a hidden door clicked open.

  Damon blinked in obvious confusion cause to him, it had been nothing more than a regular wall. No seams, no handle, no sign of an entrance at all.

  The lady didn't hesitate. She stepped inside without a second thought.

  Damon was still trying to process what had just happened when she suddenly popped her head back out, one eyebrow raised.

  "You coming?" she asked, her tone casual.

  Shaking off his confusion, he sighed and followed her inside.