A man with pale, lanky fingers grabbed the sharp knife on the sterile metal plate. After doing so, the servant, whose eyes were glued shut, took away the “distracting” object.

  The man couldn't avert his gaze, his pale, topaz-like eyes focused on his artwork tied to the wall. It was a little sullied, unlike the “pure” materials he preferred, but he didn't mind.

  Today, he would challenge his skill and make a masterpiece!

  He moved his hand, his grip on the knife just firm enough to hold it, but not too hard to make it tremble. Slow as a snail's pace, the razor tip touched the material's soft surface. Then, he gave the blade a little push, letting it sink like a dart piercing a tomato.

  Instantly, crimson juice oozed out of the material, painting the pale canvas with a vibrant red.

  “Ah… as expected, tainted or not, the quality ain't too bad,” he mumbled, his voice elegant and bold. Present him before a classroom and the students would never be bored.

  Moving his hand, the knife glided across the "canvas," opening it up for more red paint to spill over.

  Finally, once a hand-sized cut was made, he withdrew his hand, his eyes curling in satisfaction.

  “It's a little stiff,” he muttered. “My gloves,” he said, reaching out his hand.

  The awaiting servant hurriedly handed him a pair of rubber gloves, colored like the blue sky, and took away the knife.

  Putting the gloves on, he walked a little closer to his art piece and placed his hand on the material's “imperfection.”

  “We need to get rid of this stain,” he tutted, pinching both sides of the cut with his hands. Then, he stretched it open, watching as the surface was peeled, revealing the crimson inner layer.

  “Gorgeous,” he gasped. "Knife,” he said, and the servant handed back the knife.

  Now with a blade, he pointed at the center of the blooming scarlet “flower,” carefully sinking his blade deeper and deeper. Until he felt something hard at the tip of the knife.

  “Ah, there you are,” he smiled. “Here,” he said, handing the servant his knife.

  “You're a mistake, and I'll erase you now… although, it might work as another art piece. We'll see,” he hummed, plunging his hand inside the material.

  His ears flushed red, listening to the sound his hand made inside. Then, when his whole fist was inside, he stretched his fingers, before clawing at the dirty thing that sullied his precious art.

  With a bit of impatience, he pulled out the filthy object, revealing it to the world. It was a little thing, soaked in crimson fluids that played piano on the ground as it dripped. Its four limbs were thin like twigs, its surface pale and soft.

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  Caressing the unwelcomed thing, a smile couldn't help but form on his face.

  “It's quite tender. Maybe this one will turn out to be a masterpiece. Maybe better than its original container,” he hummed a happy tune. “Take it.”

  Hearing that, the servant carefully grabbed the thing in his hands.

  “Oh, I can't wait to give you both a taste,” he licked his lips. “I wonder how the Aluksha will rate tonight's dinner?”

  Fresh meat sizzled as it touched the hot oil on the pan. As the chef sprinkled salt over the steak, and later wine to deglaze it, an addicting aroma filled their noses.

  Zethir squinted, watching as the chef place the steak on a white, porcelain plate. After adding some sauce and herbs, the chef uttered a quick “please eat well” before pushing his cart away.

  In this high-end restaurant, the chefs and servers would prepare everything in front of you, though getting a reservation was quite expensive.

  Luckily, Earleon was paying.

  “Wow,” Hans gulped. “That guy cooked for so long, but everything looks delicious. The entire time, I want to kick his ass and force him to cook faster. Like, why the fuck did they have to tease you with food?!”

  Julien tutted, grabbing his plate and scrutinizing the steak.

  “It's cooked to perfection, and I can't say I'm not drooling. However…” He looked at Zethir.

  “Why can't we eat this?”

  Earleon also looked at Zethir, raising an eyebrow but otherwise remaining silent. Although not as stingy as Zethir, spending a hundred thousand mitos just to get a seat in the restaurant pained him to no end.

  That didn't even include the price of their meal!

  Zethir stared at the steak with a frown. “Earleon, can you… identify this meat?”

  Earleon nodded slowly. “I can… but why? Is it poisoned?” He asked, before discreetly gathering a small amount of arcane energy under the table. Afterward, he used a simple spell on the steak.

  “It's from a cow.”

  Zethir sighed, grabbing the knife and fork and slicing out a portion for himself. “Go ahead, it's safe to eat.”

  Hans and Julien looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders. But before Hans could grab the steak and shove it in his mouth, Julien snatched his wrist.

  “Come on, man, have some class!”

  “...ugh. This is why I hate going to fancy huts,” Hans rolled his eyes.

  “Tsk, damned barbarian,” Julien focused back on his plate.

  Meanwhile, Earleon was already chewing on a slice of his serving. “It's delicious,” he said, leaning over to Zethir, who was staring at the piece of steak on his fork.

  “What’s the matter?” Earleon nudged the dazed man.

  “Nothing,” Zethir popped the slice in his mouth. “Hm… delicious, indeed.”

  Earleon grinned. “Now, will you tell us why you want us to… erm, ‘dine carefully’?”

  It had been a week since their meeting with the four Frejieros. After the initial review regarding the city's history, Alfredo finally gave them useful information.

  According to him, this restaurant was an important place for the Aluksha and Solien—It was where they traded intel and negotiated deals.

  As soon as they returned to rest, Earleon got busy trying to buy a spot for the four of them—but it wasn't easy. It was only yesterday that he barely managed to snatch a reservation.

  However, just before they left this morning, Zethir suddenly warned them.

  “Do not eat the food casually. Wait until I say so,” he said.

  Zethir glanced at Earleon. “Do you believe in… nevermind.”

  “What? Come on, I won't laugh.”

  “Then,” Zethir sighed. “What if you had a dream… and that dream turns out to be real?”

  “Oh, I think I know what you mean,” Earleon blinked in surprise. “It's a talent very few people have, and no one knows how people even obtain this talent,” he placed his utensils down.

  “It's called many things, but the most common is 'dream walking.' It's not a secret, but very few know about it. Have you heard of it?”

  Zethir focused on Earleon, ignoring the chewing sounds the two men across from them were making.

  “No. What does it do?”

  “Dream walking is a talent that allows people to enter other people's minds during their sleep. They either view that person's current perspective, or relive a memory... of course, it can be defended agaisnt. Why, did this happen to you?” He ate another slice of steak.

  He couldn't help it—it was too damn delicious.

  “Dream walking… I think I…” Zethir massaged his forehead. “I think I have it.”

  Earleon glanced at him, before nodding simply. “That explains some things.”

  “What?” Hearing the latter's mosquito-like mumbling, Zethir squinted at him.

  “Nothing,” Earleon sighed, putting down his knife and fork. “Did you dream walk last night?”

  Zethir nodded. “Alfredo told us that this place is where the Alu… the two groups exchange intel. And last night, I had a dream—about the owner of this place.”

  “The owner?” Earleon jerked his head back. “Verhillo?” He asked.

  "He's a clean man, very honorable. He saved dozens of poor people and gave them jobs, as well as contributed in city defense by donating money."

  Zethir shrugged. “All I know is that he's the owner, I didn't get his name. In my dream, he was cutting up a pregnant woman.”