January 18, 1522
Noble height
Kite woke up with a dull ache in his back, his body twisted awkwardly among the stacked boxes crammed into his room.
I was really hoping last night was just a bad dream...
A knock sounded, and Audrey entered.
"Kite, time to wake up. Ryenne offered to take Harley to school, so we should get going."
He sat up with a tired groan and nodded. "Right… I'll be ready in a minute."
---
STF Facility – Audrey's Lab
Audrey stood over a flask filled with dense, jewel-toned liquid, her eyes focused behind protective glasses. Kite, standing nearby, couldn't help but sigh.
"Are you really sure about letting her stay? You know what she's like."
"I've heard this from you five times today," she replied without looking up. "She's still a kid like you. I'm not leaving someone her age to live alone. Besides—if you two have history, talk it out like adults."
Kite rubbed the back of his neck. "Easier said than done…"
A familiar voice chimed in like a chisel to the skull.
"Oh my, is that worry I hear in your voice? I must really be growing on you."
He didn't even need to look. "What do you want, Ryenne?"
She strutted in with her trademark suitcase in hand, smirking. "There's a great boar sighting near the edge of the city. I figured I'd go bag it."
Kite frowned. "They usually travel in herds. You sure it's alone?"
"Looked like a stray. Unless, of course, you'd rather let it stomp through someone's backyard."
"You know STF protocol—no action unless cleared."
"Hmph. Such a good little STF dog, following every leash your master gives you."
Before Kite could retort, Audrey slammed both their heads with a firm fist.
"If I hear another word of bickering in my lab, I'm personally ejecting you from the third floor."
"Yes, ma'am…" they echoed in unison and shuffled out.
---
Carynthos Forest – Later That Day
Against better judgment—and her relentless pestering—Kite found himself following Ryenne into the wooded outskirts.
"So," she said dramatically, placing a hand to her forehead, "Here I am, all alone in the forest with a blockhead. If he were to suddenly snap and try something, who would save little ol' me?"
"I'm not that kind of guy," Kite said flatly. "Also, why did you even bring me? You're clearly capable on your own."
"Of course I am. But don't sell yourself short." She turned to him sweetly. "You have a very important role to play."
"And that is…?"
"Close your eyes."
"…What?"
"Trust me. Or is trust too hard for you, Mr. Rulebook?"
He hesitated. "Fine." He closed them, but immediately regretted it.
Within seconds, ropes wrapped around his torso with military precision.
"What the hell—?!"
Ryenne giggled like a cat who just tipped the fish bowl. "Congratulations. You're the bait."
"You what?!"
"Relax, blockhead. I'm not gonna let it actually trample you. I need it distracted." She hoisted her suitcase, winked, and dashed into the trees. "Try not to die!"
Kite struggled uselessly. "Ryenne!! This is not how hunting works!!"
But the rumble of heavy hooves cut off his protest. He turned his head—and saw the massive silhouette of the great boar crashing through the undergrowth.
His eyes widened. "This is how I die."
Meanwhile, perched in a tree's crook, Ryenne had flipped open her suitcase. Inside was a sleek, matte-black rifle with STF's crest etched into the stock. Energy coursed into the barrel, glowing blue-white.
The boar thundered closer. Thirty meters. Twenty.
She took a breath, steadying her aim.
Kite braced for death.
Three sharp bursts echoed across the forest—one slicing through the boar's front leg, the second punching its shoulder, and the third clean through the head. The beast collapsed in a skid of blood and dirt, a final screech dying in its throat.
Kite blinked. "I'm alive…?"
Above him, Ryenne flipped her hair back and blew the smoke from the rifle's barrel. "You're welcome, bait boy."