Bree’s tone carried a hint of reluctance. "It’s not difficult... but you’ll have to endure a little hardship."

Hardship?

Yilan had never suffered a day in her life.

She hesitated, her brows knitting slightly. "Isn’t there... a way that doesn’t involve suffering?"

Bree: "..."

For a brief moment, genuine shock flashed across her eyes.

Is she actually this useless?

She forced down the surge of irritation—of something far darker—and softened her expression.

"Then tell me," she asked gently, "do you still want Vincent to become your partner?"

"Yes! Of course I do!"

Yilan answered immediately, without hesitation.

She had dreamed of it for years.

"Then for him... you can’t endure even a little?"

No wonder Vincent had never spared her a glance.

Even Bree felt a flicker of disdain.

Yilan bit her lip.

Images of Vincent on the battlefield—untouchable, radiant, powerful—flashed through her mind.

"...I will." Then, almost timidly, she added, "But... can it not be too much? I’m a little scared."

Bree smiled. "Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you."

Three hours later.

They stood in the outer regions of space, near a massive insectoid warship.

Yilan’s face turned pale the moment she saw it.

The creatures moving across its surface were grotesque—twisted, monstrous.

"Bree... that’s an insectoid ship, isn’t it?"

Her voice trembled. "Why did you bring me here?"

Bree remained calm.

"According to Sylas Ruan—" she corrected herself smoothly, "—this vessel holds females abducted from the Empire. In a moment, I’ll get you inside. You’ll pretend to be one of them."

Yilan froze.

Bree continued, her voice steady, almost soothing, "Vincent’s mission here is to rescue those captives. He’s already found two ships and saved the females aboard. But this one hasn’t been discovered yet. When you’re inside, I’ll arrange for information to reach him. He’ll come. He’ll rescue you. And then—you return with him to the Central District."

Her eyes darkened slightly. "During the journey... you get close to him. Use Aren’s connection. Make him drink the medicine. And then—use the bone stone."

It sounded... simple. Too simple.

Yilan stared at the warship again, her legs trembling.

"I... I can’t. What if those creatures hurt me? What if Vincent doesn’t come in time? What if I die before he even finds me?"

She had heard the stories. Females taken by the insectoid race were forced to breed.

Over and over. Until they died.

"I’ll be with you," Bree said.

But her patience had already run out.

Before Yilan could say another word—a sharp strike. Everything went black.

Bree dragged Yilan’s unconscious body aboard the warship. The moment she stepped inside, a figure approached.

Krios.

He dropped to one knee instantly, followed by every insectoid aboard.

"Welcome back, my Queen."

Bree’s gaze swept over them—cold, detached.

She tossed Yilan’s limp body forward.

"Vincent is already on Z829. Proceed as planned."

"Yes!" Krios signaled immediately.

Yilan was dragged away.

***

Z829 Star — Battlefield

Cleanup was nearing completion. Inside the command deck of his warship, Vincent stood before the wide observation window.

Below, soldiers moved methodically across the ruined battlefield.

One hour more, and they would return home.

Bang!

A bowl of steaming noodles landed in front of Vincent.

Xarion slumped bonelessly into the chair beside him, looking like he might melt into it at any second.

"I heard from your people you haven’t eaten all day," he muttered, eyes half-closed. "Female Master packed this when I left. I just cooked it—eat while it’s hot."

If he hadn’t promised Rory he’d bring this guy back in one piece, there was no way he’d be dragging himself out of sleep just to cook.

"Thanks." Vincent glanced at him with a faint smile.

Xarion didn’t respond. He had already closed his eyes again.

He was exhausted.

Vincent didn’t mind. He ate quietly, the familiar taste grounding him.

Jasper’s cooking, he thought. The seasoning was a touch heavy—just the way Jasper always made it.

He had barely finished when the comms unit shrieked to life.

"Report to Prince Vincent!"

"An insectoid warship has been detected at the outer edge of the domain!"

Vincent shot to his feet. The temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly.

"Coordinates. Ship classification. Now."

"Yes, sir!"

Data flooded in.

"Coordinates: Z-829 system. Offset 15.7 AU from standard route. Positioned behind an asteroid belt."

The scout swallowed hard, voice tight with unease.

"Ship classification... failed."

"No match in the database."

A tremor crept into his tone.

"Your Highness... this is a vessel we’ve never encountered before."

"Energy readings exceed all known insectoid warships."

Vincent’s expression darkened.

Since when had the insectoid race developed something like this?

Beside him, Xarion—who had been half-asleep moments ago—was now fully upright, eyes sharp.

He studied the image on the display and frowned.

"When did the bugs get this kind of talent?" he muttered. "They actually beat Nix to a next-gen warship?"

Insectoid vessels had always lagged behind the Empire. At best, they copied Nix’s designs.

This... was something else entirely.

Then—another transmission cut in.

Priority override.

A holographic figure appeared in the center of the command room.

The Empire’s First Marshal—Vangar.

Xarion’s pupils shrank instantly.

Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

Vangar didn’t even glance his way. His gaze locked onto Vincent.

"Vincent. Headquarters has intercepted a distress signal. It originated from that warship."

A pause—heavy, deliberate. "There are females of the Empire on board."

His voice hardened. "You are ordered to proceed immediately. Rescue all captives. Bring them back—alive."

Vincent’s jaw tightened; he answered without hesitation. "Yes, sir."

The transmission cut.

Vincent turned sharply, voice ringing through the command deck:

"All units—withdraw from the battlefield immediately! Return to the warships! Three minutes to launch. Full speed to target coordinates!"

Xarion’s gaze lingered on the space where Vangar’s projection had vanished.

His brows knit into a deep scowl.

"I thought that lunatic was dead," he said flatly. "How the hell is he still breathing?"

Vincent shook his head.

"I don’t know the full story. I only learned he was alive just before this mission."

Xarion clicked his tongue, irritation obvious.

"Damn shame. That psychopath should’ve stayed dead."

If he’d known, he might’ve dragged Paros along instead of coming himself.

Vincent didn’t ask what history lay between them—but the disgust in Xarion’s voice was unmistakable.

"You don’t need to worry," Vincent said calmly. "Vangar is stationed in the Central District. He won’t appear here."

But something in the air had already shifted.

The mission had changed.

And whatever waited beyond that asteroid belt, was not going to be simple.