Bloodline Evolution: I Can Choose Opposing Paths-Chapter 70: An Idol’s Unease

Aren stared at the folder for a full second before the reaction slipped out of him before he could stop it.

"No way...the idol?"

The words felt almost absurd inside a place like this.

But as soon as he said it, Aren cleared his throat and glanced toward the bookstore windows. Outside, half the city was plastered with her face and every shop had her songs playing.

"How the hell is this a One-Star Commission then?" Aren tapped the file lightly with one finger.

The clerk didn’t answer right away. Instead, he opened the file just enough for himself to glance over the contents before closing it again.

"We reviewed her daily routine as well as rehearsal logs and her planned schedules. There have been no reported incidents."

"Not even lingering ether signatures?" Aren pressed. "Or the occasional stalker getting too close?"

"No." The clerk’s tone remained steady. "Everything has been handled by her security company. Argent Shield."

Aren leaned back a fraction. "Then what exactly is she hiring for?"

The clerk’s fingers rested on the folder.

"The commissioner reports persistent unease," he said. "She described it as a persistent noise, a sense that something is wrong."

Aren’s eyes narrowed.

"We’ve checked her medical status and camera footage," the clerk added. "There’s likely only one explanation for this—"

"Paranoia," Aren finished.

The clerk did not confirm it outright, but he did not disagree either.

"Possibly," he said at last. "However, she is an influential figure. The Committee prefers caution when uncertainty intersects with influence."

"That’s why, despite being classified as One-Star, we’ve been... hesitant to assign it."

Aren frowned faintly.

"Then why me?" he asked. "I literally got my license last week."

"Well...you know, it’s because you’re a—" the clerk said matter-of-factly.

"Alright, alright," Aren stopped him in his tracks. "I get it."

The clerk’s lips pressed into a thin smile, but he said nothing further.

Aren kept staring at the closed folder

He didn’t like it, not one bit. Aren knew that it was going to be a hassle with all the parties involved in such a big public figure. And if anything even slightly abnormal happened in a packed auditorium, it wouldn’t just be a Hunter problem.

Argent Shield wouldn’t appreciate a freshman Hunter breathing down their necks either. That alone would create friction before anything else even started.

I should refuse, there’s gotta be an easier commission. But...

His thoughts drifted briefly to last week. To the pink-haired girl that was covered from head to toe. The look in her eye, from the glimpse that Aren had seen—

It wasn’t so simple.

Aren held the clerk’s gaze for a moment longer before letting out a quiet breath, curiosity taking the better of him.

"Fine," he said at last. "I’ll take it."

The clerk slid the folder fully across the counter this time, expression unreadable.

"Very well, Hunter Cross," he said as he turned to straighten a stack of books beside him. "It’s officially under your care now."

Aren looked down at the file in his hand, flipping it open briefly to scan the first page before closing it again.

Before he could step away, the clerk cleared his throat.

"Oh—and there’s something else," he added.

"She wants to meet the Hunter today."

Aren stared at him.

"...Today?"

"Yes."

Silence stretched between them for a second too long.

"So there was a time limit," Aren said flatly. "And you just conveniently left that part out until after I agreed?"

The clerk adjusted his glasses.

"I wouldn’t dare, sir."

Aren sighed before turning to leave.

"You got me good."

The clerk waved a hand slowly.

"Good luck, Hunter Cross!"

***

Imperial Hotel quite literally towered over the surrounding skyline, as it was the tallest building within the city and one of the tallest in the entire country.

Aren stood at the base of its feet, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other held the thin black folder by his side.

How much would it take to stay one night here?

His mind wandered, but he shook off the thought and stepped forward. Not even three steps in, two men in tailored black suits stepped in his way immediately.

One of them raised a hand before Aren could reach the doors.

"Do you have any business here, sir?"

Rude? What if I was a guest?

But then again, he was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, so it wasn’t too hard to differentiate him from actual paying guests.

Aren didn’t argue. He simply withdrew the badge from inside the folder and held it up, along with the slim metallic access key tucked into the inner sleeve.

"Hunter clearance," he murmured quietly.

The second guard stepped closer, inspecting the keycard before giving him a small nod.

"Please proceed," he said politely.

Aren inclined his head and slipped the badge back inside before he pushed the handle into the main entrance.

Never in his life would he expect for just a hotel lobby to have at least 5 chandeliers hanging above. But most of all, security was everywhere— some were undercovered, badly, but they hung around.

He stopped near the private elevator bank, withdrawing the access key once more. The panel lit up immediately upon contact, as he pressed it against the scanner.

Penthouse Level.

Of course, why wouldn’t it be?

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror wall as the doors closed. Even if there were that many guards around, only one of them stopped to check who he was?

Aren had expected more confrontations. For a high-profile idol claiming unease, security felt almost... performative.

Maybe she was right on hiring a Hunter.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the top floor, doors opening slowly before he stepped out. The soft red carpet beneath his shoes was thick enough to swallow sound.

At the far end stood a single double door, sleek and minimal, the only detail in an otherwise empty corridor.

Aren looked around once more to notice the detail again...there were no guards here whatsoever.

Why’s the penthouse level empty?

He stopped in front of the door before giving it a light knock.

"Aren Cross," he said evenly. "Urban Hunting Committee."

He pulled out his Hunter ID card and placed it on the peephole of the door for the client to confirm his identity.

"I’m here for your commission, ma’am."

For a heartbeat, nothing happened—

Before the doors clicked open, and a figure emerged from the other side.

"Don’t call me ma’am."