CHAPTER 91: LATE-NIGHT LEGENDS

All three of them sat down, and as expected of a diner open this late into the night, only one dish remained on the menu.

The rest had been sold out hours ago, back when the sun still painted the city in hues of gold and heat.

"Better than nothing," Marcus muttered, his tone resigned but far from disappointed.

The waiter approached without a word, placing a tray down in front of them. With practiced hands, he set out three steaming bowls filled to the brim with noodles—each one glistening under the warm, low light of the diner. A savory scent drifted up with the steam, carrying notes of soy, ginger, and something smoky.

Marcus reached out without hesitation, grabbing a fork and digging in.

"So then, what’s the myth about, anyway?" he asked mid-slurp, the sound of noodles disappearing into his mouth cutting through the quiet hum of the near-empty establishment.

Aveline tilted her head, eyebrows rising in clear disapproval. "You’re investigating a myth without even knowing its specifics?" she said, eyes narrowing with disdain as she stirred her bowl.

Still, she took a bite, the criticism softened by the satisfaction that came with a hot meal after a long walk.

Cynthia leaned back slightly, joining the conversation with a sheepish grin. "Well, it was kinda a last-minute plan," she admitted, waving her hand as if to downplay their haphazard decision-making.

Her gesture summoned a delicate rise of broth, strands of noodles floating within it like kelp on a tide. The water rose, shimmering faintly under the diner’s soft lighting, and guided itself smoothly to her mouth—elegant and efficient.

Aveline paused mid-chew, blinking. "I don’t sense any mana signatures from that..." she said slowly, eyes sharp now with curiosity. "Do you have a natural affinity for water?"

Cynthia chuckled, swallowing before replying. "Yeah, I just recently discovered it. Couldn’t have done it without your brother there."

Aveline let out a short, amused hum, nodding thoughtfully. "That’s quite rare. I didn’t think I’d meet someone like that myself."

Marcus cleared his throat, the sound cutting in like a sword unsheathing. "Back to the agenda..." he said pointedly.

"Ohhh..." Aveline dragged the sound out, rolling her eyes with dramatic flair—though she was clearly enjoying the sidetrack into Cynthia’s backstory.

"In short," she finally said, returning to the topic, "the myth is apparently about a serpentine dragon that’s said to reside in the Yurien River. It’s a fairly recent rumor."

[Memory Sync Activated (Partial): divine offspring of Lucian, revered across the eastern provinces.]

’Intriguing world lore...’ Marcus thought, filing the new data away.

"Locals say the water sings when no one’s around. That it coils like a living thing. Some say they’ve seen scales in the moonlight."

Aveline continued, punctuating her words with another bite. "That’s pretty much it."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, chewing thoughtfully. "Is that it? That doesn’t sound like enough to justify a full-blown myth. Let alone one involving a dragon."

"I share your sentiment," Aveline replied, setting her chopsticks down briefly, "but apparently the Arcane Tower already sent mages to investigate."

[Memory Sync Activated (Partial): The Arcane Tower—largest magical organization in the kingdom. Third in authority, behind only the Archivists and the Royal Family.

]

’That information feels familiar... Like a future plot point waiting to detonate,’ Marcus thought, his inner voice sharpening with interest.

"So what were the results?" Cynthia asked, leaning forward slightly, her bowl nearly empty now.

Aveline’s expression shifted—serious now, her eyes glinting beneath long lashes. "The runic inscriptions found near the river were far too advanced to be some petty prank. They distorted the flow of the water itself."

"The Arcane Tower’s planning to send an Archmage to investigate it further," she added.

Then, with a sudden shift in tone, she smiled—smug and confident. "But I plan to solve it before the Archmage even gets there."

Marcus let out a dry laugh, slowly clapping with exaggerated sarcasm. "Wow. All hail my powerful sister."

"Shut it," Aveline snapped, though her lips curled upward despite herself.

The late-night conversation continued as they ate, the diner’s staff quietly bustling in the background despite their only patrons being the three of them. The warm, ambient atmosphere was a strange contrast to the heavy things they discussed—but it was comforting nonetheless.

A few minutes later, they finished their meals, a satisfied silence settling over them like a blanket.

"That hit the spot," Marcus said, letting out a long yawn as he leaned forward, resting his head on folded arms.

"This is no time to sleep," Aveline scolded, stretching her arms above her head. Her body was clearly tired, but her spirit remained wired and focused. "We still have an investigation to return to."

Outside, the street was silent—eerily so. Even the clink of dishes from the back of the diner seemed to hush, like the world was holding its breath.

Then Cynthia’s earrings began to glow.

Without warning, the remnants of broth in her bowl rose violently into the air, snaking toward the diner’s exit like a homing missile. The soup twisted and surged forward with purpose, like it had caught the scent of something foreign—something wrong.

Cynthia’s eyes widened—clearly, this wasn’t something she’d intended.

Marcus’s instincts roared awake. He shot up from his seat, eyes narrowing.

’It seems Cynthia’s magic reacted before any of us did...’

But before he could move toward the entrance—before he could so much as draw in a breath—

Aveline moved.

She shot past them with lightning precision, her boots slamming against the floor as she vaulted out of the diner like a predator unleashed.

"Stay here!" she barked, voice sharp as steel, already halfway down the street.

Marcus blinked, stunned.

’She’s fast... too fast.’

Marcus stared after her, heart still pounding. It wasn’t just her speed—it was the way she moved. Like she’d done this a thousand times before. No hesitation, no fear. Just instinct.

’I’ve fought beside veterans who didn’t move that cleanly,’ he thought, a ripple of unease passing through him.

The moment fractured, tension snapping back into place.

Something—or someone—was waiting outside. And Aveline wasn’t going to wait for it to come to them.