Page 17 of Saint

The seat was grand, set into the wall with built-in shelves on either side. The top was curved, though the window within it didn’t follow the same pattern and was rectangular. Yejun settled onto the thick crimson cushion and debated whether or not he wanted to lie down, opting instead to stretch out his legs and lean back. The cool touch of the glass against the width of his shoulders had him sighing, eyes drifting shut.

He could hear the soft crackling of the fireplace even though it was four rows away to the far left. Mixed with it was the occasional moan and gasp, but that didn’t bother him much. Soon, they’d slip into their winter season, and he could already feel the chill from outside seep through. It surrounded him almost tenderly, coaxing all of those tumultuous emotions out.

Typically, Yejun poured his feelings into his art. That was how he processed things, expelled his issues, and kept his carefree disposition in front of the rest of society. If this werethe party they’d thought they were attending, he could at least breathe easy knowing he’d have to remain for an hour, two at most, before they finished dinner and could go.

Getting away from the Night of the Nightshade wasn’t as simple.

Unlike Demon’s Passing, which was also coming up, the Night of the Nightshade was an event exclusive to the Essentials but teased to the members of Enigma. Taking place once every year, it was meant as a recruitment of sorts and an excuse for public displays of debauchery.

Members on the Enigma app were told about the event and offered a chance to attend. It was pitched as the grandest Enigma party, a celebration no one wanted to miss out on, but that most usually did. Only those who’d made it to the King tier were sent an actual invitation, a job usually West took care of personally. Yejun made a mental note to ask him about whether or not he’d been contacted about the King’s list in advance.

No one could access West’s files without his permission, so either Demitrious had bypassed the King tier this year—which wouldn’t go over well for any of the Bishops who’d managed to make it in—or he’d gotten names from an unsuspecting West.

Either way, West was no doubt fuming himself right now. He hated when his things were messed with in general, but more so when his father was the one behind it.

Demons Passing and Night of the Nightshade were typically intertwined. It was the event that kicked off the official season. The beginning of the end, so to speak. For them, that was a good thing. The end they were after included Lake on the throne and the four of them freed from having to look over their shoulders or bow their heads to pricks like Demitrious and Hendrix.

But it also meant painting targets on their backs, maybe even bigger ones than they had now if they weren’t careful.

They had to handle the real issue beforehand. Find the poisoner and stop them before they had the chance to try their luck a second time. Or, third time, as it were, since they’d been successful with the late Emperor and her Royal Consort.

“Can we join you?” a soft feminine voice broke through Yejun’s peaceful state and he scowled before opening his eyes on the interruption. Two of the girls from earlier, the ones he’d deemed too young to be there, were standing less than a foot away from him, their shins practically pressed to his knees.

“No.” He wasn’t in the mood. In the past, he would have flirted a bit, maybe doublechecked they really were of age and then made a move or two. Perhaps he’d even fool around with one or both of them—he wouldn’t sleep with them, not here, and definitely not on the Night of the Nightshade though.

Everyone else partook on this night, but Lake, West, and he had long since agreed they would never. It would leave them too vulnerable. Too open to blackmail and attack. Photography and filming were strictly forbidden at this event, and the repercussions if caught were banishment from the Club and removal of all assets given or gained from its membership. Hefty punishment, but there was a keyword that they hadn’t missed.

Caught.

A person could only be punished if they were caught, and with a friend like West, they all knew better. They knew how easy it could be for someone to upload a video of them partaking in sexual acts and hide their identity. Or even for someone else—like Hendrix, for example—to convince a lower-level member to take the fall in his place.

Not worth the risk.

Sex was power here. Everyone knew that.

That was why these girls were in front of him now, breathing in his personal space, hoping they could go around bragging they’d bagged a Demon.

“Why not?” the one who’d spoken already asked, pouting out her lips. She was around five-four, petite, with pink hair. Her friend was a bit chubbier, cute, with freckles and sharp golden eyes that clearly held some intellect behind them. Their masks dangled from their fingers, making it obvious they’d removed them in the hopes he’d fall for their faces.

They were attractive.

But they were no Nix Monroe.

“We’re good listeners,” the golden-eyed one chimed in, boldly reaching out to place a delicate hand on his left knee. “You seem troubled. We can keep you company.”

Had Yejun just thought she was smart?

Yeah. No.

“You can confide in us,” the pink-haired one jumped in and nodded.

Yejun opened his mouth to tell them both to get lost before he broke their fingers, but then movement behind them caught his attention and he ended up sucking in a breath instead. He straightened, lifting off the window and shoving both girls to the side quickly.

Only to realize too late how that made it look.

Like he was guilty of something he wasn’t.

“Nix.” Yejun wet his lips, explanation dying on his tongue when the Firebird’s expression remained enigmatic. Like he didn’t care at all that he might have walked in on Yejun fooling around with other people.

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