The night after Vael's unexpected visit was unnervingly quiet.
Sin Rouge never slept, not truly. Even in its calmer hours, the Lust Ring slums vibrated with neon noise shouting, laughter, metal scraping, engines sputtering, glass shattering, music leaking through every cracked wall.
But tonight felt wrong.
Not peaceful.
Not calm.
Muted.
As if the entire district was holding its breath.
Malerion felt it immediately when he descended into the bar's main hall.
Dreg stood by the door, arms crossed, jaw set like carved stone.
Liza leaned against the wall, posture relaxed but attention razor-sharp.
Quill paced circles behind the counter, muttering calculations to himself.
Skit and Bit peeked from behind crates, twitching every few seconds.
Donnie sat at a table, her expression unusually severe.
Something had shaken them.
Donnie approached first.
"You need to see this."
She handed him a sealed envelope stitched with infernal wax, marked with a crimson sigil that made the room fall silent.
Malerion broke the seal.
The message inside was short, cold, and heavy.
To the proprietor of Sin Rouge
We are aware that a member of the Goetia bloodline visited your establishment yesterday.
This is unacceptable.
His presence disrupts balance. It invites scrutiny and consequences beyond your comprehension.
If such an incident occurs again, we will intervene.
If you are knowingly associating with this prince, cease immediately.
The Lust Ring has rules.
Do not provoke the upper hierarchy.
The Coalition of the Seven District Lords
Lust Ring High Authority
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Before anyone could speak, footsteps hammered against the pavement outside.
Rafe burst through the door panting, drenched in sweat, eyes wide.
"Malerion boss sir I found out where the letter came from"
He froze when he saw the sigil.
"Oh. You already know."
He swallowed.
"We have a problem."
Donnie crossed her arms.
"They think we invited a Goetia," she said flatly. "Which is insane."
Quill added, "Or that Vael is investing in us."
Dreg's growl vibrated the air.
Skit whimpered; Bit hid behind him.
Malerion kept calm.
Explain, he said quietly.
Rafe exhaled sharply, regaining composure.
"This wasn't the Lords' idea alone," he said. "Someone pushed them. Hard."
Malerion raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
Rafe stepped closer.
"One of the Lesser Goetia Houses living in the Lust Ring."
The room froze.
Not Overlords.
Not common nobility.
Lesser Goetia
the lowest branch of Hell's aristocracy, far beneath the great Goetia families of the Pride Ring, but still powerful enough to manipulate local politics.
Liza narrowed her eyes.
"A lower Goetia line? Here?"
Rafe nodded.
"They live here as overseers. Minor administrators for the Lust Ring's hierarchy. Not strong… but still Goetia."
"And they're terrified."
Quill frowned.
"Of what?"
Rafe held up his hand.
"House Corvus."
Silence returned like a hammer.
"Vael is from a high bloodline," Rafe said.
"Ancient. Respected. Feared."
He rubbed his neck.
"The lesser Goetia here? They're insects compared to House Corvus. If a Corvus prince appears in their territory, they assume it's either a political inspection…"
He exhaled.
"…or the first step in a purge."
Skit whispered, "So they think he's here to… take over?"
Bit added, "Or clean up the slums?"
Rafe nodded grimly.
"And since Vael visited you, they think you're involved."
Malerion frowned.
"Why me?"
Rafe didn't hesitate.
"Because he came here willingly. He interacted with you. And he left smiling."
Liza muttered,
"That alone is enough to send the lower Goetia into panic."
Donnie sighed.
"Minor Goetia Houses are politically fragile. They survive by staying invisible. One wrong rumor and they assume the Pride Ring is about to erase them."
Rafe clenched his jaw.
"They're scared, Malerion. Terrified. That's why they pushed the Lords to send that letter. They want the problem erased before House Corvus notices it."
Dreg growled,
"So they want us dead."
Rafe nodded once.
"Or silenced. Before someone decides our district is the spark of a political storm."
Malerion folded the letter calm, focused, entirely composed.
Inside him, Alastor's voice whispered like distant static:
"Fear makes the lesser nobility predictable…
but also dangerous when cornered."
Malerion's gaze hardened.
"Lesser Goetia…" he murmured.
"So that's who's trembling."
Rafe nodded.
"And they won't stop trembling until we act."
Malerion turned toward the balcony window.
The neon city pulsed like a warning.
The Lords were watching.
The lesser Goetia were watching.
The slums were listening.
And Vael…
Vael would return.
Alastor whispered,
"This is only the beginning."
Malerion agreed.
Because for the first time
Sin Rouge wasn't just a district.
It was a battlefield
waiting for its spark.