For the first time in weeks, the Lust Ring breathed.
Not peace peace didn't exist here but something that at least resembled stability.
Deliveries came in mostly intact.
Suppliers weren't sweating bullets every time Sin Rouge placed an order.
Gangs stepped around the territory instead of through it.
The hybrid war with the Lesser Goetia had not ended.
But the pressure had changed shape.
They had stopped pushing.
Or rather… they were waiting.
Malerion felt that shift immediately.
He'd been living with a constant hum of tension in the back of his mind a pressure that made every instinct coil, ready to snap. But now the district felt like a taut wire instead of a blade at his throat.
Not safe.
Just… balanced on a very thin line.
His people sensed it too.
Dreg's patrols were quieter.
Donnie's reports were shorter.
Even Quill stopped swearing at invoices for a full day which was practically a miracle on its own.
Rafe summed it up during morning briefing:
"They're holding back. Watching. Figuring out how to hit us without tripping over Prince Vael again."
Everyone groaned.
Vael's last visit had been chaotic, unplanned, loud, and somehow the single best political shield Malerion had ever accidentally been gifted.
And now?
Now the nobles were forced to choose every move with surgical precision.
Nobody wanted to accidentally insult a prince from House Corvius.
Which gave Sin Rouge room to breathe… and room to grow.
"Don't get comfortable," Malerion reminded them. "This quiet won't last. But we can use it."
Quill cracked his knuckles.
"Oh, I intend to. New runic frames are almost ready. Give me a week and we can double the output."
Liza tilted her head from her corner.
"And I have eyes on three new recruitment pockets in the lower blocks. People with potential."
Dreg grinned.
"Finally. I hate waiting."
It wasn't peace.
But it was momentum.
And in Hell, momentum was the closest thing anyone got to hope.
They were headed toward the northern market a mix of rundown stalls and shady merchants when something bright caught Malerion's eye.
Bright pink.
Vibrant.
Glossy.
Glittery.
It clung to a cracked wall like a neon flower growing out of concrete.
VEROSIKA MAYDAY
THE NEXT BIG NAME OF THE LUST RING
LIVE SHOWS START THIS WEEK
The group slowed.
Dreg squinted.
"Who the hell is that?"
Skit gasped softly.
"She looks… expensive."
Bit nodded hard.
"Definitely trouble."
Quill stepped forward, pushing his goggles up for a better view.
"Oh yeah, I've heard her name floating around. A succubus trying to claw her way into the music scene. Big voice. Bigger attitude."
Donnie crossed her arms.
"Which means she'll either blow up or explode. No in-between."
Malerion didn't join in the joking.
He stared at the poster a little too long.
Her pose confident but inviting.
Her expression daring anyone to underestimate her.
Her branding loud, bold, shamelessly pink.
A woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and didn't care who she had to climb over to get it.
She wasn't a star yet.
But she was trying to become one.
And deep inside, something in Malerion's memory stirred a flicker of a future that didn't belong to this timeline yet.
Verosika Mayday.
Chaos incarnate wrapped in perfume and velvet vocals.
One day she would be everywhere.
One day she would break cities and hearts with the same smile.
One day she'd become a gravitational force in the Lust Ring.
Right now she was just an ambitious unknown with cheap posters.
But ambition was all Hell truly needed.
Bit tugged his sleeve.
"Boss? You're staring."
Malerion exhaled slowly.
"She's going to matter."
Quill snorted.
"Everyone thinks they'll matter."
"No," Malerion said quietly.
"This one will."
Rafe raised a brow.
"Any particular reason?"
Malerion answered honestly, though carefully:
"She has… pull. Presence. Potential. The kind that doesn't stay small. And the kind that attracts disasters and opportunities in equal measure."
Liza, watching from the shadows, nodded once.
"People like her don't stay in the slums long."
"Exactly."
Donnie clicked her tongue.
"Sounds like a storm wearing lipstick."
Malerion didn't deny it.
"A storm can reshape a landscape."
Skit whispered to Bit:
"I think the boss is planning something."
Bit whispered back:
"I think the boss has a crush."
Malerion ignored them.
He could feel it now the faint threads of fate shifting, aligning, vibrating.
Sixteen years until the main storylines ignited.
Sixteen years until the real storms began.
This was the first spark.
And Sin Rouge needed to pay attention.
"Keep her on our radar," he said finally.
Rafe nodded.
"Already on it."
Quill tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"If she ever needs stage effects, I could"
"No flirting," Donnie warned.
"It's not flirting," Quill protested. "It's engineering."
Malerion turned away from the poster, but the pink glow stayed in the back of his mind.
Verosika Mayday.
Still a nobody right now.
Still climbable, moldable, unpredictable.
But she wouldn't stay that way.
Hell always rewarded the bold and punished the boldest twice as hard.
A rising star was always useful.
And a rising star owing you even a small favor?
That was priceless.
He took a breath.
"Let's move," he said.
As they walked on, the poster fluttered in the warm draft like it knew its viewer, and like it dared him to come find her.
Sixteen years until chaos.
Sixteen years until convergence.
And for the first time in a long while…
Malerion felt excited.