The balcony overlooked the Grand Exchange like a throne of glass.
Below, merchants argued over prices, servants hurried with ledgers, and guards in Golden Citadel colors moved like clockwork. Wealth pulsed through the air, thick and heavy.
Mirielle rested her hands on the railing.
"Do you know what people think about me?" she asked quietly.
Ezio stood beside her. "That you're powerful."
She laughed softly. "That I'm a vault. A pretty one, but still a vault."
Ezio glanced at her. "Is that wrong?"
"It's lonely," she replied. "Everyone who smiles at me is measuring something. My assets. My influence. My future."
Her voice wavered, just slightly.
"My father taught me never to trust anyone who didn't want something."
Ezio felt a pang in his chest.
Lucifer whispered, Careful, kiddo. You're starting to care.
Mirielle turned to him. "You don't look at me like that."
Ezio hesitated.
"I look at you like someone who's tired," he said honestly.
Her eyes softened.
They stood in silence, the city humming beneath them.
"I didn't want this life," Mirielle admitted. "I wanted to paint. To travel. To be invisible for a while."
Ezio almost smiled. Invisible.
He knew that dream too well.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.
Mirielle met his gaze. "Because you don't belong here either."
The Red Code pulsed faintly.
Ezio felt a dangerous warmth in his chest. For a moment, he forgot Casanova. Forgot Lucifer. Forgot the mission.
He just saw a girl trapped in gold.
Then Casanova's voice slid into his mind, smooth and inevitable.
Now, my prince.
Ezio flinched.
She trusts you, Casanova continued. Take what matters.
Ezio's jaw tightened.
I don't want to—
Desire is leverage, Casanova replied. Break it or be broken.
Ezio slowly turned away from Mirielle and pretended to look at the market.
His fingers brushed her sleeve.
The Red Code stirred.
Invisible threads of crimson light slipped from his touch and sank into her spirit like a whisper.
Mirielle shivered. "What was that?"
Ezio's heart pounded. "Just… static."
Lucifer chuckled softly in his skull. Oh, that was dirty.
Ezio felt something shift inside Mirielle—a subtle alignment, a gentle tilt of attention toward him. Not mind control.
Influence.
Connection.
Ezio hated how natural it felt.
Mirielle smiled faintly. "I feel… safer with you."
Ezio swallowed guilt.
"I should go," Mirielle said. "But… would you walk me back?"
"Yes," Ezio said too quickly.
As they walked, Ezio felt eyes on him.
High above, in a golden tower, Niccolò Machiavelli studied a glowing sigil that represented Mirielle's emotional state.
It flickered.
Machiavelli's lips curved.
"So," he murmured, "the Prince of Nothing moves."
The game had begun.
Mirielle slept.
Soft lamplight illuminated the elegant room of silk curtains and golden patterns. She lay on a bed that looked more like a throne, breathing slowly, peacefully.
Too peacefully.
Ezio stood by the window, staring at the city beyond the Citadel's walls. He hadn't left after walking her back. She'd asked him to stay, just to talk.
Then she'd fallen asleep.
Lucifer lounged upside-down on a nearby chair, hands folded behind his head. "Well well. You didn't even have to lie much. I'm proud."
Ezio didn't look at him. "I didn't mean to—"
"You absolutely did," Lucifer replied cheerfully. "You just didn't like it."
Ezio clenched his fists. "She's not my enemy."
Lucifer floated upright. "Kiddo, in a world built on gold, everyone is someone's asset."
The Red Code pulsed.
A whisper flowed into Ezio's mind — Casanova.
Good. She is marked.
Ezio felt sick. She trusted me.
Trust is the door, Casanova replied. Now we walk inside.
Ezio swallowed. "What happens to her?"
Casanova's voice was gentle. She will be safe… as long as she remains useful.
Ezio turned away from the sleeping girl.
High above, in the Golden Citadel's inner tower, Machiavelli watched a complex web of glowing symbols.
One strand burned crimson.
He adjusted his glasses slowly.
"The Sixth Prince," he murmured. "So you are not empty after all."
He smiled.
"Let us see how much you cost."