The Psychopathic Beast Emperor

The southern district of Aurora was unlike the rest of the capital. If the western district was where nobles flaunted their wealth, then the south was where Aurora truly breathed.

Crowded streets stretched endlessly beneath rows of colorful banners. Merchants shouted over one another as they advertised fresh bread, monster meat, enchanted jewelry, exotic spices, medicinal herbs, and magical artifacts brought from every corner of the six kingdoms.

The aroma of roasted meat mixed with sweet pastries and incense. Children laughed as they chased each other between stalls. Performers gathered audiences with sword dances and illusion magic. It was loud, chaotic, and alive. And because of that, it was the perfect place for someone to disappear.

...

A girl wearing a plain white dress slowly walked through the busy streets. A black veil hid her face as always, with only the tips of her hair betraying the strange split between white and black. Walking beside her, or rather hopping, was an unusually fluffy white bunny. Ren.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, not because they disliked silence, but because they were thinking. Ever since the illusion broke, everything between them had changed. Neither had brought up Sylvia Ashley again nor spoken about Ren Sekhem. Yet, both knew, they remembered, and that knowledge alone changed everything.

Ren finally sighed.

"You’re walking too slowly."

Sylvia glanced down.

"I thought rabbits liked slow walks."

"I like carrots."

"...Fair enough." A faint smile appeared beneath the veil.

Ren noticed. "...You smiled."

"I did not."

"You did."

"No."

"You absolutely did."

Sylvia looked away.

"You’re annoying."

"And you’ve become less scary."

"I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that."

Ren grinned. "You always do."

For the first time in years, she felt strangely relaxed. It reminded her of home. Unlike Bahamut’s team, they weren’t pretending to be nobles. Instead, Sylvia had taken the role of an ordinary traveler. Nothing about her clothing stood out. Ren being a bunny only made people think she had a pet, a very adorable pet... If only they knew...

Children constantly pointed toward him.

"Bunny!"

"So fluffy!"

"Can I pet him?"

Ren immediately hid behind Sylvia’s dress.

"No."

One little girl pouted.

"But he’s cute..."

"He bites."

"I don’t!"

Sylvia blinked. "You’ve bitten me before."

"That was different."

"It was because I didn’t buy you carrots."

"Exactly."

"You proved my point." Ren crossed his tiny paws. "Hmph."

"It talks!" One screamed, sending chills through Ren.

...

The assigned royal personnel accompanying them remained hidden nearby. Unlike Bahamut, Sylvia had instructed them not to interfere unless absolutely necessary. She preferred moving quietly, observing, and listening. That had always been her strength, not combat, but information.

She slowly stopped before a bakery, and the owner greeted her warmly.

"Fresh honey bread! Straight from today’s oven!"

Well, that wasn’t exactly warm... She bought one because it allowed her to ask questions naturally.

"Business seems lively."

The baker laughed. "It has to be. Life goes on."

"Even after the disappearances?"

His smile faded. "...You’ve heard?"

"I’ve heard rumors."

The baker lowered his voice.

"They’re real. My cousin’s daughter vanished. There was no body or signs of a struggle. She was just... gone."

"When?"

"About two months ago."

"Where?"

"Near South Lantern Street."

Sylvia memorized it immediately.

"And the guards?"

"They searched, but they found nothing."

Ren quietly listened while nibbling the bread she’d bought specifically for him.

"You’re using me as an excuse to buy food."

Sylvia ignored him.

"You wanted carrots."

"This works too."

...

They continued deeper into the district. Every few streets, Sylvia would casually stop somewhere different. She didn’t ask direct questions, but simply let the conversations flow. By midday, patterns began emerging. The disappearances were always at night. There were no witnesses, no blood, and no bodies. People just vanished just like what they’d figured out so far from Victor. But unlike Bahamut, Sylvia focused less on locations and more on people.

"Interesting..." She murmured.

"What?" Ren asked.

"The stories. They’re inconsistent."

"Meaning?" Ren tilted his head.

"Every witness remembers different details."

Ren frowned. "Isn’t that normal?"

"No."

She stopped walking.

"If ten people witness rain, they’ll all remember rain. They might disagree on how heavy it was, but they won’t remember snow."

Ren’s ears twitched.

"Oh... They remember completely different things."

"Exactly."

One witness claimed to have heard strange singing. Another remembered bells. Another swore there was complete silence. One claimed to have seen blue light. Another, black mist. One even insisted the missing person simply walked away smiling.

Ren’s expression became serious.

"That’s impossible."

"It is."

"Unless..."

Both spoke together.

"Their memories were altered.".

People bustled around them, unaware of the implication. Memory manipulation, an ability so dangerous that even Tier 3 cultivators treated it with caution. Sylvia slowly looked toward the bustling streets.

"Whoever we’re chasing is intelligent."

Ren’s marks beneath his fur tingled faintly.

"Chaos doesn’t like this."

"What do you mean?"

"It feels..." He frowned. "Artificial."

Before Sylvia could ask another question, someone crashed into her.

"Oh!" A young woman carrying a basket stumbled. "I’m so sorry!"

Sylvia caught her before she fell.

"It’s alright."

The woman bowed repeatedly.

"My apologies!"

She hurried away. Ren watched her leave.

"Strange."

Sylvia nodded slightly.

"Very."

"What?"

"She bumped into me without touching my veil."

Ren blinked.

"So?"

"My veil is the most noticeable part of me. If it were an accident, she would’ve grabbed it while trying to steady herself."

Ren’s red eyes narrowed.

"So she did it on purpose."

Sylvia slowly looked down. Something had been slipped into her sleeve. It was a folded piece of paper. She discreetly removed it, but didn’t open it immediately. Instead, they calmly continued walking as though nothing had happened. Only after turning into a quieter alley did Sylvia unfold it. There were only seven words written in neat handwriting.

"Stop investigating if you value your lives."

Below the warning was a symbol, three overlapping circles, exactly the same emblem Bahamut had just discovered in the western district. Sylvia stared at it for several silent seconds, and unexpectedly laughed, a soft, beautiful laugh.

Ren looked up.

"Why are you laughing?"

She folded the note carefully.

"Because..." Her hidden smile widened beneath the veil. "we’ve finally frightened them."

Ren grinned.

"Looks like Bahamut isn’t the only one stepping on someone’s tail."

"No..." Sylvia looked toward the crowded southern streets.

"I think... all of us are."