Chapter 78: [DELIVERED]

The morning air was crisp—too crisp—biting at Eli’s skin like sharp teeth as he stood outside Aureum Gold.

The city hadn’t fully woken yet. Stray voices drifted from the sidewalks, snippets of early workers chatting.

Cars rumbled low in the distance. The skyline was painted gold, the sun stretching across glass towers in long, lazy beams.

And there Eli was.

Stiff.

Wrapped in black velvet.

It hadn’t even been his choice. Elione’s closet was a damn circus—designer tuxedos, embroidered jackets that sparkled when the light hit them, blazers that looked like they belonged on magazine covers.

Half of them felt like costumes, not clothes.

This one—the sleek black velvet suit—was the least obnoxious option.

Quiet. Simple. Or at least, as quiet as velvet could get.

Still, it clung to him wrong. Like someone else’s skin.

Eli tugged at the cuffs again, then again, just for something to do. His reflection warped on Aureum Gold’s polished glass doors—a figure dressed for a stage, not survival.

’God, I look like I’m about to attend some funeral. My own, probably.’

The summons hadn’t even bothered with a proper time. Just one word. Morning. No specifics. No instructions. Just certainty.

So Eli had come early. Too early. His pulse hadn’t calmed since. Every tick of the clock dragged across his ribs.

7:00 a.m.

Was that late? Was it early? Was he standing here like an idiot while the Association laughed at him from afar?

He shifted on his feet, scanning the street every few minutes like he was waiting for handcuffs.

And then—

The low purr of an engine cut through the quiet.

A sleek silver car slid into view, sunlight splintering across its flawless body. The kind of car you only saw outside five-star hotels or in glossy spreads about “the lifestyles of the elite.”

Understated, yet screaming money all the same.

Eli’s breath hitched.

’Is this… the car?’

The vehicle slowed, gliding to a stop right in front of him. Its body reflected his awkward stance back at him like a cruel mirror.

Click.

The passenger door swung open.

A man stepped out—tall, broad-shouldered, posture sharp enough to cut glass. His suit wasn’t flashy, but immaculate.

Every seam pressed.

Every button gleaming.

A uniform of authority, not fashion.

His eyes found Eli instantly. Cold. Assessing. “Elione Noa Ahn?” His voice carried no warmth, only clipped professionalism, like he was checking off an item on a list.

Eli’s throat dried. He straightened instinctively, his hand twitching upward before awkwardly lowering again. “…Uh. Yes. That’s me.”

The guard gave one curt nod. “Please come in.”

Before Eli could even think, the man was already circling to the car’s rear.

He pulled the door open in a single, precise motion, stepping back with all the rigidity of a trained soldier.

Eli hesitated. His danger sense didn’t so much as flicker. No prickling at the back of his neck, no alarm bells.

But then again… he hadn’t felt danger when Punzo and Jabby threw a sack over his head either.

His hand twitched.

’Shit. What if—no. Calm down. If they wanted me dead, they wouldn’t send this.’

“Ah—thanks,” Eli muttered, voice barely audible. His legs carried him forward before his brain could catch up. He ducked inside.

The world shifted the moment the door shut.

The outside noise vanished, muffled to nothing. The air was cool, the scent of leather sharp with a faint metallic undertone that made the back of his tongue itch.

The seats were plush, the kind that swallowed you whole, but the silence inside the car was heavy.

Too heavy.

The guard returned to the front passenger seat, closing his door with a muted thud that seemed final.

He glanced back once, profile stern. “We’ll be arriving at the Association in thirty minutes. Please get comfortable.”

Eli blinked, his fingers curling tight against his knees. His reflection trembled faintly in the tinted glass, pale and stiff in velvet.

“…Right. Yeah. Okay.” His nod was jerky.

Awkward.

Forced.

The car eased forward.

Korenea’s streets blurred past, sun bleeding gold across the tinted windows. The silence pressed in heavier the farther they went, the hum of the engine steady, unbroken.

Each turn felt deliberate. Each minute dragged like the calm before a storm.

And Eli couldn’t shake it—the sense that he wasn’t just being driven.

He was being delivered.

▒▓ ▀▄█ ⚠ ▄█▀ ▓▒

Oddly enough, even with Korenea’s notorious traffic, the car glided to its destination in exactly thirty minutes.

No more, no less.

Eli had been picked up at precisely 7:01 A.M.

Now, it was 7:31 A.M.

Not a second off.

Eli’s brows twitched as he stared at the glowing numbers on the car’s digital clock.

’That’s… weird.’

Or maybe this was simply what it meant to work under the Hunter’s Association—precision carved into their bones, time obeyed like a command.

The car rolled to a perfect stop, smooth as silk. The guard stepped out immediately, already pulling Eli’s door open as if the moment had been rehearsed.

His tone carried the same crisp efficiency as before.

“Please proceed inside the main building. Someone will meet you there. Sir Caelen has already arrived.”

Eli froze mid-motion, his grip tightening on the seatbelt before unclicking it.

’Caelen’s already here? This early?’ He blinked, a pinch of irritation curling in his stomach. “Has he… been here long? Am I late?”

The guard shook his head once, no hesitation. “Do not worry, Sir Elione. Sir Caelen was simply early. You are exactly on time.”

The words should have reassured him. Instead, the precision in the guard’s monotone only made Eli’s skin prickle.

He managed a stiff smile anyway. “…Thank you.”

Eli gave a small bow—awkward, but earnest. The guard mirrored it, equally mechanical.

Then Eli stepped out, and his breath hitched.

The Hunter’s Association Headquarters wasn’t just big.

It was colossal.

The land stretched wide, cleared and polished like the earth itself had been reshaped for this place. They were just outside of Soul—close enough to see the skyline in the distance, but far enough that no other towers dared compete with the Association’s dominance.

And it wasn’t one building.

It was four.

Four sprawling structures, each gleaming with steel and glass, each crowned with the insignia of the Association. They rose like titans from the ground, dwarfing everything in sight.

Eli had read about them. One building for administration. Another for scientists and researchers. Another for training grounds and combat simulations. Each one a small empire of its own.

And then there was this one.

The largest. The heart.

The building he was now walking toward.

Its presence was suffocating—an obsidian tower of glass and steel, its polished surface reflecting the morning sun until Eli had to squint. It wasn’t just a building. It was a statement.

Every step toward the entrance tightened his chest. His shoes clicked against the marble walkway, too loud, too out of place. He adjusted his cuffs again, swallowing hard as he reached the massive glass doors.

The moment he entered, the atmosphere shifted.

Cool air swept over him. The faint scent of polished wood, ink, and something sterile clung to the halls. People in sharp suits moved with purpose across the gleaming marble floors, clipboards and tablets in hand.

Some glanced his way, but not too long.

Their gazes skimmed his velvet suit, lingered on his face, then flicked away just as fast.

Whispers followed, subtle but sharp enough to cut.

Eli’s shoulders stiffened.

’They all know who I am…’

“Mr. Elione Noa Ahn?”

The sudden voice jolted him. Eli flinched, his head snapping toward the speaker.

A man had appeared almost seamlessly at his side, like he’d stepped out of thin air. Middle-aged, neat, his dark blue suit pressed to perfection. His hair was combed back, and his smile was polite but sharp.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man continued smoothly, holding out a hand. “My name is Lawrence. I am Mr. Midas’s personal assistant.”

Eli scrambled to catch up, forcing his hand forward. “Ah… yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Lawrence.”

“Please,” the man’s smile didn’t falter, “just Lawrence will do. Now, if you’ll follow me—Mr. Midas is—”

“Sweetheart!”

The word cracked through the sleek air like a whip.

Eli’s breath caught. His body jolted as if the sound itself had grabbed him.

Both he and Lawrence turned their heads.

The elevator at the end of the hall had just opened.

And stepping out, dark brown hair glinting under the light, was Caelen.

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