Northern Dark stood up from the chair behind the round conference table.
"Hahaha… Funny, huh?!" he laughed, his mouth curved in a narrow grin.
"Haha! Absolutely not, Northern Dark!" the Boss laughed back, his voice echoing in the dark chamber.
Some of the heads and undercover members exchanged bewildered glances. Others stared with disgusted or annoyed expressions. All except Crimson Night—she simply smiled faintly, her head bowed. Her large black goggles were veiled beneath the brim of her hat, which hid the upper half of her face.
Suddenly, a white, shiny thread appeared behind her. Those sitting opposite her noticed it just before a large poisonous spider crawled onto her shoulder.
"Oh God!" a female member groaned, rubbing her eyes with two fingers and a thumb. Her expression soured.
"This place is seriously crawling with spiders and their webs. And this one—ugh—it's poisonous! Because of you..." she pointed directly at Crimson Night, "...the towers are never cleaned. They're covered in webs!"
"Well, well," Crimson Night said calmly. "But don't you think those webs give our towers a more terrifying look? A perfect match for our organisation's name."
She turned toward the Boss. "What do you think, sir?"
"I agree, Crimson Night," the Boss replied.
Just then—Chinsch—!
A sharp sound cut through the air. The spider fell lifeless to the dusty floor.
Everyone turned to the side door—directly to Crimson Night's left.
There stood a white-haired young man, strikingly handsome, with silver eyelashes and icy blue eyes. He leaned casually against the frame, exuding elegance and menace.
"As always, you're early, Virell," Crimson Night said with a smirk.
"Oh, really?! Never thought of it—Crimson Night? Or should I say... Sexy Night?" Virell teased as he walked in stylishly and tossed his letter into the fiery wall-mounted heater.
All eyes turned to the two.
"You may call me either," she smiled, head tilted. "Virell, our Inkblabe."
(Inkblabe: an elite assassin and scribe, who writes in shadows for the heads and Boss.)
"As you wish," Virell chuckled, bending down to retrieve the spider with his gloved hand.
"Oooh... Your darling's poisonous needle was sharp enough to pierce even a hardened shell."
"Gross…" Northern Dark muttered. "That gross spider… her darling? My goodness."
"What are you muttering, Northern Dark?" the Boss glared.
"Nothing, Boss," he replied quickly.
"So…" Virell smirked. "Would you like your usual spider soup for lunch, Sexy Night?"
"Umm... No, thanks. Not in the mood today. But maybe our dear critic here would love to try your special spider soup," she said, glancing at the same female member who'd complained earlier.
Virell turned to the woman.
"I'm not interested! Eating that thing? Eww. No thanks," she scoffed.
"Oh my… Nobody wants spider soup today?" Virell pouted dramatically, inspecting the spider. "Looks like I'll have to discard this poor sacrificed goat."
He turned toward the nearby bin—but was stopped.
"First, let's address why we're here," the Boss's sharp voice cut through the room. His white eyes glared.
"Then you may dispose of it."
"As you wish, Boss." Virell bowed slightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he took his seat.
The Boss stepped forward.
"A new rule takes effect today. From now on, if a head suspects one of their members is compromised, they may assign someone to follow, spy on, or even eliminate them—immediately. No approval needed."
Gasps. Murmurs. Tension.
"And as always—should a member flee the organisation—they will be hunted and executed by all of us."
He turned sharply.
"Northern Dark!"
"Yes, Boss."
"When your current mission ends, you are to kill our betrayer, Dark—no matter what it takes."
"But, Boss—"
"No 'but'! Or she'll slip into the crowd again. And I won't let that happen. Got it?"
"…Yes," Northern Dark replied, reluctantly.
"From now on, Crimson Night's agents will be watching your every move."
Several heads and undercover agents began glaring at him.
Meanwhile, at Nancy's mansion kitchen…
"Hey, you're early, Ms. Oak!" Amber greeted, chopping vegetables.
"Yaaawn… Yeahhh. I stopped by Dad's new place this morning to tell him about my new job," Ariadne said, flopping lazily into a chair by the breakfast table.
Amber froze.
She remembered the previous night—talking with Mrs. Bourgeois.
"Liar…" she hissed under her breath.
Snik!
She winced. "Ouchhh! Ughrhh!"
"What happened, Ms. Dubois?"
"Cut my finger accidentally."
"Oh no! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just need a bandage."
"The first aid kit is in Nancy's room. Want help?"
"No, I've got it."
Amber stepped out. As Ariadne did, a hoarse voice rang out. She turned—the news channel was on.
She walked to the sofa and found Nancy sound asleep.
"Wow… she can really sleep through anything. Lazy sister," she muttered.
She sat down and reached for the remote—but froze.
"Breaking News: The individual controlling the YAYA Corporation has finally revealed their identity."
"What the heck?! The Boss appeared in public?!" Amber gasped.
The anchor continued,
"This person, known for attending meetings via a male robot proxy… who never attended formal events—only masquerade balls—has now stepped forward…"
"Her?! Excuse me? That has to be a man!" Amber exclaimed, talking back to the screen.
"Why would he reveal himself now?"
Suddenly, an image appeared on-screen:
A tall young woman with crimson eyes, long red wavy hair, and a sleeveless designer gown.
Ariadne's jaw dropped.
"Yes… Of course. I know that person…"
She whispered.
"Crimson Night?!"