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The grand marble lobby of the National Supernatural Affairs Center buzzed with tension. Hybrid nobility, council delegates, and media lined the hall, their murmurs building with every tick of the clock. Gold-trimmed banners waved overhead: "10th Annual Coexistence Conference: A Future for All."
San adjusted his tie for the fifth time.
Hyme, standing beside him in a royal indigo coat embroidered with silver vines, hissed, "Stop fidgeting. You look good."
San muttered, "I feel like a shiny meat shield."
"You are my meat shield," Hyme smirked, flicking his tail against San's leg.
Behind them, Lyra skipped between Wooyoung nibbling on a lollipop, totally unfazed by the grandeur around her. "This place is so stuffy," she muttered, ears flicking. "Smells like politics and dry pastries."
Wooyoung nodded. "We're not letting those old-money freaks touch a fur on your head."
The heavy doors opened with a ceremonial creak.
And in stepped Lys.
The murmuring stopped.
He was beautiful and dangerous—an imposing hybrid with stark white hair that shimmered like frost and sharp golden eyes. His uniform was pure black, stitched with crimson lightning bolts, the sigil of the Northern Hybrid House. He walked with slow, deliberate steps, flanked by attendants, his very presence sending a chill through the air.
Hyme's entire body stiffened.
San's gaze sharpened.
Lys's eyes scanned the room once—then landed squarely on Hyme. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his face. Then, he walked straight toward them.
"Hyme," Lys said, voice smooth and low like distant thunder. "You've grown."
Hyme's voice was cold. "You haven't."
"You didn't reply to my last letter."
"I burned it," Hyme replied, smile pleasant, ears twitching dangerously.
Lys chuckled. "Still impulsive."
Then his eyes turned toward San. "And this must be the human who's been… entertaining you."
San stepped slightly forward, protective. "I'm San."
Lys gave him a once-over. "Ah. The muscle pet."
Hyme bared his fangs. "He's my nanny."
Lys leaned close to San, far too close. "I wonder… How much are you paid to keep Hyme safe? Would you leave him if I offered double?"
San's jaw clenched. "I'm not for sale."
Hyme took San's arm and yanked him back with a hiss. "Touch him again and I'll claw your throat out."
The air crackled.
Lys smiled. "I see. You've grown some claws."
Before the tension could explode, a loud chime rang through the hall, signaling the opening of the conference doors.
Lys walked past, his voice drifting back like a cold breeze: "Let's see if those claws can survive politics."
Hyme stood frozen, fists clenched.
San gently reached for his shoulder. "You okay?"
"No," Hyme whispered. "He's planning something."
San nodded. "Then let him plan. We'll be ready."
Hyme's eyes met his, fierce and unblinking.
"Together?"
San smiled. "Always."
And with that, they stepped into the lion's den.
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