Elara leaned against the marble countertop of her apartment kitchen, phone pressed to her ear. The line rang once, twice—then a familiar, syrupy voice answered.

“Elara Max,” the voice practically purred, dripping with playful charm. “A call at this time of the night can mean only two things–pleasure or punishment?”

“Neither,” Elara replied flatly, though the corner of her lips twitched upward. “Cut the theatrics, Z. I got the monster parts you asked for.”

Z let out a delighted chuckle through his pouting mouth. “I knew I could count on you! Did the monsters fall for your beautiful face again?”

“Actually, I stabbed it in the face,” she said dryly. “Now, when can I expect my new toy?”

A brief pause followed. Elara could almost hear the gears in Z’s mischievous mind grinding to a halt. “About that…”

Elara’s stomach sank. “Z,” she warned, voice low. Z was one of the best Raider weapons’ forger and he didn’t work on commission for just anyone. Elara being his one exception.

“I might’ve forgotten to mention,” he began, his tone turning sheepish, “that I need one more thing to finish it. Just a tiny thing.”

Her eyes narrowed as she dropped her head to hand. “Spit it out before I lose my patience.”

“At least three undamaged feathers from a Brass Doomwing,” he said quickly. “Has to be from a fully mature one. The shinier the better.”

Elara’s groan was loud enough to make her neighbor’s dog bark. “Are you kidding me? You do know their feathers are designed to slice through even the hardest metals, right? I might be strong but I still bleed.”

Z chuckled, unbothered. “That’s why they’re perfect. I’m forging the strongest S-Class weapon for you. You wouldn’t want anything less, would you?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the headache brewing there. “Be honest, Z. Are you scamming me into collecting monster parts for your black-market hobbies?”

“Hey, hey,” he said, mock offense thick in his voice. He leaned back in his chair and spun in circles with a wide smile on his face. “I’d never. Think of it as… ensuring quality craftsmanship. You deserve the best, after all.”

Elara rolled her eyes but relented. “Fine. Is there a domain raid coming up with reported Brass Doomwings?”

“Lucky for you, there is,” Z said, the sound of keys clacking in the background. “Raid #1125, scheduled in three days. Plenty of Doomwings reported.”

“Great,” she said, then frowned as his words registered. The raid # began with 1 meaning it was restricted. “Wait. Isn’t that a guild-only raid?”

“Correct,” he said brightly.

“Z!” she snapped. “How the hell does that help me? You know I don’t do guilds.”

“Relax, babe,” Z said soothingly. “I’ll post your profile on the Raid Service Network as a limited contractor. I’m sure a guild will jump on the opportunity to build a relationship with you, even if it’s temporary.”

Elara swore obscenities under her breath but eventually relented. She just kept on thinking about the new S-Class weapon she’d get her hands on after this. “Fine. If that’s the only way.”

“That’s my girl,” Z said, clearly grinning. “Oh, and when you come by the lab, I’ll show you the weapon’s progress. It’s beautiful, just like you.”

“Careful, Z,” Elara said, smirking despite herself. “Flatter me again, and I might accidentally feed you to a Doomwing.”

“Promises, promises,” he quipped before the line disconnected.

The sharp flick of a lighter echoed through the dim office as Gio lit his cigarette, the end glowing faintly in the shadows. Smoke curled lazily around him as he leaned back in his chair, flipping through a thick report.

The title caught his eye again: A-Class Healer Registration.

He frowned, recalling the conversation with Eryx. That kid would rather crawl through a monster’s den half-dead than let a Healer touch him. The thought made Gio’s chest tighten with a mix of frustration and amusement. Stubborn bastard.

A soft chime broke the silence, pulling his attention to the computer screen. A new notification blinked at him.

New Contractor Request: Elara Max - Raid #1125.

His brows shot up. “Well, well,” he muttered, clicking into the details. “What’s this little wildcard up to?”

He recognized the raid number immediately. A multi-guild domain raid that needed to be cleared within an hour. Gio’s lips curled into a sly smile as an idea began to form.

Fingers flew across the keyboard, typing out a message. His grin widened as he hit send. Who knew that Lady Luck was coming to sleep in my bed tonight?