Hikaru, Lucian, and Lucas were seated inside the sleek black car as their driver made his way toward the grand Taj Mahal Palace. Lucian sat quietly, clutching his forehead, wincing in pain. When he had fallen earlier, he'd smacked it hard against the ground.
Lucas glanced at him, brows furrowed with concern. "What happened to you? Why are you acting like that?"
Lucian didn't answer. He just groaned softly, still cradling his forehead, caught in a mix of pain and embarrassment.
After about 35 to 37 minutes of driving through the late-night city streets, the car finally rolled up to the front entrance of the legendary Taj Mahal Palace. The area outside was crowded with black luxury cars—vehicles belonging to various agents who were responsible for the newly recognized adventurers, each of whom had just completed the Class Choosing Quest.
Unlike the adventurers, these agents didn't get to choose a class. Their roles were assigned automatically, revealed on their crimson screens exactly 24 hours after the quest concluded. All it took was a simple voice command: "Info," and every detail would appear. It was common knowledge among all participants.
The car rolled to a slow halt outside the grand façade of The Taj Mahal Palace, and Lucas stepped out, awestruck by what stood before him.
Bathed in the soft golden glow of strategically placed spotlights, the hotel's exterior was nothing short of regal. A seamless blend of Islamic, Renaissance, and Gothic architecture, the Taj stood tall with its majestic central red dome, flanked by smaller cupolas, intricately carved balconies, and arched windows that reflected the city's shimmering skyline. The building's walls were adorned with hand-chiseled stonework, rich in detail, and each corner of the palace whispered tales of an era long past—of royalty, revolutions, and resilience. Vines of bougainvillea climbed the outer walls, their vibrant blossoms adding splashes of color against the ivory and sandstone hues.
Guards in traditional uniforms stood alert at the grand entrance, and a pair of massive wooden doors—engraved with floral patterns and lined with brass studs—swung open as the guests approached.
As Lucas, Lucian, and Hikaru entered, a wave of cold air and exquisite luxury washed over them.
The lobby was a masterpiece. A vast Italian marble floor stretched out beneath their feet, with hand-laid patterns resembling the sacred geometry of ancient civilizations. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their crystal prisms casting kaleidoscopic light across the room. The walls were dressed in gold-trimmed silk wallpaper, interrupted occasionally by antique mirrors, framed oil paintings, or ornately carved wooden panels.
At the center of the lobby stood a grand flower arrangement, towering nearly ten feet high, made of fresh roses, lilies, and exotic orchids. A subtle scent of jasmine lingered in the air—calming, yet captivating.
The furniture was plush and opulent—Victorian-style armchairs with gold-leaf accents, deep red velvet upholstery, and small tables crafted from dark mahogany with golden inlays. The concierge desk was made of polished black marble, with the hotel's insignia etched in gold leaf across its front.
Staff moved gracefully, dressed in royal blue uniforms, some wearing elegant turbans, others sporting white gloves and silver pins. Each step they took seemed choreographed, refined to perfection.
As they made their way toward the elevators, Lucas couldn't help but marvel at the stained-glass skylight above, which filtered in a surreal spectrum of twilight colors. The interior corridors were no less extravagant—lined with handcrafted carpets, golden wall sconces, and silent but ever-watchful security systems.
On each floor, the hallways whispered old-world charm. Even the door numbers were engraved on brass plates with artistic calligraphy. The air held a dignified silence, only broken by the soft melodies of classical Indian instruments playing through hidden speakers.
To Lucas and Lucian, it felt less like a hotel and more like stepping into a living museum, where every brick and beam held history, and every corridor seemed to echo the footsteps of kings and diplomats.
The Taj wasn't just a place to stay—it was a statement. A palace for the chosen. And tonight, they were among them.
After stepping out, the group entered the luxurious lobby and completed their check-in. Their room was located on the third floor, elegantly designed and spacious.
The hotel itself radiated prestige—every marble tile, golden accent, and chandelier whispering stories of wealth, history, and power.
The three of them made their way toward their assigned room, their footsteps echoing softly against the lavishly carpeted floor. The corridor itself was a sight to behold—lined with rich, Persian-style rugs that ran along its length like rivers of velvet. The walls were adorned with antique brass sconces, each cradling a flickering light that bathed the passage in a warm, amber glow. Intricate tapestries and framed artworks hung evenly across the walls, showcasing scenes of royal courts, mythical beasts, and forgotten legends. Even the air in the corridor felt refined, scented faintly with sandalwood and something older… something regal. It wasn't just a hallway—it was a promise that what waited beyond their door was something unforgettable.
Their room was near the end of the third-floor corridor, tucked into a quiet corner where the carpet seemed even softer and the air, somehow, richer. The door to their suite stood tall and imposing, carved from dark mahogany wood with golden floral inlays that shimmered under the hallway lights. A sleek black-and-gold plate read "Suite 307" in elegant cursive, and just beside it, an old-fashioned brass doorbell sat embedded into the wall. The handle was curved, ornate, cold to the touch, and the moment Hikaru turned it, the lock clicked open with a quiet thud that sounded far too dignified for a simple door.
On either side of their suite were two more doors, similar in design—Suite 306 and Suite 308—but none quite as grand. Light murmurs and footsteps behind those doors hinted at fellow adventurers settling in, but here, there was a sense of intimacy, of quiet luxury.
As they stepped inside, the suite greeted them like a silent host.
Polished marble floors stretched out into a spacious living area, partially covered by a handwoven rug dyed in deep crimsons and gold. A chandelier of crystal and brass hung like a floating constellation above, scattering specks of refracted light across the walls. Velvet drapes of royal blue framed massive windows that offered a breathtaking view of the Arabian Sea glimmering beneath the moonlight.
The walls were decorated with hand-painted murals, depicting scenes from Indian mythology—majestic, proud, and timeless. Three large beds, each with pillars and high-thread-count sheets, stood ready in the adjoining room, and in the corner, a private bar stocked with gleaming bottles added an edge of indulgence.
Lucas couldn't help but whisper, "This... is insane."
Lucian just stared, awestruck.
Past the sleeping area, tucked behind a sliding wooden door engraved with subtle lotus patterns, was the bathroom—though calling it that felt like an understatement. It was more of a private spa.
The floors were smooth white marble, inlaid with golden veins that shimmered when the overhead lights hit them. The walls were a soft beige stone, and along one side was a freestanding bathtub, carved from black granite, polished so smooth it reflected light like still water. A modern rain shower hung from the ceiling in a glass-enclosed corner, with pressure settings so advanced it could probably simulate monsoon rain or a gentle mist with equal ease.
The sink area had two elegant glass basins sitting atop a long counter of dark wood. Above them, a mirror spanned the entire wall—framed in golden brass, backlit by soft yellow lights that gave a warm glow. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and lavender from the complimentary oils and soaps placed in perfect symmetry on a silver tray.
On the far side of the room, French doors opened out onto the balcony.
As Lucas stepped outside, he felt the cool ocean breeze brush his skin. The balcony overlooked the Arabian Sea, where city lights flickered on the waves like stars scattered across dark waters. Wrought iron railings curled like vines, and there were two plush lounge chairs with a low glass table between them. Someone had already placed a bowl of fresh fruits there.
Lucian leaned against the railing, his face finally calm.
"It's beautiful…" he muttered.
Hikaru smirked, sipping from a complimentary drink bottle. "Told you this was going to be the high life."
Lucas stared into the horizon.
This didn't feel like a hotel anymore.
It felt like the beginning of something much, much bigger.
The door to their suite was still slightly ajar. Lucian noticed it and stood up, stretching his sore legs as he walked over to shut it. The hallway outside was dimly lit in gold, and because the door hadn't fully closed, he could clearly see the corridor beyond.
As his hand wrapped around the elegant brass handle and he began to pull the door shut, someone appeared right in front of him.
Hiyori.
Their eyes met—direct, unfiltered, and far too close.
Lucian's heart skipped a beat, then two, then began pounding like a war drum. His face flushed a deep crimson as if the very air between them had turned into a furnace. He stepped back instinctively, startled.
But Hiyori didn't flinch.
She was looking at him with the same calm, unreadable expression she always wore. She walked just a few steps past him and opened the door to the room adjacent to theirs. Lucian's gaze involuntarily followed her—awkwardly, nervously—only to find Huang Qi watching too from behind her.
Lucian felt like a kid caught staring. Still, he raised a hesitant hand and gave a shy wave.
To his surprise, Huang and Hiyori both returned it—simple, casual, yet somehow... warm. Hiyori lingered for a moment before stepping into her room, and just before the door closed, she gave Lucian a slight smile.
It was tiny. Barely there.
But it was enough to send a swarm of butterflies loose in Lucian's stomach.
"Close the damn door already," Lucas called out sleepily from inside.
Lucian blinked out of his trance and sighed, closing the door gently. The world outside faded, and the soft silence of the suite took over once more.
They all got ready for bed. The bed was massive, enough to comfortably fit both Lucas and Lucian. Hikaru, their agent, had already stepped out to his own room down the hallway—each agent had a separate room arranged by the organizers.
Within minutes, Lucas had dozed off, his breathing steady and peaceful.
But Lucian…
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
His mind wasn't quiet. It was filled with her—Hiyori's eyes, her voice, that faint smile.
Eventually, even his thoughts gave way to sleep.
Outside, the hotel was wrapped in silence.
The streets below still carried a few moving lights—cars gliding slowly, the occasional silhouette of a late-night wanderer. But despite the movement, the world felt hushed.
The wind whistled gently through the trees, brushing past leaves like a lullaby. The tall palm trees outside swayed as if dancing to a silent melody only they could hear.
It wasn't just quiet.
It was the kind of peace that only comes before something vast… something unknown.
That night, Lucian and Lucas slept more peacefully than they had in days. The plush bed, the silence of luxury, and the weight of exhaustion wrapped around them like a warm cocoon. For Lucian, though, sleep was anything but empty. He dreamt of her—Hiyori. The details were blurry, fleeting, like sand slipping through fingers. But she was there, standing amidst a haze of light and shadow. The dream didn't make sense, but it left a strange warmth behind.
By the time the clock struck nine, the hotel had already begun to stir.
Gone was the late-night silence. Now, the hallways buzzed with voices—guests chatting over breakfast, dishes clinking, staff moving swiftly between rooms. The morning life of a five-star palace was in full swing.
Despite the noise, Lucian and Lucas were still deep asleep.
A knock on the door broke that spell.
Lucian's eyes fluttered open. Groggy and confused, he stared at the door. His heart skipped a beat. Could it be…?
His mind jumped straight to her—Hiyori.
He stumbled out of bed, heart thudding in anticipation and nerves, and made his way to the door. His fingers wrapped around the handle. With one last breath, he pulled it open.
Only to find Hikaru standing there.
Lucian's face dropped instantly, the disappointment impossible to hide.
Hikaru raised a brow. "Oi, why do you look like you just found out Santa isn't real?"
Lucian sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. "What is it…?"
"Breakfast," Hikaru replied simply, walking in. "And pack up. Our flight's at noon."
Lucian groaned and slumped against the doorframe. Still dazed from sleep.
Hikaru glanced at Lucas, still snoring, and nudged him awake. "Up. Now."
As Lucas muttered something incoherent and rolled over, Lucian stepped outside the room. His eyes immediately turned toward the neighboring suite—the one he knew belonged to Hiyori and Huang Qi.
He stared at the door, half-hoping it would open.
Then, without turning back, he asked, "Hey… wasn't Hiyori and Huang Qi's room right next to ours?"
Hikaru, now flipping through his phone, looked up. "Yeah. Why?"
"Are they still there?" Lucian asked, half holding his breath.
Hikaru paused. "Nah. They left about an hour ago. Their flight was at nine."
Lucian froze.
"…WHAT!?" he blurted, louder than he intended.
His heart dropped into his stomach.
They were gone.
[Active Quest: 3 Years Mastery]