Chapter Three-Hundred Seven: Rescuing Gabriela

Chapter 307

Rescuing Gabriela

Ivy stood at the lip of the stage, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at where Gabriela had left. Fabien was practically choking on his drink, clutching his stomach as tears of laughter streamed down his face.

Fabien: “Oh, mon Dieu! She just glitter-bombed the peacock lady! This is the best five bucks I’ve ever spent!”

Celeste rested her chin on her palm, her razor-sharp teeth showing in a wide, vicious grin as she watched Ivy sputter in indignation.

Celeste: “Look at her go. She’s gonna pop a vein right in front of everybody.”

Deimos, sitting beside Tristan, took a long swig from his beer bottle. He shook his head, a dark, cynical chuckle escaping his chest as he leaned close to Tristan’s ear.

Deimos: “Same old Ivy. Always making a fuckin’ spectacle out of herself because she thinks the world revolves around her and what she wants.”

Tristan, meanwhile, sank into the curved velvet booth, placing both hands flat over his face in sheer, unadulterated mortification. His ears burned red beneath his long, snow-white locks.

Tristan: “Please, Lord... let the floorboards open up and swallow me whole right now...”

On stage, Min moved with silent, fluid precision. He stepped out from the shadows near the wings, catching Ivy gently but firmly by the elbow before she could hurl her cracked fan at Celeste’s head.

Min: “Mistress Ivy... We must depart. Now.”

Ivy tore her arm away, her eyes flashing with pure fire, but the audience’s overwhelming laughter and Gabriela’s cool, unflappable composure finally broke her resolve. Turning on her high heel, she cast one final, venomous glare toward Tristan’s booth before sweeping off the stage, her heels clicking a furious staccato down the aisle as Min followed dutifully behind.

Ivy paused when she read Gina’s and Gabriela’s minds backstage and overheard that she’d been kidnapped. A sly smirk curled across her face. Fabien rested one hand on his chin and grinned.

Fabien: “Aren’t you still engaged to Blair?”

Ivy’s smile faltered.

Ivy: “Excuse me? Why on Reona would I remain with that parasite? His resources are no longer needed since I secured my mansion on Bamboo Court in Little Tokyo!”

She flipped her hair.

Tristan: “Indeed, Ivy, I’m genuinely intrigued by how you managed to acquire that property virtually overnight. Truthfully, if your father were to hand it over to either of his daughters, I’d have expected Lily to receive it, not you.”

He said resolutely. Ivy’s right eye twitched.

Fabien: “So, you and Blair are done?”

Ivy smiled a bit.

Ivy: “Yes, Fabien. Were you hoping that to be the case?”

Fabien’s smile faded as he reluctantly recalled being subjected to her tickle torture on her X-frame.

Tristan: “I couldn’t care less about your farce of a relationship with the likes of Blair Donati. Answer my question.”

He said firmly, locking his cold glare on her. Ivy flipped her hair.

Ivy: “Tristan, you ought to know I am a resourceful woman who knows how to obtain what I want, unlike your barbarian of a boyfriend, who expects everyone else to provide for him.”

Deimos furrowed his eyebrows and bared his teeth.

Ivy: “Is this why you hate Blair so much? He reminds you too much of yourself?”

She said smugly. Deimos slammed his fist down on the table.

Deimos: “FUCK YOU! I AM NOT LIKE THAT FUCKING NEPO BABY! I don’t stalk people or treat people in my life like they’re expendable!”

He thundered at her.

Deimos: “I would NEVER do to Monica or treat her the way that fucker treated Sylvia!”

He snapped.

Tristan put his hand up to keep him from charging after her.

Ivy: “Tristan, shouldn’t you and your entourage worry less about why I secured what is rightfully mine and more about where Miss Magician Girl is?”

She batted her eyelashes. Tristan raised his eyebrow.

Celeste: “Isn’t she back in her dressing room?”

Ivy laughed and flipped her hair.

Ivy: “Celeste, you are quite the dunce! I wouldn’t be here wasting my breath on parasites like you and Deimos if she were!”

She smirked. Fabien noticed she didn’t include him amongst those she insulted. He pursed his lips.

Tristan: “...What are you insinuating?”

Ivy: “Don’t you want to know who kidnapped Gabi?”

She looked up at Tristan with her dewy eyes. The blood ran cold in Tristan.

Tristan: “...Kidnap?”

Ivy nodded soberly.

Celeste: “She’s fucking bluffing!”

She scoffed.

Ivy: “Celeste, the people with an IQ over 30 are speaking now!”

She waved her hand.

Tristan: “Who kidnapped her, Ivy?”

Ivy smirked.

Ivy: “Do you think I will divulge that so easily, Tristan?”

She sang.

Min: “Mistress Ivy…”

He sighed.

Celeste: “Then how about I break your fuckin’ head?”

She growled and raised her fist. Ivy flinched back slightly from Celeste’s clenched fist, but her arrogant composure rushed back in like a wave of cold perfume. She smoothed her cheongsam.

Ivy: “Barbaric as always.”

She sneered, casting a disdainful look down from the stage apron.

Ivy: “Threatening violence only proves how little leverage you truly have. Min could intercept you before you even clear the footlights, and even if you laid a single hand on me, my mind locks down instantly. Break every bone in my body—you still won’t get a single syllable about Miss Toledano’s whereabouts.”

She turned her dark, predatory gaze back toward Tristan, letting her voice soften into something dripping with honeyed condescension.

Ivy: “However…, because I am a lady of mercy, and because the clock is ticking on your little stage performer, I am willing to offer a generous compromise.”

She took a slow, deliberate step forward, the tips of her strappy sandals hovering right at the stage edge. She tilted her chin up, her gaze fixed entirely on Tristan’s stony, unyielding face.

Ivy: “No dinner. No dancing. No endless evening in Pink Top City…”

She murmured, her red lips curving into a smug, victorious smile.

Ivy: “I will settle for a kiss, Tristan. Right here, right now, in front of your precious friends and everyone in this room. One genuine, breathless kiss upon my lips. Give me that... and I will hand over the names, the license plate, and the manor where she is.”

Down at the table, Fabien choked on his drink, sputtering into his glass, while Celeste took a lethal step forward, her eyes blazing with pure rage.

Celeste: “You really have a death wish, don’t you—”

Deimos’ arm shot out, holding Celeste back just enough to keep her from leaping onto the stage, but his jaw was clenched so hard the muscles jumped in his cheek. He stepped squarely between Tristan and the footlights, his voice turning dead and venomous.

Deimos: “You don’t touch him, Ivy. Not for an evening, and not for a single second.”

Tristan stepped out from behind Deimos, his icy green eyes fixed on Ivy with absolute, unyielding coldness. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the lingering tension in the air with lethal clarity.

Tristan: “You disgust me, Ivy. Your pathetic attempts at manipulation are as transparent as they are desperate.”

He took a calm step toward the edge of the stage, ignoring the smirk on her face as frost began to lightly rim the velvet booth behind him.

Tristan: “I will not indulge your delusion for a single second. Tell me where Gabriela is—right now. No games, no conditions, or I assure you, Min won’t be fast enough to save you from what comes next.”

Tristan slowly raised his hands, his fingers curling slightly as a thick, swirling mist of pale blue frost billowed from his palms, coating the air around him in a chilling, biting cold.

Tristan: “I won’t warn you again, Ivy. Where is she?”

Ivy flinched back from the advancing frost, her bravado faltering for a split second as the cold nipped at the edges of her cheongsam. She quickly smoothed down the fabric, forcing an arrogant smirk back onto her face.

Ivy: “Oh, put the parlor tricks away, Tristan. You might scare the children, but you won’t get a single word out of me until you meet my terms. Tick-tock.”

Min’s eyes narrowed as he took a deep, rattling breath, his chest swelling as a fierce glow kindled in the back of his throat, preparing to unleash a torrent of flame.

Before the fire could escape his lips, Celeste shattered the distance between them, barreling into Min. The impact sent him staggering backward, breaking his concentration.

Tristan seized the opening instantly. With a sharp flick of his wrists, a blast of intense, glacial frost erupted from his hands, enveloping Min in solid ice before he could regain his footing and freezing him rigidly in place.

Ivy gasped, staggering back as the ice sealed Min in place. Her eyes dilated in genuine panic as the cold air washed over her and her bodyguard was rendered completely immobile.

Ivy: “Min! No!”

She shrieked, her voice cracking as her regal facade shattered into terrified disbelief. She glared back at Tristan and took a frantic step away from the frozen statue.

Ivy: “You... you monster! How dare you!”

Tristan: “Tell me where she is, Ivy!”

He thundered.

Ivy opened her mouth to scoff, but before another word could escape her lips, Deimos surged forward. In a blur of motion, he grabbed Ivy tightly by her ankle and launched them both upward, smashing through the club’s skylight in a shower of glass and metal.

Tristan: “Deimos! No!”

He shouted, reaching out as frost trailed his hands, but Deimos was already ascending rapidly into the night sky, ignoring his call.

Soaring a hundred feet above the city streets, Deimos halted mid-air, holding Ivy upside down by her single ankle over the dizzying drop below. Ivy shrieked, her hands frantically reaching for anything to grasp as the wind whipped her hair and cheongsam around her.

Deimos: “Where is Gabriela, Ivy? Fuckin’ tell me before I let go!”

Ivy’s eyes widened in sheer terror as she realized he wasn’t bluffing.

Before she could utter another word, Deimos opened his fingers. A blood-curdling scream tore from her throat as she plunged into the open air, crying out hysterical pleas while the city lights blurred beneath her. Just as she was about to pass out from pure panic, Deimos dove downward, catching her tightly by the waist mid-fall before bringing them both to a sudden halt in the sky.

Deimos: “Are you gonna fuckin’ tell me where she is?!”

He barked.

Ivy’s pride finally shattered under the overwhelming terror of the dizzying height. Sobbing and wailing uncontrollably, tears and mascara streaked down her face as she buried her face in her hands, her whole body trembling violently in Deimos’ grip.

Ivy: “ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT! GOD, PLEASE DON’T DROP ME!”

She shrieked, her voice cracking into high-pitched, pathetic wails that echoed over the open sky.

Ivy: “It was Gina! Gina Belloni! She’s the one who took her!”

Deimos: “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He scoffed, adjusting his grip around her waist before dropping rapidly toward the club’s shattered skylight. They landed in front of the club with a heavy thud; the impact made Ivy slump to her knees, trembling and gasping for breath.

Tristan, Celeste, and Fabien immediately closed in around them as Deimos straightened, his face set in a grim expression as he looked at the group.

Deimos: “It was Gina Belloni. She’s the one who took Gabriela.”

Tristan gaped at Deimos.

Tristan: “Balderico’s daughter and Jordi’s ex, hm? Let’s go.”

~

The cold sting in Gabriela’s neck lingered as consciousness slowly dragged her back to reality.

Her vision swam through layers of thick, hazy violet, the harsh metallic buzz in her ears gradually giving way to the soft, rhythmic hum of smooth jazz floating from a stereo. She blinked against a warm, diffused pink glow.

She wasn’t in the alley. She wasn’t in the dressing room.

Gabriela tried to shift her weight, but her wrists were pulled firmly behind the ornate spindle back of a solid wooden vanity chair, secured with tight, unforgiving lengths of purple silk cord. Her ankles were tied off just as snugly against the front legs. Her jacket and miniature top hat were gone, leaving her in her crimson sequined corset, black miniskirt, and bare feet. Over on a gilded dressing table, her silver wand and flash powder cartridges sat completely out of reach.

Gina sat on her bed. She had changed out of her club mini dress into a plush lavender silk dressing robe. She was casually painting her toenails with a shimmery magenta polish. A crystal dish of Baci di Cherasco chocolates rested on the nightstand beside a half-empty glass of sweet dessert wine.

Hearing Gabriela’s sharp intake of breath, Gina capped the polish bottle with a soft click and looked up, her heavy-lidded blue eyes sparkling with mock warmth.

Gina: “Look who finally decided to join the living.”

She purred, sliding off the mattress and gliding across the marble in bare feet, the hem of her robe rustling like dry leaves.

Gabriela tested the silk bonds around her wrists, her jaw tightening as she forced a thin, stage-ready smirk.

Gabriela: “What is the big idea?!”

Her voice came out dry and raspy, the sedative still coating the back of her throat.

Gina let out a light, airy giggle and stepped behind the chair. She reached down, threading her manicured fingers through Gabriela’s voluminous purple hair, giving it an affectionate tug that tilted the magician’s chin back toward the ceiling.

Gina: “Oh, you’re funny. I love funny people.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing past Gabriela’s ear, her tone turning suddenly cold and razor-sharp.

Gina: “Let’s talk about your opening act.”

Gabriela glared at her.

Gabriela: “What about it? The crowd ate it up. I hit every mark.”

Gina: “You humiliated Tristan Trémaux on stage.”

She stepped back around into Gabriela’s line of sight, crossing her arms over her chest. A petulant, dangerous pout formed on her glossed red lips.

Gina: “You dragged him up in front of all those drunken losers. You took off his shoes. You tickled him.”

Gabriela stared at her, blinking in genuine disbelief. A breathless laugh slipped past her lips.

Gabriela: “What… Are you another one of his exes or fans?”

Gina’s eyes narrowed into venomous slits.

Gina: “Tristan is Jordi’s closest friend. And Jordi belongs to me.”

She hissed, stamping a foot lightly against the marble.

Gina: “We have history. High school sweethearts. He’s going to come back to me the second he realizes those pathetic losers he hangs around with are dragging him down. Which means his friends are my business. And when you make a complete spectacle out of someone connected to MY future family, you make the Bellonis look like a sideshow.”

She paused, leaning in close until Gabriela could smell the cloying sweet chocolate and berries on her breath.

Gina: “And worse… you let that screeching little peahen, Ivy Huang-Ferraro, parade around claiming HER family runs the Starlight Club. You stood there and smiled while she boasted about Fen Huang’s money. Daddy built that cabaret before Fen Huang could even afford a tailor. Every light bulb, every drink ticket, every breath you take under those rafters belongs to Balderico Belloni.”

Gabriela glared at Gina.

Gabriela: “I don’t know who your ex-boyfriend is, and I don’t care about your daddy’s turf wars. Fen Huang booked the gig through an agency. I show up, I do the routine, I collect my cut.”

Gina clicked her tongue, shaking her head in theatrical disappointment.

Gina: “Wrong attitude, Gabi. You’re in deep with Daddy’s loan office for your little tour bus and flashy props, aren’t you? You think Fen Huang is going to bail you out when Daddy decides your contract is void?”

Gabriela: “Ever since the accident killed Mom and Dad, managing everything has been a constant struggle! I truly need those funds to keep up with the house payments and cover all of Roberto’s expenses!”

She cried.

Gina stepped to the nearby vanity, picked up a long, slender ostrich feather from her vase, and turned back with a wicked, playful smirk that chilled Gabriela more than the syringe had.

Gina: “I think you need a reminder of what happens when you disrespect family. You seem to love making men squirm and beg for mercy on stage…”

She dropped to her knees right in front of Gabriela’s chair, running the tip of the feather across the polished tops of Gabriela’s bare insteps.

Gina: “Let’s see how much magic you have left when the spotlight’s just on you.”

The velvet-smooth tip of the ostrich feather traced a teasing circle over the sensitive dip just beneath Gabriela’s toes. Gabriela’s breath hitched instantly. Her back went rigid against the carved spindles of the chair, her bare toes curling in a desperate attempt to shield the exposed flesh of her soles.

Gabriela: “NO! Don’t you dare—”

Gina didn’t offer so much as an apology. Her eyes sparkled with wicked, childish delight as she flicked the delicate plume right across the tender skin of Gabriela’s arches.

A sharp, breathless gasp tore through Gabriela’s throat, followed immediately by an involuntary burst of laughter.

Gabriela: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP!”

Gina: “Oh, look at that!”

She squealed in genuine glee, entirely deaf to the warning in Gabriela's voice.

Gina: “The great, mysterious stage illusionist has a little secret of her own, doesn’t she?”

Tossing the feather aside onto the marble with total disregard, Gina leaned in and pressed both hands directly against Gabriela’s bare feet. Her freshly manicured fingers dug in, sharp nails lightly scraping across the ultra-sensitive creases right behind Gabriela’s toes, while her thumbs worked in rapid, circular motions along the delicate dips of her insteps.

Gabriela: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! HAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!!”

She writhed against the tight silk cords binding her wrists, but the knots held fast. Her legs kicked and strained against the front rungs of the vanity chair, only offering Gina better leverage. Her feathered purple hair whipped wildly from side to side as uncontrollable laughter ripped from her chest, her face flushing crimson beneath the sharp winged eyeliner.

Gina: “Not so dignified now, are we?”

She teased, thoroughly amused by her own handiwork. Her fingers fluttered faster, scribbling relentlessly up and down the tender curves of Gabriela’s soles before zeroing in on the sensitive hollows of her heels.

Gina: “You thought it was hilarious watching Tristan squirm under the spotlights, didn’t you? You loved playing the grand maestro while everyone laughed at him! Let’s see how much stamina you have without your little top hat and magic wand!”

Gabriela threw her head back, gasping for air between explosive, helpless peals of laughter that echoed off the high ceiling.

Gabriela: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! P-PLEASE! HAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Gina giggled, digging her thumbs right into the deepest, most ticklish centers of Gabriela’s arches and giving them a playful, rhythmic squeeze.

Gina: “Say it, Gabi! Say Balderico Belloni signs the checks!”

Gabriela: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OKAY! OKAY! AHAHAHAHAHA!* HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE SIGNS THEM! HE OHOHOHOHOHOHOWNS IT ALL! PLEHEHEHEHE-HEASE!”

Tears of laughter leaked from the corners of her eyes, her heels drumming a frantic, muffled tattoo against the chair’s wood. Gina kept the assault going for one more breathless, flurry-filled crescendo—dancing her fingertips along the base of each of Gabriela’s wriggling toes—before finally sitting back on her heels with a triumphant, beaming smile.

Gabriela slumped forward against the silk restraints, chest heaving in rapid, desperate gasps. Strands of bright magenta and purple hair clung to her sweat-dampened forehead, a breathless, exhausted wheeze fluttering past her lips.

Gina reached out, casually tapping the tip of Gabriela’s flushed chin with one glossed fingernail, looking every bit like a spoiled princess who had just won a prize.

Gina: “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now that we have an understanding... we can talk about what you’re going to do to make this right.”

She smoothed the silk of her robe with a smug, satisfied hum. She picked up her glass of sweet wine, took a delicate sip, and looked down at the trembling, defeated magician with an innocent tilt of her head.

Gina: “Now… are we ready to talk business like good little girls?”

Before Gina could take another sip, the heavy oak doors of the master suite splintered inward with a deafening crash. A wave of icy mist swept into the room as Celeste kicked the doors off their hinges, sending wood fragments clattering across the polished marble floor.

Tristan strode in first, his face set in an icy scowl as frost blossomed across the carpet beneath his shoes. Deimos and Fabien flanked him, while Celeste stepped forward and cracked her knuckles with a dangerous grin.

Tristan: “Step away from her, Gina.”

Gina gasped, dropping her crystal wine glass as it shattered on the floor. She scrambled back onto the mattress, clutching her silk robe tightly.

Gina: “Tristan?! How did you even find this place?!”

Tristan: “...I’ve been here before? To rescue people from you and your father, no less.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

Fabien: “Yeah, and your little friend Ivy was surprisingly cooperative after taking an impromptu skydiving lesson.”

He chuckled, stepping over to Gabriela’s vanity chair and quickly undoing the tight purple silk cords around her wrists and ankles. Gabriela gasped as her hands came free, rubbing her reddened wrists and sending a relieved, albeit exhausted, look toward the group.

Gabriela: “Thank you!”

Deimos: “You’ve got five seconds to explain why you grabbed her, Belloni, before Celeste redesigns your bedroom furniture.”

Gina glared at them, her panic quickly shifting back to petulant fury as she pointed a manicured finger at Tristan.

Gina: “She humiliated you on stage! She made a laughingstock out of Jordi’s inner circle! I was handling it for the family!”

Tristan: “Jordi doesn’t need your interference, and neither do I. This pathetic revenge scheme ends right now.”

With a sharp gesture, Tristan coated Gina’s vanity and dressing table in a thick layer of frost, rendering her remaining props and powders completely useless. Celeste grabbed Gabriela’s wand, top hat, and shoes from the table, tossing them to Gabriela.

Celeste: “Come on, magic girl. Let’s get out of this velvet nightmare.”

With Fabien and Tristan's support, Gabriela stood up and cast one final triumphant smirk back at the fuming Gina.

Before anyone could take another step toward the exit, a piercing, high-frequency screech shattered the room’s silence. It was an agonizing, high-pitched whistle that reverberated through the air with unbearable force.

Instantly, Tristan gasped, his icy composure collapsing as he slammed both hands over his ears, his knees buckling slightly under the sudden, blinding pressure inside his skull. Beside him, Celeste let out a sharp cry of agony, dropping Gabriela’s top hat as she doubled over, her fists pressed tightly against the sides of her head while her teeth ground together in pain.

Fabien stumbled sideways, clutching his head in sheer torment as his vision blurred.

Fabien: “FUCK! MAKE IT STOP!”

He rasped out through clenched teeth, his knees hitting the marble floor.

Deimos let out a low, guttural growl of agony, dropping to one knee as the unbearable sound tore through his senses, his hands clamping violently over his ears to block the ringing frequency. Gabriela shrieked, collapsing on Tristan as she squeezed her eyes shut, frantically pressing her palms flat against her ears in a desperate attempt to shut out the agonizing whistle that rattled her mind.

Through the shattered doorway stepped Balderico, his frame swathed in an opulent, plush velvet robe. In one hand, he lazily held a silver device emitting the excruciating high-frequency screeches; in the other, he squeezed a yellow rubber duck styled with Mr. T’s signature mohawk and gold chains, a broad, triumphant grin plastered across his face. As he ceased operating the mechanism, Tristan, Deimos, Fabien, Celeste, and Gabriela all gasped heavily, struggling to regain their composure.

Balderico: “Well, well... It’s always a pleasure to run into Narcisse’s meddling nephew.”

He drawled as his eyes locked onto Tristan. Tristan glowered at him.

Tristan: “Your daughter kidnapped this young lady from the Starlight Club. Of course, we’re going to help her!”

He flared. Beside him, Gabriela looked up at Tristan as he vented his frustration.

Balderico offered a patronizing smile and tutted quietly.

Balderico: “You and Narcisse are cut from the very same cloth. You convince yourselves you’re rescuing people, when in truth, it’s all a vanity exercise so the world views you as a savior.”

Tristan gritted his teeth, his jaw tight as he balled his hand into a tight fist, swirling pale frost enveloping his knuckles.

Tristan: “Don’t you dare compare me to him…”

The frost spreading from his hands thickened, crackling sharply as it began creeping along the marble floor toward Balderico’s polished dress shoes.

Tristan: “Narcisse Beaumont is a parasitic sociopath who hides behind his purple bubbles and derelict amusement parks, commanding butlers to wipe the mud from his ivory loafers because he lacks the stomach to dirty his own hands.”

He said, as each step left a faint white ring of rime on the polished floorboards. Balderico’s smile remained intact.

Tristan: “He destroys people out of sheer boredom, convinced that his bloodline makes him a god among vermin.”

He stopped towering over Balderico, casting a sharp, dark shadow across the older man.

Tristan: “I, on the other hand, am a surgeon.”

He continued coldly, looking down his nose at him.

Tristan: “I do not invent cruelties for amusement. I dissect rot. Narcisse ruins lives to entertain himself; I dismantle pathetic, manipulative cowards like you because you threaten the peace of the people I love. You and your daughter kidnap people; you allowed one of your henchmen to terrorize young women in this city, and if it were not for Celeste, Jordi, and Deimos, you used Mayor Stone’s daughter as leverage to get your way.”

He said as his ire soared.

Balderico merely chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that showed not a hint of fear despite the icy frost creeping up his shoes. He lazily squeezed the yellow rubber duck in his hand again, the absurd sound puncturing the dramatic tension in the room.

Balderico: “Ah, such passion, Tristan! Such magnificent, self-righteous indignation. You wax poetic like a true Beaumont, even while denying the very blood in your veins.”

He took a slow, unbothered step backward, slipping his device into the pocket of his velvet robe.

Balderico: “Call yourself a surgeon all you like, boy. But in this city, every doctor still answers to the board. Take your magician friend and run along home... before the next performance costs you far more than just a little pride.”

Tristan glared coldly at him.

Deimos sneered and clenched his fists.

Deimos: “How about I break your fucking head, you rubber duck fuck!?”

He bellowed.

Balderico: “Oh, just noise from Giorgos Katsaros’ son. I wouldn’t expect more or less from a crass man like him. Giorgos is a prime example of how money doesn’t buy class, and he only came into riches because of someone else, not because he earned it.”

Deimos: “Yeah, you’re right about Dad, but you’re wrong about Tristan, and you’re a fucking asshole!”

He barked, lunging forward to deliver a powerful punch.

The moment Deimos stepped within a few feet of Balderico, a shimmering, translucent barrier snapped into existence around the older man with a sharp, crackling hum. As Deimos’ fist slammed against the invisible sphere, a violent jolt of purplish electrical energy discharged from the field, blasting him backward through the air. He crashed hard onto the polished marble floor, his body convulsing in uncontrollable spastic tremors as residual shocks arced across his skin.

Tristan: “DEIMOS!”

He shrieked.

Balderico chuckled gleefully, holding up a small, metallic cylinder attached to his belt that pulsed with a faint violet light.

Balderico: “Did you really think I wouldn’t prepare for brute-force sub-humans like you? This forcefield device generates a high-voltage repulsive frequency specifically engineered to keep Etheressums right at bay. Try coming any closer, boy, and it’ll do far worse than rattle your bones!”

Celeste and Tristan rushed to Deimos, glaring at Balderico.

Celeste: “You are a cowardly piece of shit, Balderico!”

Balderico laughed.

Balderico: “Yes, echo what Little Narcisse already said!”

Gina: “DADDY! I KIDNAPPED HER TO SHOW JORDI HE’S MINE!”

She stomped her feet and whined.

Balderico: “Gina, why on Reona would you want a filthy Etheressum? Is the planet lacking humans now?”

He chuckled.

Fabien: “Hahahaha, you’re forgetting your infatuation with me?”

He smirked and tilted his head.

Gina: “What’s an infatuation?”

Balderico’s jaw tightened.

As Deimos began to heal, a vibrant violet aura encompassed his body. Watching Balderico and Gina, Tristan arched an eyebrow, marking the only moment that night Balderico seemed genuinely unnerved.

Balderico: “Well, consider this a misunderstanding! I’m feeling benevolent tonight, so take your magician girl and get out before I change my mind, hahahahaha!”

He spread his arms.

Fabien: “Is that all it is?”

He said wryly.

Balderico: “I don’t know what you mean!”

He smiled as his right eye twitched.

Gina: “Daddy, what is an infatuation?”

Fabien: “...You gonna tell her?”

He folded his arms and smirked. Balderico’s smile faltered.

Balderico: “I’m letting all of you leave with your lady, so take the opportunity to declare victory.”

He said evenly.

Tristan remained deeply skeptical, his green eyes narrowing as he scanned Balderico's relaxed posture. He didn't trust his sudden generosity for even a second, but when Fabien pointed out his obsession with him, he seemed to yield.

Tristan: “We are leaving. Now.”

He kept his voice low and firm, reaching out to wrap a protective arm around Gabriela and pull her tightly against his side. Looking back at Deimos, Celeste, and Fabien, he gestured sharply toward the splintered doorway. Keeping his icy gaze locked on Balderico and Gina, Tristan steadily guided Gabriela back toward the hall, making sure the rest of the group vacated the suite ahead of him.

Gina: “Daddy…”

She furrowed her eyebrows.

Gina: “I need something to BEAT them! I want a super suit or something!”

She stomped her feet angrily. Balderico breathed a quick sigh of relief, glad she wasn’t cross-examining him about his night with Fabien.

Balderico: “Of course, my princess! Your old man and you gotta keep up with those pesky Etherssums, don’t we?!”

He chuckled. Gina’s frown turned into a big smile.

Gina: “Okay, but it has to be purple!”

Balderico: “I would expect nothing less for my princess.”

~

The cool night air rushed through the open top of Tristan’s 1987 red Toyota MR2 convertible as it glided smoothly along the winding coastal road. High above, Reona’s twin moons bathed the landscape in a soft, ethereal glow, casting long, silver-tinted shadows over the dark asphalt. Gabriela leaned back into the leather passenger seat, letting out a long, exhausted breath as her purple hair whipped gently in the breeze.

Tristan kept one hand lightly on the steering wheel while the other was on the stick shift, his green eyes still reflecting the lingering intensity of the night’s ordeal. He glanced over at her, his expression softening.

Tristan: “How are you feeling, Gabriela? Are you holding up all right after everything that happened back there?”

He asked softly, his smooth French accent lacing through the quiet hum of the MR2’s engine. Gabriela offered him a faint, grateful smile, resting her arm against the car door as she gazed up at the dual moons shining in the night sky.

Gabriela: “I’m getting there... Thanks to you and the others. I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for coming after me.”

Tristan let out a quiet, elegant breath that curled into fine mist in the cool air, downshifting as they rounded a gentle bend and turned toward Greammoom Hills.

Tristan: “It’s my pleasure.”

He replied softly.

As his car drove further down Orchard Street, behind a wrought-iron fence whose gate stood slightly ajar, the two-story clapboard residence wore a coat of deep, weathered crimson, trimmed in dark, intricate woodwork. A pointed turret rose on the left, crowned by a brass weathervane shaped like a leaping rabbit.

Shingles were missing in patches along the steep gable roof, and ivy crept stubbornly up the brick chimney on the right, yet the house hummed with an eccentric, lived-in warmth. Stained-glass windows—depicting crescent moons and five-pointed stars in amber and violet—glowed softly beneath the eaves. Along the wraparound porch, strings of fairy lights twined around ornate pillars, illuminating a collection of curiosities: a wicker egg chair, potted ferns, a wooden carousel horse frozen mid-gallop, and a faded painted banner reading MAGIC.

A stone gargoyle kept silent watch beside the front steps, while across the yard, a gnarled tree hung heavy with mismatched lanterns that swayed gently in the evening air. At the curb, a weathered mailbox stamped with the name TOLEDANO leaned beside a small bistro table.

The tires crunched softly as his car pulled smoothly into the Victorian house’s gravel driveway, stopping alongside the vintage beige sedan that looked like it had been stuck there for years.

Tristan cut the engine, set the parking brake, and stepped out into the cool night air. Walking around the front of the car, he opened the passenger door for Gabriela and offered her his hand. She accepted it with a soft smile, stepping out onto the flagstone path.

Together, they walked up the winding path past the blooming red roses and stone rabbit, ascending the steps to the welcoming porch. Bathed in the warm, amber glow of the hanging paper globes, Gabriela turned back toward Tristan and leaned lightly against the railing.

Gabriela: “I really appreciate you driving me home, Tristan. After the night I’ve had, a peaceful ride was exactly what I needed.”

Tristan smiled gently, bowing his head slightly.

Tristan: “It was no trouble at all, Gabriela. You’ve endured quite a lot tonight, yet you handled it with remarkable grace. Please, get some rest.”

Gabriela chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling under the warm lights.

Gabriela: “I intend to. Goodnight, Tristan.”

Tristan: “Goodnight, Gabriela.”

With a final, reassuring glance, Tristan turned and headed back toward his car, leaving Gabriela on the illuminated porch as she reached for the crimson front door.

Tristan walked down the steps of the Victorian house and made his way back along the winding flagstone path. He reached his 1987 red Toyota MR2 convertible, opened the driver’s side door, and slid into the leather seat. He turned the key, listening to the smooth, familiar purr of the engine as it hummed to life in the quiet night. Shifting into gear, he pulled out of the gravel driveway and onto Orchard Street, the sleek sports car gliding gracefully down the coastal road.

~

Stepping out of the adjoining bathroom, Gabriela dried her long, vibrant purple hair with a soft towel and let out a lingering sigh of relief. The warm water had finally washed away the last traces of the night’s frantic ordeal and the chill lingering in Gina’s room. Wrapped tightly in a fluffy bath towel, she padded barefoot across the plush carpet toward her wardrobe.

She pulled out her favorite pair of purple plaid flannel pajamas, soft and worn to familiar perfection. Slipping off the towel, she quickly pulled the cozy flannel top over her arms and buttoned it up to her collar before stepping into the matching pants. Tying the drawstring loosely around her waist, she let the warm fabric envelop her, taking comfort in the simple, grounded feeling of home after an utterly bizarre evening.

The bedroom was a study in velvet shadows and theatrical clutter, bathed in the bruised purple glow of a glowing vanity mirror and the warm amber spill of bedside lamps.

String lights draped lazily along the dark walls, illuminating band posters alongside advertisements for magic shows featuring white rabbits and fanned-out playing cards. Above the gothic-arched headboard of the unmade bed, a wooden shelf held glass apothecary bottles, small wooden boxes, and a crystal ball catching the faint lavender light. The bed was a tangled nest of crimson blankets, a red plaid throw, and discarded clothes, guarded by a pair of stuffed bears and a throw pillow bearing Gabriela’s stylized face.

Thick tomes titled Magic, Tarot, and Illusion were stacked on the nightstand beside a chipped mug and scattered playing cards. Across the room, a black cape lined in crimson hung from the back of the door, while a top hat rested precariously on the corner of a vanity chair. An open clothing rack groaned under the weight of leather jackets and a laced corset skirt, with rows of high-heeled boots and pumps lined up beneath them.

Open notebooks and tarot decks were strewn about on the desk. Right beside it, curled tightly atop a pile of clothes draped over a chair, a small black cat slept soundly, completely unbothered by the charming chaos around him.

Leaning back against the pile of clothes, Gabriela looked out her window toward the twin moons casting their pale light over Greammoom Hills. Her mind kept drifting back to Tristan. Behind his icy demeanor and frozen composure lay a quiet, undeniable strength. When he had confronted Gina and Balderico on her behalf, standing tall despite the chaos, she had felt truly safe for the first time all night. She smiled softly to herself, remembering the resolute way he had guided her out of that velvet nightmare and driven her home. Underneath the cold bite of his cryokinesis, Tristan possessed a rare, protective warmth that she wouldn’t soon forget.