Ryle sat in his office, legs propped up on his desk, flipping through an old book about dragon lineage.
Thea was curled up on the sofa, snoring softly, her ears twitching as she mumbled in her sleep.
Everything was peaceful.
Until—
BAM!
The door slammed open so hard it nearly came off its hinges.
Ryle flinched, dropping his book.
A massive shadow loomed over him.
"WHERE'S THE NEXT ARTICLE?!"
His boss—the owner of the Journalist Association—stood in the doorway, eyes blazing with fury.
Ryle, who had faced dragons, Assassin,and even nobles—
—secretly feared this woman more than anything.
He swallowed hard. "Uh…"
She stomped forward, slamming a stack of papers onto his desk.
"You've been slacking off, Ryle! The people demand news! Scandals! Exposés! Where's my next article?!"
Ryle shot a glance at Thea—still asleep.
Lucky.
"Uh, I was just about to start working on something," he lied smoothly.
His boss narrowed her eyes. "Really?"
"Absolutely," Ryle nodded.
She folded her arms. "Then prove it. Get out there and bring me a story!"
She turned to Thea and poked her forehead.
Thea stirred, blinking groggily. "Mmm… Ryle?"
"Wake up," Ryle muttered, pulling on his coat. "We're going article hunting."
Thea yawned. "But I was sleeping…"
"Too bad."
Just as they stepped outside—
A military officer in black and gold armor strode up to them.
"Where is Ryle Astoria?"
Ryle smirked.
"Bingo."
Without another word—
The officer thrust his hand forward.
A bolt of lightning struck both Ryle and Thea.
Their bodies convulsed—
And everything went dark.
Ryle woke up with a headache.
His arms and legs were bound to a chair with enchanted restraints.
Thea was beside him, still unconscious.
They were inside a royal chamber—
The floors polished to perfection, a massive Velbrath insignia embedded in the center.
A man sat in a grand, ornate chair.
King Aldevar Velbrath.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp silver hair and piercing amber eyes.
"Ryle Astoria," the king said.
His voice was cold. Calculating.
"The Astoria family has been disturbing my people's lives."
Ryle raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Thea stirred beside him, groaning.
Ryle, despite being restrained, casually leaned back.
"You must be mistaken. I don't have a family."
The king's assistant, a woman in dark robes, stepped forward.
"Velmara, one of the 12 Noble Houses, has been completely wiped out," she explained.
Ryle's smirk disappeared.
"...Go on."
"The Velmara royal family was known for its deep ties to the Church of Velbrath."
She paused. "The perpetrators called themselves Astoria."
Ryle deadpanned.
"Well, that's just stupid."
Thea, now fully awake, looked confused. "Wait. I thought Ignilth made up the name Astoria?"
"No," Ryle muttered. "He picked it from an old friend's family."
But this?
This wasn't a coincidence.
The king's assistant continued.
"The Velmara nobles fought back with holy magic, but…"
She hesitated.
"...They were lifted into the air by a mysterious force. Moments later, their bodies collapsed—and their internal organs turned completely black."
Ryle's mind raced.
Blackened organs?
This wasn't normal magic.
This was a curse.
Thea's ears flicked anxiously. "That… doesn't sound like Ryle's doing."
The nobles ignored her.
The king leaned forward. "You will stand trial in three days."
Ryle tilted his head.
"A trial?"
The king's assistant nodded.
"If you are guilty, you will be executed."
Ryle exhaled slowly.
This was bad.
Not because he feared the trial—but because someone was using his name.
And they wanted him dead before he could uncover the truth.
He smirked.
"Alright, Your Majesty."
He locked eyes with the king.
"Let's play."