Nero stepped through the grand doors of a luxurious office.
An elegant woman sat behind a massive wooden desk. Her piercing gaze studied the newcomer as she motioned for him to take a seat in one of the cushioned leather armchairs.
In an almost tangible silence, Nero settled in comfortably.
The woman rose gracefully and walked toward a dark wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. With practiced ease, she opened its doors and pulled out a bottle of whiskey along with two sparkling crystal glasses. Wordlessly, she handed one to Nero, who accepted it with a slight nod.
"Ice?" she offered.
"No, thanks."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Ah, I see you're trying to play the tough guy, my dear…"
Without waiting for a reply, she poured the whiskey into Nero's glass with care, serving the amber liquid neat.
Nero brought the glass to his lips, savoring the rich, complex flavor, then set it down on the coffee table with a graceful motion. The woman, intent on indulging her own tastes, poured herself a glass, letting the ice clink noisily against the crystal. As she sat back down, the two of them remained silent, locked in an intense stare.
"Does the whiskey suit your palate?" she asked, her voice soft and composed.
Nero took another sip, placed the glass back on the table, and fixed her with a sharp look. "Are you going to keep me waiting much longer for the real whiskey?"
A subtle smile flickered across her face. Without another word, she stood and left the lavish office, beckoning Nero to follow.
Nero rose and trailed behind her.
They passed through a row of bookshelves that parted to reveal a hidden door. She pushed it open, and they stepped into a new room.
As Nero crossed the threshold, he was greeted by dim light, with only faint glimmers seeping through velvet curtains draped over the windows. The walls, painted a deep emerald green, were lined with wooden shelves stuffed with faded books.
At the center of the room stood a large, intricately carved wooden table, adorned with elaborate patterns and detailed engravings. The chairs around it were all unique, each with its own flair—some leather, others red velvet, and a few carved wood with floral designs. Every seat seemed handpicked for its occupant.
Scented candles flickered here and there, filling the air with a subtle fragrance.
The woman gestured elegantly for Nero to sit, pointing to a specific chair: a simple, unadorned one, unlike the rest.
Nero took his seat calmly, adjusting his black suit with a touch of finesse.
The woman approached him, holding a pair of glasses. "Put these on—they're essential for what's next."
Without hesitation, Nero took them and slid them onto his face.
She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, donned her own pair of glasses, and settled into her chair—a red velvet one. Then she touched a specific spot on the table in front of her.
Suddenly, the surroundings plunged into darkness, leaving only the table and chairs visible. The oddity was that the once-empty seats now held occupants. What started as just the two of them had turned into a gathering of eight.
"I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long, my dear colleagues," the woman addressed the newly appeared group.
"Drop the polite act," cut in a member with an eagle mask and a feminine voice. "Just tell us why you called this meeting. You know I hate being around you all, even virtually."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," the woman replied. "Here I thought you'd at least be happy to see me again."
"You're wasting our time, Pilar," the eagle-masked member snapped, sounding bored.
Pilar feigned a sad sigh, then turned her gaze to Nero.
"Anyway, I've brought you quite a specimen," she announced. "Believe it or not, he wanted to meet you himself. Given his identity and what he's contributed over the past five months, I figured I'd grant his wish."
"Quit acting like you're the one who made this happen," chimed in another member with a snake mask and a masculine voice.
All eyes shifted to Nero, who'd stayed silent so far.
Every member wore a mask except for Pilar and Nero.
"So, you're Zeref Grimwald, the Plague of the Western Land?" the eagle-masked member asked. "Or just some chancer riding his name?"
"Pilar vouched for his identity, so it's gotta be the real deal," countered a member with a bear mask and a masculine voice. "The real question is why he's back—and using his real name, even if he's at least bothered to change his face."
"You said you wanted to meet us," added a member with a tiger mask and a masculine voice. "Here we are. What does the Plague of the Western Land want with our guild and us?"
At that, the group's stares intensified, waiting for Nero's response.
Nero finally spoke. "I'm honestly surprised you're taking my identity at face value, despite how different I look."
"Pilar confirmed it, and that's enough for us," the bear-masked member replied. "Unless you're saying you're *not* the real deal?"
"No," Nero refuted. "I just figured I'd have to prep some proof of who I am. Kinda disappointing you're buying it so easily."
"Can you tell us now why you wanted to meet?" asked a member with a cat mask and a feminine voice. "I'd hope it's not just some whim."
"It's not a whim," Nero said calmly. "I wanted to meet you to strike a deal."
A brief silence fell over the room.
"Pilar, care to explain?" the eagle-masked member asked, breaking the quiet.
Pilar shrugged. "He didn't fill me in. I'm as curious as you are."
The tiger-masked member turned to Nero. "Mind telling us what you mean by 'deal'?"
Nero smiled. "Exactly what it sounds like."
"And what are you looking to trade?" the snake-masked member pressed.
Nero scanned each member before locking eyes with the snake-masked one who'd asked. "Zion."
The masked members exchanged incredulous looks. Even Pilar, who'd kept a neutral face the whole time, couldn't hide her wide-eyed shock. She turned to Nero.
"You're awfully bold, Mr. Grimwald," the cat-masked member said icily. "Do you realize what you're saying?"
Nero met her gaze steadily. "I know it's a gutsy offer, but I'm confident we can find common ground—everyone leaves this meeting happy."
"Where's all this confidence coming from?" the tiger-masked member asked. "Did your old title as the Plague mess with your head, making you blind to reality?"
Nero gave a faint smile. "I don't get what's got you all so rattled," he replied coolly. "I said I'd make sure everyone gets something out of it. That's the whole point of a deal. Why's that crazy?"
"Hey, you gonna stay quiet forever?" the bear-masked member piped up, turning to the last member who'd been silent so far.
That one wore a lion mask and sat at the far end of the table in the plushest cashmere chair.
"Are you all so helpless you can't decide without me?" she finally said, her voice feminine.
"What's there to decide?" the eagle-masked member shot back. She turned to Pilar. "Pilar, I hope you know you've wasted our time with this meeting. It's a blemish on your otherwise spotless record. I'm done here."
The eagle-masked member reached to take off the glasses perched on her mask.
"Where do you think you're going?" the lion-masked member interrupted. "You asked for my take, so let me give it first."
"Nice one, Bear," the eagle-masked member muttered sarcastically, lowering her hands.
"First off," the lion-masked member began, addressing Nero, "my dear, are you serious about what you're saying?"
"Dead serious," Nero replied without hesitation.
The lion-masked member paused, then continued, "Still, your proposal doesn't hold up—not in form or substance."
Nero stayed quiet, letting her explain.
"You're asking to bargain," she went on, "but you don't even have the right to. Bargaining only works between equals or those with something comparable to trade. Otherwise, it's not a deal—the stronger side just takes from the weaker without compromise. So my next question is this: Mr. Grimwald, by suggesting a bargain, are you implying we're on the same level?"