After Liam’s little outburst, Lauren had finally taken a step back—three full days away from the office, away from the constant noise of intel reports and failed leads.
She hadn’t wanted to at first, but after so insistent prodding—and a very blunt ssage from one of her closest friends—the decision was made for her. Once word got out that she was in Europe, a few of her old circle made imdiate plans to fly in. She hadn’t seen so of them in over a year, but the mont she ntioned being in Slovakia, they were already booking tickets.
Now, she was off-duty. Completely.
For the first ti in weeks, the endless weight on her shoulders had lightened.
Liam had taken over all work-related matters in her absence without complaint. He had even seed glad to do it—maybe relieved that she was finally getting so rest. The first day, Lauren slept almost the entire ti, barely waking up except to eat. The second was more relaxed: she curled up on the couch, catching up on a few shows she hadn’t had ti for, while ignoring every notification on her terminal.
And now—on the third day—her friends had dragged her out.
Currently, they were cruising along a smooth, winding highway in a sleek mana-powered vehicle, its silent hum gliding over the road. The transparent canopy overhead dimd slightly under the afternoon sun, letting just enough light through to keep the interior warm without being overbearing.
Music played softly in the background, but Lauren barely heard it. Her eyes were fixed on the scenery rushing past as they made their way toward one of the most popular vacation spots in Europe: the domain of an interdiate clan blessed with the bloodline of the god of economy.
Even now, she still didn’t quite understand how their powers worked. It wasn’t combat-related like most clans. From what she’d heard, it was sothing deeper—more subtle.
Every mber of their lineage had a near-infallible sense for value, trade, wealth, and long-term foresight. That strange affinity with prosperity had made them the richest clan in all of Europe, and over the decades, they had poured their fortune into transforming their territory into a vacationer’s dream.
Their estates were a blend of artistic architecture and cutting-edge mana tech, lined with luxury shopping centers, mana spas, fine dining restaurants, and world-renowned entertainnt districts. It was the kind of place where most people saved for years to visit once.
For Lauren, this was a spontaneous escape.
Their destination lay in Poland, a comfortable drive away from the Slovakian capital where the European Governnt Association branch was stationed.
The Wind Clan had ceded control of Slovakia to the association for operational purposes, giving them full freedom to move, organize, and respond to crises across the region.
Now, Lauren was far from all that—at least for a little while.
She leaned back in the passenger seat, letting herself relax for the first ti in a long while, while her friends chatted animatedly about what to do once they arrived. It wasn’t much—but for now, it was enough.
---
The mont they passed through the outer gates of the Clan of Economy’s domain, Lauren understood why it was considered the wealth capital of Europe.
The air itself seed different—subtly charged, smooth, almost too clean. Tall crystalline towers shimred in the distance, each one humming with mana, constructed with rare materials that pulsed faintly under sunlight. Floating platforms ferried guests through the air, bypassing traffic below. Decorative mana-constructs—animated statues and colorful light sculptures—lined the wide, gold-inlaid boulevards. And everywhere they turned, there was the sll of luxury: rich perfus, exotic spices, and the faintest trace of mana-infused mist to calm the nerves.
Lauren had been to high-ranking cities before—she’d worked for the Association long enough to walk among powerful clans and governnt strongholds—but this was different. This wasn’t built for war or politics. It was built for indulgence.
Their vacation began with a stop at **The Crowned Vault**, a luxury shopping arena that took up an entire city block. Built in tiers, each level required a different threshold of wealth or mana ranking to access. Lauren and her friends, all Association agents or trusted affiliates, had no problem making it to the fourth tier. The fifth was for nobles and High Clan mbers only.
In the Vault, there were mana-threaded dresses that could adjust shape and temperature at will, enchanted jewelry that offered passive emotional stability or mana balance, and rare spirit-silk robes that shimred with every movent.
Her friends dove in imdiately, dragging Lauren with them from boutique to boutique. Laughter echoed through the shops as they tried on absurdly expensive accessories, took photos, and occasionally splurged on sothing too stunning to ignore.
From there, they moved on to one of the floating restaurants, yes a floating restaurants—**Nebula Glint**—a glass-dod dining structure suspended over a gently spiraling waterfall of liquefied mana. Every table floated independently, guided by thin streams of controlled wind. The food was delicate and artfully plated: silver-roasted skyfish, glazed with honey-mana reductions, and crystalberry wine that humd as it went down.
Lauren had almost forgotten what it was like to enjoy herself. Her body felt lighter, her expression softer. The pressure that had coiled inside her chest for weeks had eased, replaced by sothing quieter—normalcy.
On their second evening, they visited the **Elysian Pronade**, a stretch of enchanted gardens and artistic showcases, with ambient music drawn directly from the mana lines beneath the ground. Lauren drifted a little farther from her group as she walked, her eyes catching on the delicate lights blooming overhead.
She paused in front of a fountain that seed to defy gravity, its water spiraling upward before gently falling into a mana pool carved with the seal of the Economy Clan.
It was there, amidst the surreal peace of the mont, that soone brushed past her shoulder—gentle, but intentional.
Lauren blinked, turning slightly.
It was a man.
Mid-thirties at most, with a neat coat lined with faint enchantnts and a face that suggested he wasn’t a tourist. There was sothing about him—how he moved, how he looked at her. Not aggressive. Not flirtatious.
Purposeful.
But before she could say anything, he offered her a small, knowing smile and disappeared into the crowd behind her.
She stood there for a second too long, watching the space he had left behind.
"...Lauren, you good?" one of her friends called out from behind.
She turned, quickly plastering a casual smile on her face. "Yeah. Just looking at the fountain."
But the mont lingered in her mind.
Sothing wasn’t right.
And for the first ti since the vacation started, her instincts flared—subtle, but impossible to ignore.
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