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A contest between lovers thus began, each doing everything possible to please the other.
Given that the brave Space Marine was still in a weakened state, Jane Doe led the rhythm most of the time. She was an excellent rider, and the temperamental, fierce black stallion had been thoroughly tamed beneath her guidance.
Of course, caring for the horse's experience was equally important. The rider would often pat and kiss the stallion's chest, whispering her feelings—how she had missed him when apart, how her heart had ached seeing him injured.
The dark stallion grew gentle. In his smoldering, coal-like eyes shone love no less intense than hers.
The Son of Vulkan discovered that while recovering from his injuries, his psychic power had surged significantly. He even began experimenting with channeling it to alter his body's shape. After all, an overly large and powerful draft horse was hardly suited for riding—his frame was too broad, too demanding for the rider.
Guided by his will, his psychic energy briefly reshaped him into a form better matched to his rider's size. No longer strained by their disparity, she began to truly enjoy the experience.
That enjoyment was not one-sided. Their love-filled gazes locked, emotion enough to set the air ablaze. Rider and steed were a perfect match, moving in seamless coordination, sharing the exhilaration of their gallop.
Their exquisite indulgence lasted until shortly before Nicole and the others returned home. In the lull after the storm, rider and stallion tidied the chaotic battlefield. What two lovers could accomplish—especially when both possessed ample stamina—was nothing short of madness.
Ignis' bed, the forge's anvil, the flexible tendrils of the mechanical workbench, even the sacred reliquary used to imprison demons—all bore traces of their wild ride.
The only good news was that the cleanup had been timely. No difficult stains remained, and they even had time for a shower afterward.
However, with Nicole's keen eye, one glance at Jane Doe's damp hair was enough. Her eyes rolled mischievously, and she jabbed the Salamander's abdomen with her elbow several times. Fortunately, it was all hardened muscle—or it might have hurt.
Billy and Anby noticed nothing at all, simply welcoming Jane Doe's visit. As for Mana, she could not see it—but she could smell it. Her little dark face flushed crimson, twin tails swishing restlessly as she grew distracted.
"Nekomata?" Anby called out.
"Nya? Ah!" The Cat Thiren startled violently, fur practically bristling, chopsticks flying from her hand.
"Did something happen? You've been spacing out since we got back." The white-haired girl found her reaction highly unusual.
This was the same cat who always schemed in Hollows, even pickpocketing rival Hollow Raiders mid-fight. Many times, before a battle was decided, the enemy's wallet was already gone.
"It's… it's nothing, nya…" she insisted, trying desperately to hide her embarrassment. Sitting beside her, Jane Doe carried a strong scent of the Salamander. Though shampoo and body wash masked some of it, to a Cat Thiren's senses it remained obvious—especially at such close proximity.
"Hm?" Nicole's tone lifted teasingly as she narrowed her eyes. "Really nothing? Maybe there's some special scent? You are a Cat Thiren—your sense of smell must be sharp."
The shameless boss's teasing only deepened Nekomata's distress. Finally, she slammed the table and stood.
"I don't know, nya! Stop asking me, nya!" She fled the dining room almost as fast as spotting a stray wallet a hundred meters away.
"She didn't eat much," Billy observed, glancing at the untouched baked ribs drowning in chili oil.
"Maybe it's from that stunt earlier—you nearly shot her," Anby replied calmly, taking the plate. "Mine."
"What are you talking about? You know my marksmanship!" Billy puffed up proudly. "Within two hundred meters, if I say I'll hit someone's upper eyelid, I won't touch the lower one. She just changed direction suddenly!"
Soon the Cunning Hares' ace gunner launched into an exaggerated demonstration of his tactical brilliance, mixing in dramatic poses and references to classic hero shows.
Ignis watched the dinner-table farce, particularly Nicole's sly grin, struggling to keep a straight face. Though his relationship was now public, such enthusiasm under the same roof still felt… inappropriate.
Next time, we should just book a hotel.
As for Jane Doe, she met Nicole's gaze calmly. Both women understood perfectly what had happened. Nekomata's reaction amused her.
The big man was unexpectedly popular.
Then again, he was indeed lovable—brave, reliable, steadfast in promises. The weapon that little cat used had been forged by him. Equipment crafted for one's own people was always made with utmost care—just like the chainsword wielded by that white-haired girl.
Perhaps Nekomata's feelings leaned more toward dependence and gratitude. Even so, Jane Doe felt confident she would not lose in any competition.
The cat was cute—but Jane Doe knew her own advantages.
As for Nicole… her feelings toward Ignis were complex. Adopted son, dependable enforcer, the Cunning Hares' marquee name, their money tree—and, of course… family.
Regardless, Nicole cared deeply for the Salamander. From what Jane had subtly gleaned from Ignis, his arrival had helped the Cunning Hares overcome many crises.
Where exactly those crises had originated was debatable.
As Ignis himself had argued: "Don't worry about where they came from. The point is, we got through them."
When he argued like that, flushed and earnest, he was unexpectedly adorable. He truly feared for their safety. He genuinely cared for every member of the Cunning Hares.
After all, this had been the first place in New Eridu to accept him. When his identity was a complete mystery, Nicole Demara had given the homeless giant shelter—and arranged a citizen ID for him.
Surely the cunning fox-rabbit had her schemes—but even so, her willingness meant a great deal.
As a Public Security special consultant in criminology and long-time undercover operative in New Eridu's underworld, Jane Doe knew just how monumental the task of fabricating a complete citizen record was. The cost in dennies and favors would not have been small.
And Nicole had made that decision within days of meeting him.
By the citizen registry, Ignis can technically call Nicole as his adoptive mother… Would tension between her and Jane count as in-law conflict?
The absurd thought nearly made Jane choke on her soup.
Meanwhile, the focal point of the evening—Ignis himself—was focused solely on eating. Blood loss, poison, weakness from the Belisarian Furnace, and an afternoon of vigorous activity atop already depleted stamina—he had only one concern: filling his stomach.
He was genuinely starving.
After dinner, Billy volunteered for dish duty while Ignis escorted Jane Doe to the metro.
They had barely stepped outside when Jane was drawn to the lively night market. She had been here before—dirty, impoverished, gang-ridden. But since Ignis' arrival, hope and order had begun to take root.
Vesmir Forson intrigued her. Though capable of pursuing larger stages and greater profits, he had chosen to invest in his birthplace.
Attracting business, renovating infrastructure, cooperating with Public Security—before turning twenty, he had built something remarkable. All within mere months, starting from learning to make breakfast under Ignis' guidance. The once-barren district had transformed into a trendy hotspot.
Under Vesmir's earnest leadership, the night market maintained high standards, low prices, and excellent service—drawing visitors while reinvesting profits into the community.
New sewage systems. Safer electrical wiring. Surveillance cameras. Jobs.
The former delinquent had become a respected entrepreneur.
This giant possessed a kind of magic—his qualities seemed contagious.
Jane sighed softly, thinking of Emile Volt—the painter with infinite potential.
"What's wrong?" Ignis asked. "Something troubling you?"
"Nothing troubling. Just… you're impressive." She looked up at him. "I might even admire you a little."
"As if I wasn't admirable before," Ignis retorted theatrically. "In my original world, most people either knelt or saluted when they saw me."
Jane laughed. "Should I lift my skirt and bow, then? My Majesty?"
"Rise, my beloved subject." He played along grandly.
Among the bustling servers, Jane noticed a slender, nervous figure carrying dishes.
"Is that Lin Xia?" she recognized instantly, despite the uniform and healthier appearance.
"You said she was dead. Sudden organ failure. Death certificate, cremation papers, citizen ID revoked."
"Nicole handled it," Ignis replied calmly. "Lin Xia chose it."
"Her parents sent her to that hell. Even if she were alive, she'd be forced back."
"She didn't want that. She didn't want to become a media spectacle—paraded for pity and profit."
"So, Nicole erased her identity. Now she's a night market server named Rene. An orphan from an orphanage."
Jane watched the girl busily working. "I hope she finds a good future."
"The world is harsh, but not without solutions. Vesmir is building staff dormitories. This place will keep improving."
"He should run for district councilor," Jane mused, walking toward the station while checking her phone.
Several missed calls—Zhu Yuan, and a few informants. She replied briskly as they walked, her expression growing serious.
Before entering the metro, she glanced at a half-torn poster of Saint Love Behavioral Correction School clinging stubbornly to the board like diseased skin.
"Ignis." Her tone sharpened. "The information you wanted has been confirmed. Are you certain?"
"I am certain." The Salamander's voice was grave. "Slaanesh cultists must be purged—by any means necessary."
"Very well. Once you've recovered somewhat, we move. I'll continue gathering intelligence and confirm the target location."
Jane was fully in work mode now.
"Thank you, my dear."
"When working, maintain professionalism. Use my title." Her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked away.
"Understood, Officer Jane."
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