The hallways were a patchwork of cold metal, humming faintly with energy as Erwin navigated the facility structure. He wasn't sure where he was going, but anything was better than staying in the eerie silence of the holding room. His mind worked in overdrive, replaying his unsettling meeting with the Guild Founder and the cryptic words that had been exchanged.
The last thing he expected was to hear a sharp whistle echo through the corridor.
"Hey, stranger!"
Erwin stopped mid-step and turned, his sharp gaze falling on the woman striding toward him with a confident sway. She was dressed in a patched leather jacket that hung loosely over a dark tunic and pants. Her boots clinked softly on the metallic floor, and a playful smirk danced on her lips.
"I saw you skulking around and figured you might need a guide," she said, stopping a few paces away. Her chestnut hair caught the dim lighting, and her emerald eyes sparkled with mischief.
"I don't need a guide," Erwin replied flatly, already turning to leave.
"Don't be so quick to dismiss me," she said, stepping in front of him. "Name's Lyria Vayne. Gambler, opportunist, and, occasionally, a decent human being. You?"
"Not interested," Erwin said curtly, sidestepping her.
Lyria let out an exaggerated sigh, falling into step beside him. "You're making this really difficult, you know. Most people at least introduce themselves before walking off into the void."
Erwin didn't respond, his focus on the winding hallway ahead.
"Oh, come on," she said, her voice tinged with mock annoyance. "I'm not asking for your life story. Just a name. Or do you prefer 'Mysterious Guy Who Doesn't Talk Much'?"
Still nothing.
Lyria quickened her pace to keep up with him, undeterred by his silence. "Okay, fine. Be all broody and stoic. I can work with that. But seriously, where are you even headed? Because this place is a maze, and trust me, I've been lost here more times than I'd like to admit."
"I'll manage," Erwin said without looking at her.
"Wow," Lyria said, throwing her hands up dramatically. "You really know how to make a girl feel welcome."
They rounded a corner, and a small figure came into view—a dog perched atop a stack of crates, his brown fur sleek and well-groomed. The dog's posture was unnaturally upright, and his eyes glinted with an intelligence that felt out of place.
"You're late," the dog said, his voice smooth and refined.
"Relax, Pugs," Lyria replied, rolling her eyes. "I was making friends."
"Friends?" Pugs asked, tilting his head. "This?" He gestured toward Erwin with his paw, his expression a mix of disdain and curiosity.
"Don't mind him," Lyria said, leaning against the wall. "He's grumpy because he lost a bet. Again."
"I did not lose," Pugs retorted, leaping gracefully to the ground. He was small, no bigger than a Chihuahua, but his presence was anything but diminutive. "You cheated. As usual."
"It's called being resourceful," Lyria said with a grin.
Erwin watched the exchange silently, his expression unreadable. He was a bit surprised that he was literally seeing a dog talk but his life lately was a dark fairytale so anything is possible. He didn't trust either of them, but they didn't seem immediately dangerous. Still, he wasn't here to make friends—or get dragged into someone else's problems.
"Nice meeting you both," he said, stepping around them.
"Wait!" Lyria called after him, jogging to catch up. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"
"No," Erwin replied without breaking stride.
Undeterred, Lyria fell into step beside him again. "You're really bad at this whole social interaction thing, you know that? Most people at least pretend to be polite."
"I'm not most people," Erwin said tersely.
"That much is obvious," she quipped. "Look, I get it. Lone wolf, trust issues, yada yada. But here's the thing—you're new, and this place isn't exactly friendly to newcomers. You might need someone who knows the ropes."
"I'll take my chances," Erwin said.
Lyria let out a dramatic groan, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "You're killing me here. I'm trying to help you out, and this is the thanks I get?"
Erwin ignored her, his focus on the hallway ahead. But before he could get far, a pair of uniformed guards stepped into his path, their expressions stern.
"Unauthorized personnel are not permitted to leave the facility," one of them said, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon.
Erwin stopped, his jaw tightening.
"Now what?" Lyria said, placing her hands on her hips. She looked at the guards, then back at Erwin. "Guess that means you're stuck with me."
"Great," Erwin muttered under his breath.
Lyria tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "So, what's the plan now, Mr. Broody?"
"Find somewhere far away from you," Erwin replied, his tone cutting.
Lyria let out a low whistle, clearly amused. "Ouch. Harsh. But you'll come around. They always do."
Erwin resumed walking, his stride purposeful. Lyria, true to form, followed closely behind, her boots clicking softly on the metal floor.
"You know," she said conversationally, "you're not the first guy to try and ditch me. But here's a fun fact: I'm annoyingly persistent."
"I noticed," Erwin said dryly.
"And Pugs here?" she continued, ignoring his sarcasm. "He's not just a pretty face. He's got skills. Tell him, Pugs."
"I refuse to indulge in your antics," the dog said, trotting alongside them with an air of indignation.
"See?" Lyria said with a grin. "He's modest too."
Erwin sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Not really," she admitted cheerfully. "But don't worry—you'll get used to it."
They reached a crossroads, and Erwin paused, considering his options. Lyria took the opportunity to step in front of him, blocking his path.
"Look," she said, her tone softening. "I get it. You don't trust me. That's fine. But this place? It's not kind to loners. If you want to survive, you'll need allies."
Erwin met her gaze, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he considered her words. Then he stepped around her, continuing down the corridor without a word.
"Suit yourself," Lyria called after him, her voice tinged with amusement. "But don't say I didn't warn you!"
As she and Pugs watched him disappear into the distance, the dog let out a huff.
"Well, that went well," Pugs said dryly.
Lyria shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, he'll come around. They always do."
And with that, she turned on her heel, her boots clicking softly as she strolled away, the ever-loyal Pugs trotting at her side.