Chapter 99: The Lamia

The dark coils of her body slithered slowly across the polished floor with an almost hypnotic rustle, iridescent scales catching the club's violet lights with every movement. Shades of midnight blue, amethyst, and black shimmered across her reptilian skin with unsettling beauty.

But her upper body, unmistakably feminine, was covered by a violet-scaled top.

The garment seemed to have been fashioned directly from her own skin, fitting her form with an almost wild elegance. Her long, slender arms were marked with scaled patterns that climbed all the way to her throat, while black hair cascaded over her bare shoulders.

And her eyes...

Golden.

Slitted.

Not human at all.

They settled on Kiyan with a calm curiosity that immediately made Blanche wonder whether the creature had venomous fangs.

A snake woman?

Seriously?

Blanche blinked slowly.

Fine.

Why not?

After giant drakions, sarcastic demons, djinn, and interdimensional travel, her brain was apparently beginning to accept mythological creatures with alarming resignation.

The most absurd part was that some of it felt almost normal now.

Wonderful.

Her sense of priorities had officially died somewhere between two Outworld quests.

The serpent woman tilted her head slightly toward them, her enormous tail gliding silently behind her with disturbing fluidity.

Then her gaze shifted from Kiyan to Blanche.

And her expression changed instantly.

Pure, unmistakable joy.

"Lily!" the creature cried, throwing herself at her.

Blanche caught her automatically while shooting a panicked look toward her familiar.

"Lily, remember Natasha?" Phoenix explained gently. "She was already a waitress here back when you worked here."

Blanche opened her mouth, equally shocked and speechless. She murmured, "Nightingale," beneath a fake cough before replying:

"Sorry, no... I was in a car accident. I forgot everything from before the last ten years."

Which wasn't entirely false.

Kiyan raised an eyebrow.

No sign of deception.

And yet...

"What?!" Natasha shrieked, instantly furious. "Who did this?!"

"Natasha," Phoenix interrupted, taking her by the arm, "let Lily go. I know you're happy to see her, but she has an appointment with the boss. You know how much he hates waiting."

Still shaken, her makeup slightly smeared, the lamia nodded and released her.

Her long scaled fingers slowly slipped from Blanche's shoulders as she stepped back with careful restraint, as though her emotions had briefly gotten the better of her. Dark eyeliner had smudged at the corners of her golden eyes, betraying recent tears despite her efforts to maintain a dignified composure.

Which was particularly strange to witness on a snake woman.

And yet...

It somehow made her seem far more human.

Or at least far more endearing.

The coils of her tail slid slowly across the dark floor with a faint rustling sound as she regained her composure, still visibly emotional.

Blanche blinked several times.

Because beyond the obvious shock of the situation, her attention had been completely captured by Natasha's aura.

Her aura—a blend of dark green and pale pink—was beautiful.

Truly beautiful.

The colors rippled around the lamia with almost hypnotic softness beneath the club's violet lights. The dark green dominated: a rich, deep shade that immediately evoked nature, instinct, sincerity, and something profoundly alive.

Not a cold or manipulative green.

A warm green.

A genuine one.

Interwoven with it danced delicate streaks of pale pink, almost luminous, softening the whole with unexpected tenderness.

Hope.

Affection.

A kind of emotional warmth that would be difficult to fake.

But Blanche could also detect subtler shades hidden beneath the surface: a hint of possessive jealousy, slight but real... and a vibrant boldness that seemed to pulse through every movement the creature made.

A woman capable of biting someone—

and then crying five minutes later.

Honestly?

Blanche already liked her a little.

A fantastical creature like this, full of hope, sincerity, a little jealous but daring... worked here?

The contrast completely threw Blanche off.

In her mind, mythological creatures were supposed to be terrifying, mysterious, or dangerous.

Not emotionally transparent like ordinary people.

Not lovable.

And yet...

The lamia genuinely seemed happy to see her.

Relieved, even.

Like someone finally encountering a familiar face in a place where everyone probably carried secrets heavier than the last.

And apparently they had been friends, judging by her reaction.

That realization unsettled Blanche even more.

Very well.

Normal.

Absolutely normal.

"By Lucifer, I've missed you so much! Don't leave right away, okay? Drinks are on me."

Blanche smiled warmly.

"Gladly."

Phoenix led them behind the bar before calling to Natasha:

"My dear, I'm leaving the place in your hands."

"Got it," she replied, still emotional, her tail swaying behind her.

He opened a hidden door Blanche hadn't even noticed.

A dilapidated staircase revealed itself, deliberately left in that condition to discourage curiosity.

The moment the door closed behind them, Blanche blurted out:

"Lily?"

"Short for Elizabeth. It's your first name..."

Yeah.

Logical.

Two old friends in a single day, each calling her by a different identity...

One a drakion and one a—

"What exactly is she?"

Phoenix sighed as he climbed the stairs.

"A lamia. One of our best waitresses. You adored her when you worked here."

"Because I worked here?!"

"It's a long story..." echoed in her mind, effectively ending the conversation.

They reached an enormous loft.

Blanche crossed the threshold and stopped dead.

The place looked absolutely nothing like what she had imagined for Phoenix.

Or rather...

It looked exactly like what she should have imagined.

The demon simply had much better taste than most infernal creatures.

The entire space was open.

No walls.

No partitions.

Everything was immersed in a sophisticated industrial aesthetic where black metal, dark wood, and raw concrete coexisted with unexpected elegance. Massive glass windows lined the walls, allowing the violet glow from the club below to spill inside, while hanging light fixtures cast a warm illumination that softened the severity of the materials.

The result was spectacular.

Masculine.

Luxurious.

And strangely comfortable.

As though someone had asked an architect to combine a loft, a billionaire's penthouse, and the lair of a narcissistic demon.

Which was probably very close to the truth.

A second bar stood near the entrance.

Long.

Minimalist.

Covered in black marble streaked with silver veins.

Rare bottles were lined up behind it with almost military precision.

Crystal glasses.

Chrome cocktail shakers.

Prestigious spirits bearing famous labels.

Phoenix clearly took his drinks very seriously.

Or perhaps he took his guests seriously.

A few meters away, an enormous bed occupied an entire section of the loft.

No bedroom.

No divider.