Dawn Walker-Chapter 177: Mysterious Figure II

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They were calm. Too calm. The calm of someone who had watched cities rise and fall and had learned that panic was for those who could still be surprised by death.

Her face was beautiful, but not soft.

Beautiful in a way that suggested her beauty was not a gift, but a weapon she carried without effort.

The City Lord did not breathe differently. But his instincts screamed one word silently.

Minimum mid level God.

Not because she announced it. Because the air around her refused to treat her like a normal being.

The woman’s gaze fixed on him.

"You will inform me," she said, voice gentle now, almost polite.

"Yes," the City Lord replied. "I will."

The woman nodded once. Then she stood up. Her movement was smooth, like a dancer, but it carried no invitation. It carried dismissal, the way a superior ended a conversation because it had served its purpose.

She walked toward the office door.

The City Lord did not rise. He watched her calmly.

The woman stopped just before the door.

"City Lord," she said, not looking back, "your city is full of rumors."

The City Lord’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Rumor is normal," he said.

The woman’s lips curved faintly.

"Not this kind," she replied.

Then she opened the door. But the sound of the door opening did not match the motion.

Because the moment the crack of the door widened, the woman’s body shimmered faintly.

Not like light.

Not like shadow.

Like a distortion.

Like reality itself did not want her to stay visible longer than necessary.

The City Lord’s voice remained calm.

"You leave quickly," he murmured by himself.

The woman stepped through the doorway. Her voice came back softly, like a whisper drifting through smoke.

"I do not enjoy being seen," she said. "Especially by children."

And then she was gone. Not walking down the corridor.

Just Gone.

The space where she had stood felt emptier than it should have been.

The door remained half open. The clock continued. Tick - tock ... tick - tock ... tick - tock...

The City Lord exhaled slowly for the first time since the conversation began. He did not look frightened. He looked tired.

Because ruling a city was exhausting enough without gods inserting themselves into your schedule.

He reached for a document on his desk and began to write a note. Not to record the god woman’s name — he did not need to do it.

Not to record her face — he would not insult fate by pretending memory was armor.

He wrote only one sentence.

{If Dawn House is threatened, report immediately.}

He underlined it twice. Then he heard the sound he recognized too well.

Fast footsteps.

Not a servant.

Not a guard.

A young woman who moved through the mansion like she owned it because she practically did.

Fast... Tap tap tap tap—

The City Lord’s eyes lifted. The office door swung open fully.

Lily entered the room.

Her hair was tied back neatly, but a few strands had escaped because Lily’s energy did not respect perfect hairstyles. Her eyes were bright, her face alive, and her posture was confident in a way only a city lord’s daughter could be when she had never been told "no" often enough to fear it.

"Father," Lily said, already walking toward the desk.

The City Lord’s expression changed instantly. Puppies like softer; to be exact.

More like a father. He did not show that shift often. But he always showed it to Lily.

"Lily," he replied calmly. "You knock like you are invading a fortress."

Lily shrugged.

"I am," she said cheerfully. "Your fortress has bad guards. I walked past three and none stopped me."

The City Lord did not look amused.

"I will punish them," he said.

Lily waved her hand.

"No need," she replied. "If you punish them, they will hate me. If they hate me, they will gossip. If they gossip, Mother will hear and then she will write you a letter with fifteen paragraphs about being a better person."

The City Lord’s eyelid twitched faintly. He hated that Lily was right.

Lily stepped closer and leaned slightly over the desk like a negotiator.

"I came to tell you," she said brightly, "I will visit Sekhmet again tomorrow."

The City Lord’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Visit," he repeated.

"Yes," Lily said. "And I plan to stay at Dawn House."

The City Lord’s gaze sharpened.

"No," he said immediately.

Lily froze. Her smile broke for a fraction of a second. Then she recovered and stared at him like he had just committed a crime.

"Why," Lily demanded.

The City Lord did not raise his voice.

"I said no," he replied.

Lily’s cheeks puffed slightly.

"That is not an answer," she snapped.

The City Lord leaned back in his chair, calm.

"You cannot spend the night in Dawn House," he said. "You will return in the afternoon."

Lily stared at him, disbelief turning into irritation.

"Father," Lily said slowly, "I am not twelve."

The City Lord’s voice remained steady.

"That is exactly why you will not spend the night," he said.

Lily’s eyes narrowed.

"Is this about Sekhmet," she asked.

The City Lord did not answer that question directly. Instead he reached into the desk drawer.

The drawer opened with a soft click.

Lily’s expression shifted slightly, because she recognized that drawer. Her father did not keep candy in it. He kept serious things.

The City Lord pulled out a sealed letter. The wax seal was neat, stamped with a symbol Lily recognized instantly.

Her mother’s crest.

Lily’s face changed. The irritation faded. Hope replaced it so quickly it was almost comedic.

"Mothers letter," Lily whispered.

The City Lord nodded once.

"Your mother sent a letter," he said. "Come and read with me."

Lily’s sadness flickered again for a moment, because she still hated being told no. Then her curiosity and longing crushed the sadness easily.

She stepped closer and took the letter carefully, like it was fragile even though it was only paper.