The Black Lake

The portal spat us out into Parallel-12 with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

The transition always leaves a metallic taste in your mouth, a brief moment of weightlessness before gravity reasserts its cruel laws. Seven of us stumbled out. Six guys, and me. Two years. That was the exchange program between the Mercenary Guilds. They get our experience, we get theirs. A simple, brutal math.

The air here hit me like a physical wall. It smelled of expensive perfume, exhaust fumes from the hovering flyers, and the sharp, metallic tang of raw magic. But the magic here felt different. Processed. Packaged in neon lights rather than flowing naturally through the earth.

A massive megacity stretched out before us. Bright, multicolored neon bled from towering billboards. Flyers zipped through the smoggy sky, and the ground hummed with the vibration of the underground transit. Warm, artificial light spilled from countless coffee shops, and the streets were packed with a sea of people.

“Noise, chaos, beauty,” Alex sighed happily. He was always like that—a ray of sunshine and a massive fan of urban comfort.

“Feels like a sauna,” Sema grimaced, wiping his forehead.

He wasn’t wrong. The humidity here was off the charts. Combined with the heat, the air felt like breathing through a wet wool blanket. I missed the crisp wind of home. I missed the smell of pine and frost.

At the exit of the portal platform, our welcoming committee was waiting. We were escorted to a climate-controlled briefing room and left alone.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” a man in a sharply tailored suit said, flanked by two serious-looking guards. “Let’s discuss your assignments as personal bodyguards...”

We were sorted out quickly. The guys were assigned to protect the heads of major corporations and banks. High-profile, high-stress, standard elite work.

Then, my turn. I got a woman. Or a girl. I’d figure it out on site. If they hired elite security, the lady must be something special. I didn’t know how things worked in their world, but back home, we were the top-tier strike force. We didn’t do babysitting.

The flyer dropped us at the location. A rich estate. Manicured alleys, perfect flower beds. The landscaping was a work of art. The lawn was cut so evenly it looked painted, and a fountain in the courtyard shot a stream of water three stories high, illuminated by shifting holograms.

I was led into the master’s office.

“Good evening, sir,” I said.

His sharp, calculating eyes slid over me, assessing my gear, my posture, my aura. His own aura was a controlled, icy blue—disciplined, ruthless, and entirely focused on profit.

“Madam bodyguard, your client will be my daughter,” he said smoothly. “I don’t think anyone will be trying to assassinate her. Rather, the surroundings will need protection from her. She is... somewhat emotional.”

A nanny for a debutante?

My confusion must have been written all over my face in bold letters.

“No, no, don’t get me wrong,” the man added quickly, reading my expression. “I am a very influential figure, and she needs to be looked after. You never know what might happen.”

What exactly might happen to a spoiled rich girl in a guarded mansion, I had no idea.

Before I could ask, the door flew open. A girl, about twenty-five or twenty-eight, stormed in. She was dressed in something that probably cost more than my annual retainer, but she wore it like armor. Her aura was a chaotic, flashing mix of angry red and spoiled pink.

“Father, they told me you hired a bodyguard. Where is he?”

The man coughed awkwardly and gestured toward me.

“A woman?” she said, her voice dripping with disappointment.

She was hoping for a guy. Tough luck, sweetheart.

“Well, you are a young lady. Naturally, it’s a woman,” her father said, pretending not to catch the hint. “Allow me to introduce you. This is Madam Yara, a combat mage and your new bodyguard. Li, this is my daughter.”

We stared at each other. She wore a grimace of pure displeasure. I offered a faint shade of professional disappointment.

We didn’t like each other instantly.

She snorted and turned on her heel, heading for the door. I, unfortunately, couldn’t afford such luxury. I took a deep breath, pulling my emotions down into the dark depths of my mind until the surface of my consciousness was a perfectly smooth, mirror-like lake. Calm. Unbothered. Ready to work.

“Let’s discuss my duties, sir,” I said.

They placed me on the first floor, in the servants’ quarters. A clear indicator of my status. It didn’t bother me. If they needed a servant, why hire an inter-dimensional bodyguard? Strange logic. But tactically, I got lucky. First floor meant I controlled the main exits, the perimeter, and the back door. And my target was just a stone’s throw away.

The room was small but neat. My professional reflexes kicked in faster than my fatigue. I scanned the room in three seconds.

Window. First floor, facing the inner courtyard. No bars, but the glass had a faint greenish tint. Armored. I ran a quick diagnostic with my magic. The ambient wards were standard corporate grade—good against physical breaches, but a joke against a focused magical assault. In case of a breach or fire: smash it with a heavy chair, jump through the flowerbed, vanish into the bushes. Twenty meters to the fence. Excellent cover.

Door. Massive. Hinges hidden inside. Hard to breach from the outside, but I could lock it from the inside in a fraction of a second.

Ventilation. Standard grate near the ceiling. A human wouldn’t fit, but perfect for a recon drone or a listening bug. I’d need to sweep it for electronics later.

Stairs. The staircase to the second floor—where my “emotional” client slept, judging by the mansion’s layout—was exactly fifteen meters from my door.

In the corner stood a simple bed with a firm mattress, next to a spacious wardrobe and a separate, lockable compartment for weapons and magical artifacts. No frills. Pure functionality. Perfect for someone who was here to work, not to vacation.

I unpacked my gear, stowed my combat artifacts in the locked compartment, and slid my favorite dagger under the pillow.

Only then did I lie down to rest. Tomorrow, the real work would begin.