The first encounter of Satoru and Suguru with the infamous Nightraven was as sudden as it was electrifying. The thief's reputation echoed constantly through the palace corridors: stealthy, silent, untraceable... traits that undoubtedly piqued the curiosity of Satoru and Suguru, the future emperors. They knew they would be her targets, but they hadn't expected it to happen on such an ordinary night, thick with the heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine wafting from the gardens. The air was warm and still, and the only sound was the distant buzz of an insect. Not a single alarm rang, not even the faintest footstep to betray her presence.

In a fluid movement, she found herself cornered. Her back pressed against Satoru's solid, warm chest, his arm closing around her waist like a vice, immobilizing her. The fine fabric of her clothing did little to hide the heat radiating from him. On the other side, Suguru seized her wrists with relentless firmness. She could feel the rough texture of his gloves against her skin, and the woody, spicy scent he exuded enveloped her senses. Her breasts pressed against Suguru's firm chest, and she felt her own heart racing, a frantic drum against her ribs.

"Well, well... looks like we've got a little mouse on the loose," Satoru whispered, his voice a warm, humid breath that sent shivers down her neck and made her hair stand on end. "I'm guessing, from the direction you were heading, you're after the crowns, am I right?" Suguru asked, his tone a low, playful purr that echoed close to her face. "Well, the crowns are exactly what you want. We'll gladly give them to you. If...""If you give us a kiss," Satoru finished, his smile audible in his voice, a perfectly feigned innocence that was almost insulting. They saw hesitation spark in her eyes, felt the brief tension in her muscles against theirs... but it didn't take long for her to give in with an almost inaudible sigh.

That night, the infamous Nightraven left the palace with the two crowns weighing down her bag. But what should have been her final act as a criminal was far from over. The crowns were fake. She discovered it only days later, when the pale, lifeless gold resonated with a cheap, muffled sound against the workbench of the specialist, under the dim light of a single lamp. The specialist wrinkled his nose in disdain. The princes had broken the deal. They had deceived her, taken advantage of her, and let her leave empty-handed, the bitter taste of humiliation still lingering on her tongue. So she returned to the palace, stealthy as a shadow, sliding along the cold stone of the walls and slipping through the winding window of the throne room like a cat.

Inside, the room was engulfed in silence and shadow, illuminated only by the silver moonlight streaming through the stained glass. And to her silent fury, the princes were there, waiting, like two satisfied predators. "Well, well, look who it is—our favorite thief," Suguru purred, leaning against the heavy oak door now closed behind him, his crossed arms casting a long shadow across the polished marble floor. His eyes caught the faint light, gleaming with anticipation. "From that look on your face, I'd say you've already discovered our little trick, haven't you?" Satoru asked, his voice echoing slightly in the empty hall. He was sprawled across his throne, fingers tapping an indolent, irritating rhythm on the carved wooden armrest. They had been waiting for her all along. From the very beginning, it had been part of their plan to have her there.