This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

As River stood inside the rundown bar, the scent of cheap alcohol, sweat, and smoke clung heavily to the air. The flickering lights above buzzed like dying insects, casting intermittent glows that made the corners seem darker than they really were. Peeling wallpaper drooped from the walls like sagging skin, and the floor creaked beneath his feet with every shift of weight. The moans from one of the corners grew louder for a moment, only to be muffled again by the rhythmic hum of some outdated machinery somewhere in the back.

River's sharp eyes scanned everything with a cold detachment, but deep inside, something coiled in his gut. Not from fear, but disgust. This was the lowest of lows in Voulton City—its dark underbelly, the kind of place people either feared or forgot. And yet, this was exactly where River had chosen to begin his next move.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heels tapping against the floor. From a side door near the bar counter, a woman emerged. Her confident stride contrasted the place she came from, and as she approached, River took in her appearance. Long black slacks, tucked-in button-up shirt, sleek black blazer. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun, and she wore thin-rimmed glasses that made her look like a no-nonsense secretary from a corporate office, not someone who belonged in a hellhole like this.

"Hello," River greeted first, giving her a polite smile. "This is the Fallen Sky, correct? Do you know where your bo—"

"She's expecting you," the woman interrupted curtly, her sharp eyes briefly sweeping him from head to toe, as if evaluating him like merchandise. Then she turned around without another word. "Follow me, kid."

"Kid?" River muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. "I'm not that young…"

Still, he followed her.

They passed through a side door, and as it clicked shut behind them, the noise from the bar vanished, sealed off like a dirty memory. River found himself walking through a narrow hallway. Unlike the dilapidated entrance, this corridor was spotless. The walls were polished black marble veined with gold, illuminated by crystal sconces that glowed with a soft amber hue. A faint scent of lavender drifted in the air, subtly cleansing the senses. The floor beneath their feet didn't creak—it was smooth stone, and their footsteps echoed with quiet authority. Hidden security cameras followed their movement, blinking softly like watchful eyes.

Whoever ran this place had a clear distinction between the outer filth and the inner sanctum.

The hallway led to a tall door made from dark wood, its surface carved with faint runes that shimmered slightly under the light. Before opening it, the woman turned to face River.

"Be careful with your words," she said flatly, her tone lacking any warmth. "I don't want to clean up another body."

River lifted an eyebrow but didn't respond. He simply nodded.

With that, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

River's eyes widened slightly.

Inside was a room that looked nothing like the slum they had just walked through. The floors were covered in rich crimson velvet carpet, and the walls were adorned with abstract oil paintings and tall bookshelves filled with rare titles. At the center was a crescent-shaped desk made of dark obsidian, behind which a large window framed the glimmering skyline of Voulton City. Soft orchestral music played from hidden speakers, and the air smelled of citrus and sandalwood. There was wealth here—refined and dangerous.

And seated in the center, behind the desk, was a woman…

The woman had short, snowy white hair that curled slightly at the ends, framing a soft, slightly rounded face. Her skin was porcelain smooth, gleaming under the warm amber lights of the office. Her eyes—cold silver, reflective and unreadable—gazed at River with detached amusement.

But that wasn't the most shocking part.

She wasn't wearing anything.

She lounged on a high-backed velvet chair, legs parted unapologetically, while another woman—dressed in a black collar and not much else—was on her knees between them, lips and tongue engaged in a lewd act that left nothing to the imagination.

The door behind River clicked shut, and he found himself frozen in place.

He didn't know where to look. His gaze drifted to the ceiling, the carpet, the window—but no matter how many times he blinked or shifted, his eyes kept flickering back to her.

Back to that silver gaze.

She noticed, of course. Her lips curled into a lazy smirk as she made a soft, drawn-out sound—equal parts sigh and moan.

"You're cute when you try to pretend you're not curious," she said in a teasing voice, one hand gently resting atop the head moving between her thighs.

River didn't respond. He didn't know how to.

Then, with a final soft gasp, her back arched slightly, and her body trembled. Her hand tightened in the other woman's hair before gently pushing her away.

"You're done. Go." Her voice turned flat, dismissive.

The kneeling woman rose to her feet silently, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and walked past River without so much as a glance. The scent of perfume and sweat trailed behind her.

Now, it was just the two of them.

The white-haired woman stood, her bare form unabashed and confident. She plucked a silken robe from the rack nearby and slid it over her shoulders—though she didn't bother fastening it. The robe hung loose, framing her like a predator cloaked in softness.

She picked up a small remote from the table beside her, aimed it at the wide digital window that overlooked the city, and pressed a button.

The scene outside shifted.

The neon chaos of Voulton faded, replaced by the serene view of snow-draped mountain ranges, moonlight glinting off frozen peaks. The image wasn't real—just high-definition projection—but it carried a strange kind of peace. Almost like standing on the edge of the world.

She returned to her seat and crossed one leg over the other, the motion causing her robe to slide open even more, revealing the swell of her breast and the smooth line of her thigh.

"So," she began, her voice finally settling into a tone of interest, "why are you asking around about my bar?"

River cleared his throat, gathering himself. "You caught wind fast."

"Of course I did," she said. "People talk when they're drunk. Especially when someone new is sniffing around my territory."

River stepped forward slightly, no longer avoiding her gaze. "I need help."

Her silver eyes narrowed. "Help? From me?"

"I know what you are. And what you control," he replied. "Even gossip between insects can reach your ears."

Silence hung between them for a breath.

Then she leaned back and laughed softly, the sound husky and sharp. "You've got balls. I'll give you that. Not many would watch me get eaten out and still ask for favors like a professional."

River didn't flinch. "You're not a woman I can afford to offend."

Her smile deepened, a slow curling thing. "Damn right I'm not."

She tapped a finger against the armrest. "Fine, kid. You've got my attention. Now impress me. Start talking before I slit your throat."