The days that followed were eventful, to say the least.
The very next morning, Chiron and Emma noticed that the receptionist's corpse had vanished, as if the bloody mess from the night before had never happened.
In her place, a plump woman now sat behind the desk, her round face plastered with a polite smile, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
But Chiron could tell—the incident had been buried.
No questions. No authorities. No reports.
It wasn't just their hotel, either. In the following days, there were other attacks throughout the island town against them—on dark roads, in narrow alleys, where thieves, Pirates and other suspecious fellows tried their luck.
But luck was something they never had.
One of such night, as Emma and Chiron walked through a narrow, deserted street in search of information, a group of men, hidden in the shadows, leaped out with gleaming blades in their hands.
