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Their breaths came in ragged gasps, but there was no time to rest. The boy ran ahead with swift, practiced movements, never once looking back—yet it was clear he expected Lucius and Nai to follow. They exchanged a fleeting glance before pressing forward, their steps hastened by the distant clamor of searching guards.
The labyrinthine streets wound into narrower alleys, twisting and turning until they emerged before an unassuming, timeworn shop. Its wooden façade was dulled with age, and dust-coated windows barely allowed a glimpse inside.
"Come in," the boy commanded, his voice calm as he pushed open the door. A soft bell chimed in response, its delicate sound at odds with their hurried escape.
Lucius cast a wary glance around the dimly lit interior. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with trinkets—some valuable, others indistinguishable from mere refuse. He stepped closer, his fingers grazing the surface of an old wooden box adorned with faded, ancient letters.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the boy remarked from his place behind the cashier's counter, his tone carrying an amused lilt.
Lucius turned to him, sharp eyes narrowing. "Why did you help us?"
The boy merely shrugged. "An order from Milady."
Nai stepped forward, suspicion laced in her voice. "What do you mean?"
The boy exhaled through his nose, as if the answer were obvious. "She's waiting for you upstairs," he replied coolly. With that, he reached up and pushed back his hood, revealing a striking visage.
Beneath the heavy fabric was a young man with an androgynous elegance. His ebony-black hair framed his face, slightly tousled yet refined. Hazel eyes gleamed under the dim shop lights, their sharpness betraying an intelligence beyond his years. He wore a high-collared slate-grey blouse with neatly folded ruffles at the chest, its fabric impeccably pressed. The sleeves, billowing slightly at the wrists, were fastened with subtle silver buttons, and a delicate chain draped across his tailored black shorts, swaying with his every movement. Heavy lace-up boots completed the ensemble, lending him an air both commanding and enigmatic.
With a measured tilt of his head, he gestured towards the narrow staircase leading upward. "She does not like to be kept waiting," he said simply.
Lucius and Nai exchanged a silent glance before stepping forward, their footsteps muted against the aged wooden stairs. The ascent was brief, yet each creak of the floorboards heightened the anticipation curling within them.
As Lucius pushed open the door, a delicate fragrance of spiced tea and sugared tarts drifted into the air. A modest table sat at the room's center, adorned with an elegant porcelain tea set, wisps of steam curling from the cups. A plate of golden tarts rested beside them, their buttery scent mingling with the faint chill of the evening breeze.
The chamber itself was dimly lit, the only illumination spilling from a large, open window. Ethereal white curtains billowed softly, diffusing the outside light into a hazy glow, casting long, shifting shadows along the walls. The air was thick with an air of mystery, yet there was an undeniable refinement to the setting.
And there, framed against the window's pale light, stood the woman from earlier—the very one Lucius had collided with in the streets. Her presence was poised yet effortless, her raven-dark hair drawn into a low, intricate bun, with a few soft waves framing her face. The black-and-white dress she adorned, its layered ruffles and delicate lace, exuded an elegance befitting nobility.
At their arrival, she turned with a knowing smile, her gaze resting upon Lucius as though she had long awaited this moment.
"I have been expecting you," she murmured, her voice smooth and deliberate. With a graceful gesture, she motioned toward the chairs across from her. "Please, do sit."
Lucius hesitated only briefly before stepping forward, Nai following suit with measured caution. As they settled into their seats, the boy who had led them here remained at a quiet distance, his hazel eyes sharp as he observed from the shadows.
"…You know me?" Lucius inquired, his voice cautious, though laced with a trace of defiance. Beside him, Nai had already begun nibbling delicately on one of the tarts, though her gaze remained ever watchful.
"Yes," the woman replied softly, her hands folded neatly on her lap. "The moment I looked into your eyes, I knew. You are…" She paused, searching carefully for the right phrase, her tone briefly shadowed with reverence. "One of them."
Lucius narrowed his eyes and let out a scoffing laugh, lifting the porcelain cup to his lips. "You mean one of the Seven Dead Corpses? Honestly, I don't buy into such superstition."
At this, the woman only smiled—calm, unshaken, and strangely fond. "Where are my manners," she said, inclining her head ever so slightly with poised grace. "I am Margaret Michelle. A pleasure to make your acquaintance in person… Lucius. And you," she turned her gaze upon the girl still working on her tart, "must be his companion."
"Uh… yeah," Nai replied with a slight blink, crumbs still at the corner of her mouth.
From the corner of the room came a derisive scoff. "You should know that Madame commands a far higher profit and reputation than you," the boy muttered, "so show a little respect."
Margaret's serene smile faded as she turned toward him, her tone shifting into a firmer register. "Liam. Collect the letters from the secondary address. Now."
The boy—Liam—paused, eyes narrowed, but then bowed silently before retreating from the room.
With his departure, silence settled once more. Lucius leaned forward slightly, setting down his cup. "…So what's the deal?"
Margaret turned to him with a composed expression. Then, in a motion both subtle and revealing, she reached to her eyes and removed the delicate lenses veiling them. The moment they slipped away, her true irises were revealed—milky, clouded, yet still piercing. A blindness that was eerily identical to Lucius' own hidden hue.
And yet, despite their similarity… they both could see.
To be continued.