Aria stood silently, her eyes fixed on the curtain. When it shifted, her gaze sharpened—glimmering with anticipation, widening slightly.
Suddenly, Luna burst through it, running straight toward her.
"All done?" Aria asked, her smile gentle as she rose to her feet, her eyes soft and warm.
Luna ran into her arms, hugging her tightly before looking up with a bright grin.
"Yep! Everything's done!"
Aria chuckled softly, cupping Luna's cheek with a fond touch.
"As for the bill, please send it to the Lockheart Duchy. You'll be paid accordingly."
Vivian and Anne bowed respectfully.
"Of course, Miss Aria," Vivian replied. "We'll take care of it."
"Thank you for visiting our store," she added. "We'd be delighted to serve you again anytime."
Anne stood quietly beside her, watching and learning with attentive eyes.
Aria and Luna made their way to the door, with Vivian and Anne following to see them off. Both Aria and Luna slipped on their coats in sync.
"Goodbye, and thank you for your excellent service," Aria said, offering a final smile.
Luna nodded politely in agreement.
Vivian and Anne bowed once more as Aria and Luna stepped out into the street. A light, rainy breeze drifted past them, cool and damp against their skin.
The sun began its descent, the evening slipping in quickly as night threatened to claim the sky.
Luna glanced up. "Nyx didn't show up after all."
Aria sighed, a hand rising to her forehead as she rubbed her temple in frustration.
"That brat... He promised he'd be here, but I bet he got caught up at the blacksmith's again."
Luna giggled. "He really does love swords."
Aria couldn't help but laugh too. "He really does."
Just then, Aria stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as something clicked.
"My book," she said under her breath.
She turned to Luna and crouched to meet her at eye level.
"Wait here for a second—I'll be quick."
Before Luna could respond, Aria was already on her feet, turning back toward the shop. She sprinted across the damp stone path, pushed open the door, and disappeared inside.
Luna stood under a lamp illuminating pale blue glow
then suddenly the rain intensifies, luna put her hood on she mumbles to herself " not again" with puffed cheeks she displeased by the rain
KRNK.
Luna froze. A brick shifted somewhere on the road to her left.
She turned her head.
There, half-swallowed by the dim, blue pool of a flickering lamp, stood a man draped in a cloak the color of storm-soaked stone. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Still as a shadow carved from night. In each gloved hand, a dagger caught the lamp's dying light—sleek, silent, cold as rain.
From beneath his hood, a monocle shimmered faintly—its silver chain glinting with a dim blue glow that danced like distant lightning in a midnight sea. An old, ornate umbrella, its iron frame curling with faded sigils, rested over one shoulder, shielding him from the drizzle like a relic of another age. A third dagger lay silent in a deep pocket of his cloak, its hilt worn smooth with use.
Luna's breath caught. Her pulse quickened, the air around her suddenly too thick, too suffocating. The sensation was like being watched from every angle, even though the street was empty save for them. A crushing pressure coiled around her chest.
Step by step, he approached—each stride slow, deliberate. Water splashed around his boots, echoing down the empty street like a heartbeat, filling the silence with something unsettling. He stopped beneath the lamp. The light fell across his face, revealing an expression carved from calm and shadow, an unsettling stillness in his gaze.
Luna's body tensed. Every instinct screamed. Run.
But her feet remained frozen, her heart pounding in her throat.
Then he spoke, voice low and smooth as polished obsidian.
"Don't be startled. I'm not going to hurt you."
Luna didn't move. Her fingers twitched, but she held her ground, even as a sickening sense of dread curled inside her gut.
"You piqued my interest," he continued. "Come. Let's talk."
Her eyes flicked toward the street, praying her sister would appear. Any second now.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated. "God forbid—I wouldn't dare lay a finger on a Lockheart."
A grin stretched across his face—too wide. Too white.
"I just want to talk. Nothing else."
Trapped. Every part of her screamed for escape, but there was no way out. No choice but to comply.
"Here," he said, extending a gloved hand. "Let's walk to the nearest bench and talk."
Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his. Cold. Firm. Measured.
His grip sent a shiver up her spine, a coldness that wasn't entirely from the rain.
They walked. Minutes stretched into hours as they moved down the cobbled road, each step falling too heavily. The silence between them hummed with tension, and the only sound was the rain, drumming steadily against the stones. Luna's breath came quicker now, the air seeming to press in on her, suffocating, wrapping her thoughts in a haze.
Finally, he pointed. "There. A bench—perfect for our conversation."
It waited at the end of a narrow alley. A lonely bench beneath a slight overhang jutting from the wall, just enough to shield from rain. The alley swallowed sound.
They walked toward it slowly, step by step, like sleepwalkers drawn by an unseen force. They sat.
Silence.
Luna stared ahead, unsure whether to bolt or breathe. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her hands fidgeted in her lap. Was he watching her? Could he hear her thoughts? It felt as if the entire world was holding its breath.
He sat beside her, one leg crossed over the other, fingertips pressed lightly together in thought, the stillness of his posture unsettling. His presence was suffocating, like a storm waiting to break.
Up close, he was worse—sharply elegant, with tousled blond hair that veiled one brow, eyes glimmering with cold intellect. His narrow green eyes pierced through her, venom-soft, unreadable. The way the light played on his face made him seem almost… unreal, like a phantom drawn from a nightmare.
And still, she didn't move.
Then, softly, his voice broke the silence.
"Tell me, little Lockheart… do the dead dream when they return to life?"
Luna flinched. Her breath hitched, and her mind scrambled, her body frozen as if a chill had wrapped around her bones. "What does he know?"
Her mouth curved into a smile, the tension in her shoulders a sharp contrast to the casualness of her voice. "Do they?" she asked, forcing a smirk. "Why don't you tell me?"
His brow rose, and a murmur hummed from his throat.
"Mmm. So you know…"
He leaned back slightly, folding one leg over the other again, his gaze never leaving her face.
"There's something different about you," he said, his voice dropping lower, as if savoring the mystery. "I've seen many things in my life, Miss Luna. Heard stranger still. But this… is intriguing."
His eyes glimmered, colder now.
"You saw me. Noticed me. Didn't even scream."
He turned to her fully.
"Tell me, is the noble life boring? Wouldn't you agree?"
Luna swallowed, her mouth dry. His words were sharp, calculated, meant to pry, but she couldn't let him see the fear that churned in her gut.
"Not really," she said, her practiced smile faltering just slightly. "The monotony of nobility… has its own worth."
Inside, her thoughts scrambled. "Is this working? Am I bluffing well? Gods, my brain is melting—what is this chess game?"
"Oh, really?" His voice dripped with disbelief, and she felt the weight of his words sink deeper into her chest.
She jumped in, desperate for a change in the conversation. "Wouldn't it be polite to introduce yourself?"
He blinked once, then stood smoothly. Bowed.
"My apologies, Miss. Aellion Masuvi. Captain of the Empire's Special Affairs Department."
Luna blinked back, sweat sliding down her spine, the name sending a shiver through her.
"Oh really? What do you do?"
He smiled, sitting again with the grace of someone accustomed to power. "You've already seen it. We deal with… inconvenient people."
His voice darkened, and Luna felt a tightening in her chest. The air seemed to freeze.
"So many inconvenient people… too many."
Without thinking, Luna whispered, "Cult?"
Aellion nodded. "Yes. Mainly them these days."
He drew a pocket watch from his coat, the ticking unnaturally loud in the suffocating silence.
"It's late. Your sister must be looking for you."
He rummaged through his cloak and pulled something free—a badge.
A sleek, obsidian-black badge in the shape of a raven's wing, edged in silver filigree. At its center, a small emerald pulsed faintly—cold and watchful. Beneath the wing, an archaic inscription read: Silentium per Imperium.
He handed it to her.
"Take this. A token of appreciation—for piquing my interest."
Luna's fingers trembled as she took the badge, its cold surface sending a shiver through her skin. "What… is this?"
Then, with a graceful pull of his cloak, he nodded. "Don't mention me."
And with a sudden, fluid motion, he vanished—vaulting silently onto a nearby rooftop.
Luna stood frozen. Her head spun, her breath shallow and erratic. What had just happened? Who was he really?
She turned the badge over in her hand. The emerald gleamed coldly in the dim light, like the eye of some ancient predator watching her.
"I'm in trouble," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the rain that intensified, drumming against the alley walls.
Luna stood, dazed, and wandered back toward the main street, her heart pounding beneath soaked layers of wool and disarray. "What did I just get caught in?"