Corven and Rose stepped into the tailor shop—and immediately, any expectation of elegance died a quick, unceremonious death.
The space was small, cramped even, with barely enough room to breathe let alone browse. Clothes littered the floor in tangled piles or hung haphazardly from rusted hooks above, swaying gently with each draft that snuck through unseen cracks in the walls. The air carried a thick blend of fabric dust, old smoke, and something vaguely metallic—blood, perhaps, or just imagination.
Cleanliness was debatable. Parts of the shop looked serviceable, lived-in in a rustic way... while others bordered on outright squalor.
"Fresh bloods?" drawled a voice from behind the counter.
The vampire responsible lounged lazily in a cracked leather chair, one leg slung over the other as he puffed calmly from a blackened pipe. His crimson eyes barely lifted as he spoke.
"Yeah," Rose replied, eyeing him warily. "Leywin recommended us here."
"I see…" the man groaned as he stood, the motion slow, deliberate—and punctuated by the audible pop of stiff joints cracking one by one.
He shuffled over to a nearby drawer, rummaged through it, then grabbed a dull red gemstone about the size of a plum. Without ceremony, he wiped it clean against the sleeve of his ragged coat.
Then, with a flick of the wrist, he tossed it toward them.
"That's it," he said, collapsing back into his chair like the act had winded him. "And since that brat led you here, it's on the house."
He took another long drag from his pipe, exhaling smoke shaped like lazy rings into the air.
Corven caught the gem easily, turning it over between his fingers. It pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat of its own.
"How are we supposed to use them?" he asked.
The tailor pointed vaguely toward the far end of the shop. Three small fitting stations stood there—partitioned off by mismatched curtains, and looking more like makeshift storage stalls than changing rooms.
"Just strip outta what you've got on and swallow it. Should kit you out in something reasonable," the tailor grunted.
Rose blinked, taken aback. "Swallow it…?"
"Yep. Why?" the man smirked without opening his eyes. "It's red, ain't it? Should go down easy."
Corven let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess we should try it out then."
Rose flipped the gem in her palm, eyeing it with suspicion. "Seems kinda risky, no?"
"It's fine. I don't sense any harm in his voice," Corven replied, already heading toward the nearest stall.
Rose gave a small shrug, her lips curling into a crooked smile. "If you say so," she said, following after him.
Corven pulled the curtain shut behind him, the dull fabric whispering as it settled into place. The tiny space was barely large enough to turn around in. Still, it felt good—almost sacred—to finally strip off his ruined, blood-soaked clothes. The dried stains pulled and cracked as he peeled them off, his body aching in relief once freed.
'So I just need to swallow this?' he thought, staring at the gem nestled in his palm.
Without further hesitation, he tilted his head back—and swallowed it whole.
The reaction was instant.
A pulse of energy surged through him. His heart lit up, literally glowing through skin and flesh, illuminating his ribcage with a ghostly red light. It beat once—twice—before the glow spilled outward, weaving threads of shadow and silk across his bare skin.
Fabric materialized from the center of his chest and snaked outward like magic spun from blood and thought. A sleek, black suit took form across his body, fitting perfectly. It was elegant, minimal, and clearly not built for war—but then again, he didn't need armor.
He was a vampire. He was the weapon.
Corven couldn't help the low laugh that escaped him. "This is great…"
He stepped out—and paused.
There stood Rose, already changed. Her new outfit was a deep crimson dress, hugging her figure with just enough flow to allow for swift movement. The hemline flirted with the tops of her thighs, short enough for agility, long enough to stay decent. Functional, deadly, and beautiful all at once.
"How do I look?" she asked, twirling just slightly.
"Incredible, honestly," Corven replied without missing a beat.
She raised a brow, grinning. "Is that really all the praise you can give me?"
"You already know I'm not a charmer," he shot back with a half-smile.
But before the banter could deepen, the tailor waved them off dismissively.
"If you two are done, then get out," he said, puffing lazily. "I'd rather not have two people flirt in front of me."
They exchanged amused looks—then did as told.
Exiting the shop, they returned to the streets of Underzen, the ever-present twilight glow washing over them like starlight filtered through stone.
Here, beneath the surface of the world, anything felt possible.
And their journey had only just begun.