Huff, huff… I've been walking for the last three hours. No—not walking. I'm moving far too quickly for that word to apply. And, due to my lack of foresight, I didn't even consider hiring a carriage. But maybe that's for the best. Trying to navigate this strange, winding path in a carriage would've been awkward at best—and suspicious to the coachman at worst. Besides, I'm not even sure where this trail ends.
As I walk, I keep checking my surroundings—subtle glances, quick looks over my shoulder. Not because I know someone's following me, but because I feel like they might be. Still, turning my head too often only makes me look more suspicious. To others, I probably seem paranoid—or worse, guilty. But that's the tricky part about being pursued by things that distort perception: you never know if the danger is real… or if it's already in your head.
Well, at last, I'm here. I hope to find more answers.
Right before me stands a two-story tavern, proudly flaunting a rooftop sign that reads "The Bouquet."
Charming name, right? Sounds like it should smell like roses and broken dreams.
But no.
This place looks like it gave up on life halfway through construction. The lights on the sign flicker like they're trying to quit their job, and the whole building gives off the vibe of "I used to care, but then rent happened."
Well, it's never right to judge a book by its cover. And I'm not here for drinks or company, either.
I took a step toward the tavern door, the quiet murmur of the room behind me fading as I reached it. The door looked like it had seen better days—old, worn, and stubborn. I placed my hand on the cool wood and gave it a firm push. It didn't move easily, like it was stuck, or maybe just a little too tight. I pushed harder, the hinges creaking in protest, but the door finally gave way, groaning open just enough to let a sliver of light spill out.
After entering the tavern through the front gate, I stopped for a moment—just a few inches from the threshold. The glances of the people inside were immediate and sharp, like I was some kind of foreign object. I ignored them, letting the stares slide off me as I moved toward the empty table in the corner of the room. The seat felt oddly welcoming, but I wasn't here to relax.
I followed the trail, yes, but now I wasn't sure what came next. Sir Kane hadn't told me anything after this. No instructions, no clear plan—just follow the path, he had said. But what now?
"Hey! How many times do I have to say it—we don't accept credit! You drink, you pay. End of story!"
As I am lost in my thoughts, I suddenly hear a loud and angry voice coming from a few meters ahead in the reception area; a commotion is bubbling.
"But I told you I'll pay tomorrow! Why are you making it such a big deal?" a man whined, clearly offended that reality was still a thing.
The tavern keeper looked like she was ready to explode. "Did you not hear me? No credit. Not today, not tomorrow. You pay now, or I swear, I'll beat your fat ass!"
The Man scoffed. "Do I look like someone who just runs away from bills?"
To be honest, from the way he was avoiding eye contact and slowly inching toward the door… yes. Yes, he kind of did.
The whole thing was getting tense, fast. But from their exchange, it wasn't hard to figure out the gist: he drank, he didn't pay, he assumed "credit" was a thing, and the tavern girl was not running a drink-now-pay-tomorrow business.
Even though the girl was barely half the guy's size, she was carrying twice the courage—and probably three times the fury.
Things escalated way beyond. The guy, clearly not thinking with the smarter half of his brain, actually tried to hit her… and bolt.
Big mistake.
To my surprise—and slight horror—the girl dodged the swing like she'd done it a hundred times before. Then came the counter. One solid punch. No warning. Just boom—right in his face.
He staggered back a few meters and collapsed.
But it didn't end there.
"Oh no," I muttered under my breath, half impressed, half concerned.
She jumped on him. Literally jumped—like a wild cat. Fists flying. Zero hesitation.
"You bastard! You dare try to hit me?!" she shouted between punches.
The poor guy was getting absolutely wrecked.
Then, finally, a man rushed over from the back and pulled her off. "Lily! Stop! He's already unconscious!"
Yeah… definitely not the tavern vibe I expected from a place called The Bouquet.
"What's going on here?"
A voice rang out from the entrance of the tavern—calm, firm, and way too late to be useful.
A patrol officer had finally arrived. Took him long enough.
He stepped inside, and both Lily—the pint-sized fury machine—and the man who had pulled her off the unconscious guy started explaining the situation. What caught my attention, though, wasn't their explanation. It was how the officer was reacting.
He was being… polite. Very polite.
Too polite, actually.
That's when it hit me—he already knew them. That explains the respectful tone, the subtle nods, and the careful choice of words. Either Lily had a reputation, or she had connections. Or maybe both.
As I stood watching, my gaze drifted lower, more out of habit than curiosity—and then I saw it.
At Lily's waist, clipped casually to the side of her belt, was a badge. Same strange design as the one Sir Kane gave me—etched like a glowing rose—but this one wasn't silver. It was bronze.
After their explanation wrapped up and the patrol officer dragged the guy out of the tavern, I let out a small sigh. Maybe now things would calm down.
Or so I thought.
That's when the girl—Lily—turned her eyes on me. And oh boy, her expression was not friendly. Her brows furrowed, her lips pulled tight, and she marched toward me with the fury of a storm packed into a five-foot frame.
Wait—why is she coming here? Did I do something wrong?!
She stopped right in front of me, arms crossed, eyes blazing.
"You creep! What are you staring at?" she barked.
Oh no.
This is how people end up in jail for things they didn't do.
My brain scrambled to find an escape. Think, think—badge! That shiny little miracle Sir Kane gave me!
Without wasting a second, I fumbled into my pocket and pulled it out like a sacred offering.
"I—I'm sorry!" I stammered, holding it up between us like a shield. "I didn't mean anything weird! I was just… I noticed your badge. It looks like mine. Someone gave it to me. That's all, I swear."
I wasn't sure if I looked terrified or pathetic—or both—but at least I wasn't getting punched.
As I looked at her, I caught the sudden shift in her expression—pure shock, like I'd just pulled a sword out of thin air or declared myself the lost heir to some secret kingdom.
"Wh—Where did you get this?" she asked, her tone snapping from furious to serious in a heartbeat. There was suspicion in her voice now, the kind you'd expect if someone just caught you holding their wallet.
"I told you," I said, trying to sound calm but probably sounding more like a guilty child caught with candy. "Someone gave it to me. That's all."
I held the badge out a bit farther, just to show I wasn't hiding anything. Though honestly, the way she was staring at me, I started wondering if i had done something wrong.
"Come with me. We need to talk," she said, already heading toward a gate near the reception area.
I blinked, then hurried after her. The room we entered looked like a normal meeting lounge—neat, well-furnished, nothing too fancy, but definitely not where I expected to be dragged for an interrogation.
But she didn't stop.
Instead, she walked straight to the right-hand wall and tapped a specific spot, just beside the doorway we entered from. And to my surprise, part of the wall clicked and slid open.
Wait… what?
Is this some kind of secret door?
Before I could gather my thoughts, she stepped inside, and of course, I followed.
What I didn't expect was a staircase.
A stone one.
Leading down.
Like… underground down.
Each step echoed faintly as we descended, the air growing cooler and heavier. My shoes made soft, awkward sounds, which somehow made everything feel even more dramatic.
And then—bam.
We reached the bottom… and I just stood there, slack-jawed.
This wasn't a room.
It was a full-blown underground chamber—massive, layered with warm-toned lights, shelves full of strange items, documents, and glowing orbs I couldn't even begin to understand. The ceiling was way higher than any basement had a right to be. It felt less like a cellar and more like the headquarters of some secret organization.
"What… is this place?" I muttered, mostly to myself, trying not to look like a complete idiot.