"I heard there was an incident in the red light district."
The words slipped in just as the hospital doors parted.
Air changed immediately. Clean, sharp, edged with antiseptic and something boiled too long. It settled in the back of the throat, not unpleasant—just final. Like whatever entered here had already been decided.
"Dear, it seems Miss Devi was rather upset."
Daria's voice stayed light. Her fingers didn't.
They tightened around mine for a fraction of a second as we crossed the threshold, then eased as if nothing had happened.
"It seems so, dear."
Our steps softened on the polished floor. Sound didn't vanish—it was managed. Shoes whispered. A trolley rolled past, its wheels turning with careful restraint. Somewhere down the corridor, a voice started, then lowered itself before finishing.
We approached the reception.
"Good morning, Miss. We are here for Miss Victoria Lastrone."
The receptionist looked up.
Her eyes paused just long enough to place us—clothing, posture, presence—then she nodded.
"Down the hall. Third door to the left."
Her gaze dropped back to her desk.
No curiosity.
No delay.
Procedure.
We were guided anyway.
A nurse stepped ahead, pace measured, hands folded lightly at her front. Daria's attention didn't settle. It moved—corners, reflective glass, half-open doors. Not searching.
Accounting.
The corridor stretched longer than it needed to. White walls broken by frames that held nothing worth remembering. Light pooled along the floor in steady bands, shifting slightly as we passed through them.
The nurse stopped.
Knocked once.
Opened the door.
Victoria sat angled toward the window.
Light rested across her shoulders, pale gold catching along the strands of her hair. It didn't soften her.
It revealed her.
Too still.
"Good afternoon, Victoria. How are you?"
I stepped closer. The floor gave a faint sound under my weight—small, contained.
She turned.
"Mr Kamon… morning. And you too, Mrs Daria."
Her voice held.
Her eyes didn't.
The redness lingered along the edges, faint swelling beneath them. The bandage at her temple sat clean, precise, but the skin around it hadn't settled into normal yet.
"I was told you could go home. Do you want to?"
Daria was already beside her.
Hands found hands.
Victoria exhaled.
Short.
Not quite a laugh.
"Yeah… I do."
A pause.
"And… I have to talk with Heiwa."
The name stayed in the space longer than the rest of the sentence.
It didn't echo.
It settled.
"Oh, then you will be heading back to Zhōngchéng Zhōu."
Daria reached for the tray beside the bed. The bowl shifted slightly as she lifted it, ceramic brushing against metal with a soft scrape.
"But before that—you eat."
Victoria blinked once.
Then nodded.
"Right."
The spoon tapped lightly against the bowl.
A small sound.
Repeated.
She took a bite. Slow. Careful. Each motion deliberate, as if confirming that it still belonged to her.
We didn't speak.
The room held it.
Outside, a bird crossed the window. Its shadow slid briefly along the wall, stretching, then breaking apart as it passed.
Victoria finished.
The spoon rested.
Daria took the bowl back without asking.
We left.
The door closed behind us with a quiet click that sealed the space again.
Outside, the air felt different.
Less controlled.
Cooler where it slipped between buildings, despite the sun pressing down from above.
We walked.
No carriage yet.
The ground held a faint warmth, stored from earlier, but the breeze cut through it in narrow lines that shifted with each step.
"Who rescued me?"
Victoria didn't look at us when she asked.
Her gaze stayed forward.
"I was told the police were the ones who brought you to the hospital."
My voice matched the pace of our steps.
Even.
Measured.
She nodded.
Slow.
"From what I overheard… am I tied to the incident at the red light district?"
A carriage passed us. The wheels ground softly, the horse's breath visible for a moment before fading into the air.
"Yes. It seems you were kidnapped and kept there."
Her step faltered.
Barely.
Then continued.
"The police contacted us later in the morning."
Daria turned her head slightly.
"Do you have any recollection of the incident?"
Victoria's fingers pressed into her sleeve. Fabric creased beneath the pressure, then smoothed as her grip shifted.
"No… everything blacked out."
She paused mid-step.
The breeze lifted a strand of her hair, then dropped it back against her cheek.
"The last thing I remember was waking up in a room."
Her hand rose, stopping just short of her face.
"I tried to move… and then—"
Her fingers hovered.
"—I was slapped."
Silence followed.
She lowered her hand.
"After that… nothing."
The street moved around us. Voices rose and fell. A vendor called out a price. Someone argued. Coins exchanged hands.
None of it touched us.
"Must have been them having to fight with Kuro or something."
Her voice dropped.
Thinner now.
"I see."
Daria didn't respond.
Her gaze lingered on Victoria a second longer than necessary before returning forward.
We kept walking.
The airship dock announced itself before it appeared.
Sound first.
Layered.
Voices overlapping, metal striking metal, the low hum of engines building beneath everything else. The air shifted next—salt and fuel mixing unevenly, catching in the throat.
Then the structure came into view.
Busy.
Always.
"Where's Miss Alvie?"
Victoria scanned the space without turning fully.
I smiled faintly.
"We're going to pick her up from here."
We moved through the crowd.
Bodies passed close enough to brush against sleeves. A crate shifted somewhere to our left, the wood scraping against stone as it was dragged into place.
"Is she not here yet?"
Daria's voice threaded through the noise.
"Where did she go?"
A dock worker shrugged when we asked.
"She went to see someone."
That was all.
We didn't press.
We found a place to sit.
The bench was warm from the sun. It cooled slowly beneath us as time passed.
A tray moved through the crowd—glasses clinking softly with each step.
Daria lifted her hand.
"Three."
The vendor stopped.
Set them down.
"I don't have any money on me."
Victoria said it automatically, almost before the glass reached her.
"I'll cover it."
Daria didn't look at her.
"Thank you."
Victoria took a sip.
The glass touched her lip, paused, then lowered again. Condensation gathered at the edges, a drop sliding down and catching briefly at her fingers before falling.
"Shubh dopahar."
The voice arrived first.
Miss Alvie followed.
She stepped into the space without hesitation, her pace unhurried, her expression already settled into something unreadable.
"Good afternoon. How was your trip?"
Daria adjusted slightly to make room.
"It was okay."
Alvie sat.
Then turned.
"Victoria. How are you?"
"Fine… I guess."
A pause.
Victoria's eyes flicked once.
"Nice sari too."
Daria's fingers adjusted the edge of the fabric at her shoulder. A small movement. Precise.
"You two have been requested to return to the regional headquarters."
I lifted my glass.
The liquid shifted, catching light briefly before settling.
"Oh?"
Alvie's gaze moved to me.
Victoria straightened.
"Then who's going to keep an eye on the Marquis?"
"He'll do just fine."
Daria's tone stayed even.
"And with me, that makes four of us."
"Four?"
Victoria's brow creased slightly.
"Don't worry about it."
I cut in.
The answer wasn't needed.
Not here.
"I would like a cup of—"
"No time."
Victoria stood.
The bench creaked faintly as the weight shifted.
"We have to head back."
Her hand tightened around the strap of her bag.
"I have to speak with Heiwa."
That was the only tell.
I stood.
Coins changed hands again.
No delay.
We moved.
The carriage ride to the station passed without conversation.
The wheels struck the road in steady intervals. Each turn shifted the light across the interior, sliding over faces, then away again.
No one spoke.
Not out of tension.
Out of occupation.
Each somewhere else.
The station met us with noise.
Steam burst outward in sharp releases. Metal ground against metal. Voices cut through the air, announcing arrivals, departures, delays that no one wanted to hear.
Tickets were purchased quickly.
Paper exchanged.
Hands moved.
No complications.
"Don't forget—you still owe me."
Alvie's voice came low as she stepped toward the train.
Victoria didn't respond.
Or didn't hear.
The doors closed.
A dull sound.
Final.
They boarded.
We stepped back.
The engine rumbled.
Low.
Heavy.
"Do you think Miss Victoria will be alright?"
I didn't take my eyes off the train.
Daria didn't look at me.
"She'll pull through."
The train moved.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
The platform slid backward. Figures blurred. The sound stretched into a continuous line that thinned as distance grew.
We watched until it became shape.
Then line.
Then nothing.
For a while, we didn't move.
The space they left didn't close.
It stayed.
Daria shifted first.
Her finger tapped lightly against my arm.
"Owe her?"
"Lunch."
I reached for my cigarette.
The match struck. Flame flared. Then steadied.
"I caused her to get a nosebleed after asking about the epoch of the demigods."
She exhaled through her nose.
Soft.
"You could go to the museum if you're curious."
Smoke curled upward, breaking apart almost immediately in the open air.
"True."
I watched it vanish.
"But it never has the whole picture."
"That's fair."
She took the dagashi I handed her. Turned it once between her fingers. Bit.
"We could still go."
I nodded.
"We could."
We walked.
The street stretched ahead—vendors calling, goods shifting hands, footsteps crossing without pattern.
Life didn't pause.
It never did.
"We could invite her for dinner next time."
Daria spoke between steps.
I shrugged.
"Should be fine."
We walked a little longer.
Then flagged a carriage.
The driver didn't ask.
The horse moved.
The city shifted around us—noise rising, falling, narrowing into quieter streets, then opening again.
"We should buy some meat."
Daria leaned slightly against the side.
"I'm in the mood for curry."
Of course.
"Should we head to the Marquis' place?"
I nodded.
The carriage turned.
The road changed beneath us.
"The Tally-Blade Gladius…"
The words slipped out under my breath as the city passed in fragments beyond the frame.
Some things didn't stay buried.
Some things—
Didn't need to be called.
They returned anyway.