The building didn't stand out.
People passed by without a second glance—some entered, some left, the bell above the door chiming softly each time. To anyone outside, it was nothing more than a small, ordinary shop.
A doll shop.
Inside, shelves were lined with figures of all kinds—porcelain, cloth, wooden—some pristine, others mid-repair. Limbs neatly arranged. Eyes waiting to be set. Threads hanging like unfinished thoughts.
Near the window, a woman sat quietly.
She looked to be in her mid-twenties, her skin flawless, untouched by time. Her hair carried a faint white tint, soft and unnatural, framing her face. Her lips, a muted rose pink, barely moved as she worked.
She wore an elaborate dress layered with delicate frills and lace, the fabric spilling outward in soft waves around her like she didn't belong to the world outside the glass.
In her hands was a doll.
A male figure dressed in a suit. White hair, neatly parted.
It was unmistakable.
Lian Ye
She carefully stitched in the final eye.
The moment the thread tightened—
The door opened.
The bell rang.
A boy stepped in, no younger than nineteen, no older than twenty-five. Calm. Composed. He held a bouquet of flowers—each one different, yet all carrying a faint, dangerous scent that didn't belong in a place like this.
His gaze fell on the doll.
Then on her.
She looked at him.
Then the flowers.
Then the doll.
Without a word, she stood and walked to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, dispersing the poison before it could settle.
As she moved, her presence shifted—more striking, more defined, like she had just stepped into focus.
She sat lightly on the window railing and spoke, her voice calm but edged.
"Why did you bring those here?"
Her eyes flicked to the flowers.
The boy glanced at them, then let out a small chuckle before placing them gently on the table.
"I just came back from a mission the faction assigned me."
The moment he said that—
She moved.
In an instant, she was right in front of him.
Close.
Too close.
Her expression wasn't calm anymore.
It was sharp—anger mixed with something deeper.
"Why wasn't I informed?"
She was:
The Captain of the Assassin Faction — The Velvet Requiem
Name: Seraphine Vale
The boy laughed softly.
He stepped past her, casual, unbothered, and sat on the same window railing she had occupied moments ago. His hand rested on the doll nearby, fingers brushing against it like it was nothing more than decoration.
Then he spoke.
"Status doesn't come with titles… it comes with results."
He tilted his head slightly, looking at her.
"And right now, yours is slipping."
A pause.
Then, colder—
"Your mission was left unfinished… and it failed."
He tapped lightly on the doll.
"So this? This is only natural."
He was:
Vice Captain of The Velvet Requiem
Name: Lucien Thorne
He let the silence sit for a moment before continuing, tone almost polite.
"The higher-ups have requested your presence."
A slight smile.
"Tonight."
"Ivy Garden."
He stood, picking up the flowers once more. With a smooth motion, he removed his hat and gave a slight bow—more mockery than respect.
Then he turned and left.
The bell rang again.
And the shop fell silent.
Seraphine stood there, unmoving.
Her gaze lingered where he had been.
Then slowly… it shifted.
To the shelf.
Among the many dolls—
One stood out.
A perfect replica of Lucien Thorne. Her expression hardened. For a moment, something darker flickered beneath her calm.
Then it was gone.
She looked away.
Adjusted her dress.
And returned to her seat by the window.
Her hands picked up the doll again—
Lian Ye
Thread.
Needle.
Silence.
Like nothing had happened.
---
Seraphine Vale stepped into the room.
It was not a room in the usual sense. It resembled a garden—sealed by walls, yet open to the sky. Flowers of different colors, species, and scents filled the space, layered so densely that the ground beneath was barely visible. Above, the roof was gone, allowing moonlight and starlight to pour in, bathing everything in a pale, silver glow.
As she walked forward, her dress brushed against the flowers, parting them softly like water.
At the far end, near the wall, a figure stood.
Hooded. Still.
A pouch rested at its waist, and its arms were adorned with bracelets and bangles that gave off faint, muted sounds with even the slightest movement.
The figure began to walk toward her.
Seraphine turned.
Her expression did not change.
"I apologize for the delay on the mission," she said quietly.
The figure stopped mid-step, tilting its head slightly as if in thought. When it spoke, its voice was clearer now—more human than before, yet still carrying something unnatural beneath it.
"No need," it replied.
"I only require one thing now… restrain him. For as long as you can."
As the words settled into the air, Seraphine reached into the small bag at her hip and pulled out a doll.
A male figure.
White hair, neatly parted.
A suit, carefully stitched.
Lian Ye.
She walked to a nearby bench and sat down, placing the doll gently on her lap.
"I apologize for my rudeness," she added, her tone steady but softer now.
"I have a condition… I cannot remain standing for too long."
The figure gave a small nod.
"That will not be an issue."
It paused briefly, then continued:
"Restrain him… and if the opportunity presents itself—kill him."
For a moment, her fingers tightened around the doll.
Just slightly.
But then, they relaxed.
"…Understood."
The figure turned to leave.
But just before it stepped away, it stopped. Its lips moved—forming silent words. The instant those unseen words were spoken—
Seraphine's body reacted.
Color drained from her skin.
Rapidly.
Her warmth vanished, her complexion paling until she looked almost lifeless—like a doll herself.
She staggered slightly, leaning against the wall, her breath shallow as she struggled to steady herself.
Then… slowly…
The color returned.
Her breathing eased.
Silence filled the garden again.
She lifted her gaze toward one corner of the room.
Something was there.
She stood, moving slowly this time, and stepped through the flowers until she reached it—a small box resting quietly among the stems.
She picked it up.
When she looked up again—
The figure was gone.
As if it had never been there.
Seraphine lowered herself onto the flowers, the soft petals bending beneath her weight.
She exhaled.
A quiet, tired sigh.
Her eyes remained fixed on the box in her hands.