I moved down the corridor with my head lowered, pretending to be just another guest wandering where he shouldn't. Each door I passed leaked a different kind of excess—sweet chemical smoke, low laughter, bodies pressed too close. One room reeked of burned powder and sweat; another pulsed with music so slow it felt like a heartbeat stretched to breaking. Shadows twisted on the walls, silhouettes overlapping in ways that made my stomach tighten.
I opened the first door. People lounged on velvet couches, eyes glassy, hands careless. A man laughed too loudly, his pupils blown wide, a woman tracing idle patterns on his arm like she wasn't really there.
I shut it.
Second door. Chains hung from the ceiling—not restraining anyone, just displayed, polished, and ornamental, like trophies. Incense burned thick enough to sting my nose.
Third door. A haze of smoke, bodies moving lazily, detached. Pleasure without joy.
Cerberus chuckled in my head. Those are signs, boy. Invitations. Why not unwind a bit?
"Focus," I muttered under my breath, fingers tightening around the door handle. My pulse was starting to slip out of rhythm—not hunger, not anger, but something dangerously close to distraction.
The fourth door creaked when I pushed it open.
Darkness spilled out, thick and deliberate. Not the careless dimness of the other rooms, but something intentional—curated. I stepped inside, my senses flaring, as my supernatural sight cut through the shadows that normal eyes would drown in.
I closed the door.
A single candle burned at the center of a small table, its flame steady, unnatural in a place like this. No flicker. No draft. The light barely reached the walls.
Then I felt it.
Presence.
Two silhouettes sat behind the table. No matter how hard I focused, my vision slid off them like oil on glass. I could see their eyes, though.
Amber, steady and heavy, like molten gold that had learned patience.
Blue, cold and amused, sharp as moonlight on glass.
My instincts screamed.
"I'm sorry," I said, keeping my voice even, my hand already drifting toward the door behind me. "I'm looking for my companion. I got separated. I didn't mean to intrude."
I turned the handle.
The door was gone.
In its place—pure white. Endless. A blank nothingness that swallowed depth and direction alike. My breath caught before I could stop it.
"You aren't lost, puppy," the woman said gently. Her voice carried a smile, smooth and unhurried. "We led you here."
That was when it clicked.
The weight in the room. The way reality bent instead of broke.
I slowly turned back to them.
Nihilkin.
Not just any—but them.
Morpheus and Midas. The organizers. The unseen hands that shaped this entire event.
"Why," I asked, not raising my voice, but not softening it either.
The man with amber eyes leaned forward slightly. The candlelight bent around him instead of touching him. "We're here to give you a warning," he said calmly. "Don't cause trouble on our turf."
I let out a quiet breath. "Or else."
The woman tilted her head slightly. "You've already crossed paths with Hephaestus. You wounded him. Humiliated him."
The name sent a faint echo through my bones.
"He'll be looking for you," she continued. "So will the authorities. And Gulop's strings reach further than you think. As we speak, he might have already found someone to deal with you. Adding us to your list of enemies would be… inefficient."
They're sending a message, Cerberus growled. They won't hesitate to fight you if you disrespect them.
I straightened. "Then I'll show respect," I said. "Miss Midas. Mr. Morpheus. I won't spill blood here." I paused, letting the words settle. "But I have business that needs to be done."
The woman laughed, light and musical. "My, my. You've got it wrong, Cerby. I'm Morpheus." She gestured lazily toward her companion. "And he's Midas."
Inside me, Cerberus snapped.
DISRESPECTFUL! he roared. My name is Cerberus, not Cerby. Let me out, kid, and I'll give this so-called god of sleep and dream an eternal one.
I winced internally. You're overreacting, I thought. It's just a nickname.
Shut up, Cerberus snarled. I hate that name. Too cute. Too small.
Midas spoke, his voice calm, measured. "Allow us to extend proper hospitality to a fellow Nihilkin," he said. "Mr. Cerberus." His amber eyes flicked knowingly. "You're looking for the girl abducted from the Red District. And the ones who're responsible."
"Yes," I answered without hesitation.
He nodded. "She'll be auctioned later tonight. Fortunately for you, Miss Farguan seems… fond of you." A faint smile touched his voice. "She's willing to provide financial backing for your bid."
My brow furrowed. "Miss Farguan… you mean Rebecca?"
"Exactly," Morpheus said, smiling openly now. "You should treasure a woman like her. Helping you without asking for anything in return." Her tone dipped into teasing. "That kind of loyalty is rare."
I cleared my throat, deliberately changing the subject. "You mentioned hospitality. Why can't I just take the girl and leave?"
Midas folded his hands. "Every house has rules. Same here. Once a subject is processed for auction, they cannot be removed. To do so would damage our reputation."
"Then why start a business like this?" The words slipped out colder than I intended.
"Money," Midas replied simply.
"You misunderstand us," Morpheus added. "This is a gray market. We auction more than women—artifacts, data, contracts, anything that has value."
"Then why allow abductions?"
"We don't," Morpheus said evenly. "We can't control the gangs. Most who enter our auctions do so voluntarily. Abductions are… inefficient."
"Then why?" I pressed.
Midas's eyes hardened—not cruel, just honest. "Money. For many, this is the fastest way out of the slums. Some hope a wealthy patron will favor them. The auction is only the beginning."
"Disgusting," I said quietly.
Midas leaned back slightly. Even seated, he carried himself like someone used to being obeyed. "Disgusting," he repeated calmly, tasting the word. "That's an easy judgment when you're strong enough to refuse the world."
Morpheus's blue eyes gleamed. "And when you still believe refusal changes anything."
I clenched my jaw. "It changes what I become."
Cerberus stirred, amused but tense. Careful, kid. These two didn't build this place by tolerating lectures.
"I'm not lecturing," I said. "I'm here for one girl."
Midas nodded, as if that answer pleased him. "Single-minded. That's admirable. Also dangerous."
The white void behind the door pulsed faintly, like fog lit from within. My instincts screamed not to turn my back on it.
"You said she'll be auctioned later," I said. "When?"
Morpheus tapped one long finger against the table. "Midnight. Private floor. Invitation-only bidders. High stakes."
"That's in less than an hour."
"Indeed," Midas replied. "Which is why Miss Farguan's interest in you matters."
I hesitated. "Why does she even help you run this place?"
A soft laugh escaped Morpheus. "She doesn't. She tolerates us. There's a difference."
Midas added, "Rebecca uses this venue to gather information and leverage. We provide a stage. She despises the ugliness of it as much as you do—but she understands utility."
Cerberus snorted. Sounds like someone you'd like, kid.
"Shut up," I muttered.
Morpheus leaned forward slightly. "You see, Cerberus, morality here isn't absent. It's… flexible. Everyone pays something to survive. Some pay money. Some pay bodies. Some pay blood."
I felt my claws itch beneath my skin. "And you? What do you pay?"
Midas smiled thinly. "Reputation. Constant vigilance. And the displeasure of creatures like you."
The air shifted. Not hostile—measured. Like two predators deciding whether a fight was worth the cost.
I exhaled slowly. "I already told you. I won't spill blood here."
"And we believe you," Morpheus said. "Which is why we're talking."
She stood, her silhouette stretching unnaturally tall for a moment before settling again. "We'll allow you to participate in the auction. Officially."
"Participate," I repeated. "Not intervene."
"Win," Midas clarified. "Legitimately."
I frowned. "What if I don't have enough?"
Morpheus smiled knowingly. "You won't be bidding alone."
Cerberus went quiet. That alone made my chest tighten.
I remained silent.
Midas spread his hands. "We're offering you a path that doesn't end in chaos. Refuse, and you'll still try to save her. You'll just do it violently."
Silence stretched between us.
I hated that they were right.
"Fine," I said at last. "I'll play by your rules. For tonight."
Morpheus inclined her head. "Wise."
"But understand this," I continued, voice low. "If she gets hurt. If anyone tries to move her before the auction ends—rules or not—I will tear this place apart."
The candle flared, reacting to my pulse.
Midas's amber eyes sharpened. "Duly noted."
The white void behind me receded, the door reappearing as solid wood. The room felt smaller suddenly, like it was letting me go.
As I reached for the handle, Morpheus spoke again, softer this time. "Cerberus."
I paused.
"You're not wrong to be disgusted," she said. "Just don't let it blind you. This world eats those who refuse to learn its shape."
I didn't turn around. "I'm not here to learn it," I said. "I'm here to change what I can."
Outside, the noise rushed back in—music, laughter, breathless excess. The stench of corruption wrapped around me again.
Cerberus stirred. "Midnight, huh."
"Yeah," I whispered, slipping back into the crowd. "Midnight."