Madam Wven was still inside the brothel when the news reached her.
There had been a massacre in the Worshippers' shrine. And one of her girls had been identified among the dead.
Her expression remained calm as she finished pouring tea, filling the porcelain cup in front of her guest.
The other woman seated across from her was pale, almost unnaturally so, her skin standing out starkly against the black fabric that covered her from neck to ankle. A Victorian gothic dress.
Black gloves hid her hands. Her blue eyes were a bit clouded, nevertheless, her gaze fixed on the steam curling up from the tea.
"Hǎo," Wven said, the word rolling off her tongue with a familiar lilt as she set the teapot aside. "Misfortune, dear. How was your trip to Japan?"
The pale woman, Misfortune, lifted the cup to her lips. After a moment, the porcelain cracked, then collapsed inward, the surface flaking and disintegrating into fine ash which spilled across the furnished table.
"It was lovely, Sister Wven," Misfortune replied. Her tone flat and monotone, void of any warmth.
Still, Wven was used to her robotic voice.
Misfortune rose from her seat and opened her umbrella in one smooth motion. The black canopy snapped outward.
CLICK!
The shaft twisted. And tiny shards of blades burst from within, firing through the wall before her.
The knives drilled tiny holes into the walls, hitting something behind.
Bang!
Then a loud painful scream cut through.
"AaaHHHH!"
Wven turned just in time to see a man slammed against the far wall, pinned in place.
The knives had pierced through both knees, burying themselves deep enough to keep him upright. His blood ran down the plaster and pooled at his feet as he writhed, his mouth open in a soundless gasp.
"He's a spy from the Krats. He was eavesdropping on our conversation," Misfortune said, closing the umbrella and resting it against her shoulder. "Dear sister Wven, do what you must with him."
Wven studied the man for a moment, then glanced back at Misfortune. A smile curved her lips.
Clearly pleased, she stepped forward and pulled Misfortune into a brief embrace, one hand patting her head approvingly.
"Dear dear~ You've done well," Wven cooed. "Very well. You've grown so much stronger."
Misfortune stood there, not returning the hug. But she replied, "It's all thanks to Stolas."
Pulling back slightly, she asked:
"May I have more tea?"
Wven laughed softly. "Wait a moment, Misfortune dear. I have a small matter to attend to."
She turned and left the room, her steps unhurried as she exited the brothel.
The night air outside was cool against her skin. As she stepped forward, something made her pause.
Wven instincts could never be wrong.
Someone was watching her.
She looked up.
Perched atop a nearby building was a man she recognized. The strange customer who had booked a room not long ago. The man who called himself "Fateless" stood there, looking down at her, his cold gaze locked onto hers.
Wven frowned slightly. "Hǎo? What's he doing up there?" she muttered.
Then she blinked.
But now, where he stood was empty.
Wven exhaled and shook her head, turning away as she continued down the street.
"What a weird man."
___
Wven arrived at the shrine not long after.
The crowd had thinned, pushed back by the men in suits she could see from afar.
However, the bodies had been removed, yet stains remained where they had fallen, dark patches soaking into the stone.
She stepped over a shallow groove in the floor.
"Madam Wven."
The voice came from her right.
Stolas stood a few paces away, one hand resting neatly behind his back as he dipped into a low, courteous bow.
"You've come quickly," he said. "Unfortunate circumstances, you see. Your sister, Miss Misfortune, came to visit, yes?"
Wven stopped in front of him, her gaze flicking briefly past his shoulder.
A young man stood there. Someone she had seen almost every day at the gates of her brothel.
Jaren.
His posture was stiff, shoulders slumped. His eyes were open, but empty, fixed somewhere beyond the shrine wall. He didn't react when she looked at him.
Stolas straightened and continued, "One of your girls was among the deceased. Grace. A well- wisher and one of my disciples."
Wven's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I would like to buy her body," Stolas continued, his tone calm. "A property is a property, after all. For investigation purposes. And for this lad over here, too."
Wven glanced back at Jaren again.
"Oh, poor dear," she said softly. "Even after death, you're still not strong enough to hold on to what you like?"
Jaren stayed silent.
Exhaling slowly, she turned fully to Stolas.
"Listen, you shit. My girls aren't properties. I may be strict with them, but they are not 'things'."
Stolas eyed her, clearly unimpressed.
Wven clicked her tongue and shifted her attention back to Jaren. "Hǎo. How much do you have?"
Jaren flinched at the sound. Slowly, he lifted his head.
"Five… five thousand coins," he said, his voice hoarse.
Wven extended her hands, palms open between them.
"Then pay up," she said. "Pay all you think that bold girl is worth."
Jaren's eyes lit up.
Continuing, Wven added with a determined look. "As for that murderer… Do everything in your power. Surpass yourself. Go to any length. And get your revenge."