The kitchen overflowed with the aroma of monstron stew. Sister Aeliana stood motionless over the bubbling pot, her ladle suspended in the air. Steam curled around her face, but her eyes weren't on the pot. They were glassy and distant.
From the next room, several children peeked around the corner, their little faces bunched together in a row of nervous curiosity.
"Ryo," Lio whispered, elbowing him in the ribs. "Go ask her what's wrong."
"You ask her!" He shot back.
Ribbit nervously tooted before pointing at the youngest among them. "Mina! You go. You're cute. She won't snap at you."
The girl gave a tiny squeak and ducked behind Alia's skirt, clutching the hem with wide eyes.
One of the elven girls shifted her gaze mischievously. "Brek should go. He's the oldest."
Garrett gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, if anyone's gonna get smacked, it should be you. You're the leader while Haxks is away."
Casper nodded in support. "It's your responsibility. Represent the Sprites, Brek."
The Wolfkin snorted, his ears twitching with irritation. "I'm not walking into the Bullgator's den. You wanna be stew seasoning, go right ahead."
"Where's Big Sister Tiphanna and Josephine when you need them," Theo murmured.
"Or Haxks," LR added.
Everyone nodded in unison.
Back in the kitchen, Aeliana remained still, the gravy bubbling louder now. The pop and hiss of it sent her reeling back to a memory from a fortnight ago.
The night air was suffused with perfume and incense. Crickets chirped lazily in the distance as the red-light district pulsed with muffled laughter and music from behind curtained windows.
In the quiet yard behind one of the brothels, two women sat together on a swing beneath the large branches of a tree. The creaking of the swing was the only sound between them.
Valerie wore a silken gown that loosely clung to her frame, revealing her shoulders and cleavage. Unlike usual, her face was bare—no rouge, no gloss, no glamour. Just the pale, bare skin of a woman too tired to pretend.
She gazed into the distance, eyes unfocused, as if looking through the brothel walls rather than at them. A heavy bandage wrapped the right side of her face.
Sister Aeliana sat beside her, hands loosely gripping the swing's rope. Her eyes were full of sorrow as they lingered on the injury.
"Is there really nothing that can be done?" She asked quietly, the words weighed with pain.
Valerie didn't look at her. She kept her gaze fixed on the dim light in the brothel window across the yard. "The customer refuses to take responsibility," she murmured. "And since I'm accused of breaching policy… I'm the one at fault, technically."
Aeliana's brows drew together in frustration. "But that isn't the truth, is it?"
Valerie gave a wan, defeated smile. Aeliana's fingers curled tightly around the swing's rope, heart twisting at the hollow look in the other woman's eyes. It pained her to see Valerie accept her misfortune so passively.
Her friend was accused of disclosing sensitive information about a client, which was a violation of strict brothel rules. That information had allegedly reached the man's wife, who, feeling betrayed and humiliated, demanded a divorce. In a fit of rage, the man retaliated. He went back to the brothel and attacked Valerie with a cursed weapon.
Though the wound itself had been treated, the curse persisted, leaving behind a nasty scar that no ordinary healing magic or elixir could erase.
Removing the curse would require an expensive ritual, one well beyond what Valerie could afford—and the brothel utterly refused to pay for it. From their perspective, she had broken the rules and brought shame upon the house.
But Valerie was the true victim of this farce. She hadn't breathed a word about the man to anyone else, which led her to suspect this was all orchestrated.
Among the prostitutes, it wasn't unheard of for rivalries to fester—resentment from a lost client, a stolen rank, or simply envy for youth and charm. Perhaps someone had deliberately set her up, feeding lies to the right ears to ensure her fall.
Such treachery wasn't uncommon in their world.
There were also times—rare, but not unheard of—when a prostitute and client might genuinely fall in love, hatching desperate plans to escape or elope together.
The most popular scheme is often to incite a scandal—one that accused the establishment of misconduct, forcing the brothel to pay reparations. In such cases, the prostitute, who was the accomplice, became the bargaining chip—the price for silence, and the means by which her freedom was bought.
This, Aeliana feared, was one of those times.
Or perhaps both.
And Valerie, unfortunately, was either the victim… or the collateral of this latest tragedy.
The woman's gaze drifted toward Aeliana. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice low and weary.
Aeliana blinked at the question. "What do you mean?"
Valerie turned away, her expression unreadable. "Our paths diverged a long time ago, Aeliana. We're not the same as we used to be. You're a nun now. I'm…" She gave a tired shrug. "I'm a prostitute. You're pure, holy, revered. You shouldn't be seen with someone like me."
The words struck Aeliana harder than she expected. Her brow furrowed as pain flashed across her face—not just from the insult, but from the sheer resignation in her friend's tone. Yet, behind her expression, a memory stirred.
She remembered a time long ago, when they were just children. Valerie's father had been thrown into prison for embezzlement. The scandal had shattered their family. Unable to pay the fines, she and her mother were seized as compensation and sold into slavery.
That was the last time Aeliana saw them together. Valerie had been taken by a brothel, and her mother sent somewhere unknown. From that moment on, their fates had been carved by cruel and different hands.
Aeliana's voice trembled slightly, but her words were firm. "Our worlds may be different, Valerie, but that doesn't change the fact that we're childhood friends. That's something time and title can't erase. And I won't pretend otherwise."
Valerie bit her lip and turned her face away, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips—a fragile, bittersweet thing. For a moment, she was the little girl Aeliana used to know.
"I'm being transferred," she said after a pause, her voice quieter now. "To the Zepharion Church."
Aeliana's eyes widened, alarm spreading like a crack through glass. Her spine straightened, hands tensing on the swing rope. Carefully, trying not to sound too urgent, she spoke in as calm of a tone as she could muster.
"That… that's quite the change. Wouldn't the Seraphina Church be a better fit? I know people there, so I could arrange something. You'd be well looked after."
Valerie shook her head slowly. "It's not up to me. They're sending me to that church for therapy and reform. I guess I'm damaged goods now."
Her smile lingered, pale and ghostly. "But I want to turn over a new leaf, Aeliana. Maybe… maybe it's time I find faith and surrender myself to the goddess. I want to know if there's still something in me worth saving."
Aeliana's throat tightened. The name Zepharion stirred a deep unease within her. Through Haxks, she had learnt that the church supported rigid doctrines and secret affiliations—particularly with the Mhaledictus. She could not say so directly, not here, not now—but the fear rooted itself deep in her chest.
"Is this because of the incident?" She asked.
Valerie's eyes remained distant. "Ideally, I'd still be working, at least until I paid off the supposed damages. But with this cursed wound, I'm not worthy anymore. They can't sell what's scarred. So… they're giving me another chance. A new path. A new identity. Maybe even redemption."
Aeliana swallowed her dread. "Will I at least be able to visit?"
Valerie slowly rose from the swing. The gesture felt final. "Once I start treatment… I won't be allowed contact with anyone outside. That's how it works."
Aeliana stared up at her friend as she also stood, her heart sinking. "That's horrible."
Without another word, Valerie leaned in and wrapped her arms around the dejected nun. The hug was warm, tender—and filled with a quiet farewell.
"Thank you," she whispered, her breath close to Aeliana's ear. "For coming. And for still being my friend."
And with that, she turned and walked away, her silhouette fading into the shadows of the brothel's yard. Aeliana reached out instinctively, her fingers stretching toward the retreating figure—but her hand found only empty air.
"Ouch!" She yelped, pulling her hand back from the stove as a droplet of hot gravy splattered onto her finger, jolting her back from the memory.
She rushed to the sink, flicking on the faucet and letting the cool water run over the minor burn. A sigh slipped from her lips, her shoulders sagging as the sting faded, though the weight on her chest did not.
At that moment, Fay stepped into the kitchen. Quiet and graceful, she slipped on a pair of oven mitts and removed the pot from the flame just in time to spare the meat from turning to mush—though the vegetables looked like they had already surrendered.
"Thank you," Aeliana murmured without turning, still staring down at the stream of water.
"I didn't expect Fay to be the one to save supper," one of the elf girls whispered from around the corner.
"Right?" another replied. "She's usually so quiet and always tucked away in Silvie's tent."
"Big Sister Fay is very nice," Mina said with a shy nod.
"I'll say," Garrett muttered, cheeks tinged red as his gaze lingered on the pink-haired girl.
Brek and the other Sprites stared at her, collectively enchanted by her beauty, her charm, and her soothing grace.
Theo rolled his eyes. "You all are hopeless."
"No fair!" Ribbit cried, puffing up indignantly. "I approached her first!"
"And got shot down," one of the elves reminded him dryly.
"Besides," Corey chimed in, "don't you still have the hots for Sophia?"
Ribbit extended his arms in a dramatic pose. "Alas, the silver-haired goddess and I were not meant to be. It turns out that professing my undying love and being in her radiant presence… isn't great for my health."
"And you're only just figuring that out?" Poppy remarked.
"At this point, his head's as battered as an overripe mango from all the times Haxks beat him down," Casper added. "But hey, at least he got the message before it killed him."
Ribbit growled, but the others burst into laughter.
Back in the kitchen, Fay approached Aeliana gently. "Are you okay?"
The nun showed her the small, reddened patch on her finger that was already beginning to heal. "It's nothing serious. Just a moment of carelessness."
Fay tilted her head slightly. "It's not like you to be so distracted."
Aeliana hesitated for a moment, then took the girl's hands in hers. "Would you mind watching over the children tomorrow morning while I go visit a friend? I shouldn't be gone long."
Fay studied her face for a moment, her crimson eyes calm but searching. Then she nodded. "Of course. I know you wouldn't leave unless it was important. Just…" her fingers gave a small squeeze, "if anything goes wrong, call on Midnight. And Zephyr, if you need to."
Aeliana's lips curved into a soft smile. "Thank you, Fay. Truly."