Séraphine and Tania parked near their detective agency and quickly walked toward the door. After opening the metal door on the outside, both women entered the building.
A small sign on the glass door displayed the word 'Closed' on the outside. With a simple twist, the sign now read 'It's Open.' After completing this brief procedure, Séraphine glanced at Tania, who approached the area where the receptionist usually sat.
"The boss said it was my turn this time. I hope I can help you, Séraph," the girl said, noticing her look. She placed her hands on the hem of her dress and curtsied while giggling.
Her dress was far from typical for a secretary: a blue summer dress with a red floral print that matched her tattoos quite well.
She deftly sat down in the receptionist's seat, lightly fiddled with the black phone, and grabbed a notebook from the desk. Instead of opening it, she arranged it the same way she did with the other objects nearby.
"Sometimes I feel like Ronnie is my training wheels," Séraphine complained, noting that her secretary seemed to have an unusual tendency to organize things obsessively.
.
"You and the boss get along well. It was us girls who decided to give you a little help, and the boss coordinated everything," Tania replied, shaking her partially bare shoulders before turning in her chair.
"It's not like we're dating or anything. I won't be your mistress," Séraphine said with a hint of embarrassment in her voice. This caused Tania to stop spinning and give her a teasing look.
"You just made me lose 50 Aureum," Tania mumbled, faking a pained expression.
"What kind of bets do you make with each other?" Séraphine asked, her tone of voice hinting at annoyance as she flashed a rude gesture at Tania, who laughed at it.
"Sometimes you get bored waiting for customers at the bar. But if you do me a favor..." Tania stopped talking and looked at Séraphine's legs. She didn't need to finish her sentence to make it clear what she wanted.
"When your shift is over, go to my place," Séraphine whispered, moving closer to Tania and gently touching her chin. This caused the woman to look up at her.
Nothing was said, and an odd atmosphere filled the air before Séraphine released Tania's face and walked toward her office. When Tania noticed that Séraphine was gone, she relaxed in the swivel chair, a smile tugging at her red lips.
With her arms resting on the desk and her hands supporting her head, Tania stared outside through the room's glass panes. After sighing, she let out a few faint murmurs.
"Looks like someone finally wants to have some proper fun. That earned me 100 Aureum." After saying that, Tania fell silent again, repeatedly thinking about that brief moment with Séraphine.
Influenced by her thoughts, the gem on her forehead emitted a soft glow. However, with the sunlight streaming into the establishment, this occurrence went unnoticed by anyone looking inside the detective agency.
𑄝𑄝𑄝𑄝𑄝𑄝𑄝
Although Séraphine's detective agency was not a large establishment, with only one floor and a basement, she felt at home as she walked through its corridors. Apart from the reception area, the corridors only led to a few places: her office, a storage room, a restroom, and a door to the basement.
It could seem small and even restrictive to others, but Séraphine was used to it and found it cozy. However, her first stop was not her office, but the storeroom.
There were empty shelves with various boxes and several filing cabinets, as well as a small arsenal. Since she was the only one who was supposed to be there besides the women from the O'Connor bar who took turns working as receptionists, she had no fear that anything here would cause her trouble.
Her arsenal was small but well-stocked. There were pistols, shotguns, rifles, a box of bullets, and cartridges. There were even a couple of carefully placed grenades. However, the most striking item was a rapier.
Its handle was quite stylized with a rose in its design. The blade was like that of any other rapier, except for the small lines carved into the metal running the length of the weapon.
When Séraphine saw the rapier, she felt a pang of pain as she remembered who had given it to her: her master. She never used it, though. She had never dared to hold it, even though she had the training and the necessary documents to carry it freely.
She just felt she wasn't ready yet. After looking at the rapier for a couple more seconds, she approached a wooden box filled with special bullets. The box was decorated with intricate lines.
Upon opening the box, she saw that it contained bullets. Each bullet had small blue lines that formed special patterns, and a few had more than one pattern carved into them, creating complex circuits.
Séraphine took off her hat and reached in, pulling out her revolver. She began to load it with six of the decorated, or rather, enchanted bullets. She had paid a lot of money for this batch of special bullets, and last night, she had seen how effective they were. As she loaded her gun, she looked at a small note next to the box.
[If you want more bullets like this, you know the price and where to find me!]
Those words were written in elegant cursive calligraphy, reminding Séraphine of the person who had sold her the enchanted bullets and her current arsenal.
Francisca Zhang was a peculiar woman at first glance because, despite the strangeness of her Western name and Eastern surname, her appearance was much more contradictory.
She was a redhead with black eyes and somewhat sharp features that denoted her mixed heritage from the Eastern Continent, specifically Serica. Francisca was the perfect blend of both, in a sense. She carved a niche for herself in the city through business ventures that leveraged her primary asset: her alchemy skills.
Francisca was a skilled alchemist, and she had made not only the enchanted bullets but also the potion that Séraphine had drunk the night before at the construction site and the pills.
'I must visit her soon,' Séraphine thought, remembering that she was missing some alchemical supplies. This caused her to shake her head slightly.
Séraphine didn't want much contact with Francisca because of her connections. Someone capable of selling weapons to a detective, even if she was a somewhat famous witch in the newspaper, indicated that she was dangerous.
However, as Séraphine had mused, she would have to contact Francisca sooner or later, even if her prices were high. Alchemists were treated like precious and scarce jewels these days, especially since technological advances either kept them busy or took away their past advantages.
Although the fuel used in automobiles is called 'alchemical,' it is generated through an industrial, automated process. This was considered the first great blow to the alchemists' monopoly.
For the same reason, tension arose between the alchemists who joined the scientists in exploring the world through science and materialism and those who refused to change, preferring artisanal creations.
As a witch, Séraphine was somewhat affected by this issue. However, she did not consider it very important because she knew a fundamental truth that she had discovered as a child: knowledge expands horizons, which could be said to be a pillar of magic.
'As long as I can learn, what does it matter? Sometimes I wish magic had as much structure as science!' Séraphine complained after recalling some magical accidents she had experienced as an apprentice, especially the one that had cursed her.
With six bullets in a quick loader and her revolver in her hat, Séraphine reflected on the comforts technology had brought her. She felt it was superior to the stories she had heard about the past.
'No thanks. Imagine having to fill the streets with manure,' Séraphine thought, mentally thanking human progress before getting down to business.
"Now, let's review today's case. I feel that something interesting is about to happen," she murmured before approaching a filing cabinet to look for the folder she needed.
She had made many arrangements for this case, which had caught her attention from the beginning. Finding the folder, she began to read it as she left the storage room and walked toward the store's basement.
The documents in the folder were about her client, a wealthy woman named Elizabeth Schwan. Three days ago, Mrs. Schwan came to Séraphine's agency asking for something simple: evidence of her husband's possible infidelity.
It was a typical case for a detective, but something in Mrs. Schwan's story made Séraphine realize that things were not as simple as they seemed. She activated her Vision to take a brief look at the woman, and what she discovered made her even more interested.
"Now, let's see how the images I got are doing," Séraphine muttered as she descended the stairs to the basement.
As she turned on the light, a wide space covered with well-organized objects appeared in front of her. The most important thing in this place, however, was the strange blue pattern on the floor: a ritual circle.
As a witch, Séraphine didn't like rituals that much, but she knew that when mixed with spells and certain external tools, they could accomplish things that would normally be complicated.
Séraphine focused on the center of the ritual: strands of brown hair that looked damaged, with burn marks. Next to the strands was a clear crystal sphere, its interior filled with a soft blue glow that gently twisted.
Séraphine bent down to pick up the crystal ball and gathered the useless strands of hair. She looked carefully at the ritual circle, found no flaws in its structure, and nodded with an excited smile.
"You're too expensive to create, so don't break, okay?" Séraphine said to nothingness. She didn't care how strange this might seem to an outsider; she was very possessive of her things and liked to talk to them.
She subconsciously attributed a certain sensitivity to her belongings, as if she were the only one who knew they were alive, perhaps because they belonged to her.
Séraphine knew this was peculiar, but every witch has her oddities. She thought of the various odd things the different wizards, witches, alchemists, and warriors she knew did; each had their eccentricities.
Séraphine took a small stool from her basement, placed the folder she was holding on her lap, and held the crystal ball with both hands. Despite its appearance, the crystal ball was quite heavy.
"I never thought a wealthy woman would dare bring me her husband's hair. She must be desperate for evidence, or maybe she wants the money she'll get in the divorce.
Only something like that could justify her letting me record myself doing this, despite the possible violations of her privacy." Séraphine looked at the blue energy contained in the crystal ball, her aether, something that would help her get what she wanted.
Images of Mrs. Schwan's husband appeared. She used an expensive ritual circle and spent her aether. She even used a crystal ball capable of storing aether, a costly object, for something she could have done with a simple camera.
But all these twists and turns served to inflate the price of her services! If the lady only wanted photos of her husband cheating, she could have gotten them from any other detective agency. So why did she come to Séraphine?
Séraphine thought of three simple answers to this question.
First, she was a witch who used mysterious methods, which appealed to the upper echelons. Second, she was well-known and often appeared in the newspaper, which created a positive image in the minds of customers, as even the police would ask her for help.
The last reason was her last name: Rohan. At the thought of her last name, and consequently her parents, a grimace appeared on Séraphine's face. She quickly turned her attention back to the crystal ball in her hands.
'Don't think about them now,' she thought, dispelling the discomfort she had just felt.
"Well, let's see what I've recorded. I don't know if I'll see an unfaithful man or waste my time," Séraphine said, trying to cheer herself up, before closing her eyes and searching deep within herself.
Despite her weakened state from the spells used the night before, she channeled aether from her soul through her body, worsening her condition slightly.