The day after 2008 started, Felicia Hardy stood before a flower shop in the bustling mall. Her striking green eyes were locked onto clusters of roses, the black ones in particular had a hypnotizing effect on her. The velvety petals seemed to absorb light. The soft yet lingering fragrance layered with a subtle scent of damp soil stirred memories she'd nearly forgotten.
'Dear me, I didn't skip lectures to admire roses.'
Dragging herself back from the distraction, she weaved through the crowded mall, her leather jacket brushing past holiday shoppers and their hefty bags. Her eyes flickered from one storefront to another as she scanned their window displays. She wasn't here to buy anything, not in the traditional sense. She needed inspiration, a spark to nail the design of her Black Cat suit. A real, professional attire needed visually pleasing aesthetics, proper function and utility while still being a disguise to hide her identity.
And it had to be a bold design.
A movie poster outside the theatre caught her attention mid-stride. It was first in the Matrix trilogy, re-releasing for the New Year occasion. She wasn't drawn to the movie but the suit worn by one of the female actors.
'Bingo!'
The classics never gave up on Felicia; they never let her down.
She slipped into a nearby café, the warmth wrapping her like a blanket as the door chimed shut behind her. She claimed a corner table near the window, pulled out her notebook, and sketched furiously. The side of her notebook had a few labels pinned: lightweight, sleek, stylish, masked, black, tight but flexible enough for acrobatics.
After minutes, she lifted the notebook into light. "Parfait!" (Perfect)
Heads turned instantly. Only now she realized that she was still in a cafe, where conversations were in whispers and peace was preserved. The crowd of ten or so plus the barista glared her way.
She gave a small bow. "Sorry!"
Lowering the notebook, she sat back down as if nothing happened. This much attention was barely anything compared to what she got during her gymnastics and swimming classes, and absolutely nothing against the attention her night career's accomplishments got from news outlets and NYPD. The heists, as small as they may be, put her second identity in the spotlight.
She never stole for money. No, such pedestrian reasons tainted her… craft. Yes, craft. She was an artist, sharpening her craft so that one day she would free her father from prison. So that one day the father and daughter could make every rich, loathsome fellow shiver.
'Have patience, dearie me. That day will come soon.'
A confident smirk tugged at her lips.
'Very soon.'
As she tucked away her notebook, her focus turned to a couple entering the cafe. The surroundings seemed to freeze over in that second. Her eyes were drawn first to the woman, whose black dress trailed the floor yet remained completely free of dust. Long raven hair framed features that seemed timeless—snow-pale skin, dark eyes, and an expression of serene detachment. She looked like she'd stepped out of a fairy tale.
The man beside her matched her in his own way—sharp-jaw, perfectly sculpted features, a lean, muscular build beneath a dark coat, and posture oozing calm confidence. Together, they looked unreal. Picture-perfect. Too perfect.
That raised every red flag Felicia had.
'A movie shoot?'
She quickly scanned outside through the glass panels. No crew. No cameras. No lights or equipment. Yet the odd prickling didn't go away. Something was off about the couple. Something she couldn't put into words, but her sharp senses felt it vividly.
Then the man's gaze swept the café and landed on her. That alone wouldn't trigger any red flag as men tend to check her out quite often. But the raw surprise in his eyes was hard to ignore, as though he recognized her.
'What's with that look?'
She was certain she'd never met him before. He was too old to be a fellow student, too young to be a professor. There was no trace of either of them anywhere in her life. She couldn't understand them, and that bothered her. Like cats, she, too, was a curious creature. A stubborn one at that. She wouldn't let this go until she understood what made them so unnervingly strange.
Her design was finished. She had time to observe and figure them out. By luck or fate's design, the couple took the table directly beside hers.
Sipping her Caramel Iced Macchiato, she listened in while pretending to read a magazine.
"Fancy anything?" the man asked. Whispers rippled through the café as the odd three women shot him lingering looks. "Nothing?"
The lady in black shook her head gently. "Mortal drinks don't suit me… but I'll have whatever you offer."
The theatrical way of speech felt bizarre, to say the least.
The man gave her a self-assured smile. "Alright, wait here."
"Hmmm."
As he left for the counter, the woman stood. Felicia's heart leaped as the woman crossed the short distance and took the empty seat directly across from her.
"Hello there~," Felicia greeted without missing a beat, despite her growing unease. "How can I help you?"
The lady acknowledged with a gentle nod. "Would you mind if I sit here until my companion comes back?"
"Would I mind sharing a table with a drop-dead gorgeous stranger? Not a chance!" Felicia laughed. "I'm Felicia Hardy."
A faint, imperceptible smile touched the lady's lips. "Thank you, Felicia. You may call me Death."
Felicia wanted to brush it off as a joke, but the lady's tone was utterly serious.
"Death is a pretty death metal name." Felicia forced a grin. "Are you part of a band?"
Her common sense dictated that no one would actually be named Death, or proud of having such a name. The bullying alone at schools would break them.
Death tilted her head innocently. "No, it is my name. My title. My very reason for existence."
"Shame… you seem like you'd make some killer tracks." Felicia shook her head in exaggerated disappointment. "But I still gotta ask—why that name? Why Death?"
Death crossed her arms as her face revealed an annoyed frown. "Do you ever question why the sun and moon are called such? No, you simply accept. In the same vein, Death is death, the inevitable end of all living beings."
Felicia stared, momentarily stunned speechless. This woman was either too deep in fantasy or completely serious. And something deep in Felicia's gut told her that it was the latter.
"Lady, do you need therapy? Um, I can recommend someone good."
Death could only sigh as though fed up with her foolishness. Turning her head, Death looked at her approaching partner. "Companion, you're here."
The black-haired man glanced between them with a puzzled look. He put down the tray and dragged a chair to sit beside Death. Everyone stared at him weirdly, even those girls who were sending him starry-eyed looks before. They looked disturbed as if they were looking at someone who'd lost his mind.
Death accepted the offered drink and took a small sip. Her expression softened immediately. "Sweet. I like it."
The man nodded, satisfied, and looked at Felicia with an awkward smile. "I hope Death didn't bother you much."
Felicia raised a brow. "Is her name really Death?"
It bothered her. It bothered her too much that this ethereal beauty had a couple screws loose. It bothered her that she couldn't shake off the strange feeling of inferiority before Death. Not the better face, body, or smarts type of inferiority, but a primal kind. It was as if standing before someone vast and immeasurable, someone so significant that Felicia was barely worth noticing.
And it really ticked her off.
Cats were petty by and curious nature, and so was Felicia Hardy.
"Yes," Dante replied, sipping through his straw, his calm gaze never leaving hers. "Would you trust me if I told you she's really the living embodiment of Death?"
Felicia stared at Death, who was happily sipping on her drink with the happiness of a child. "Would you if you were me?"
"I wouldn't… either," he said, pausing as a grave expression appeared on his face. "But do you know what it means to see her?"
"Now you're making it all weird." Felicia leaned back and crossed her arms, looking a bit fed-up. "You tell me what it means, Handsome."
Death patted Dante's shoulder. "Companion, you shouldn't change—"
"Fate?" Dante chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. "My presence alone changes everything. What difference would one life make?"
"What you speak of is different from reversing an inevitable death. It will have rippling effects across this universe."
He revealed a confident, almost reckless smile. "Then I'll become strong enough to handle whatever comes."
Death looked ready to argue, but he reached over and gently took her hand. The lady sighed as if it couldn't be helped, and returned to her drink with quiet acceptance.
Felicia listened to the exchange, but every word and meaning flew over her head. Nothing made sense. "Are you one of those fortune-tellers with Arcana cards? Because miss me with that mystical—"
"Felicia Hardy, be quiet for a second."
Her eyes widened. "How do you know my name?"
She'd only introduced herself to Death when Dante was at the counter, well outside range of hearing their conversation. Even her sharper-than-average hearing wouldn't have caught a word they were saying.
"I know more than your name. I know about your dual identities, your father, and what you do at night." He paused, took a long sip of his drink, then put the cup away. "You might think I'm here to blackmail you or manipulate you. Let me be clear. I'm not."
Felicia's composure nearly fell away as her fingers tightened around her cup. Dual identities—not a single person was made aware of this truth yet except for the man who trained her. And as annoying as Black Fox could be, she knew he'd never betray her.
"Why do you know that?"
"That's not important right now," Dante said, leaning forward with a serious expression. "What's important is that you're about to die."