The moment Mia West stepped out of the discreet side exit of The Aethelstan Club & Social Foundation, the cool evening air felt like a baptism.
She practically skipped around the corner, finding a secluded bench in a small, dimly lit square.
There, with trembling, excited fingers, she removed the auburn wig, shaking out her own glorious cascade of ginger hair with a relieved sigh.
She unclipped the elegant but unfamiliar blue dress, changing back into her own comfortable, flowing tunic and leggings she'd worn beneath it. Stuffing the disguise into the provided carry-bag with the intention of returning them maybe later or the next day.
She was herself again-just Mia, but a Mia who now held a magnificent secret.
A giddy laugh escaped her as she began the walk home, the events of the meeting replaying in her mind like a scene from a fantastical novel.
It was all because of Biscuit and Chester! Her silly, wonderful dogs, chasing after some invisible squirrel or fascinating scent, had led her to that incredible building.
What were the odds? It felt less like chance and more like... destiny.
She thought of the others.
_The Lonely Saviour. What a mysterious, somber name! He had an air of quiet authority, like a god from an old myth, guiding us through shadows I hadn't even known existed. I'd been so careful not to sound foolish, thinking hard before I spoke._
She felt a thrill that her question about "what kind of secrets" had been the one to truly start the conversation.
_And The Anchor! The man with the gold-rimmed glasses and the furrowed brows. He was so serious, so precise._
She could almost see the gears turning in his head.
He probably thought she was just a silly girl, but that was okay.
She would show him she could pay attention. She could learn.
_Then there's The Quill, with his extravagant clothes and his way of speaking that sounded like it was from a play. He seems like someone from a completely different world, a noble or a famous artist slumming it for fun._
The way he called the weird silence a "violent chorus" was so strange and beautiful.
—
She arrived home, a modest but well-appointed townhouse in a civilized neighborhood in Eastwick district.
The moment she opened the door, Biscuit and Chester barreled into her, tails wagging furiously, as if asking where she'd been on their great adventure.
"You two!" she scolded, kneeling to hug them, her voice full of affection. "You have no idea what you started!"
Her elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Albright, peered from the kitchen. "There you are, dear. You're glowing. Good walk?"
"The best," Mia said, her smile luminous. "I... I joined a club. A discussion group." It was the truth, just not all of it.
"How lovely! It's good for you to have intellectual pursuits," Mrs. Albright said approvingly.
That night, Mia didn't doodle in her diary or read a novel as she usually did.
Instead, she opened a fresh, clean notebook. At the top of the first page, she wrote in her looping, energetic script: Oxford Club Observations.
She wrote about the theory of the "perfect silence."
She drew a little frowny face next to "The Anchor - overthinker?"
And added a star next to "The Quill - speaks in poetry!"
For The Lonely Saviour, she simply drew a question mark inside a circle, like a mysterious sigil.
She lay in bed that night, Chester and Biscuit curled at her feet, staring at the ceiling.
The humdrum routine of her life-walks in the park, painting classes, charity work with her mother-suddenly had a secret, thrilling core.
She was part of something. Something important and hidden.
She wasn't just a girl with nice dogs and a comfortable life anymore.
She was Mia West, member of The Oxford Club, and the thought made her hug her pillow tightly, a smile playing on her lips as she drifted into dreams of hidden gears and whispered songs.