I sat down across from Melissa, my hands still trembling slightly—but from exhaustion now, not anger.
"First," I said, writing as I spoke. "The Collector has the Veridian Lens. Stage 6 operative with auburn hair. Connected to the Ten Wonders cases."
"Second: Gerard Thorne is actively trying to kill us. He used the Ivory Syndicate to hire a Shadow Covenant assassin."
I looked at the photograph the operative had left. At that mocking message.
"The truth is worse than you think."
"And fourth," I added quietly, "we're in way over our heads."
Melissa was quiet for a moment. Then she pulled out her own Crystal Interface, checking something.
"It's almost midnight," she said. "We've been running for hours. You're out of Essence. I'm nearly out. We're both exhausted."
"Your point?"
"My point is we need to rest. Recover. Regroup." She stood up. "I know a place. Not a safe house—those are all compromised. But a cheap hotel. No questions asked."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to keep pushing, keep investigating.
But she was right. I was running on fumes. My Essence was depleted. My body ached. My eye still throbbed from overusing Judgement's Eye.
"Okay," I said, standing up. "We rest. A few hours. Then we figure out our next move."
We kept walking through the neon-lit streets of Vermillion District. Two exhausted investigators, hunted by multiple enemies, with more questions than answers.
Still moving forward.
And for tonight, that was enough.
-----------------------------------------
I woke to pale gray light filtering through a grimy window.
Every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I sat up. My eyes throbbed with a dull, persistent ache.
But at least I was alive.
I swung my legs off the bed, wincing as my joints popped. The cheap hotel room looked even worse in daylight—water-stained ceiling, peeling wallpaper, a window that didn't quite close all the way. But it had been anonymous and it had been safe.
For one night, at least.
I pulled on my coat—still stained with blood and plaster dust from last night's fight—and checked my pockets. Evidence still there. Notebook, photographs, the assassin's contact card. The 100 Gold Argentum.
At least I'm not broke anymore. Silver lining.
ALERT : 200 GOLDEN ARGENTUMS STILL DUE IN 1 DAY.
Thanks. So I was still broke.
A knock at the door made me tense immediately. My hand went to my hip—then I remembered my revolver was destroyed.
Right. No weapon. Great.
"Takatana. It's me." Melissa's voice, muffled through the door.
I opened it. She looked about as rough as I felt—dark circles under her eyes, hair slightly disheveled, dirt still on her tactical gear.
"Morning," she said. "You look like shit."
"Good morning to you too." I stepped aside to let her in. "What time is it?"
"Six forty-five. I've been up since five." She stayed near the door, clearly not planning to linger. Professional distance maintained. "Couldn't sleep. Too much adrenaline."
"Same. I only managed about four hours."
"Better than nothing." She pulled out her Crystal Interface. "I've been monitoring news feeds. Nothing about last night's fight. Either it hasn't been reported or someone's burying the story."
"I'm willing to bet on the latter." I muttered.
"So firstly, we have a big villain after us capable of ordering around stage 6's like pawns." I started.
"And a Councilman that has about 100 times our backing, power, and money."
"And probably two organizations that could erase us without a trace if they felt like it."
Melissa interjected. "Well when you put it that way it seems pretty dire."
I looked at her with a face of disbelief. "Do you have no sense of urgency?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Anything's possible when we put our minds to it?"
"Anything's possible when we put our minds to it?" I repeated. "Really?"
She shrugged. "What, you want me to panic instead?"
"A little bit of concern would be nice."
"I'm plenty concerned. I'm just not gonna cry about it." She moved toward the window checking the street below. "We need a plan. Sitting around and wallowing won't do anything."
I rubbed my face, feeling the dried blood on my cheek from where my eye had bled.
How attractive..
"Fine. What's the plan then?"
"Lets start gathering more information. From a new standpoint. We build on what we know. We're missing one person from the viewing."
"Vera Blackwood. The authenticator.
"Vera Blackwood." Melissa's expression shifted slightly. "She's.. She was close to my mother."
Interesting. This could have many leads.
"You trust her?"
"I used to.. Before all of this." She paused. "Now I don't have that luxury."
Yeah.. Fair enough.
I stood up, every joint creaking. My coat was still covered in plaster dust and blood.
It looks like I fell through a building..
"Where does she work?"
"Two districts over in the Sapphire District. High-end workshop. She deals with expensive shit for expensive people." Melissa checked her interface. "Opens at eight. We could make it if we leave now."
"We're just gonna.. Walk in to her shop?"
"You got a better idea?"
Nah, not really.
"Fine, to the Sapphire District." I grabbed my notebook, shoving it into my coat pocket. "But if she tries to kill us, I'm blaming you."
"Yeah yeah, whatever you like."
We left the shitty hotel room behind. The hallway smelled like mold and something I didn't want to identify.
The desk clerk didn't even look up as we passed. Guess that's why Melissa picked this place.
Outside, the morning air bit at my skin. Cold. The streets were mostly empty—too early for most people, too late for the real night crowd.
We walked in silence for a few blocks.
Then Melissa spoke.
"Last night. When you said 'Yuto'."
I kept walking. "Drop it."
"I'm not trying to pry—"
"Then don't."
More silence.
Step. Step. Step.
In the silence mind kept replaying last night. The assassin's emerald eyes. The way the auburn-haired operative had just stood there, waving the Lens like it was a joke.
The truth is worse than you think.
"I can practically hear the gears turning in your head." She glanced at me. "What's bothering you?"
"Besides everything?"
"Besides everything."
I pulled out the photograph from my pocket. The one the operative left. Studied it again in the morning light.
"This message. It's not a threat."
"Feels like a threat to me."
"No. Threats are 'back off or die.' This is..." I turned the photo over. "They're telling us something."
"That the truth is worse than we think. Yeah, I got that part."
"But why tell us at all? Why not just kill us? That operative was Stage 6. We were exhausted and out of essence."
Melissa was quiet for a moment.
"Maybe they want us to investigate," she said slowly. "Maybe we're doing something they can't."
"Or they're playing with us. Seeing how long we last."
"That's cheerful."
We turned a corner. The buildings here were nicer. Cleaner. The transition from Vermillion to Sapphire District.
The workshop came into view—a sleek building with actual glass windows that weren't cracked. A sign in elegant script: Blackwood Authentication & Appraisal.
"This is it," Melissa said.
I looked up at the building. Expensive. Professional.
And we're about to walk in covered in blood and dust.
"You sure she'll talk to us?"
"She'll talk to me. We've known each other for years." Melissa paused at the door. "Just... let me do most of the talking at first. She can be particular about strangers."
"Fine by me."
As the bell gave a chime I felt like something was gonna go wrong..