"It's a trap," Fumeko uttered with an arm resting on her head.
Hotaru placed her tea cup carefully back onto the saucer, and looked over at the brunette lounging on the sofa across from her, "Hm?"
"The key," Fumeko replied.
The hollow sound of a ticking clock, the refrigerator running in the kitchen, the bulb above their head—all the white noise left at the midnight hour, with them two alone in the living room.
The brunette stirred in the sofa like a coiling snake and continued, "We found a trail that they now know we're following. So they sent a knight, gave us a way in, and we're gonna follow."
"But the tattoo—there's no way they'd know that we'd know; or, you know."
"They know we would've figured it out; are we talking about the same cult here?"
"So are they underestimating you or overestimating you?"
"Both."
"And we're still going to walk in?"
"What other choice do we have?"
"Not to?"
