They stepped through the gate of the grandeur building, heading towards the meeting room.
"No, he definitely is trash compared to Claudio Roman." Michèle spoke with anticipation.
"I don't know much about classical music, but I know no better man when it comes to Classical music than Ludwig Carl Hensen if my memory serves me well." Renè answered while they made their way to upstairs.
Climbing the marble stairs slowly, the two continued their chatter with occasional chuckles.
"Whatever, they are too pricey to listen to anyway. Ludwig is still better though." Renè kept talking with a joy in his face.
He now knew that everything was possible in this new world he had been given, and Santa was the deciding proof of it.
"Sure, sure. Just say you don't got taste." Michèle answered in a humorous tone. "If you want to lisen classical music that much, we got gramaphones, or simply me."
Renè quickly shifted his gaze towards Michèle and asked "What? You can play music?" He asked in excitement.
"Yes, in fact I can play guitar, piano, or any other instrument that you can think of."They took a left turn after reaching the end of the stairs and made their way into the meeting hall.
"Stop pulling my leg, Michèle. I don't believe that." Renè Asked in suspicion.
"I have no reason to lie to you. I would say we make a divination to confirm it, but unfortunately neither of us can do it. You can't because you have no relation with mysticism or alchemy I presume, and I won't because its not in my profession." Michelè answered with a sigh.
"Hold up a minute." René paused dramatically. "Why not just play something to prove it instead of all that 'divination' talk?"
"And what's with that mysticism stuff again? Are you even going to explain how it works?"
Before he could ask more questions, Michéle calmly pressed a hand over René's mouth.
"I'm not the one to answer all that," he said with a faint smile. "And I don't have the patience nor the time to teach you."
He removed his hand and added, "But you've got a point. Drop by my place sometime. I'll show you my instrument collection and even play just for you. Now stop interrogating me, will you?"
René blinked, slightly stunned at being silenced so quickly. But before he could recover, they had already reached the end of the corridor, passing a series of closed doors echoing with distant sounds.
As they walked, the elegant furniture and refined decor struck René with a sense of nostalgic charm—reminiscent of an old, aristocratic style.
Then he noticed the soft glow of lamps illuminating the halls.
It surprised him that how he hadn't noticed them earlier. But after spending a lifetime surrounded by sleek, modern technology, these smaller details felt almost invisible to him.
"Oh, when did you get electricity?" René asked, genuinely curious.
Michéle tilted his head with a puzzled look. "?"
"Don't look at me like that. It was just a question," René replied quickly.
"Well, it's been a while since it was discovered, no?," Michéle sighed. "Nowadays it has been becoming more common for people to have it unless you're poor."
Michéle scratched the back of his head and continued, "But you've got a right to ask, I guess. Not every country is as advanced as ours. Some doesn't even know what electricity is, let alone having modern luxuries."
That would make sense... René smiled bitterly as he was reminded of his poorness once again.
With swift steps, they finally arrived at the meeting room.
René and Michéle stood before a pair of large double doors made of rich, varnished brown wood. René reached for the handle and as he grabbed it, he froze.
Something surged through him, a violent rush of sensation that stole his breath. Shards of feelings, scattered and sharp, tore through his mind. A whisper of familiarity, foreign yet intimate, crawled down his spine. His chest ached as if a blade had twisted deep within.
This place… he knew it. Not from his time in this world, but from something buried in his lost memories.
He had walked these halls before. Touched these very walls. Opened these doors. Rooms within rooms. His feelings unfolding like a dream within a dream.
And he had never been alone.
This wasn't the main headquarters of the Bureau. He knew that much. This was a mask—a carefully crafted facade for the world outside. It even acted as a Hotel for certain people despite its official status sayi it is a security company.
I've been here before… The thought echoed in his mind like a bell tolling in the distance. His fingers lingered on the polished surface of the door, tracing faint patterns only he could sense.
"I…"
A life was taken in this room by his hands.
Why?
The question suffocated him deep down, yet no answer surfaced. Only the memory of violence, blurred yet vivid in sensation. He remembered the weight of the revolver, the way it pressed against trembling lips. The deafening gunshot that silenced everything. Two figures alone, the struggle, the breath that faded until nothing remained.
René didn't see the memory but he felt it. Felt what it was to take a life. The taste of gunpowder lingering in the air, the blood splashing right on to his face, the gut wrenching smell of blood, the tremor in his own bones, and the hollow stillness after the soul slipped away.
Michéle, noticing René's sudden stillness and distant gaze, raised an eyebrow.
"Did you fall in love with the door or something? You good?"
The absurdity of it pulled a short laugh from René.
"No, of course not," he replied, brushing the moment off with a half-smile. "Let's head in, yeah?" René covered his mouth with his hand as he felt like he could vomit any minute.
Michéle shook his head, waving a hand. "You're too weird sometimes, my guy. Way too weird."
René gave the doors a final glance, then gently pushed them open.
The moment they stepped into the grand, luxurious room, three figures were already waiting.
At the head of the long polished table sat a gentle-looking middle-aged man. His dark brown hair was neatly parted back, just long enough to brush the nape of his neck. As René and Michéle entered, his warm, intelligent brown eyes turned towards them with quiet curiosity.
Portraits framed along the tall windows seemed to watch the moment unfold. Overhead, a grand multi-tiered chandelier bathed the room in soft light.
To the right, a marble fireplace crackled gently, its warmth casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. Wisps of smoke curled subtly beneath the intricately carved mantelpiece, above which hung a solemn portrait.
Standing beside the fireplace was a young woman in a crisp white shirt tucked into dark trousers. A pair of leather gloves covered her delicate hands, and a black belt hugged her waist with precision. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her luminous blue eyes remained fixed on the dancing flames, lost in thought.
Surrounding the table were luxurious black chairs cushioned for comfort. In one of them sat a middle aged woman dressed entirely in black. A soft-bodied cat, nearly indistinguishable from her dress, lay curled atop her lap. Her quiet conversation with the man at the table came to an abrupt halt as René stepped into view.
She adjusted the thin spectacles perched on her nose, fixed her golden shiny hair, and her sharp gaze locked onto René with unreadable intent.
As they stepped through the doors, the man at the head of the table spoke in a firm tone.
"You're late."
"Sorry, Captain," Michéle replied, sliding into the chair immediately to the captain's right. "We got wrapped up in our conversation. He's such an interesting fellow I lost track of time."
"That fellow better be worth the delay," the captain said, sliding a file across the table towards Michéle.
Michéle glanced at the cover. "What's this?"
"See for yourself," the captain nodded.
René stood silently in the corner, feeling conspicuously unintroduced. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the captain rose.
With deliberate steps and the aid of a polished cane, the captain approached René and extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to have you join the Lunar Triad," he said warmly. "I'm Ferdinand Locke, Captain of the Lunar Triad, which safeguards Sol Victus."
René met the gesture without hesitation. "I'm René Aquinas. It's an honor to serve under you, Captain."
Ferdinand gave a brief nod. "You must have many questions. Please, sit wherever you like. We'll begin the briefing shortly."
"Thank you," René replied, then headed for the empty chair beside Michéle. As he was about to sit, his gaze met the elderly woman in black.
"Hello, madam. I'm René. Pleasure to meet you."
"I know," she said, her voice soft as she stroked the cat in her lap.
She adjusted her spectacles. "I am Maria Johannes." Her smile was polite but weary, as though burdened by unspoken thoughts.
"Quite an honor, Ms. Maria," René replied, offering a reassuring nod and taking a sit.
He glanced towards the young woman by the fireplace. "Should I greet her as well?" he asked Maria quietly.
Maria gave him a half-smile and a raised eyebrow, "I do not know, should you?" Maria whispered as she chuckled to herself, now turning her attention to the conversation between Michele and Ferdinand.
René laughed softly. "I suppose I should. It would be rude not to."
He rose and approached the young woman, careful not to rush. As he reached her, René paused respectfully at her side.
"Hello," René said, his eyes catching the flicker of fire reflected in her eyes, burning with an emotion he couldn't name.
She turned towards him, her expression calm. "Hello, René."
He blinked. She already knows my name? Whether she'd overheard his conversations or been informed ahead of time, René felt a bit awkward.
"It seems you're already familiar with my name," he said, chuckling lightly. "May I ask your name, Miss?"
"I am Gentle," she replied plainly.
"Oh… your name is Gentle?" He asked again with a bit of confusion.
"Yes. Fyodor Gentle, if you're curious." Her tone remained unbothered as she turned her gaze back toward the fire, its glow dancing in her eyes.
"That's… a beautiful name," René offered sincerely. He hesitated before speaking again. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping but... is something troubling you? You seem distant."
A long silence hung between them before she finally responded, voice devoid of emotion:
"How should one react when they lose someone important?"
René froze. The question hit deeper than he expected. She'd lost someone, he assumed. The weight in her eyes made sense to him now.
"Well… mourn them." he replied cautiously. "Honor their memory, I suppose?"
Gentle didn't look at him as she asked again, "What if one cannot mourn? What if one doesn't feel sadness, sorrow, anything at all? What if one feels as empty as the sky above?"
The question sank into René like a stone. He watched the flames for a moment, then finally spoke, slow and thoughtful:
"Then… remember them. If grief doesn't come, at least hold onto their memory. Preserve their legacy and the moments you shared. Let those moments live on, even if it's only in your mind."
René took a steady breath and continued, "Sometimes, remembering is the most honest thing we can do. And, the sky isn't empty, it is full of stars, each one telling a distinct story of its own."
Gentle turned her head and met his eyes. "I wish it were that simple," she said softly. "Thank you."
Before René could reply, Captain Ferdinand's voice rose slightly, gathering the room's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it's time we begin."
He glanced towards René and Gentle. "You two, please take your seats."
René nodded, still thinking about the conversation, and quietly returned to his chair beside Michéle. Gentle walked across the room and sat to the captain's left, her expression unreadable.
"Today is a great day," Ferdinand said in a casual tone, "as we welcome a new member to our team."
He shifted his gaze towards René. "We'll begin by answering your questions. I'll try my best to explain things, so feel free to ask whatever's on your mind."
René felt a flicker of anxiety, but he knew this was a rare opportunity. If he wanted answers, this was the time to speak up.
"Yes, Captain. It's alright if I call you that, right?"
Ferdinand's lips curved into a faint smile. "Of course. Go ahead."
The room quieted as everyone turned their attention to René, waiting for his first question.
René took a steadying breath. "Then... I shall ask" He couldn't ask anything too basic—questions about the country, its rulers, or its currency would only raise red flags. He had no history here, no context to lean on. So instead, he focused on what he'd seen firsthand, what couldn't be brushed off as ignorance.
"Yesterday morning," René began, "I was at an auction. It wasn't exactly the kind of place you'd expect the rich to attend. It looked more like a place for the desperate, a place where the lower class would attend. But there were things there I can't explain." He paused, choosing his words.
"Pieces of creatures I didn't even know existed. Then a relic was presented. I assume you know what I'm talking about."
He paused, then continued steadily.
"So, why would anyone sell such things? How could anyone in that place afford them? And what exactly is a relic?"
Ferdinand leaned back, his expression unreadable as he reached for a cup standing among scattered papers.
He took a slow sip, then cleared his throat. "I'll keep this brief, since I suspect you've got more questions." His tone was measured, almost too calm. "We suspect auctions like that serve many purposes such as money laundering, black market deals, trafficking, and other things best left unspoken."
"We don't interfere unless an Enlightened or a related threat is involved. That's our directive. But of course, there are exceptions, cases we can't ignore."
He sipped again, eyes never leaving René. "The creature parts? Likely ingredients. Some are used for medicines to heal impossible wounds, others for drugs to chase a high, or to simply make a five star meal. Those ingredients have a lot of daily use. Where they come from isn't your concern for now."
René's brow furrowed at the term Enlightened, its weight unfamiliar yet heavy. "And relics?" he asked.
"Relics aren't like artifacts you can wield," Ferdinand said. "They're remnants—tools, manuscripts, or objects from an age we don't fully understand. Some barely qualify as relics at all."
René's confusion must have shown, because Ferdinand's tone softened. "It sounds like nonsense now, I know. Give it time. You'll catch up."
"I see…" René let out a quiet sigh. How am I supposed to understand anything if your answers just raise more questions?
Still, he continued. ""At the church yesterday, I met people. Kind people, but… they had abilities. Supernatural ones. Were they born with them? Blessed by a god? Did they use an artifact—or a relic?" He steadied himself. "What's the source of their power? What are they?"
Before he could continue, Ferdinand raised a hand to stop him.
"Calm down," he said with a patient smile. "There's an explanation for everything."
"They are," Ferdinand gestured slightly with his hand as if presenting an example before continuing. "We are known as Enlightened—individuals who tread the path between divinity and corruption."
Before René could respond, Maria's voice cut through, smooth but edged with suspicion. "Why ask such questions?" She leaned forward, the cat sliding off her lap with a soft thud. "You're likely one yourself. The only question is which path you walk. You should know this already."
René blinked, pointing at himself. "Me? An Enlightened?" The word felt foreign and absurd. How am I supposed to be something I don't even understand? Anxiety creeped up on him, but he forced himself to stay composed.
Maria's voice lowered yet remained soft. "So, tell us, René—why are you a nobody? We checked your background. Nothing. No trace. Care to share the truth?" Her eyes gleamed with curiosity and something darker.
"Maria, enough." Ferdinand's voice was calm but firm, slicing through the tension. "Everything has its time. This isn't it."
Maria didn't argue. Instead, she leaned back, lips curling into a thin smile. "My time will come. I'm… waiting for that day, René." She said no more.
Ferdinand chuckled, making the tension air dissolve, "Let's move on."
He rested his hands on the table, his tone steady. "Simply put, an Enlightened is someone with supernatural abilities. Whether through rituals or potions, one's soul must absorb certain ingredients to awaken. The ingredients aren't magical on their own; it's the combination that matters. Think of it as the right combination is tuning your soul to the proper channel."
He glanced at his wristwatch, then calmly sipped from his cup.
René sat frozen, the weight of each word pressing down on him. Finally, to avoid sitting in silence, he forced out a shaky laugh. "I… I honestly don't know what to say. In just a few minutes, I've learned supernaturals exist, everyone here is one—and apparently, so am I? Then there are rituals, potions, tuning souls… Tell me, Captain—what the hell am I supposed to say to that?" He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.
"You don't have to say anything," Ferdinand replied with a faint smile. "If Maria is right, then you're either an incredible actor wasting our time or you truly don't know what any of this means. And then there's another possibility, unlikely, but possible. You are an Enlightened who simply doesn't realize it yet."
René narrowed his eyes. "Is that… possible."
"We'll see." Captain answered, chuckling softly.
Right after Ferdinand responded, Michéle leaned over and whispered urgently. "Time's running out. Wrap it up."
"What?" René whispered back, startled.
"You've got about two minutes. Make it count." Michéle straightened, clearing his throat like nothing happened.
René swallowed and faced Ferdinand again. "Captain, please, short answers now. I don't want to waste everyone's time."
Ferdinand gave a slight nod. "Ask away."
René inhaled sharply and asked his questions. "Why tell me so much? Do you trust me, is that it? Do people know about us—about the Enlightened? And what exactly am I here to do?"
Ferdinand answered without pause. "You're a new member; you deserve the basics. No, I don't trust you, not yet. The existence of the Enlightened is hidden from the public and will remain so. People may tell stories, spread rumors, make up urban legends—but that's all they'll ever know. As for you? You're here to serve the people of this city."
He glanced at his watch one last time. 10:00 p.m. on point.
"I hope that gives you enough clarity," Ferdinand said, his tone final as he opened the file before him with a deliberate motion. "Because time's up. Now… the night begins."
Ferdinand rose from his seat, voice steady as he addressed the room.
"We've got five cases on the table tonight. I suspect most of them are misreports, but we'll check every single one."
His gaze shifted towards René. "You'll go with Detective Lane. He has the details. You'll find him downstairs."
René nodded silently, not daring to interrupt.
"Michéle," Ferdinand continued, "The last sighting was near the white warehouse by the second port. Take André with you."
"On sight?" Michéle asked, his tone sharp.
"Aim to eliminate," Ferdinand replied without hesitation. "Interrogate if possible." He grabbed his coat from the chair and swung it over his shoulders with a single motion.
Michéle gave a curt nod and began gathering his things.
"The rest of you know your assignments." Ferdinand reached for his top hat and headed for the door—only to pause when René spoke up.
"What about you, Captain?" René asked, curiosity slipping through his voice.
Ferdinand half-turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Another meeting."
He opened the door, but not before adding, "See you all in the morning. In case of emergency, you know what to do."
"I don't!" René blurted out.
"You'll learn soon," Ferdinand replied, his final words hanging in the air as he disappeared down the hall.
René let out a heavy sigh. "Why is he like this?"
"Don't worry," Gentle finally spoke, her voice calm yet warm. "Once he knows you, you'll see the real him."
Michéle adjusted his coat and slung a strap over his shoulder. "Goodnight, everyone," he said, tone clipped and formal as he walked toward the door.
"Goodnight," the room echoed back.
"I guess I should go too." René stood, brushing his coat down. "It was a pleasure meeting you both." He gave a small nod before glancing at Maria. "We're good… right, Miss Maria?"
Maria's expression softened slightly. "It's all good. Heat of the moment, that's all. Now go—don't keep Lane waiting."
René's chest lightened at her words, almost joyfully. "Then I shall."
He gave a final wave. "Take care."
"Stay safe," Gentle replied with a faint wave of her own.
René stepped out, the heavy door closing behind him. The wide corridor stretched out before him, glowing under golden chandeliers. He descended the marble staircase, entering a lively hall humming with chatter. Dozens of men and women in tailored coats and uniforms moved about, glasses clinking, papers shuffling—work and leisure intertwined under the bright light.
All René had to do was find Lane.
He approached the main counter, where a woman with sleek dark brown hair sat organizing files. Her nameplate read Meryl.
"Good evening," René greeted politely. "Miss Meryl, do you know where Detective Lane is?"
She looked up with sharp, dark eyes and answered without hesitation. "Good evening, sir. He should be over there in the resting area, corner table. With the gentlemen talking." She gestured towards a group across the hall.
"Thank you." René offered a quick nod and made his way over.
He stopped beside a couch, eyeing the men in conversation. "Evening, gentlemen. Detective Lane, is he here by any chance?"
A man with neatly parted hair and a perfectly pressed suit looked up, smirking. "You the new guy?"
"Yes," René replied simply.
The man chuckled. "Oh boy, you've got a long road ahead of you."
Another man stood, setting his empty glass down. His beige trench coat fell open over his dark vest, the fabric swaying as he straightened his posture. His skin was a rich brown tone, his jaw clean-shaven, his short hair neat beneath the top hat he lifted from the chair. Everything about him radiated a heavy, deliberate calm.
"I've been waiting. Let's talk outside."
Without another word, he strolled towards the door with measured steps, sliding the hat into his head as he walked.
René excused himself from the group and followed.
They stopped beneath a lone streetlamp outside, the night wind sharp against René's face. Lane lit a cigarette with a flick, the ember glowing in the dark as he inhaled.
"Do you know what we're dealing with tonight?" Lane asked casually, smoke curling from his lips.
René shook his head. "I was told you had the details."
"I do," Lane said, exhaling slowly. He tilted his head, studying René. "What's your name?"
René frowned slightly. "I thought you'd know already."
"I do." Lane's smirk deepened. "I just like to hear it from the source." His tone dripped with dry amusement.
"…René Aquinas," René said finally, extending a hand with a faint smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Detective."
"Louis Lane," the man replied, gripping his hand firmly before dropping the cigarette and grinding it under his heel. "Pleasure's mine."
He straightened his coat and got to the point. "We're checking out an abandoned house on Windclam Street, number thirteen. Locals reported abnormal activity. Couple of sightings. Our job is to make sure that 'abnormal' stays a story."
Louis stepped towards the edge of the road, scanning for their ride.
René stared after him, the words sinking in. "Abandoned house. Middle of the night. Just the two of us. And I know absolutely nothing. Fuck no." His heart thudded like a drum, torn between fear and a strange rush of adrenaline.
Louis glanced back, grinning at his expression. "Come on. Don't be a pussy." He chuckled, voice rough with amusement. "It'll be hilarious if you piss your pants before we even get inside."
"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing," René muttered, hugging his coat tighter against the biting wind. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm scared as hell."
Louis gave a short laugh. "You'll live." He nodded towards the curb. "Cab's here."
The cab pulled up, horses cutting through the fog. Both men climbed in quickly and closed the door after them, fleeing the unforgiving winter night.