Good Monday.
I had a good sleep. Better still, Ashlynn slept next to me.
A gentle poke on my cheek stirs me from slumber. My eyes open slowly. Her face hovers above mine, frowning.
"Ash?"
"Len!" She drops herself onto my chest without warning. Her arms curl around my neck, tears soaking my shirt.
"Ash, are you okay?"
"Len… I'm sorry."
I place a hand on her back, tapping gently. "Shhh… I'm here, love."
She rests against me, silent except for her sobs. No words, only quiet trembling, until finally the tension eases.
When she's done, we sit up, leaning back against the headboard.
"What is all of this?" Her hands sweep across the master bedroom, gesturing to every corner.
"This? It's our home."
"H-how…? How do you afford this? Y-you're just a clerk."
"I can't tell you."
Her fingers find mine, gripping tightly. "Len… please. No more secrets between us."
"I will tell you—when it's time. Trust me."
She studies me for a moment, then nods faintly. "Okay… and Len."
"Yeah?"
"Is Tanya my friend?"
"I don't know."
"She put something in my drink, and when I woke up next… I—"
"Ash." I squeeze her hand lightly. "You can talk when your heart is ready."
"Thank you, Len."
I rise from the bed, but Ashlynn grabs my arm again.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
I tap her hand once. "I'm going to buy some ingredients. I'll cook us breakfast."
She nods and lets go.
I grab my coat—it still carries the faint scent of perfume—and slip into it.
"If you're bored, you can explore the house," I say as I step out of the bedroom.
I head down to the foyer and leave the house.
As I walk through the neighborhood, I notice movement ahead. People are rushing toward the largest mansion—the one belonging to Xandar Valazam. The same mansion where the Masquerade was held last night.
I stop one of the guards, catching his arm. "What happened?"
"I don't know," he replies, breath tight. "But I heard something horrible happened last night."
I release him, and he hurries off with the others toward the mansion.
The street feels wrong this morning. It's usually quiet—but not empty. Not stripped of guards.
One more to go.
The thought settles calmly in my mind. Like crossing off a name from a list.
I shrug and continue walking, passing through the vaporgates. The iron frames hum faintly as I step beyond them.
The smog hits my face first—thick, metallic, familiar. Beyond it, the busy streets of the Northern Outskirt stretch wide and restless, carriages rattling over stone, steam rising in tired breaths from alley grates.
I find a carriage and head toward the market. It carries me through the soot stained scenery.
When I step down, I pick up rocks along the way before entering the first place I visit—the smithshop.
"Good Monday, Monsieur," the clerk greets me.
"Good Monday," I answer.
"You haven't made any purchase in our shop recently," he teases.
"I'm going to make up for it now," I say, and we both chuckle. "I want a rapier and knives."
"Anything else?"
"Kitchenwares."
The clerk moves with practiced efficiency. He presents the rapier first. I test the balance briefly before tying the scabbard to my belt. The knives are placed neatly into a wooden box, each blade aligned neat and tidy. The kitchenwares go into another box, wrapped and secured.
Satisfied, I hand him the rocks as payment.
"Thank you for your patronage, Monsieur," he says. "Where would you like these delivered?"
"I want them moved to my new house."
"Understood."
The clerk whistles sharply. Two young porters appear almost immediately. He instructs them to carry the boxes, and they lift them without complaint.
They follow me as I move through the market, purchasing clothes—simple shirts, dresses, footwear—and food ingredients. Meats, vegetables, dairy. But mostly meat.
Ashlynn loves meat.
My meat especially.
Those are the only things I buy.
When I finish, I hire another carriage. The porters help load the wooden boxes and groceries into the back, securing everything carefully before stepping away.
The carriage lurches forward, wheels clattering against stone as we travel through the Northern Outskirt, smoke and steam trailing behind us in thin gray ribbons.
Back toward Eldenmere neighborhood.
As we enter the district and pass by Xandar's mansion, carriages line the road outside. Doors open and close in hurried rhythm. People move in and out, some already crying.
Guards scatter across the front courtyard, combing the grounds, crouching near hedges, inspecting the stone path. Others question servants in tight clusters. The servants' faces are pale, panic written plainly across them.
No music. No laughter. No remnants of last night's festivity.
Only silence stretched thin over grief.
The jarvy flicks the reins lightly, guiding the carriage past the estate without slowing.
After a while, the carriage eases to a stop.
I step out in front of my house. The jarvy helps carry the purchases inside. The wooden boxes and groceries are placed neatly on the kitchen table. I hand him a well-deserved bonus for his service before he leaves.
Ashlynn!" I call.
"Yes, Len?"
"Come down. Help me cook breakfast."
"Coming!" she replies as she hurries down. Her steps echo through the house as she makes her way to the kitchen.
"Help me with these."
Ashlynn begins storing the ingredients—meats, vegetables, and dairy into the larder, dry goods into the pantry. She moves carefully, almost gratefully, like someone grounding herself in simple tasks.
While she works, I cook her favorite dish. Steak, buttery and rich, with salad on the side.
When everything is ready, I set the plates on the table, a little distance away from the wooden boxes. We sit opposite each other and begin our breakfast.
"Do you want to talk about Tanya now?" I ask after a slow spoonful of meat.
"On the day I ran away, I went to the plaza—but not into the Hearthlight building. I spent hours circling it."
I nod, taking another bite.
"Then I met Tanya… no. She approached me. She was following me."
"And then?"
"She took me to a nearby restaurant. We had small talk, just the usual. But she knew something was on my mind." Ashlynn sniffs softly. I continue eating, listening.
The steak turned out well.
"I told her everything. And when I wasn't looking, she put something in my drink. I didn't see it—but I just knew. Because after I drank, I got dizzy. And the next time I opened my eyes… I—"
"What happened?"
"I was in a room. Alongside other young women. All of them looked panicked. Confused. I thought I had to do something. I tried to open the keyhole—"
"Wait. That's dangerous." I cut her off, setting my spoon down this time. "I understand you wanted to run. I understand you wanted to act. But trying to escape in that situation? Really?"
"I know… but I needed to do something. The others looked helpless."
I exhale and reach for her hand. "You're safe now. I'm here."
"Thanks, Len." She smiles faintly. "Now your turn to tell your story."
"Not now. I promise you, I'll tell you after I finish this one mission."
She studies me for a moment, then nods.
We exchange small talk after that, lighter things, until breakfast is finished. Then we clean the dishes together.
Later, we open one of the wooden boxes and take out the new clothes. I ask Ashlynn to arrange them neatly in the master bedroom wardrobe upstairs. Before she goes, I hand her the rapier I bought.
"If anyone ever corners you again… you won't be helpless.," I say.
She holds it carefully. "Len… we still have our things in the hotel room."
"I'll retrieve them."
She still stares at me.
"You have something else in your mind?"
"Tanya often visits Xandar's mansion. How am I supposed to go out without being spotted?" Her brows furrow.
"Don't worry. I'll arrange a personal carriage for you."
She nods slowly.
We stay in the house for the rest of the day.
Exploring each room.
Explaining what they'll be used for.
Letting the quiet settle around us.
Spending time together.
Away from danger.
For now.