The night air bit harder than usual—sharp enough to sting Roa’s cheeks when she opened the narrow window to let the smoke from her candle drift out. Winter was close. You could feel it in the way the cold seemed to linger in your bones, the way the world grew quieter, as if holding its breath.

  She exhaled slowly, watching the breath curl white in the dim room. The illusion rat sat at the edge of her desk, tail flicking lazily, nose twitching toward the scrap of parchment under her hand.

  The letter was for Pit.

  She hesitated, the pen hovering above the page. More than that. Probably higher. Must immediately stop. She wrote the words, the ink biting deep into the parchment.

  The rat leaned closer, as if it could read. Its little black eyes met hers, then it gave the smallest, knowing nod.

  They’d always written in secret code—a shifting cipher Pit himself had devised. It kept things safe when letters wandered into the wrong hands. Suri, of course, probably had no clue. She’d asked for Roa’s address to send one of her illusions, not realizing she had a small window of opportunity.

  Which made this… a test.

  Tonight, Roa would simply write in plain letters. No code. No disguise. If Pit still understood the meaning—and he would—then Pit would make the decision if it was still worth pursuing since Pit himself was already exposed to them.

  The candle guttered in a sudden draft. Roa sealed the letter. The rat scurried to the edge of the desk, ears pricked, as if it knew what it meant.

  …..

  The weekend sun blazed overhead, a pale winter fire that gave light without warmth. The air still nipped at Kana’s skin, the kind of chill that found every gap in your clothes.

  She hadn’t bothered with her full armor—too conspicuous for where they were headed—but she still wore the hidden metal plates strapped along her forearms and shins, the sleeves of her tunic concealing them. Suri had gone the opposite route: a fur-trimmed jacket over a fine skirt, looking every inch the daughter of a wealthy merchant… or perhaps a noble playing in anonymity.

  Boris looked like a villager outside the city. His favorite clothes from the village—worn, patched, and stubbornly comfortable—made him resemble a dockworker ready to haul crates until his back gave out.

  Leo, bundled in thick winter clothes, could have passed for any commoner boy. Almost. Kana could feel the shadow following them—two of them, in fact. Discreet, but too steady to be chanced. Leo had already explained: his family insisted on a guard whenever he left the upper districts, especially in the slums.

  Still… Kana’s suspicion lingered. If they could send him outside the city walls alone, as they had before, what game are they playing now?

  They crossed into the Slum District, the narrow streets bending around leaning shacks and crumbling walls. Suri led like someone who had already visited before.

  The Slum streets were quieter than usual. On top of the weekend, the beginning of winter had driven people inside—or perhaps into someone else’s house entirely. The cold dulled the ever-present stench, but didn’t erase it. A few beggars still lingered, huddled in corners, most of them older or bearing scars of old violence—a missing leg or hands, eyes or ears.

  Kana looked at her hands as they walked in the Slum District. It’s gone. The trembling of her hands were finally gone. Was it because she had a purpose this time?

  Their destination stood at the end of a narrow lane: a house cobbled together from whatever could be found. Brick patched with timber. A patchwork shelter that looked as though it had survived purely out of stubbornness.

  Suri reached for the door latch, then hesitated. She rapped her knuckles against the wood instead. “Hello? Can you open the door? We’re from the academy, and we’re here to help.”

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  A small girl opened the door, probably not more than eight years old, her clothes were tattered like Boris though it was not clean, “Are you giving us food?”

  Suri nodded and patted her head.

  “Please come in.”

  …..

  Boris passed out the snacks, and the children swarmed like winter birds around a single scrap of bread. They sat on the cold floor, knees tucked in, fifteen of them crammed so close the air felt thick with the smell of unwashed clothes and dry skin.

  Kana’s gaze swept over them, and her chest tightened. Loose rags hung from shoulders too narrow, sleeves drooping over stick-thin wrists. Most were all angles—sharp elbows, sharp knees, hollow cheeks.

  A word rose in her mind, unfamiliar yet somehow perfectly clear. Malnourished. Another followed. Nutrition. Foreign terms, both of them… and yet she understood. These children were starving in a way food alone couldn’t quickly fix.

  “Where is your guardian?” she asked. Her tone stayed even, businesslike. It had to be. This was part of the process—without the guardian’s approval and signature, or at least a drop of their blood on a form, she couldn’t claim the children under her care.

  “Oh, the fat boss died a few days ago,” one boy said, as if it were a normal occurrence.

  Kana glanced over her shoulder. Leo and Boris looked puzzled. Suri, meanwhile, had found herself a doll and was engaged in some elaborate pretend tea party with one of the younger girls.

  That… simplified matters. Without a guardian, the kingdom’s paperwork would be processed quickly.

  “I will bring you to my house,” Kana said, leaning forward. “There’s plenty of food. I’ll be your new guardian. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yes!” came the chorus—bright, eager.

  One boy raised a tentative hand. “But… as long as there’s no penalty if we don’t give you coins. That’d be better.”

  The words caught her off guard. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Begging wasn’t just a habit—it was survival carved into their bones by the adults who’d used them. Something in her chest felt stabbed.

  Kana softened her smile. “You don’t need to beg anymore. Just promise me you’ll grow into good adults.”

  That made them pause. Hands stilled halfway to mouths. They glanced at each other, uncertainty passing between them. If not begging, then what?

  She wrote down each of their names, their consent given—though, really, they had no other choice. Then they moved on to the next house. It was as ramshackle as the first, a patchwork of brick, wood, and scavenged metal.

  A familiar face answered the door. The boy she’d once brought to the academy.

  He was different now—fuller cheeks, a little weight along the sides of his face. Could Elle York’s skill still be working? Kana wasn’t sure.

  The boy ran to her, arms wrapping tight around her waist. “Sis! Thank you from last time!” His voice was bright, unguarded.

  This group was easier. They wanted to go, no persuasion needed. She explained they’d be moved next week, and they nodded eagerly.

  By the time they left, word had already begun to spread through the district: the academy was taking in children without parents or guardians.

  One thought, however, clung to Kana. Is it a normal occurrence for so many guardians to die at once? It was strangely convenient. Kana looked at Suri who was tasting food from a stall nearby. It was vague last night. But Suri definitely went outside of their dorm for a moment. There’s no way. Right?

  ….

  He wasn’t officially part of the so-called organization.

  Didn’t care to be, either. He liked his freedom far too much to chain himself to someone else’s banner. But coin was coin, and when someone offered enough of it, well… he wasn’t the sort to say no.

  So he’d given them.

  A list of students’ skills, last time. Nothing too damaging. There was also no unusual report as far as he was aware of. This time, they’d wanted something different—details on the north subject’s daily routines.

  He could guess what they were planning. The picture wasn’t hard to put together. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, was it?

  In fact, it could help. The academy’s little proteges spent too much time tucked away behind walls. They needed… experience. A touch of the real world. That would teach them faster than any lecture. It would surely help them in their upcoming northern expedition.

  So technically, he was doing everyone a favor. The students got a lesson. He got a fat purse.

  He grinned as he pressed the seal into the wax.

  Helping people had never paid so well.