Chapter 10: Black Cat

  The sudden burst of street violence acted like a bucket of ice water, dousing their curiosity and leaving only a thick, lingering dread in the air.

  Mary's fingers were cold as she tugged at Ronen's sleeve, her voice barely a whisper. "Should we... should we head back?"

  Before her voice had even faded, Zoe shook her head. She refused to look at the bloodstain on the pavement, turning her gaze instead toward the grotesque, neon-lit signs deeper in the street. Longing was beginning to override her fear.

  "We finally found the entrance," she whispered. "We're already here... if we go back now, who knows if we'll ever get another chance?"

  Ronen looked down the seemingly endless street in silence. The lanterns cast distorted shadows against the stone walls, and the roar of the crowd surged like an underground river. If I'm going to stay in this city, I have to adapt to its rules sooner or later, he thought. A mercenary doesn't fear a bit of risk.

  "Sisti told me there's a shop down here with items that might help our mission," Ronen said. "It should be nearby. I think we should at least find it and see what's inside. Going back now would be..." He searched for the word. "A waste."

  Seeing both Ronen and Zoe in favor of continuing, the timid Mary had no choice but to press herself closer to Zoe's arm and follow.

  They moved in a cautious formation, sticking to the edge of the main thoroughfare. After only a few paces, a crowd blocked their path. At the center stood a raised stone arena, half a man's height above the street. On the stage, two near-naked warriors were butchering each other in the most primitive fashion.

  There was no etiquette, no rules—only the dull thud of fist on bone, heavy panting, and the spray of sweat and blood. The smell of rust was so thick it saturated every breath. Below the stage, spectators sat behind crude tables, shouting bets and raising mugs, treating the cruelty as a thrilling pastime. Vendors wove through the throng, hawking booze, snacks, and cheap styptic powders. It was a chaotic, feverish tableau of hell.

  Zoe peeked from behind Ronen's shoulder, her pupils reflecting the flickering torchlight and the spray of red. Mary, meanwhile, hid entirely behind him, clutching his tunic so tightly she seemed to be trying to turn invisible.

  Ronen scanned the area. Soon, his eyes locked onto a target—diagonally across from the arena was an unassuming shop. The sign read "Black Cat," featuring the silhouette Sisti had described.

  "This way," he murmured, using his body to shield the girls from the press of the crowd as they ducked into the shop.

  Behind the counter, a young man was slumped in a chair, a thick, old book covering his face. It was impossible to see his features, and he sat so still his chest barely seemed to move. He looked either dead to the world or entirely indifferent to customers. The shop was filled with wooden carvings—mostly dolls and puppets—which cast long, spindly shadows in the dim amber light.

  "Is the owner... dead?" Zoe whispered into Ronen's ear.

  Before he could answer, a long, lazy drawl came from beneath the book.

  "This is no place for children."

  "Sisti sent us," Ronen cut in, stepping forward to try and see past the book's edge. "She said you could help."

  "Heh. How original." The man didn't move. "Most who come down from the Crimson Moon say she 'sent' them. That's not exactly a golden ticket. Tell me, who are you people?"

  "We are investigators commissioned by the Lapsus Merchant Circle," Ronen answered.

  "Lapsus... investigators?" The man repeated slowly, finally showing a spark of interest. He reached up, pinched the spine of the book, and slowly slid it off his face.

  He possessed a handsome face, though it was etched with profound weariness. His eyes were half-open, his gaze distant and cold like a frozen pond. He looked over the three of them, his eyes lingering on Ronen before his lips curled into a lazy smirk.

  "Whoa... he's so handsome!" Zoe blurted out, startling everyone. Realizing her lack of decorum, she flushed and waved her hands frantically. "Nothing! Sorry... you guys keep talking... keep talking..." Despite her words, she stared at the man with unabashed fascination.

  "Cough..." Ronen was speechless. "Miss, please try to maintain some dignity." He turned back to the man. "Is there a problem with us being Lapsus investigators?"

  "Not at all," the man smiled faintly, shaking his head before letting out a mock-solemn sigh. "You're the team heading to the Eye of the Blizzard, aren't you? Tossing yourselves into a mess personally managed by Lucas... you've got guts."

  He sat up slowly, tossing the book onto the counter with a soft thud.

  "I do have things here that might help," he said, interlacing his fingers beneath his chin. "Provided you can pay the price."

  "What exactly do you have?" Ronen asked, trying to read the man's intentions.

  The man only smiled, his pupils as deep and dark as a well. "That depends on how much gold you have." He spread one hand, tapping his fingers on the wood. "From fine weapons and rare supplies to... 'information' that money can't always buy. If the price is right, I can get anything." His gaze flickered to the sword at Ronen's waist. "You're a cub from the White Tiger's Fang, aren't you? I can even pull strings with the Mercenary Association if you need extra hands. Though, the price won't be cheap."

  "I never told you who I was." Ronen's hand instinctively moved toward his hilt, only to realize his gear was back at the inn. He cursed his own carelessness inwardly.

  "I told you, I have everything here." The man's smile widened. "A simple list of investigators isn't exactly a state secret."

  Ronen's brow furrowed, then relaxed. The man was right—it was a public recruitment. He suppressed his annoyance and forced himself to stay calm. This man might actually be useful. Weapons and gear he already had, but in a place like this, information was worth more than steel.

  "You said this was 'personally managed by Lucas.' What does that mean? What's wrong with him, and why is this mission special?"

  The young man held out his hand, palm up. The laziness was gone, replaced by a grin so bright it was almost piercing. "One gold sovereign. Don't complain about the price—this intel only flows through me."

  "One gold sovereign?!" Ronen's eye twitched. He expected it to be expensive, but that was absurd for a single sentence.

  "Prices work differently down here," the man said. He reached under the counter, pulled out an unfinished wooden carving and a slender chisel, and began to work. His movements were steady, wood shavings curling away under the blade, but his eyes frequently flicked up to Ronen as if weighing him.

  Seeing Ronen's hesitation, he paused his chisel. "Little cub, your name is Ronen, right? Didn't your elders teach you? In this world, information is life. One extra clue is one more chance to breathe. One gold coin for a life... sounds like a bargain."

  His voice dropped, but every word was sharp. "I heard your deposit was ten sovereigns, with forty more upon completion. Did you never stop to think why a 'simple investigation' pays that much? Do you think Lapsus just has too much money, or are you too naive to know the market rate?"

  Ronen stared at him, his gaze like a knife. After a few heartbeats, he pulled a gold coin from his pouch and pressed it onto the counter.

  With a flick of his finger, the man made the coin vanish.

  "Much obliged," he said, returning to his carving. "Lucas Maxim—he's a big name. Not a founder, but absolutely core leadership. And the projects he manages always have something to do with 'God'... their God."

  He stopped his wrist and pushed the carving toward Ronen. The face on the wood was a seventy-percent match for Ronen's own. "This is yours. Worth a gold coin, wouldn't you say?"

  "...Their God?" Ronen's pupils shrank, nearly ignoring the likeness of himself.

  Mary, who had been hiding behind Zoe, whispered in a trembling voice, "Do you mean... the 'Omniscient and Omnipotent God'?"

  "Oho! The lady has done her homework. But it's not exactly a secret. Spend enough time with the Circle and you'll realize the core members are all lunatics. Always rambling about omniscience. Who knows what goes on in their heads?"

  "So you're saying our mission is related to this God?" Ronen scratched his head. "But isn't that just a concept?"

  "That's why I called them lunatics!" The man shrugged. "Heaven knows what they're up to. Maybe they're actually trying to create an omniscient god."

  "Create a god?" Ronen shook his head, unwilling to go down that rabbit hole. He felt the gold coin might have been wasted after all. He looked at the man again, his mind shifting. Regardless of the mission, an intel broker who could survive in the Nightless City was someone worth knowing.

  "Can we be properly introduced? You clearly know me, but I'd like to know your name and perhaps call you a friend. I plan to stay in this city; I imagine we'll be seeing each other often."

  The man gave a cunning smile and held up one finger. "I think you know the rules. You know mine, and I know yours. Even brothers keep their ledgers separate, right, little cub?"

  Ronen frowned. He reached for his pouch again—

  "I'll pay!"

  Zoe beat him to it, slapping a gold coin into the man's hand. Her eyes hadn't left his face for a second. "So, big brother, what is your name?" Her voice was sugary sweet, her fear of the street violence completely forgotten.

  The man weighed the coin, a knowing smirk on his lips. He picked up a fresh piece of wood, his chisel gleaming.

  "No need to carve me!" Zoe waved her hands, turning slightly pink but unable to hide her excitement. "How about... you carve one of yourself for me to keep?"

  The man chuckled and nodded. His chisel danced across the wood. "I am Alter Cucus. I run this shop, as you can see." He looked at Ronen. "I like your style, kid. You're green, but you're straightforward. Not like those old foxes who haggle over every copper."

  He set the rough figure aside. "Whoa... so cool he's Cucus to death..." Zoe sighed dreamily.

  Alter looked a bit embarrassed by that reaction. "Cough!" Ronen cleared his throat. "Miss, please act normal!" Zoe shot Ronen a murderous glare.

  "Ahem... as a gesture of this... 'friendship,' I'll give you one free question," Alter said to Ronen, shifting the subject. "Ask away. On the house."

  Ronen went silent. He had a thousand questions—Dragonwood Village, the North, the tower... he couldn't waste this. Then, a seemingly random thought from earlier crossed his mind. He looked at Alter, his expression testing the waters.

  "Do you like cats?"

  The chisel in Alter's hand stopped dead.

  It was only for a fraction of a second, but the momentary freeze in his eyes didn't escape Ronen's focus. It wasn't the look of someone thinking about pets; it was the sound of a lock being clicked by a key only an initiate would recognize.

  Then, Alter returned to his lazy demeanor, the blade resuming its work. "Live ones, or dead ones?"

  "...Live ones, naturally," Ronen replied.

  "Oh." Alter chuckled, glancing at the cat carvings around his shop. "My shop is covered in them, so I suppose the answer is yes."

  "So it is a code, isn't it?" Ronen dropped the act, his voice low. "I don't know the proper response. But I'm curious—what does 'The Cat' stand for?"