His sister reached out, her trembling fingers brushing the cool indigo fabric of the curtain, and pushed the door open. Warmth rushed out to meet them, pulling them out of the cold night and into another world.
The interior of Kikyo Nomiya was thick with the rich aroma of roasted game, woodsmoke, and stale ale. Low wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, darkened by decades of tobacco smoke. Oil lamps flickered along the perimeter, painting the patrons' faces in shifting shades of amber and shadow.
"Drink up, you bastards!" a thunderous voice boomed from a central table.
A massive, wide-shouldered man with a tangled mop of brown hair and a thick mustache slammed a heavy mug onto the timber. He let out a boisterous laugh. "This haul pays for the whole damn month! Everything on my tab tonight!"
A cheer erupted around him, accompanied by the slamming of tankards and loud, drunken banter.
Shin's sister kept her arm braced in front of him, navigating carefully through the crowded floor. Her eyes swept the room until they settled on the long oak counter stretching along the far wall. Behind it stood a broad-shouldered man in a fitted charcoal vest, his sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, scarred forearms. He was methodically polishing a pewter tankard with a white cloth, his expression unreadable.
Before either of them could speak, the bartender reached down, grabbed a sizzling iron platter, and slammed it onto the oak bar with a resounding THUD.
"ONE GIANT RAKSHASA STEAK, COMING UP!" he barked.
The slab of meat was dark, thick, and glistening with rich juices, filling the air with a peppery, intoxicating steam.
Instinct took over. At the sudden, violent thud, the sister recoiled, instantly stepping in front of Shin and dropping her center of gravity into a guarded stance. Shin's hand went straight to his belt, his eyes locked onto the barkeep.
The bartender paused, slowly lowering his polishing cloth. His sharp, steel-gray eyes dragged over the two teenagers. Up close, his regal, iron-gray beard and heavy brow gave him the imposing air of a retired warlord rather than a tavern keeper.
His brow furrowed into a deep scowl. "HUH? What the hell are a couple of stray brats doing in my place?"
The sister cleared her throat, forcing her shoulders back to conceal her trembling hands. "Illmere... good sir," she began, her tone formal and careful. "We've traveled from the southeast region—from Novaris."
The barkeep's left eyebrow twitched faintly. "Novaris?"
"We came to ask a few questions regarding this establishment," she continued, steadying her voice. "Answer us, and we will leave immediately—"
The man's face darkened, a vein pulsing at his temple. He slammed both palms onto the counter, leaning his massive torso forward. "Huh?! What are you implying, you little shits? You think you can walk into my bar and demand answers like you own the place?!"
Shin flinched at the raw power behind the man's voice. But the sister didn't back down.
"You misunderstand," she said calmly. Without another word, she extended the worn, crumpled letter across the polished wood. The barkeep sneered, snatching the parchment from her fingers. His eyes flicked across the handwritten lines, taking in the wax seal at the bottom. Gradually, his scowl slackened. Then, his shoulders began to shake. A deep, chest-rumbling chuckle escaped him, building into a full, boisterous laugh that cut through the tavern noise. He doubled over, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
Shin narrowed his eyes, his voice dripping with an edge. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing... nothing you need to worry about, kid," the barkeep muttered. He carefully folded the paper and slipped it into his vest pocket. The harsh glare in his eyes had vanished, replaced by an unsettling, sharp curiosity. He looked around the noisy room, then gestured with his chin toward the back of the bar. "Too many loud mouths out here. Follow me."
He led them behind the counter, pushing aside a heavy velvet drape. Beyond lay a long, quiet corridor that seemed entirely disconnected from the tavern outside. The air grew cooler, carrying the subtle fragrance of dried lavender and polished mahogany.
Wooden doors lined both sides of the hallway—each crafted from a deep, wine-red timber and fitted with polished brass fixtures. Intricate geometric patterns were carved into the wood, shimmering faintly under the glow of wall-mounted lanterns. Beneath every door, a quiet, golden light seeped out onto the floorboards.
Shin counted as they walked. Ten... twenty... thirty... thirty-two...
The corridor stretched on far longer than the exterior building should have allowed, its far end swallowed in deep shadows.
Finally, the barkeep came to a stop before a door noticeably larger than the rest. Carved into its center was a sprawling, golden serpent, coiled as if ready to strike. The man reached into his vest, drew a long iron key, and inserted it into the lock.
Click.
He pushed the door open, revealing a spacious study bathed in the warm light of desk lamps. Towering bookcases reached the high ceiling, crammed with leather-bound tomes, rolled maps, and strange brass instruments. In the center sat a heavy mahogany desk cluttered with ledger books, an inkwell, and a quill. Beside it sat an unusual device—a black metal telephone adorned with intricate, glowing runes along its base.
The barkeep rounded the desk and sank into a high-backed leather chair that creaked under his weight. He opened a side drawer, pulled out a dark cigar, and struck a match. He took a long, deliberate drag, allowing the tip to glow ember-red before exhaling a plume of blue-grey smoke toward the ceiling.
"Alright, talk," he said, resting his thick forearms on the desk. "What are you doing here? Though I've already got a pretty good guess."
The sister holding his gaze said, "We're looking for our mother. She used to work here."
The barkeep smirked, smoke trailing from his lips. "Heh... So you really are her blood, huh?" He chuckled. "Unbelievable. Who would've thought that woman had kids waiting for her somewhere?"
He took another slow drag, letting the silence stretch until the tension in the room was almost palpable. "And what if I do know her?"
Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. "She used to write to us every month. She promised she would never forget about us. But four months ago... the letters stopped." Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on. "No word or any explanation. Nothing. Something must have happened to her. So we came all this way to find her. Where is she?"
The barkeep tapped his fingers against the wood, watching them like a cat watching mice. Then, he burst into another short laugh. "I can tell you where she is. But getting to her? That's a completely different story."
Shin went pale. "What do you mean? Is she hurt?"
"Relax," the barkeep said smoothly, exhaling another cloud of smoke. "Your mother did work here. But two months ago, she left my employ. Took a higher-paying job as a private maid for a local nobleman."
"A noble?" The sister stammered. "Then... how do we find him? How do we contact her?"
The barkeep leaned back, his eyes glittering in the dim light. "Lucky for you, that very nobleman happens to be one of my most frequent clients. I could arrange a little reunion... assuming you're prepared for it."
"Really?" The sister's eyes lit up with sudden unbridled hope. She immediately stepped forward and bowed low. "Thank you! Thank you so much! We will repay this debt whatever way we can—"
"Don't worry about payment," the barkeep interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "Seeing a touching family reunion is payment enough." He flashed a warm, reassuring smile. To the sister who was overwhelmed by relief, it was the smile of a savior.
But Shin stepped back, his chest tightening.
He watched the barkeep's eyes. The smile didn't reach them. Beneath the warm facade lay something cold, calculating, and predatory—a look Shin had seen on the faces of street hustlers and loan sharks back in Novaris. It was the smile of a man who had just backed his prey into a corner.
"When can we see her?" The sister asked eagerly.
"He stops by once a week," the barkeep replied, taking another slow puff of his cigar. "He's scheduled to return next week. You can meet her then."
She let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. "Next week... I understand. We'll return then." She grabbed Shin's arm to turn toward the door, but the barkeep's voice cut through the room.
"Hold on a minute."
They froze. The barkeep was staring at Shin's worn boots and the frayed hems of their cloaks.
"Judging by the dust on your boots, you two walked all the way from Novaris," he said lazily. "Which means you don't have a coin to your name, let alone enough for a week at an inn."
The sister hesitated, her cheeks flushing red. "...Yes."
"I'll make you a deal," the barkeep said, resting his chin on his hand. "You work off your stay here until next week. I'll give you three hot meals a day and a clean room upstairs. Deal?"
"That would be wonderful!" She bowed deeply again, tugging on Shin's sleeve. "We are forever in your debt."
"Your shift starts today," the barkeep said smoothly. "Head back out front. A chief is at the counter. He will give you your duties"
"Understood." She smiled, pulling Shin toward the exit.
Shin held his ground for a second, turning back to lock eyes with the man behind the desk. His gaze was icy, stripped of any warmth.
"By the way," Shin said, his voice dropping into a stern, deliberate tone. "What's your name?"
The barkeep met his glare, unbothered. He pulled the cigar from his mouth, letting a thin line of grey smoke curl between them.
"...It's Garyuu."
The wooden door clicked shut, leaving Garyuu alone in the silence of his study. He sat motionless, staring at the closed door as the smoke drifted lazily toward the ceiling. The ambient hum of the tavern outside felt light-years away.
"Pfft... ha."
A small chuckle broke from his throat.
"Stupid brats."
The chuckle deepened into a low, guttural laugh that vibrated in his chest. The warm, inviting expression he had worn moments ago withered away, replaced by an unnatural, grotesque smirk that twisted his features in the flickering candlelight.
Suddenly, a sharp, metallic ring echoed through the room. The strange black telephone on his desk was vibrating, the runes carved around its base pulsing with a faint, crimson light.
Garyuu's laughter died instantly. He reached out, lifted the heavy receiver, and brought it to his ear. In a fraction of a second, his sinister posture straightened into flawless, military precision.
"Kikyo Nomiya, Garyuu speaking. How may I assist you today, my lord?" His tone was immaculate—smooth, respectful, and perfectly refined. A voice answered from the receiver. It was deep, smooth, and heavily weighted with the cold arrogance of old nobility.
"I am calling for an update on my recent acquisition. Is the product secured, and when will it be ready for final transfer?"
Garyuu kept his expression entirely blank, taking a slow drag from his cigar before answering.
"Rest assured, my lord. The item is secured and undergoing final preparations. We are simply finalizing the details to ensure no complications arise during transit."
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke.
"It will be ready for delivery in three days."
"Good," the noble replied, his tone indifferent. "I have business near Akuro shortly. I will stop by your establishment in three days' time to complete the transaction."
Garyuu paused for a beat, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "Understood, my lord." He hesitated, then added smoothly, "If I may ask... will you be bringing that woman with you, as usual? It seems someone has arrived with a keen interest in seeing her."
There was a silence on the other end of the line. Then, the noble let out a light, dry laugh—devoid of any human warmth.
"...How amusing. That depends entirely on my mood."
The line clicked, and the red glow on the telephone faded into darkness. Garyuu slowly placed the receiver back onto its cradle. He leaned back in his leather chair, a slow, sinister grin spreading across his face as he stared into the dark corners of the room.