Zay walked across the black stone flooring of the establishment, each step echoing faintly beneath the velvet hum of conversation. When he reached the base of the staircase, he placed one boot on the first step and began his ascent.
'It actually looks pretty nice now that I'm paying attention,' he thought, casting a glance backwards.
The black stone floor shimmered subtly beneath the ambient light, its deep crimson veins glowing like slow-moving embers beneath glass. It looked less like flooring and more like cooled magma infused with life.
Turning his head forward again, Zay continued up the stairs, one step at a time. He let out a low yawn, fatigue tugging at his limbs. The climb was short, only nineteen steps in total, and he reached the second floor of Cindra Den within a few seconds.
At the top, he paused and took in his surroundings, letting his senses adjust.
The atmosphere here was markedly different from the lounge below. Beneath his boots lay plush carpeting, deep crimson with undertones of dark violet that gave it a rich, almost regal presence. Just in front of the staircase, a large embroidered butterfly sprawled across the carpet, its wings patterned with winding shapes and sigils that shimmered subtly under the soft lighting.
'Interesting,' Zay mused, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the design.
His gaze then shifted to three brown boxes resting against the side of the stairwell. They looked recently placed, unmarked, and oddly out of place in the otherwise pristine corridor.
'Wouldn't those just get in people's way?' he wondered, arching a brow.
Zay lifted his arm and coughed lightly into his sleeve, the sound muffled against the fabric. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the hallway before the thought returned to him, he still needed to find his room.
"I'm still curious how much this place is going to cost… since I didn't pay upfront," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible in the stillness.
Turning his gaze down the only hallway ahead of him, he released a tired sigh and slipped his hands into the deep pockets of his leggings. His boots moved soundlessly across the thick carpet until he reached the far end, where two identical doors stood—one on the left, the other on the right.
'What did she say?' he wondered, blinking slowly. 'I think it was the last door… on the right?' He wasn't completely sure, her words lost in the fog of his exhaustion.
Both doors were carved from the same dark wood, each with a matching blackened metal handle. They looked indistinguishable.
He blinked a few times as a long yawn escaped him, his vision slightly blurry from fatigue. Trusting his gut, he reached out to the door on the right, gripping the cold metal handle as he slid the silver key the bartender had given him into the lock.
It turned with a soft click.
Zay twisted the handle downward, and the door creaked softly as it swung inward, revealing a room so small it could barely be called a proper guest space. A single couch sat in the middle, worn leather catching the dim light filtering through the rain-streaked windows. There was no bed, no table—just that lone couch, oddly centered as if someone had dragged it there on a whim.
The windows across from him were shut tight, their glass clouded slightly with age and moisture, offering a blurry view of the outside world. Rain streaked in long vertical lines down the panes, chasing each other in rhythmic silence. No curtains covered the windows, and the moonlight spilled through, casting long, pale beams across the walls.
The clock on the far side of the dark wood wall gave a single tick every five seconds. It wasn't loud, but in a room this quiet, it felt intrusive. The floorboards beneath Zay's boots groaned faintly as he stepped further in, and he noticed several planks were cracked and splintered down the middle—dangerously sharp at the edges.
He let out a slow, disappointed sigh as he approached the couch. Its dark leather stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the room. Zay wiped a finger across one of the cushions and raised an eyebrow and nodded as he realized it was dustless.
Yet, everything else was layered in dust. Turning his head, he looked back at the path he'd walked and saw the clear outline of his boots on the floor, where the dust had parted beneath them.
'I'm going to be sick, aren't I?' he thought grimly, shaking his head with a sigh that was part disbelief, part resignation.
He dropped himself backward onto the couch, the old leather groaning slightly beneath his weight. His limbs sprawled out, heavy with exhaustion. Within moments, sleep claimed him.
Moonlight spilled across the floor in narrow beams, catching the rising dust. Outside, the wind howled low and constant, brushing against the windows like the breath of something ancient. Rain continued to trail down the glass slowly.
Seven hours passed in still silence, broken only by the rhythmic tick of the wall clock every five seconds and the occasional groan of the wind pressing against the sealed windows.
Then came a loud knock.
Zay's eyes fluttered open. His body remained still on the couch, muscles heavy with fatigue. For a moment, he considered simply rolling over and ignoring it. But the knock echoed again. He let out a low grunt, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up.
"Alright, alright..." he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
Pushing himself off the couch, he winced at the ache in his back and shoulders from sleeping in such an awkward position. As he moved across the room, he coughed into the sleeve of his tunic, his throat raw from breathing in stale, dust-laden air all night.
Reaching the door, he unlocked it with a soft click, then gripped the handle and slowly pulled it open.
The hallway outside was empty. Zay narrowed his eyes, scanning both directions. No footsteps. No voices. Not even a shadow stretching anywhere on the carpet.
He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as he muttered, "Really?"
With a quiet shake of his head, he shut the door again and clicked the lock into place.
"What time is it?" he said under his breath, half to himself, half to the ticking clock. The sound led his gaze back to the wall. The black hands of the dusty old clock pointed just shy of nine.
"It's almost nine in the morning... jeez."
He stretched out, arms reaching over his head until his shoulders popped with relief. The pale morning light had pushed its way through the cloudy sky outside, turning the rain-speckled windows into blurred sheets of gray.
Zay's gaze drifted across the room, his eyes landing on Evershade, resting quietly at the side of the couch where he'd discarded it last night. He walked back to the couch, reached down, and wrapped his fingers around the sheath of the katana.
He slid it back into place at his waist with a soft click.
Without another word, he turned and moved toward the door. The faint creak of the wooden floor beneath his boots echoed softly as he walked. He unlocked the door, opened it just enough to slip through, and gently pulled it shut behind him.
Click.
The deep crimson and dark violet carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked, the soft, worn fibers brushing against the soles of his boots.