On the tenth day of the twelfth month of 2033.
Night had already taken the alleys of the favela.
Among the shacks...
Small points of light appeared behind windows covered by planks, old fabrics, and pieces of metal.
Stoves still burned in front of some doors.
Smoke rose slowly...
Mixing with the fog that accumulated between the buildings.
Water ran through open ditches alongside the walls.
Remains of food, rotten wood, and garbage accumulated along the sides of the alleys.
In some places...
The path became narrow enough for two men to barely pass side by side.
Éreon advanced through it.
The black cloak covered his body.
The moisture of the fog had darkened part of the fabric.
Under the cloak...
The sword rested across his back.
His steps crossed the alley without haste.
A woman pulled a child who remained sitting in front of a shack back inside.
Farther ahead...
Two young men interrupted a conversation.
One of them followed Éreon with his eyes.
The other simply stepped back into the narrow passage between two buildings.
Éreon continued walking.
Only their eyes followed him.
From the windows.
From the doors.
From the shadows between the shacks.
Little by little...
The favela began to change.
The shacks became fewer.
Rotten wood gave way to stone.
The alleys widened.
The first lanterns appeared hanging over the streets.
Red.
Amber.
Some covered by fine fabrics that dyed the fog around them.
The smell also changed.
The smoke from the stoves still remained in the air.
The garbage too.
But other scents began mixing with them.
Incense.
Perfume.
Alcohol.
Éreon crossed the last alley.
And the Red Zone appeared before him.
The night there seemed to belong to another place.
Colorful lanterns crossed the streets from one building to another.
Lights escaped through open windows.
Music emerged from different establishments...
Mixing strings, drums, and voices into a single distant confusion.
Men occupied tables placed in front of the houses.
Glasses passed from hand to hand.
Coins disappeared over counters.
Laughter crossed the street.
On a balcony...
A woman rested her arms on the railing.
The fabric covering her body left her shoulders and part of her breasts exposed.
She leaned a little farther when two men passed below.
"Are you going to keep looking from down there?"
One of them raised his face.
The woman smiled.
"To come up, you need to pay."
The laughter of the two was lost among the others.
Farther ahead...
Another remained beside the entrance of an establishment.
Her hair was tied up, leaving her neck completely exposed.
An opening in the dress rose along one of her thighs.
Her hand rested on a man's chest while the other received some coins.
She counted them.
The smile disappeared.
"That doesn't even buy my time."
She pushed him away.
The man grumbled something.
She was already looking for another face among those passing by.
Éreon crossed the street.
Some eyes reached the black cloak.
Soon disappeared.
There...
Few cared about what others hid.
Doors remained open.
Women appeared between silk curtains.
Some called out to the men passing by.
Others simply remained seated beside the entrances...
Legs crossed.
Goblets in their hands.
Waiting for someone to show that he possessed enough money.
Among them...
Waiters crossed the streets carrying trays.
Men staggered out of the establishments.
Others entered accompanied.
Perfume and incense covered the air.
Even so...
Beneath them...
The smell of the alleys remained.
Éreon continued advancing.
Without slowing his pace.
Little by little...
The smaller houses were left behind.
The fabrics became finer.
The lanterns larger.
The facades began to bear golden ornaments.
And the coins exchanged at the doors were no longer few.
Until...
Éreon stopped.
Before him...
A building rose above the others.
Three floors dominated that part of the street.
Amber lanterns hung from the balconies, casting a warm light over the facade.
Long dark fabrics descended between ornate columns.
Golden details ran along doors and windows.
The main doors remained open.
Men entered through them.
Some alone.
Others accompanied by women who led them by the arm.
No music escaped from there with the same violence as the establishments around it.
No woman needed to shout from the window.
The gold on the doors already said who could cross them.
Éreon's eyes rose.
Above the entrance...
A sign occupied the center of the facade.
Golden Breath.
His eyes remained on it for a moment.
Then...
They descended.
Two women guarded the entrance.
Fine fabrics wrapped around their bodies.
Dark enough to accompany the night.
Transparent enough to serve another purpose.
Golden details outlined their hips and wrists.
Small jewels glimmered beneath the lanterns.
Their hair was carefully pinned with ornamental needles.
Nothing about them seemed improvised.
Neither the clothes.
Nor the posture.
Nor the smiles.
One of them was speaking with a man beside the door.
Her fingers slowly slid along his collar.
"When you come back with a heavier bag..."
She brought her lips close to his ear.
"...maybe I'll remember you."
The man left beneath the low laughter of the other.
Éreon began walking toward the entrance.
That was when the eyes of the two found him.
The smile remained on their faces.
But their eyes descended along the cloak.
One of them discreetly raised an eyebrow.
When he approached...
She let the smile grow.
"Hey..."
She stepped half a pace forward.
Her eyes traveled across the small portion of his face the cloak allowed her to see.
"Aren't you too young to be looking for this kind of company?"
The other let out a low laugh.
Éreon stopped.
His eyes met hers.
The smile faltered.
For an instant...
Something seemed to tighten the air between them.
The woman felt her body stiffen.
A chill ran along her neck.
Her fingers tightened over her own hip.
The woman parted her lips.
No provocation came.
Éreon resumed walking.
He passed between the two.
Neither of them tried to stop him.
Éreon crossed the doors of the Golden Breath.
The noise of the street was left behind.
The interior of the Golden Breath opened into a wide hall.
Colored glass lanterns hung from the ceiling, spreading amber and reddish tones across the polished wooden floor.
Embroidered rugs crossed the room.
Velvet armchairs occupied small spaces around low tables.
Farther back...
Ornamented screens concealed corridors and private areas.
The smell of incense dominated the air.
Mixed with perfume.
Wine.
And something sweet that Éreon did not recognize.
Women circulated among the tables.
Fine dresses followed their bodies.
Deep necklines.
Bare shoulders.
Jewels rested upon necks and wrists.
Some carried trays.
Others remained seated beside the customers.
One of them laughed while serving wine to a middle-aged man.
The man left some coins on the table.
She did not even look at them.
She only moved a little closer.
In another armchair...
A well-dressed young man kept a woman on each side.
He spoke loudly.
Laughed even louder.
Neither of them seemed to hear him.
Even so...
They smiled at the right moment.
Farther ahead...
A curtain opened.
A man came out adjusting the collar of his clothes.
A woman appeared right behind him.
"Tomorrow?"
He asked.
She smiled.
"If you still have money."
The curtain closed again.
Éreon remained for a few moments beside the entrance.
His eyes traveled across the hall.
The tables.
The corridors.
The stairs leading to the upper floors.
The women discreetly positioned near the walls.
They did not wear uniforms.
They did not drink either.
Éreon resumed walking.
Some eyes reached the black cloak.
A man stopped his glass before bringing it to his lips.
One of the women followed Éreon for a few steps.
Soon lost interest.
The conversations continued.
Glasses touched again.
Laughter filled the hall once more.
There...
Everything had a price.
The drink.
The company.
The silence.
Even the appearance of happiness.
Éreon crossed the center of the hall.
"THIS IS ABSURD!"
The voice crossed the Golden Breath.
Some conversations ceased.
Éreon stopped.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the upper floor.
Toc.
Toc.
Toc.
A man appeared at the top of the staircase.
He descended quickly.
One hand still closed over the front of his clothes.
His face was red.
His hair disheveled.
"I PAY A FORTUNE TO COME TO THIS PLACE!"
He descended a few more steps.
"And I am thrown out of a room as if I were some miserable nobody?!"
A laugh emerged from some table.
The man cast his eyes in that direction.
The laughter died.
He continued descending.
"I barely touched that woman!"
At the top of the staircase...
Another figure appeared.
A young woman remained beside the corridor.
A blanket wrapped around her body.
One hand held the fabric against her chest.
The other...
Remained pressed against her own face.
Her fingers trembled.
Beneath them...
The skin was beginning to darken.
The man pointed at her.
"Look!"
The young woman shrank back slightly.
"Making this damn scene over one slap!"
No one laughed this time.
But also...
No one seemed surprised.
A man brought his glass to his lips again.
Another looked away.
A woman beside one of the tables continued serving wine.
As if she already knew exactly how that would end.
Éreon's eyes left the man.
Slowly rose up the staircase.
Stopped on the young woman.
For an instant...
They remained there.
Then returned.
Two women approached the man.
Different from the others.
Their clothes remained elegant.
But their necklines were more discreet.
Neither carried drinks.
One of them stepped forward.
"Sir..."
The man turned toward her.
"No."
She stopped.
"I don't want to hear excuses."
"They would not be excuses."
The woman's voice remained controlled.
The man narrowed his eyes.
She respectfully inclined her head.
"You know the rules of this house."
A brief pause.
"None of the ladies is obligated to remain with a client who raises his hand against her."
The man stared at her.
For several seconds...
He seemed not to understand what he had just heard.
He laughed.
Low.
"Rules?"
He descended the last step.
The woman did not retreat.
"Yes, sir."
The smile disappeared from his face.
"You know who you're talking to?"
The woman remained silent.
He pointed to his own chest.
"I serve directly to a count's household."
Some faces discreetly turned.
The man's voice grew together with the attention.
"Men like me keep establishments like this running."
He took another step.
"We pay for the wine."
Another.
"For the women."
One more.
He stopped before her.
"And for the privilege of not being contradicted by a servant."
The woman kept her head slightly lowered.
But she did not move from the spot.
The man took a deep breath.
His eyes traveled across the hall.
"Where is she?"
No answer.
"The person in charge."
Silence began spreading across the tables.
"Bring her to me."
The man's jaw tightened.
"Now."
A glass slowly touched the wood of a table.
Toc.
The man turned his face.
His eyes traveled across the hall.
Until...
They stopped.
In the center of the hall...
Éreon remained motionless.
The black cloak hid almost all of his face.
The man continued looking at him.
For a few moments...
Irritation gave way to something different.
His eyes descended along the black cloak.
Then returned to the little he could see of his face.
He spat on the floor.
And began walking.
Toc.
Toc.
The footsteps crossed the silence of the hall.
Éreon did not move.
The man stopped a few meters from him.
"Interesting..."
He partially turned his face toward the hall.
"They want to throw me out for disciplining a prostitute..."
Some men followed the scene.
"But they let a child enter through the front door."
The smile became crooked.
"What an exemplary establishment."
No answer.
The man stepped forward.
Éreon did not retreat.
The difference in size between the two became even more evident.
One of the women who had approached before stepped forward again.
"Sir..."
He did not take his eyes off Éreon.
"Don't interfere."
The woman hesitated.
Even so...
She took another step.
"Please. There is no need to—"
SLAP!
Her face turned.
Her body followed.
The woman fell onto the wooden floor.
A tray escaped another servant's hands.
CLANG!
Glasses rolled across the floor.
The hall fell silent.
The woman brought one hand to her face.
She tried to rise.
The man kicked her ribs.
THUD!
Her body returned to the floor.
A moan escaped her lips.
He kicked again.
"Ten minutes."
Another blow.
"Ten damn minutes..."
The woman curled her body inward.
"...and two of you have already forgotten your place."
Around them...
No one stood.
One of the servants pressed the tray against her chest.
Another looked away.
At the top of the staircase...
The young woman wrapped in the blanket brought a hand to her mouth.
The man looked at the woman lying at his feet.
"You drink our wine."
She tried to breathe.
"You wear what our money buys."
Another kick struck her abdomen.
The air left her lungs.
"And you still believe you can tell me what to do?"
"P-please..."
The voice barely came out.
The man stopped.
Looked at her.
Then laughed.
Some coins appeared between his fingers.
One fell.
Tlin.
Then another.
Tlin.
One more.
The coins scattered across the floor around the woman.
"There."
One of them spun across the wood.
Tlin...
Tlin...
Until it toppled over.
"Now we're even."
A laugh emerged from one of the tables.
Another came soon after.
A man raised his glass.
"I think you paid too much."
Some laughed.
The man spread his arms.
"Finally, someone sensible."
The laughter grew for a few moments.
The women did not join in.
They remained where they were.
Motionless.
Some with their heads lowered.
Others looking at the woman lying on the floor.
None approached.
In the center of all that...
Éreon advanced.
His eyes passed over the coins.
The blood.
The woman who remained curled up on the wood.
One hand pressed against her abdomen.
The other supported itself on the floor...
Among the coins scattered around her body.
A small stream of blood descended from the corner of her lips.
Éreon's eyes moved.
Passed over the tables.
The raised glasses.
The amused faces.
Until they returned to the man.
Under the cloak...
Hummm...
The katana vibrated slightly.
The sound was almost lost among the last laughs.
His hand disappeared beneath the black fabric.
"I know..."
The voice came out low.
"Totsuka no Tsurugi..."
His fingers closed around the hilt.
The vibration ceased.
That was when the man noticed Éreon's approach.
He turned irritably.
"What do you think you're—"
SHIIING!
The katana left its sheath.
The sound of steel crossed the hall.
The blade was already descending toward him.
The aggressor's eyes widened.
His body retreated half a step.
Before the blow could reach him...
Éreon spun on his own axis.
CLANG!
Two blades met the katana.
His eyes slid over the two daggers pressed against his blade.
Then...
Rose.
A young woman stood before him.
Short black hair waved around her face.
Some strands rested over young and refined features.
Her brown eyes remained fixed on Éreon.
Alert.
Expressive.
Nothing in her posture resembled the women who circulated through the hall.
Her weight was distributed between her legs.
Her arms kept both daggers firm.
Despite the clash between the weapons...
Her body remained steady.
For an instant...
Neither of them broke contact.
The young woman was the first to speak.
"I'm sorry."
Her voice remained calm.
"But I cannot allow this."
For a few moments...
No one moved.
The silence seemed to weigh upon the hall.
Then...
A voice emerged among the tables.
Low.
Almost a whisper.
"She's..."
The man hesitated.
His eyes remained on the young woman.
"Lili."
Another man slowly turned his face.
"The personal servant of...?"
No one answered.
All eyes turned toward Lili.
The conversations disappeared.
The glasses remained suspended in the air.
Even the women near the walls seemed to have lost interest in anything else.
Toc.
One step.
Toc.
Another.
The sound of wood against the floor crossed the hall.
Toc.
Toc.
Lili remained motionless before Éreon.
But behind her...
Someone murmured:
"Nika..."
Another answered, almost without a voice:
"She's back."
The silence became absolute.
Éreon remained with the katana between the two daggers.
Lili did not avert her eyes.
Toc.
Toc.
The footsteps continued drawing closer.