The transition from the high-tension atmosphere of the Bureau to the residential 3rd District was like stepping into a different world. The 3rd was cleaner, the air smelling of morning bakeries and blooming jasmine rather than steel and blood.
At the massive archway separating the 4th and 3rd districts, a stout gatekeeper in a blue-and-gold uniform held up a hand.
"Toll and status card,"
This gatekeeper was not mean or anything, unlike the ones in the 5th District, but this gatekeeper was bored, bored to do his guard duties.
I pulled my new status card from my purse and laid a silver coin on his palm. The gatekeeper's bored expression vanished the moment his eyes hit the glowing violet ink of the S-rank stamp. He nearly choked on his own breath, snapping to attention so fast his helmet rattled.
"Young lass... an S-rank Bounty Hunter? Never in all my years at this gate would I expect to see a Hunter living in a place like this. Truth be told, I've never even seen an S-rank in the flesh. You're so young... tell me, what's your age, girl? How does someone your size carry such a rank?"
I stood there in the morning light, the heavy fabric of my cloak hiding the stump where my arm should be. He waited for an answer, his curiosity getting the better of his professional training.
"Come on now, don't be shy," he prodded. "Speak up."
I simply looked at him, my one visible eye flat and cold. I didn't open my mouth, there was nothing left inside it to make a sound with. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, the gatekeeper's face softened from curiosity to a sudden, sharp realization.
"Ah… Mute. Of course. The things you must have seen to earn that rank... sometimes the world takes your voice before it gives you power."
He sighed, stamped my entry permit, and handed the status card back with a respectful tilt of his head.
"Off you go, then. House 132. It's a quiet street, just what someone like you probably needs."
He signaled for the iron portcullis to rise. I walked through, my fingers tightening around the brass key labeled 132.
The street was lined with rows of sturdy stone townhouses with flower boxes and polished wooden doors. It was peaceful, disturbingly so. I felt like a jagged piece of glass being tucked into a silk pocket.
"Eirene, this place reminds you of Earth, your home is from the suburbs, right?" Plasma said
I nodded with Plasma's response, it seems that the 3rd district was eerily identical to Earth, the scenery, the houses are identical like a built-in vivarium, maybe the house designer of this place must be a reincarnated being.
I found the door marked 132. It was a modest, two-story home with ivy climbing the walls. I slid the key into the lock. The mechanism turned with a smooth, oiled click, a sound of safety I hadn't heard in a lifetime.
I stepped inside and closed the door, leaning my back against the heavy wood. For the first time in months, I was truly alone. No guards, no merchants, no brother, and no monsters. Just me and the silence.
I let my hood fall back. I needed to sleep, but the image of Cameron Gal and his green hair was burned into my mind. I had a home now, but I wouldn't truly be able to rest in it until the man who turned villages into gardens was nothing but another head in a burlap bag.
House 132 was more than I expected. Beyond the solid oak door lay not just a single room, but a small, elegantly appointed suite. The combined living area on the first floor felt airy, with stone walls and a cozy, cold hearth. A small kitchen area sat to the side, and a set of narrow wooden stairs led upwards.
It was peaceful. Too peaceful.
The first thing I did was turn the heavy iron deadbolt, the satisfying thud sealing me in my own fortress. Only then did I begin to shed the weight of the outside world. I placed my newly acquired purse, still holding the gold and the Registry, carefully on a hook. I shrugged out of the heavy, grime-stained black coat and hung it up.
For the first time since my arrival in Caria, the blood wings were free. They were not numb and free as a bird, they flared slightly, shaking off the confinement, their tips nearly brushing the high ceiling.
I ascended the stairs to the bedroom. It was a comfortable space, dominated by a medium-sized bed with thick blankets. A large wardrobe sat in the corner. When I opened it, my single green eye, now shimmering in the soft light of the room widened. It wasn't empty. It was filled with an assortment of high-quality dresses and new outfits, clearly pre-stocked by the Bureau for their high-ranking officers.
There were simple tunics, sturdy trousers, and several soft nightgowns. I felt a fleeting sense of relief, I wouldn't have to rely on stealing clothes from corpses for a while.
I pulled out a soft, deep-blue cotton nightgown. My one strong right hand retrieved a sewing kit from the dresser drawer. I carefully cut and then embroidered a reinforced opening on the back of the gown, creating a neat channel for my wings.
As I began to undress, preparing to slip into the new gown, I moved toward the large, full-length mirror mounted on the wall. I wanted to see my reflection, to see the new form that now held the S-rank of a master hunter.
I stopped. The mirror was... blank.
It wasn't dark or covered. It was reflecting nothing. When I waved my hand, I saw the room behind me, the wardrobe, the bed, but where I stood, the glass was just... a transparent pane, looking through to nothingness. My green eye blinked, and nothing blinked back. There was no sign of my pale skin, my wild dark hair, or the terrifying, raw glasgow smile that carved my face from ear to ear, permanently frozen in its gruesome arc.
"Ah, this is a feature from your fifth evolution, all reflections will make you invisible. Your a vampire, Eirene."
As Plasma had said, the mirror, it seemed, was invisible. No matter how closely I looked, my image simply wasn't there. The fifth evolution truly meant I was missing from this reality's calculations.
A cold, uneasy feeling washed over me, but I didn't have the luxury of dwelling on magic mirrors. My left leg was already starting to tremble, a sign the shapeshifting cost hadn't fully abated. I shrugged, pulled the blue nightgown over my head, and routed my folded wings through the hole.
The bed was the softest I had ever slept on. I sank into the mattress, pulling the thick quilt to my chin, covering my carved smile and my green eye. My wings spread slightly under the covers, creating a warm, protective cocoon.
Sleep claimed me almost instantly, a dark, dreamless sleep that was finally free of the scent of sewers and death. Tomorrow, I would prepare for Cameron Gal. But tonight, I was safe in House 132.