visit writingdeskforravens on tumblr. (Add /sorceracharacters after com) for a list of characters (for Ushinatta Neko! :D)

ATTENTION: I've opened a vocaloid blog on tumblr. It's vocalstation if you're interested XD It's really really new.

I've been talking to some people and reading some articles about improving my writing. I'd like to thank all who have reviewed (and all who have helped!). I'm so so sorry I haven't been replying to reviews lately but I hope I can do so now that life has settled (a little). It's been a long time since the previous update huh? I was not joking when I said I didn't expect any response for this story… and so I've been planning what to write lately…

...I can feel the glares ^^"

So yep, from the next chapter (not this one, because this took me literal months and one big writing block to complete) onwards, I am trying something subtly new. Hopefully I won't relapse back into verbigeration.

For those who have not yet voted, I am so sorry but Rin will not come up until in much later chapters. This vote is like a fanservice thing .

Thanks to whimsyappletea for beta-ing! And thank you thank you thank you, for every single one of you who has beta-ed and read this. Really, thank you so much.


Recap: Len is offered freedom and a chance for a new life in Internaticco by Lily, a witch from the Sisterhood of Flowers. The price? The murder of the Crown Princess, the Green Queen.

Meanwhile, the Church's authority and influence expands.


Chapter 2

The Seat of Martyrdom

"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night


Hydrangea woven with fairy lanterns garlanded the landscape. It was a lovely, lush place, where tall willow trees swayed in the soft breeze and circled in a deciduous fairy ring around a small clearing. Overhanging leaves fell above them, like draperies of silken green that sometimes detached to flutter in the air, twirling in some transient dance before landing on the ground like evergreen snow.

The frame of this ephemeral scene was made somewhat chimerical by the setting of luxurious afternoon tea; a clothed table whereby piled upon was an assortment of carefully sculpted sugared treats; iced or candied with exotic confectionery. They were arranged in artisanal tower creations; strawberries gluttonously submerged in milk cream, angel cake flavoured blueberry gowned in chocolate.

A pale, small hand surreptitiously dabbed at the corner of a pale mouth before hurriedly vanishing beneath the table. The girl who sat on one end was small in stature, her form thin and slender while a soft waterfall of glistening seaweed hair tumbled over her shoulders in gentle waves. It framed a sharp, oval face; more pallid than fair― but not luridly so, and inset were large, round eyes of mercurial grey.

She expressed hesitance in her posture, and there was nervous apprehension as her strange grey gaze flicked occasionally to her opposing companion: amber eyes wreathed with ashen lashes, while platinum hair ran down her back, washed with watercolors. Her companion had a small, childish face, and was more a young girl than a young woman– clad in a black, ornate dress, and a frilly black cap perched coquettishly on the side of her head. The younger girl looked almost akin to a beautiful, vintage doll, with her expressions fossilized as one.

Miku fidgeted, peering from beneath her eyelashes as her long fingers toyed anxiously with the table cloth. Mayu hooked a gloved finger around the handle of fine china and brought the rim to her lips, flickering her eyes upwards at the same time.

Miku quickly looked downwards at her own plate.

It had occurred to her the utter irony of the situation, the bare ludicrosity of it. Yet a pin-prick of pain shot through her heart at the remembrance of bitter memory. Something foul lingered on the texture of her lips: Why?

She furrowed her eyebrows and finally looked up, reigning in her scattered courage and willing up an iron resolve. She was ready to confront her, to fling a betrayed arm out at the evidence of stretched time, the pile of unanswered letters, unfounded rumors and―

A burning manor.

Miku's mercury grey eyes met the dark yolk of Mayu's own, and at the sight of a sudden, small, tentative smile on that assumed ossified face, she felt her own obduracy fall like felled trees in a hollow grove.

How could she even think of asking?

She removed her fiddling hands from beneath the table and placed it on the cloth surface, leaning forward and now sincerely returning the unsure smile with one of her own. It was warm and filled with her own unique brand of kindness; eager for reconciliation and a chance to go back to the old days of their childhood. Before that... unfortunate accident happened.

"How have you been, Mayu?" She started first, as she always used to; the initiator, the instigator, the earnest best friend. Like before, playing in this very garden when the willow trees were not yet grown, they prowled amongst the bougainvilleas and Miku scattered daisy chains in her beautiful, rainbow-platinum hair.

Except now the question was nine years too late. Something stony and cold rolled over the dull yellow copper of her fair-haired friend's eyes as the small smile slipped away like a cut.

"Please, your majesty, I much prefer Lady Mayu," she spoke, her voice a cool lilt of piano keys. Her friend used to be timid― painfully shy, but always uncertainly peering upwards with a nervous, innocent smile. Now elegance and high-grace seemed to storify a little, beautiful porcelain doll-girl who moved with poise and acted with experience. It made Miku abruptly aware of the differences between them. She twisted the ring on her left ring finger. Miku was her elder by two years, but less mature, less worldly, less―

She grinned out at the sunset, and laughed before grabbing her friend by the shoulders. "We'll see the world together one day! Promise me!"

"I- I see," she faltered, cowed, her own large eyes downcast. The Green Queen herself was lovely. Her grey eyes contrasted against the rest of her oceanic dark, a starlight-house looking out from sea glass gilded with aquamarine. Her hair pooled in the crevices of her dark, navy chiffon dress, and the sharp angles of her visage promised a haunting beauty with maturity. Youth and naivete, however, showed in the openness of her face.

Her long fingers stroked the iridescent ring that circled her left ring finger; the only hint of adultness within the image of the ingénue. It gleamed strangely in sunlight, and morphed within the range of scarlet to olive, cobalt and indigo. The metal sprung like a natural formation, zig-zagging into quadrangles around her finger.

Lady Mayu? Whatever happened to the days of Mayu-chan? Miku had been the one who laughed the loudest, but Mayu tagged along timidly anyway, her arms wrapped securely around her much beloved stuffed rabbit. Miku wanted to jump, to wring her hands and bring her fingers to Mayu's frozen face. What happened? What happened?

There was a rustle of cream batiste by her side, and Miku glanced up to meet the small, smiling face of her handmaiden.

Aria's eyes were kind as she gently took Miku's cup from its saucer and filled it with Wuyi oolong tea. Her bleached strawberry hair fell over her shoulder like gossamer, while her wild braids framed her cherubic face. Miku flashed her own little smile, momentarily comforted, before Aria retreated to her position behind with her head bowed.

Her own hands crumpled the chiffon fabric of her dress; dark navy, while the brocade of her corset was threaded with glints of gold. To Miku, the atmosphere was tense. Not with hostility, but simply for the lack of words to say. Suddenly, something as precious as the remembrance of friendship nostalgia felt so tainted. Years, years, nine of them. Had she done something wrong? The silence suffocated her. It was like talking to a reflection in the mirror that differed so strangely from your own visage. Or a painting, or a memory gone bad; left to fester in some dark, cool alcove simply because it was treasured only by one. It must have been something horrible, to drive her way, to receive this… punishment. What else could it have been?

She suddenly startled. Her fault?

Her fault?

Something hard gripped the lines of her petite, slender form. Resentment flashed across like lightning, a burgeoning storm; defiance.

Why?

She straightened staunchly. No, absolutely not. She had every right and she would not allow it. All those years of withered time, her ink-spattered fingers callused as her eyes bled tears of desperation mingled with confusion. Was she not throne heiress? She should be assertive, definitive… She had every right!

"I think I should be able to address you in whatever form I wish," Miku replied back evenly, as her mercury grey eyes glittered. "It's been nearly a decade, Mayu! I haven't seen you for such a long time. We used to play here, don't you remember? We're―"

Realization gave a stinging slap.

Friends?

Her false courage deserted her and she was left temporarily gaping. Mayu watched her carefully, and something alien shifted over the color of her eyes like a shade. She spoke, and her voice was calm and cultured. "We are friends, Princess Miku," she leaned forward with a sweet smile on her face. It seemed false, so utterly foreign on so familiar a face, and Miku knew at once that her and Mayu's notion of 'friends' were much different.

Friends… She had been her only friend...

Inside, she could feel a hand reach around her heart and twist.

How many letters had she written? How many nights had she cried? She had even sought an audience with the King, her father, to plead for aid for her friend. Her father didn't see her, and Miku did not know what to feel as she put her head in Aria's lap while her handmaiden sung a sweet lullaby. Months passed, and then there was nothing but the monotonous stretch of days that slowly replaced such poignant desperation.

When she was but a child, she had wrapped her fingers around the window grilles, and tried to discern the world beyond fractured glass that refracted the light and made it iridescent. The Ivarnœn glass that stretched the high windows of Monarch Palace were multi-faceted, crystalline vitrics that brought the sunlight into the behemoth space. Greens intermingled with the clouded blue of the noon sky, but she knew that was merely the sight of the gardens. What else was out there, beyond the ink inscriptions of dusty books? Was it like Sweet Ann told; where there were lakes of diamond ice and fire, villages bustling with barbarian men and wicked women, where chances clashed with luck, and fate was a card that, while cruel, could be played?

Time passed. She used to fantasize as a child, and with Mayu gone, she fantasized once more. Mayu could walk out of the Imperial Gates. Miku could too, she so often told herself, and yet she couldn't. Which was a very good question. Why couldn't she?

She looked up at Mayu again. Refined, poised, knowing. She knew things Miku could never fathom, had experienced a life outside there.

"Past the Imperial Gates?" She had asked with wide eyes, petals falling over her eyelashes. Miku laughed and hugged her friend. "You won't leave me, right? And I won't leave you too! So we'll go out, and we'll be the adventure girls!"

Internally, something cut like jealousy. Or betrayal.

Or abandonment.

She looked away and bit her lip. She was being selfish. She was being unfair.

Miku pulled a pretty, small smile. It felt like pulling flesh forcefully from her own bones. "We are friends, Lady Mayu." She gave a cheery smile and popped a canelé into her mouth. "So please, speak. What have you been up to lately?"

Mayu gave a small, polite smile, as cold as her doll-like face. Tucked by her side, and propped on a small, almost unnoticeable chair, a stuffed toy bunny sat. It was old, patched and singed.

"Good work," Lady Mayu replied, her answer vague. She seemed more concerned with tea than actual conversation. Although perhaps, it was mindless talk she had no patience for.

Miku's smile merely brightened painfully as Lady Mayu begun to speak. It didn't matter. As always, she had to be the happy one, the one content, the one who said that 'Everything was alright'.

"Like what?"

Something flashed under the mild sunlight, and Miku's strange grey eyes were drawn to it curiously for a second. Pinned against black cloth on Lady Mayu's chest and cast in ornate silver glinted the sigil of the Holy Church.

"You know I now serve his Holiness," Mayu replied mildly, unsticking her sugared biscuit from its wrapper. Miku couldn't take it; at no further answer, she twisted the iridescent ring on her left hand agitatedly, but tried her best to keep her eyes on Mayu nevertheless. "I see, how… honorable…" Miku's voice drifted off in unsure thought.

She was uncertain how to proceed. The Church, yes, she knew a lot about the Church. Mayu worked for them now? Mayu's gaze narrowed infinitesimally, and she raised her tea cup to her lips wordlessly. Miku's eyes widened at her own implication and she shook her head hurriedly. "No, no, please. Ma- Lady Mayu, I meant no sarcasm, if that was what you thought. Tis' wonderful- great news. I merely… well, the Church, see―"

"The Church shall soon have a seat within this very palace, your majesty," Mayu interrupted primly. "Of course, as the Lady Green Queen, surely your thoughts must rest on the desires of your people? Most have taken up the holy sigil now."

Miku faltered. The Church? She knew they sent diplomats, missionaries, politicians and all manner of folk to the Palace everyday. Their people wandered the halls freely now, and it was a mark of change that perhaps half the court had pledged to them. Maybe it was true belief or the want for power, but it was all politics to Miku. And… she twisted the ring on her hand again. It was at times like these that she really wished he were here to comfort her, and give her direction like he always did.

"Of course my thoughts rest with the people," she spoke. They were rehearsed words, diplomatic, learned, taught, and then repeated. Miku swallowed. She… she was a terrible heiress. She was so stupid. Inexperienced, unwise, foolish, narrow-minded. She… hated lying. Politics was never her forte.

Mayu's yellow eyes glimmered dully as they trained on her unwaveringly.

"I- I do believe in the kindness the Church has wrought for my people." My people. It felt odd on her tongue. She twisted her ring harder. "But I am concerned with… heritage, Lady Mayu. We are a nation crafted from sorcery, and the Church is very against practitioners of… magic." The last word was blurted out like accidentally ingested bitterness, slipping off her tongue like alkaline soap. A memory burned behind her eyes, of pink hair shorn short and lifeless eyes behind bars, too tortured to glare at her with seething hatred.

A blister was forming around her left ring finger. She felt her outer epidermis rupture, and quickly removed her right hand to stuff a canape down her throat.

"Magic?" Mayu echoed. Something pitch dark flitted across her eyes, twitching at the sides of her mouth. It seemed as if underneath that porcelain skin, there was something flexed and contorted- something nearly hideous.

That was when Miku had the sudden premonition that her once dear, sweet friend was very capable of suddenly lunging across the table and ripping her throat out. This little doll-girl over a sea of blood; and she would probably feel no remorse. Miku choked, disguising it as a cough, as her hands latched self-consciously around her neck.

"For ages, magic has given some what they believe to be rights over us. This is a new age, where we are all equal." Miku's head snapped up, her grey eyes wide. Mayu's voice had gone all sugary sweet. It was as if a delicate white flower had been bent backwards, its petals forcefully unfurled from behind, and within its sweet nectar core was―

"I- I- I do not f-follow... " Miku stammered, as panic rose up within her. Something hard and blocky stuck in her throat, and no matter how much she swallowed, it would not go down. Her hands shook. Something was very wrong, and for some reason, her eyes darted to the stuffed bunny seated so innocently on the chair.

It looked twisted, suddenly gruesome― staring blankly at nothing with its maroon button eyes. Why on earth did Mayu bring that… thing with her?

Miku looked up. Her companion was grinning, her mouth stretched wider than a Cheshire cat's while her pretty dangling earrings flashed in the noon sun. They were yellow, the exact same shade of pyrite as her dull golden eyes. Something stretched out, expanded within those maize depths, like black ink dissolving. Suddenly, sweet could not be a description. Suddenly, Miku realized that of the Lady Mayu; she knew nothing at all.

She tried to swallow again.

"S-surely, Lady Mayu, but- but what… does the Church and the Path of Sorcery have to do with the- the… equality… I do- do not understand-" She pressed herself against the back of her chair, her eyes trained on the now cruel, dark gaze of the little doll-girl opposite her. She―

A figure rustled next to her, and one hand was placed placatingly on her shoulder. Aria's face appeared, looking gently concerned. "Is the Princess alright?" She asked in her foreign, violin-like accent. Miku looked up at her, her mouth agape in shock. Her face turned to and fro from her companion back to her handmaiden, before repeating. Her mouth flapped, and her eyes were wide.

"I- I-"

"Please, Aria," Lady Mayu's voice was cordial but sharp. Her fair, little fingers smoothed the ruffles of her black dress before taking her time to look up. "Do you not see that the Princess Miku and I are having a highly intense conversation? Kindly, do not interrupt." She flashed a little saccharine smile at the end and Aria flinched back, properly chided. She bowed her head and murmured apologetically, but her fingers squeezed Miku's shoulder before retreating.

"Now, where... were we? Oh, Princess Miku!" Mayu giggled, bringing her gloved hands to cover her lips. It was an abrupt change from the leaking tenebrosity in her demeanour; as if a curtain had been shuttered over a cavernous hollow and Miku was now left blinking at the spotlights. "I've been eyeing the lovely ring on your hand ever since we started talking!" She had a cheery, sweet smile on her adorable face, with her head tilted slightly to the side. Miku could only stare and grip the sides of her chair.

"Such a beautiful, precious metal. Bismuth crystal¹, am I correct?" Miku's eyes jumped to the zig-zagging ring spiraling around her left ring finger. It gleamed and flashed, before she self-consciously covered it.

"Yes," she replied weakly, now completely lost. Mayu's sweet smile widened further; she looked genuinely happy― her fair skin glowed. "Congratulations on your betrothal. When will you be wed?"

Wed? Against her own volition, Miku's heart gave a strange wrench and she swallowed again. Yes, she would be a wife to him when she reached the age of nineteen in a year's time. Two years ago, she would have wanted it more than anything: to be by his side with his enigma― his mystery, his wondrous warmth that was secret to all but her. The times he'd spent with her under the sakura tree, teaching little things like the shade of the seasons or poetry…

She bit her lip. Now all she could see was a haunted face and pink hair behind bars.

"Seduction by sorcery," the minister had murmured as he placed a hand on her petite shoulder. "I'm sure Her Majesty would be glad to see this one burn."

She could only stare. And stare.

No.

No. She wouldn't.

Miku took in a deep breath and to her surprise, it stuttered and she felt herself choke. Blinking her eyes quickly warned her that they were brimming and Miku quickly stood up, chiffon skirts flowing downwards. Her sight swarmed with blurry vision. It was too much for her, everything was too much. This little doll-girl's newfound darkness, the memento of a man she loved, the memory of a―

Everybody, everybody always walked past those gates. What was outside? What could be out there? What on earth was outside? What made them come back so changed? What was it? What was it?

I can't― I can't―

"My apologies, Lady Mayu," she barely managed to enunciate. "If you do not mind, I am -" She took in a deep breath. "- not feeling well right now."

I can't do this.

"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

The hooded man surged forward, and so did his three assailants at the same time. The slippery rank layer of sordid filth on the alley floor threatened to leave him skidding, but he used that to his advantage as he flew underneath a speeding blade. His hand shot out, catching assailant #1 by his throat. Assailant #2 aimed for his unguarded back, and so in one fluid motion, he used his momentum to swing the first assailant around and slam colleague into colleague.

A sword came crashing down on his left, and he almost winced at the closeness of it.

Quick as lightning, his own blade flicked out, and like slicing into melting butter, assailant #3's throat was slashed before he even had time to raise his sword. A thin chain was whipped out, the delicate craft of it deceived to be a fine jewellery chain, but the hooded man swung it skillfully around the neck of assailant #1 and looped it over the horizontal pole of a overhanging sign, before yanking it harshly downwards.

Assailant #1's body was lifted, and he gagged sickeningly as the thin metal cut into his adam's apple.

Assailant #2 dashed forwards, and that was when the hooded man man twirled and wrapped the long end of his chain around the last attacker's throat, criss-crossing it at the nape of the man's neck. The man hissed as the chain dug into his windpipe and he clawed at it, while his colleague kicked in his death throes above him. Blood dripped from up high, and eventually the hanged man loosened his sliced fingers from his neck as the wiry metal severed all but his spine from his head.

The last man gagged and sputtered, but his teeth was bared in a desperate malice.

"Kill me," he spat, his own fingers slippery with blood as he foolishly struggled to prolong the chain from cleaving his neck in two. Behind him, the hooded man's wiry limbs belied calm, deadly strength as his long, scarred fingers tugged the ends of the chain towards him.

"Who sent you?" The hooded man asked coldly. Under a black cowl, pale blue eyes shimmered like glacial pools of water.

That was when the man grinned, and he gave a guttural laugh. One that gurgled with blood and desperate spite. "You," he wheezed, "already know, d- don't you? We've been... ch- chasing you f… for years now." His words were punctured with watery rasps, and soon his mouth was slick with froth. "How long do y-you... th-think you can escape?"

There was a pause as the hooded man regarded him with an almost miffed indifference.

"Long enough." And the man's throat splintered with a hideous crunch.

Len, with his hood still up, barely moved as he regained his normal pace of breathing. It was a mark of skill that he was completely still, but his jaw did clench with withheld fury, and something monstrously violent still lingered in the blackness of his face.

Another crunch sounded, this time coming from the entrance to the alley. He slunk away into the inkwells of shadow. The hanging body above swung gently, and the heady scent of the growing blood pool was cloying.

Wood creaked as another crunch was heard. A slight figure put another foot forward before stopping warily― but she placed an arm beneath her chest nevertheless, while the other arm dangled large, dangerous-looking hooks over her shoulder. The light within the alley was horrendously dim, but it illuminated the lime greenness of her hair, the cocoa color of her eyes.

Above, the body moved gently, like a grey-cloaked ghost; limp and dead. Her eyes settled immediately on the gory sight: blood splatters across the dirty walls, and bits of flesh and other human matter mingling with the filth. Horror and disgust flashed across her face― it was temporary, although it still lingered as she turned her gaze away to the side.

"Holy Helios, Len."

Len emerged, his hood still up. "Can't blame me, Gumi," he answered easily. His gloved hands were dark with blood, and miniscule droplets were visible on his face. He bent down to wipe his gloves on the cloak of one of the corpses, while Gumi's eyes eventually flitted to the swaying body above. They examined the glinting chain with ease, before she shifted the hooks over her shoulder to a more comfortable position.

"Well, at least I'm glad to see my make still holds," she mumbled to herself before turning away. Len wiped his face, his visage expressionless as he followed her out of the alley.

"They should. I would have been extremely upset if they didn't," he answered her. Gumi snorted, not looking into his face. She was short, almost stumpy perhaps, but reasonably attractive with her foreign Internaticco facial structure. Bright green hair the color of leaves was cut short and spiky near her chin, although it was tied in a half-ponytail while two long locks at the sides of her tanned face reached her small breasts. Dried blood was smeared on the dirty whiteness of her apron, and her gloves were extremely large and tough.

"Oh, really, Len? What would you have done?" Her eyes slid over to his face slyly, a smirk playing on her lips. "Kill me?"

"No," he answered dryly. "I would have asked for a refund."

Gumi sniggered and shifted the hooks on her back again. They were large, nasty-looking meat hooks, and dug into her back. Still, she seemed fairly used to the discomfort as they swung behind her short stature while she moved. Len continued walking with her even though he had no real reason to. Like Kaito, Gumi was another close acquaintance. They had known each other for numerous years and she could (perhaps) count as one of his Underground contacts.

On the days she didn't smell like dead beef, at least.

"How did you know I was in that alley?" Len started casually. Gumi shrugged. "Coincidence, I think. I was doing deliveries through Plantates district when I spotted your hooded self slip past and go down that alley. I did my deliveries and thought I'd pop by and say hi to whatever strangeness you've been up to lately." Gumi edged a glance towards him, and gave another derisive snort. "But you already know that, don't you? You little brat. I know no one sees you unless you want them too. You led me there." Her tone was not accusatory, but rather amused.

Len did not answer her, but a rare lift of his cheeks showed before vanishing immediately. His hood was still up, but in a way so that it covered the sunbeams of his bright hair and not the cold shade of his face. His companion studied his appearance closely― it had been approximately three months since she saw him last. Years lurking in pitch blackness with that damnable hood over his face made Len's skin a blank white, while his eyes were dreadfully cold. Oh, and he had a new scar fading on the curve of his chin. Len reminded her of Kaito sometimes, did she ever tell him that? Gumi wondered. They possessed the same self-assurance, and their presence was manipulatable by their unpredictable persona. Dangerous people, but god forbid she'd ever tell them that.

Dumbasses. As if their ego needed further swelling. She pictured Kaito's sly smile.

The road beyond them was uneven, and her short stature seemed to make the journey all the more excruciating, as her shorter legs struggled to keep up with Len's lanky strides. Furthermore, she was carrying bleeding hooks, for gods' sake. She stopped abruptly and moved to stand in front of him, looking past the shade of his cowl and into those glacial blue eyes. Her mouth was thin and indignant, but inside, a thought casually wandered across her mind if Len would give thought to kill her off if he ever deemed her useless...

She quickly shut that thought down as she shoved the large meat hooks into his gloved hands. She didn't like to think about it, even though they were in the same industry. Those hooks were heavy and long and Len needn't be so bloody useless.

His blue eyes did not widen nor change, but stared down unimpressively instead. Meanwhile, Gumi ignored him as she tore her large gloves off her hands and shoved them into the front pocket of her apron. She smelled like pork and dried beef; which had been exactly what she had been delivering. Her trade was her former husband's: butchery― and some tidbits from a hobby.

"Be a gentleman and help a lady," she said archly. Len shot her a small glare before begrudgingly hefting them over his back, used to this routine. She gave a relieved sigh as she tugged on her hairband, finally letting her short hair loose. Now relaxed, she started talking mindlessly. "Bloody deliveries. Glad I only make them once a week. Have you heard that they're conducting another burning?"

Len did not answer her one-sided question, but Gumi was used to it and plowed on mercilessly anyway. She spoke about everything she could get her mind on. Should she repaint her shop? Did he think she needed a new haircut? Clan Mew's daughter apparently ran off with a farmer's lad, had he heard about that? Also, the burnings.

"I swear, with all the ashes they're piling on the stones, you'd think they'd start scraping the blood off." She heaved a loud, dramatic sigh before spotting and tsking at the grime on her fingers.

"They'd ought to shift those burnings elsewhere, really," she said with blank honesty as she nonchalantly wiped her hands on Len's dark vest. He nearly made a noise of protest and shrunk away from her outstretched fingers. She shot him a stern, whiny look. He ignored her. She jumped forward to latch onto his still upward hood. He sidestepped her.

He could not help but admit that he felt slightly annoyed. You couldn't talk about the burnings nowadays if you didn't want the Church knuckle-rapping your door with guards trailing behind. He had enough trouble as it was and he did not need Gumi's effervescent mouth drawing in curious attention. Curiosity killed the cat, but Len found it troublesome to avoid the blood spill afterwards.

The streets were busy as always, but not uncomfortably so. She stretched and spoke endlessly while leading forwards, with Len reduced to her temporary errand boy trailing behind. Honestly, he thought dryly, sometimes he humored her a bit too much. Still, maybe he could be indulgent. And he liked Gumi anyway, enough to maintain a relationship. It was not the first time they were doing this, and soon, they had arrived within sight of Gumi's little butcher shop.

"That reminds me, handsome." Gumi's voice turned serious and trailed off. "You aren't staying at… wherever you were staying anymore, are you?"

He had not told her where he lived. As much as he liked her, favor did not discount expendability. His business ethics could be cold like that. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously in response, but he already had his own ideas and spoke them aloud. "Did Yuzuki Yukari tell you that?"

Gumi threw him a hard look. She was not ladylike, surprisingly for one from a country notorious for its almost tribal conservancy, and now her answer tumbled out from her mouth like a mudslide. "Of course she did, you dickhead. I rack up an elephant's stampede in the basement all the time, and you do know I'm her lovely, cherished neighbour."

Len gave a negligible sigh. His eyes moved to the left of Gumi's butchery, and sure enough, his current temporary residence with the words 'Crescent Hare' blazed above in curly ink. He suppressed his rising irritation before dodging the last remnants of the crowd and pushing into Gumi's shop. Gumi followed, rolling her eyes.

"Don't blame Yukari, you little stiff-board," she said. "She was very diligent in not giving you away and everything, but Kaito was visiting -" Her mouth turned downwards bitterly. "- and somehow or another, he knew -"

That bastard. Why wasn't he surprised?

"- that you were currently homeless. Yukari was very upset, I'd have you know, and Kaito was boasting about putting two and two together and― where are you going?"

Len pivoted on his foot to face her from where he stood at the doorway."I'm entering your basement to borrow some weapons. And then I'm going to kill him."

Gumi paused. Ah, a rare show of humor. Did the sun sink into the sea or something, because Len did not do that. Still, she shrugged.

"Oh. Well, don't take anything from the fourth shelf."

He said nothing in reply, his face emotionless. A thought occurred to him and he swiveled to face her. A frown touched his usually blank face, crinkling the skin between his eyebrows. "Couldn't you have silenced Kaito?"

"Silenced Kai-" Gumi echoed before giving out an angry huff and folding her arms. Something petty shone in her cocoa orbs as she flipped a green lock away from her face. "Excuse me, am I supposed to be his keeper? And what kind of wording is that?" She added as an snarky afterthought. "'Silenced'. And how did you expect me to go about it? Whip out a knife and carve swear words into His Fabulousnessness face?"

Len was already descending the stairs, and so his last words were muffled by shadow.

"Oh, I dunno. Kissed him?"

Gumi gasped. "Len!"

"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

Gumi huffed an exhausted sigh before taking a deep breath and heaving out her darlings. Either they were heavy, or she was weak and bony. Whatever, she didn't care. Either way, these babies needed to move from here to there so―

"Will you stop standing there and fucking help me?"

The Great Asshole in Black slouched in a corner with his chin propped casually on his palm, while his blue eyes shimmered mysteriously even in this sweaty dark. Gumi wondered if she would ever be fast enough to dart to the furnace, grab a poker and spear it into those bright, watchful eyes.

It was a laughable idea she liked to entertain.

Len chose not to answer, merely lounging lazily against the dark-bricked wall as he watched her from the shadows. It was creepy, and not to mention rude. She retaliated by grabbing whatever loose bits she had scattered around the floor and tossing it at his face. It was scrap metal, and to no one's surprise, Len shifted casually just in time for it to clatter noisily against the wall beside his cheek. Gumi huffed in response and turned back with a petty flourish.

"I cannot believe I'm entertaining you," she muttered as she quickly tied thick ropes around the canvas-covered bundles. Dark iron poked out from one of them, and it was sharp and smithed to be deadly. As she pulled back from her task, beads of perspiration ran down her forehead. She wiped them away, smearing her face with what she knew to be thick smudges of black ash and dirt.

A flash of bright yellow appeared at the corner of her periphery. Len knelt beside her, gloved fingers feathering over the sheathed weapons. Uncaringly, she aimed a kick at his head which he stopped with a mere two fingers. A growl wriggled at the back of her throat, but she let it go.

"To the Bazaar, to the Bazaar," she hummed under her breath.

"To the market, to the market, to the city down below.

Where thief walks hand in hand with the murderer in shadow.

Oh my lovers, and oh my darlings

What blade that bleeds shall we get?

Down in the city, to the city, to the putrid Black Bazaar.

Here there is no candle

To light your way ahead

Only a whisper

As off goes your head."

It was an old tune known by many who dealt the same as them. Gumi mumbled the song tunelessly as she bustled about, attaching ropes and chains before lifting her cargo onto a wheelbarrow. She piled rotten carcasses onto the wrapped weapons, covering them with stinking flesh. Len wiped his hands wordlessly and followed her.

The stench was strong, hovering about them like a cloud of repugnant filth. People, guards, merchants steered clear of them, unwilling to rifle through what was clearly, to them, at least, a butcher heading to the outhouses to dispose of meat clearly gone bad: a donation to the fertiliser houses before dispensing off to the farmlands. Len had disappeared, but she felt that he was nearby, shadowing her like a haunting ghost.

And she was right. As she stood at the edge of the Doorway, she turned around only to shriek at the sight of him so close to her. She glared and swatted at him, before she tugged at the rope, brows furrowing, and descended. As she went further downwards, the wind whistled through the cracks in rocks, its cadence eerie and silent. That was when she knew she had reached the underground.

The Black Bazaar.

During the age before Cryptonia, the land was ruled by tribes and clans. A great tribe built a subterranean city below the surface. Tunnels and caves honeycombed the granite rock; the only light available flickered dimly in hollow slots. To reach the behemoth of the Black Bazaar took at least a half an hour's walk, something she did not particularly relish in. Still, Gumi took pride in the curves and niches of every scimitar, mechanical crossbow, and sharpened blade her blacksmith hands wrought. Yes― smithing was her true passion. Butchering had been her husband's, and while she did detest that despicable man, she did admit the art of carving flesh had its advantages in the… other services she provided. To murderers like Len.

Beside her, Len glided along. It was terrible, really, thought Gumi. It was like having a ghost for company; a dead person. The Black Bazaar was haunted. Everyone knew that, and so when Len moved like that alongside her, clad in black and absorbed by the darkness of the tunnels nonetheless; she couldn't help but be severely spooked.

And nagged at him.

"For fuck's sake," she spat edgily. "Walk like a normal human, please. Or pull this damn cart for me. I'm tiny, you know." Len threw her a look, one which she promptly dismissed. Not her fucking fault she was a weirdo.

"The transport system is only a hundred metres away."

"Like I care!" she nearly screeched. It pissed her off more than anything when people thought she was stupid. She knew that! "Use. Your. Legs," she said, stomping her feet for emphasis as she walked. "It's bad luck, this place," she snapped. Even though she had resided in Cryptonia for decades, the superstitious mindset of the Internaticco still stuck. "I don't you need you making me pee in my pants. I―"

Something howled past them, a hollow moan that dragged across the dark tunnels. It was nearly pitch black, and she could not see the walls in some places. Gumi gritted her teeth.

"I hate this place."


Sorry I had to cut this chapter short, but I swear to kami-sama, I got so tired of rewriting this so many times before slapping myself in the face when I realized what went really wrong.

I'll be working on the chapter outlines to make this story more concrete and substantial. So I've been looking through the next chapter outlines, and I'm pretty happy with what's coming up next. I swear to try my best to make the next chapter interesting. Its the least I can do for all you wonderful readers and those who have reviewed.

[1]Bismuth crystal: Relative atomic mass of 83, Bismuth is a pentavalent post-transition metal, although it can (easily) be grown in DIY style. It has a spiral, stair-stepped structure due to a higher growth rate around the outside edges than on the inside edges. The variations in the thickness of the oxide layer that forms on the surface of the crystal causes different wavelengths of light to interfere upon reflection, thus displaying a rainbow of colors. It is mildly radioactive.