Her eyes closed, making it impossible not to think about the whole thing as if it had just happened yesterday. Basically, she had come to terms with it after they had thrown her out the door. It had been okay. She didn't belong in high society, and yet, after all this time, everything seemed to be laid in her lap for an entry to the very top. As if she was finally ready for it, even though nothing had changed.

The silence in the house clung to her like a restless film that she couldn't let into her heart. She had left Archihilles to die. Just like that.

Maybe he deserved it, but his blood was on her hands.

She never had killed anyone before. Not even indirectly. And yet there was only cool understanding of something that had to be done. It was the only right thing to do – at least it felt that way. A little constricted, as if she had had no choice but to tell Illumi where his victim was hiding.

"That's okay, isn't it?" Half in thought, Soleil devoted herself to her questions, only to linger on past days that should have no weight and yet possessed it.

"Soleil? Soleil!"

Her mother's voice echoed off the walls, settling menacingly in the cracks, waiting for an answer to come at last. But Soleil remained silent.

Crouched heavily over a book, she tried to sort out the letters that danced wildly on the page and didn't add up to any words. It wasn't her fault, probably not, but it was one of too many weaknesses she possessed. She was just six. She knew she understood the alphabet, but she couldn't read it. Whenever she saw text, the sentences deformed into little monsters that led lives all their own.

How was it possible to read something that didn't stand still?

She squinted her eyes, turned the book back and forth, clung to the letters that didn't move, and simultaneously lost the attachment to all the others. The tightness against her chest couldn't be held back, making frustration bubble up, clenching her hands into little fists. Her mother would be disappointed if she didn't learn to read soon. The more she failed, the less she would become the lady she was supposed to be.

And having a daughter who wasn't a lady was frowned upon in wealthy society – she had clearly understood that after many hours of extensive reminders.

"Soleil!"

All at once, her mother snapped her out of the immobile rigidity that had taken over her tiny body. The grip on her arm was firm, squeezing her skin so tightly that she could feel the blood throbbing beneath.

"I called for you!" her mother hissed, her pitch-black hair pulled up into a neat bun. The fine dress of expensive silk against her body enveloped her in the light of a beautiful woman whom Soleil could only gaze at with admiration for a breath.

"I have prepared everything and asked for you more than once!" her mother put in once more. "A lady comes when you ask for her."

"Understood, Mother." Soleil replied almost a little too meekly, so she was merely given a shake of the head before being dragged to her feet and directed to the living room. Her legs could barely keep up with the pace, so she tripped over her feet more than once and caught two more warnings.

It was only in front of a low table they let her go. The dark wood gleamed under the sun's rays that fell through the window, reflected in the glass that had been placed in the middle. Filled with water on which a small leaf rested, it had something enchanting about it. She couldn't look away, watching the light break and also noticing how a servant crouched down on the opposite side.

"My lady, would you like to try something?" The man who showed himself to her with a beaming smile was by now in his forties.

Soleil's hurried nod caused her waves to rise like the sea so that the glass was pushed towards her and she was asked to pay attention.

"My Lady, I want you to bring your hands close to the glass and then concentrate on it. Try to give this glass a part of you so that it can shine brighter than all the others. Try to change something."

She followed the instruction, keeping her distance from the glass and yet coming impossibly close to it. Her eyes were glued to the little leaf enjoying the peaceful silence and only briefly, like a whisper, she wanted to swap. But the thought disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving her with a mission to create beauty.

Her hands trembled as she squinted her eyes again, imagining how colourful the world could be if she made this glass stand out. Her fingertips tingled, her heart pounded against her chest – but nothing happened.

The water remained unchanged.

Not even the leaf moved.

"It's not working," she finally brought herself to say before glancing at her mother. Violet eyes pierced her with punishment.

Simultaneously, the servant took the glass to take a sip and grimace. "Mistress, there is no doubt. The water is sour. She is a transmuter, just like her father."

Just like her father. The jump in the air inside her made her eyes gleam as she looked again at her mother – straight into the expression of a dissatisfied woman who couldn't help but wrinkle her nose.

Was it bad that she took after her late father? Or was it bad that she didn't fit in with the rest of the family?

"Mum?"

"Don't talk to me, you worthless thing!" She clicked her tongue. "You don't even want to fit into this family. You should have been a specialist. Not a transmuter."

"But what is that?" Unknowingly, Soleil tilted her head.

"It's your character's destiny. How many times do I have to tell you? Your aura determines your place in society. I had hoped you wouldn't cause more problems, but transmuter? Your heart is weak, Soleil. Just like your father's."

Somewhere in the distance, something shattered, jolting Soleil out of her memories with a thud and making her sit upright in bed. Her skin burned, the turmoil inside wouldn't let up, and the thoughts that ran circles in her head refused to go away. The chaos in the background seemed too unimportant. Way more unimportant than the fact that at sixteen, she still hadn't been able to read and thus slipped completely through her mother's system. She had been unfit to be a part of the upper class. So she had been unceremoniously thrown out of the house.

It had been better that way.

And yet, something was missing from the puzzle.

Had it really been fair to sleep on the street for the first few weeks until she had saved up enough money to afford a flat and rent?

She shook her head, rubbed her bare arms, and tried to detach herself from the discord. All that was in the past. It didn't matter anymore.

And yet she was entitled to what had been taken from her.

She had stripped to survive. Probably half of Yorknew knew her body and even if it was a means to an end, it hadn't been pleasant at all. Not for her.

Her teeth dug into her lower lip, causing Soleil to push aside the dark curtain of her thoughts and take a breath. She had no clue what she was doing. No grip on the track she had so suddenly chosen. Everything was circling around on this course, but nothing was leading to the goal.

Maybe she just wasn't honest enough, not ready to face herself and admit that death wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If her mother died, she would be free. All possessions would be hers and the long nights under droning music would finally end.

Without further ado, her eyes clung to her fingertips. If she no longer had to go to the club, then all doors would be open to her. She could learn to cook, get a proper education, find a decent job. Anything that gave her pleasure; anything other than bare skin under artificial light.

But to get all that, to even be allowed to think about it, she had to go step by step. Chrollo wanted something from Archihilles, and it was her job to give him what he wanted.

The man's death was a loss, certainly. After all, she hadn't been able to squeeze an answer out of him that would put her in the vault. The only positive was the changing face of the man she had never really known. All that was needed was a substitute, an actor who would take everything in the direction she wanted. And there was only one man who seemed smart enough to fit that role.

Briskly, Soleil pushed herself out of bed to grab one of the less uncomfortable dresses in the wardrobe and throw it on before slipping into flat shoes and slowly opening the door of the room. Inside, the house seemed to be in utter silence, except for the clattering of dishes stacked somewhere downstairs in the kitchen. Then she glanced up the corridor to Archihilles' study, whose door still looked firmly closed.

Light-footed, Soleil slipped into the hallway. First, she had to make sure, find out if Illumi had done what he came to do.

With quiet steps, she came closer to the silence of the room at the end of the corridor until her fingers could grip the cold metal of the handle. Heat surged inside, sweat gathered under her arms and her thoughts fixed on the silent nothingness in the back of her mind, hoping to see something she didn't know if she wanted to see.

Then she pushed down the handle.

The first thing that met Soleil's eyes was the sweet smell of burnt incense candles, their scent heavy across the threshold. Behind it, the note of sweat – barely perceptible and yet present. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and, although the glow of light from the hallway should have been sufficient, the room swallowed any brightness.

Sluggishly, she shuffled her feet inside and searched the wall for a light switch with one hand. The rough wallpaper nestled treacherously against her tips until the rise of plastic bumped against them. A moment later, glaring light illuminated the room, the floor, the blood – Archihilles' body, which seemed to drown in its own life.

Eyes wide, he stared blankly into his surroundings, and though he possessed no visible injury, the redness gathered beneath him, seeping into the carpet fibres and only slowly fading.

He was dead.

And her heart beat so hard against her ribs that breathing became a little harder. The bladder squeezed, the desire to escape surfaced and before she could consume the image, Soleil turned on her heel and stumbled out of the room. Away from the body, away from the life she had thrown at the feet of an assassin.

Only with difficulty could she gather her breath, think, and find the right words before she started moving again.

This time she glided down the steps to the dining room, where two servants stood in the corners. Neither looked familiar, so she shifted her search to the living room, where a blonde woman waited beside a black-haired man. While the blonde with her silver mask was nothing more than unfamiliar ballast, Soleil thought she recognised Chrollo under the other. At least when she thought of the seconds he had put it on.

"You there," she pointed unabashedly at her target, "come with me. I have a task for you."

Obediently, Chrollo stepped out of his corner and, with a slight bow, gestured that he was at her service. A simple act that held even less meaning than the little lie she would tell him so as not to provoke trouble.

With long strides, she went ahead, felt him follow her, and guided him up the stairs to the bedroom. Only behind the door, which seemed like the only security in the house, did she breathe a sigh of relief. "Take off your mask."

Chrollo's movements remained graceful as he took the silver from his face and looked at her. The calm he held couldn't be shaken and though he might have been thinking about the fact that her act wasn't very subtle, he remained silent and listened.

"Archihilles is dead," Soleil began thus, noticing how her counterpart lowered his eyelids as if there was a trace of disappointment. "Someone named Illumi killed him."

"You spoke to him?" No shock, just mild curiosity that stuck rigidly between them.

"Briefly, yes. He got in here and was about to kill me. But I dodged. Not being Lady Hiira, I was entirely uninteresting to him," Soleil replied. "Anyway, Archihilles is dead ... but I think I have a plan to get what you want. We'd just have to stall for time."

Instead of answering, Chrollo raised one of his brows and waited – the expression akin to a question mark.

"I know Archihilles changes his face regularly, but maybe it's possible he wouldn't do it for me. At least not for two days, because he doesn't have to leave the house. In that time, I might find out something else. I mean ... at least now I can rummage through everything freely." Helplessly, she put her hands on her hips. "It's at least a chance and one of your helpers could get the key ... it's definitely with Archihilles and it's in the study at the end of the floor."

No way would she touch him. Delivering him to death was one thing, digging through his body was another. She didn't want to have to touch the damp clothes and even less did she want to get closer to him than necessary. Chrollo, however, remained unimpressed by death and all the other things she told him, which also meant that he had no problem with corpses and everything around them. Perhaps the same was true of his female assistant.

"I think this is the best chance we have of getting what you want," Soleil ultimately concluded.

Chrollo looked at her a moment longer, watching her every move. Perhaps he even smelled the tiny part, that narrow secret she was keeping from him. After all, Illumi hadn't just left.

But he didn't dwell on it. "Okay."

Just like that. There wasn't a drop of doubt in his eyes, nothing that made Soleil think he was joking even for a split second. So she tried to stay true to her plan.

"Fine, we'll try it that way, then." The smile on her features remained stiff, tugging at the corners of her mouth that wouldn't comply. "Then ... someone should remove the body..."

"I'll take care of it." His eyelids closed briefly, making those strange seconds a vague eternity in which she couldn't break away from the sight of him. Something about him had the hint of disappointment, of certainty that this plan would fail. Something that got under Soleil's skin and made her pucker her mouth before gesturing to the door.

"We'll start tomorrow."

Should he go away and doubt her plan.

She would prove him wrong.