For an eternity she seemed to float and conquer worlds, behind thick white clouds that glided upwards like fire smoke and disappeared somewhere out of sight. Soleil followed them light-footed, gliding after them until she bumped clumsily against an invisible wall. The world slipped out of its joints in seconds, Soleil's breath caught and the ground spun upwards. She widened her eyes, waited, saw the smoke coming towards her again and finally closed her eyelids as she put a hand in front of her face.
In the next breath, she startled.
"Finally." With a sigh, a servant beside her bed made herself known before the stranger put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. "I was starting to think you'd never wake up. You missed all your meals from the day before. I take it you finally rested?"
Soleil merely managed a curt nod behind a racing heart before letting her gaze wander around the room, recalling all that lay before her. This place was only a temporary refuge. A place where she had a mission to fulfil. A similar sight to the days she had been thrown out of in cold blood.
By now, the initial excitement seemed to have passed. The dance with the fake Archihilles had passed, the last twenty-four hours had lost their magic, and all that remained was the mere memory that all these things weren't new. They were just lying in long oblivion. Somewhere in the back of her mind where she had tucked them away one day, never to see them again.
"Good, good." Animated, the servant clapped her hands before turning away and bridging a few steps to reach a dresser where someone had placed something colourful. "Let's get to the first steps of the day. Get up and get ready in the bathroom. Then put on this dress. I will wait outside the door in the meantime. Come out when you are ready. Don't dawdle." She sounded like an instruction manual, explaining everything step by step. The only thing that distinguished her from badly printed paper was the pretty face, with its smooth skin and narrow brown eyes – all framed by a few blonde strands that she had tied elsewhere in a neat bun. But her expression remained motionless, and even her voice had more of a machine than a human being.
She didn't even give Soleil time to say anything back. Instead, she simply disappeared – leaving her in this unreal chaos where she wanted to sit back and sleep some more, even if the tiredness was no longer in her bones. Maybe she would indeed live like a normal human being once her biorhythm had adjusted. When all this was over. Sometime then.
The thought was tempting as she swung her legs out of bed and pushed herself onto the soft carpet, heading straight for the adjoining bathroom, barely noticeable among the paintings and ugly wall decorations with its almost unadorned door. But it was there and Soleil thanked the fleeting moment she entered and noticed that most of the things had been kept rather plain. Presumably, Archihilles used a different bathroom when the day was in full swing. Something with more splendour and even more ugly pictures, almost all of which showed the same motif: a fat guinea pig with a pink bow on its head and a terrible overbite.
A few splashes of water on the face and the morning routine for which the bathroom had been fitted out for her sake gave Soleil a little peace and assurance that she could satisfy Chrollo. It simplified the circumstances and made clear thoughts more bearable.
At least until she pulled the dress from the dresser in the bedroom and examined it. It had something of the old days – of a childhood full of expensive fabric.
The rag didn't look cheap, but there was something about it that brought bile to her throat. Even when she threw it on and felt the silk against her skin, it felt more like a nightgown than something worn in high society. The dark red shimmered with every movement and highlighted her curves like a stream of water. It had the same charm as the dresses she sometimes wore on the pole.
Matching shoes in the same colour, made of suede, stood right next to the wardrobe. Six inches for a housewife who probably only got as far as the garden. Archihilles probably didn't care for relaxation. Or comfort. Or anything that wasn't a guinea pig on expensive canvas.
The sigh on her lips rasped in her throat as Soleil headed for the exit, only to yank the door swinging open and stare at the servant behind it with a raised brow. "Was that all?"
"You look well, mistress." Instead of giving a direct answer, the stranger bowed curtly. "Now please follow me."
Obediently, Soleil fell in line behind the woman. Simultaneously, she thought back to everything she had been told and tried to break the silence with those very topics. "Why do some wear masks here?"
"The servants have been divided into three classes," she was told. "Class one is formed by the unmasked. Servants who have earned the master's trust in a very special way and who serve as faces and hiding places for him in his own house. Our faces are changed every week so that no habit can set in." She took the steps down slower than expected. "The Unmasked are everywhere and useful for everything. Our tasks change every day. You will find masked people in the house as well. Silver masks who are loved by the master, but whom he still maintains a sceptical attitude towards. They can earn the first rank if they have the will. They hold the menial tasks, like serving the food and doing the laundry." Without further ado, she turned to Soleil. "The third class are the masked ones, whose masks are white. They aren't allowed in the house – securities have been put in place for rule breakers – and they are only seen in the garden and the guest house. They have no place in our ranks."
An accurate build-up for a man who trusted no one and who was yet snooty enough to show off to her because she was nothing more than a run-of-the-mill person who didn't socialise. It was naive. Almost stupid. And yet, incredibly brazen.
"You are the only one here who keeps face, mistress," the maid continued, unperturbed. "The master may have only asked for the most important aspects, but of course, we servants have examined your past carefully. This will enable us to ensure that you pose no threat to this house."
"Did you?" Soleil raised her brows in disbelief. Her past was a closed book that had been carefully buried.
"Of course. We know you were raised in a small village by your father after your mother passed away when you were born. You grew up with him until you were eighteen, then moved to the big city in hopes of pursuing a career. But with no schooling, you were denied all options, so you temporarily became a waiter, only to end up in a strip club," she was told matter-of-factly.
The downstairs corridor, meanwhile, seemed to drag on, straight to a heavy-looking double door whose ornate gold trim stood out perfectly from the dark wood. Soleil lingered on the art for a moment before turning her attention back to the servant.
"Well then," was all she could remark about the flood of words. She had waited tables, and she had been at the strip club. Those were the only things that were true.
It was amazing what money could cover up.
She was taken to the room behind the grand double doors, which turned out to be a bright dining room where every step echoed uncomfortably. The long dining table had been set for one, so the eleven empty chairs that remained at the end looked terribly deserted. The only ones who filled this room with Soleil were the servant – who ordered another, unmasked one to have the food brought – and two silver masks, one of whom poured her some tea and the other waited in the shadows on the other side of the room. One black-haired, the other blond.
It was strange to sit amidst all the emptiness while food and drink were brought to her. Not even the meal they served fit into her world – not that of a stripper. In the past, it probably would have been different. She barely remembered the old table manners.
The small bites of black bread, salmon and white cream, as well as the two different soup plates, the handy pastries and even the fresh fruit were more than she could usually afford in a month – apart from the salmon, which by her standards would require a pact with the devil.
And all that was hers in those seconds.
They kept putting new things in front of her, spoiling her with dishes Soleil didn't know, while the paintings on the walls watched her every move with watchful eyes. All of them were guinea pigs – the same as in all the other paintings.
Instead of focusing on the beast on the walls, Soleil eyed the masked male servants, who didn't look bad in their butler's uniforms. Even without faces, they had attractive physiques. The black-haired one was slimmer built than the blond, though both were about the same height. One had something of Chrollo in his tailored suit, the other reminded her of Archihille's double who had made her day at the party.
Still, the meal remained tedious. The quantity of food overwhelmed Soleil's choice. Living between toast, packet soups, and potatoes was nothing compared to what she was offered here. It was too much – visually as well as in the quantity she could eat. Almost so constricting that after the fourth piece of salmon bread and a plate of soup, she was already jumping up inside. But the certainty of having to fit into the picture made her movements slower, so she physically only rose sluggishly from her chair.
"Would you like to rest, mistress?" Instantly, the maskless servant was beside her again, causing Soleil's shoulders to shrug.
"No... I would like to look around a little if that is permitted."
"Of course. You are free to look around. But don't go into the garden. It is only to be entered with the master." At once, the woman stepped aside with a bow, giving Soleil a clear path to the exit.
With a curt nod, she acknowledged that the garden wasn't on her agenda. She could wait until Archihilles was back. Until then, there was this house and somewhere in the middle of these four walls, a hiding place for something Chrollo desired.
So she started moving, headed for the exit, and almost a moment later, disappeared through the door into the hallway. Her gaze wandered over the doors that were within reach. Entrances, none of which particularly stood out among the others. Slowly, she strolled past a few of them, opening two only to discover the floor's magnificent bathroom and a music room where a lone grand piano awaited company.
Behind a third, she found a library that lured her inside – finally away from the guinea pig paintings. Stale book scent soothed her nerves, caressed her skin so gently that Soleil let out a comforting sigh. Books had always possessed an air of magical beauty.
Her footsteps clattered on the wooden floor, climbing up the shelves, making her stroll through the stories that were kept in this place.
All the way to a narrow door that stuck out a bit.
Once again, Soleil slipped through a passageway that this time let her encounter steps directly down. Clasping one hand tightly to the attached railing, she followed the path down; breath cool on her lips. Light from pretty wall lanterns illuminated the descent well enough for her not to be afraid, and by the time she reached the bottom, another vast space stretched out before her. Bright enough as if she were in daylight, furnished just like most of the other corners of the house. Red carpet. Paintings among gold art on the walls. The only difference was the massive wooden door at the far end of the room, and the old man standing guard in front of it.
Hesitantly, she moved closer to him, only to watch as he rubbed his sunken eyes. His stooped posture made him slightly smaller than Soleil, and the raspy voice as she reached him barely knew how to form the words he spoke.
"Mistress Hiira!" A toothless smile greeted her. "I haven't seen you in ages! How long has it been? Two years?"
"M-maybe," Soleil returned. His wrinkled skin had barely missed a spot, and the age marks on his head and hands gleamed a light brown. He had to be ancient already – so ancient that he might have forgotten that Lady Hiira was no longer alive. After all, apart from this man, everyone knew who she really was.
"What brings you to me after so long, mistress?" Without further ado, he tilted his head.
"Archihilles ... is busy with his business and has no use for me at the moment. So I thought I would take this time off to see you again at last." She clasped her hands behind her back to hide the trembling. Any wrong move could give her away.
"Mistress. A few years don't alienate us. I am still the old Hachibald and always at your service."
"Of course," Soleil returned curtly before shaking her head. "I wasn't sure."
"It's all the same!" Proudly, he pushed his back through until it cracked. "And I am very pleased to see you in good health. I suppose you're also here because you'd like to look inside the vault? Like you did whenever you wanted to calm your nerves with something nice?"
"I'd love to!" He made it easy for her. If he opened the door, all she had to do was steal what Chrollo wanted and the mission would be over. Frighteningly easy, considering Chrollo had such problems.
But her hope shattered barely a breath later.
"You are incorrigible," the old man chuckled. "Back then, too, you often asked me to let you in alone, so that you could have some time to yourselves there in peace. But as then, I must tell you now that without the master, his password, the secret question, and the key, you cannot enter."
At least he made it a little easier for her to figure out what to look for. That was a start.
"What if I sneak in?" Childishly, she pursed her lips.
"Then the hidden mini-sensors would kick in and drain your life force. As the Lord always says, when a mage is stripped of their magic, death is all that remains and that would be a disaster in your case, mistress." He shook his bald head wildly. "Anyone who enters this room without proper trifles will die. It isn't the safest place for the lord's gold caskets and other odds and ends for nothing."
Soleil merely nodded. She had no clue how a person could be deprived of life just like that, but it was probably related to Archihilles' strange talent. If there were more people who could do magic like he did, then there had to be a weapon against it.
"What if I bring you the key and you make an exception?" she finally echoed. Keys were always important, so in this case, it could hardly be otherwise.
"That's a tempting thought, Mistress." He was clearly amused by this idea, too. "But I don't think the master would just hand over the key he always carries with him. Not even to his beloved wife."
She had to stifle a groan. If Archihilles carried the key with him, it was one hundred per cent impossible to get hold of it. Apart from that, it made it harder to steal. The light breeze that had seemed so easy before turned into a small storm that Soleil had to get out of. Somehow. Without attracting attention.
Finally, a sigh escaped her that made Hachibald raise his snow-white brows. Only then did she put on the smile that had always somehow worked at the club and took a step back.
"I guess I'll have to wait then," she revealed to the old man. "Archihilles should be back soon."