Old Man itched his chest and sat down against the shed. Sweat dripped down his face like a waterlogged branch.  

“Gi—Give me….a…minute to…catch…my…breathe,” he panted. “These old…lungs aren’t as…strong as they...used to be.” 

“Take your time. I’m going to go get changed behind the shed. Oh, if I see you peek, I’ll rip your head off,” Servi said, warning Old Man. He made a wheezing noise like a horse would before coughing.  

“Don’t kid yourself, Williana. My darling Jezebel had a body you can’t compare to. Besides, I’ve never lusted or loved another woman after she passed,” he coughed once more.  

“I see,” Servi said. Servi didn’t apologize. Instead, she walked around to the back of the shed and absorbed the wig, dress, and shoes. After doing one more check, making sure there weren’t any holes within the two walls plus the back of the shed, she quickly absorbed her cloak and clothes and equipped her new fancy stuff.  

Her smooth leg playfully teased itself from the single split as her spotless and unblemished feet accented the purple heels. Her bald head was no more; covered by long flowing lavender hair, Servi looked somewhat presentable in her new disguise.  

You look pretty. Itarr said. What about your eye?  

As if hearing her, Servi pulled a small black cloth and a long piece of string from her ring. “Itarr. I’m going to cut my eye again, and I want you to heal it over the string and cloth until it’s like an eye patch. I know you’re there. I love you.” 

I love you too. I don’t want you to hurt yourself, but I’ll heal you! 

The first thing Servi did was absorb the wig. It wouldn’t do any good to get blood on its pretty, false locks. She then used Telekinesis to hold a knife to her missing eye. After cutting from the top of her eye to around her ear to back to the bottom of her eye, Servi placed the string in the bloody indent. Little by little, her separated bits of skin healed up just enough to seal the eyepatch's strap in so it wouldn’t move. It was an awful feeling, like a long worm crawling under the skin but above the skull.  

Once that gross task was complete, she retrieved a second cloth to wipe and clean the blood flowing down her cheek. A few drops splattered about on her dress, but they were hidden very well and disguised. Next, it was time to carved a small square in her flesh around her missing eye. Servi leaned over as if she was trying to vomit. And all of the blood and some red muscle dripped away from her dress and onto the dying grass.  

“Heal it, please,” she whispered. Itarr responded and healed just enough of the skin so the black patch of fabric wouldn’t move.  

Servi. It’s done. It really looks like you’re wearing an eye patch. Only you and I know it’s embedded into your flesh.  

Retrieving another cloth, Servi wiped her face until it was all clear of blood. And before she walked back to meet up with Old Man, she pulled out the wig and sat it gently atop her hair. A part of her wanted to scalp herself and fuse the wing to her skull via healing, so it would look legit and authentic, but another part thought it was going too far. The amount of blood would be too much, and Old Man might smell it and investigate. If it came to it, she could use Telekinesis to keep it held down.

“Ah, so you did have an eye patch. And I gotta say, you actually look decent when you dress up,” Old Man said.  

“Yeah yeah. You look less like a bug when you suit up. You think this is enough?” Servi said. She placed a hand on her hip and looked over Old Man. The black suit he stole from Frannies was like it was tailored specifically for him. The arms of his jacket and the legs of his pants didn’t require any alterations. His scarred face somehow looked right at home and somehow made it seem less threatening. The two spotless dress shoes covering his feet were just the right size.  

“Hahaha. If only you could see me in my prime. I had a full head of hair. You know, I met Jezebel one night while walking back from a meeting. I—” 

“I’ll be glad to hear about her any other time, but we have a rich district to infiltrate and pills to sell. You sure this’ll be enough to get us through?” Servi said. She had a backup plan. Well, more like a backup massacre. She felt like it wouldn’t hurt her psyche at all if she killed the guard that hooked his scythe around that hobo’s head. She thought that if he was violent enough to act like that, then they all were. If that was true, and she thought it was, then maybe she should go ahead and kill them.  

“Maybe then they can all see the truth. Those cowards wouldn’t be blinded by their material wealth. Hell, what if they actually took the fight to the Mafia….” 

“Did you say something? Wait, where are your clothes?” Old Man said. He did a once-over on himself and straightened out his red tie.  

“I didn’t. And I got my clothes in this bag here. The pills are hidden inside. Let’s go already. I’m tired of this dress already,” Servi complained.  

“Fine. The quicker we get this done, the quicker I can stop by and buy my granddaughter's medicine.” Old Man slapped the bag he carried. It had his set of pills to sell as well as his clothes and shoes.  

With a simple nod, the two walked out from under their temporary shelter. Servi and Old Man made the trek back to the guard with the wooden scythe. Along the way, they were accosted by the poor, the homeless, and the sick. A few of them tried to steal a quick grope, but Servi put an end to that with a swift uppercut. Shattering jaws with her clean strikes, she comedically laughed when a young shirtless boy called her the Iron Knuckle. Old Man, meanwhile, had women come up to him and caress his body. Since he looked rich, they all thought he would give them something.

“Sorry, ladies,” he said to a group who tore their clothes off in front of him. “That isn't going to work on me. Go find some other man who would lay with a whore. I’m not interested.” Perhaps it was harsh, but Old Man didn’t think so. He lived a long half of his life being an accomplished businessman, then lived the other half as a horrific murderer. What little words, harsh or loving, that flowed out of his mouth at this point of his life wouldn’t tilt the scales of judgement one way or another.  

---

“My good man, wouldn’t you let us in? We stepped out to take a gander at how the common rabble lived. I dare say we had our fill of the matter,” Old Man said, in a polished and refined voice. Servi wondered if his adoptive father had taught him etiquette and manners when he took over the company.  

The guard retrieved his wooden scythe and stared at it. Then he looked to the Old Man and Servi. Once he looked back down at his weapon, Servi’s Soul Essence of Primal Combat alerted her to an incoming attack. Striking first, she quickly drew her daggers, jury-rigged to her succulent thighs by way of strings, and jabbed him through the eye hole of his helmet. His body convulsed violently. He unsuccessfully tried to scream, but no voice could escape his throat. An invisible force had tightened its hold around it, and he choked as blood sputtered from his mouth.  

“Good job,” Servi said sarcastically as she gently lowered the dying man. “You said it would work.” 

“And it would have if you had stayed your arm!” 

“Look, I’ve been in a shit ton of fights, and I kill for a living. I can read people. I know when they’re going to attack before they do. It’s all in the muscles. Besides, we’re alone. Ain’t no one saw what we did.” 

“Because of that fire. You know, it feels like someone is following us. Helping us. That’s the second damn fire that suddenly blossomed into existence. Besides, how many fights could you’ve possibly been in to read bodies?” Old Man asked. 

“Don’t look a lucky fire in the eye and doubt it. And for your question: I’ve killed over 500 people. Compared to me, you’re a saint." Using her incredible strength, she dragged the corpse over to a small bundle of bushes next to the brick wall. After kicking him in it, she straightened out her dress and further hid the body.   

“I find that hard to believe, but it’s clear to me that you’re well-versed in that area. It seems like you have no limit to your brutality. What’s your plan if we get caught? You know we’re not authorized to enter.” 

“It’s easy,” Servi said as she smiled at Old Man, “If we act like we belong, then who would question it. There’s no guard through the gate, right?” 

“That’s right. In fact, it’s all bricked off. It’s kinda like a hallway that turns right.” 

After a red soul floated into her ring, Servi walked back over to Old Man and opened the gate. Like he said, it was a hallway of bricks that turned right. Lit candles encased in crimson glass illuminated the area. The ground wasn’t grass, but it wasn’t brick, either. It seemed to be made of some sort of metallic alloy. Old Man took heed of it and commented. “The damn fools have more money than they know what to do with it. I guarantee everyone in here is a crook. I can feel it.” 

“Why you say that?” asked Servi. She stepped through the gate. She put a hand to the clean brick walls and lightly pressed against it. It was polished and smooth, like a marble countertop, yet it was the color and shape of red bricks. She didn’t know what compelled her to do so, but she brought her hand to her nose and sniffed. “Sugar? Cinnamon?” 

It took Old Man a minute to answer. “Because they didn’t fight against the Mafia when they came to Arcton. Look, I’m not going to lie and say I love the Mafia. I don’t hate them, but I don’t love them. I will say I’m glad they’re giving me the opportunity to make some cash. I’m just saying that the rich nobles were the first to fall into the Mafia’s hand. I bet it was the Monotonia that did it. I haven’t tried one, and I never will, but I know the effects they can have. The pink ones can turn any pain into pleasure, and the red ones destroy every emotion but rage. The white one is the tamest of them all, but I don’t need to take it. If I did, then there’s a chance I’ll become addicted. And if I’m addicted, then I have less money to spend on medicine. I—” 

“I see. Why do you think the walls are coated sugar and cinnamon?” Servi said, cutting off Old Man’s reasoning. He caught onto it and scoffed, but he couldn’t blame her. Back when he was younger, he hated to hear the old cronies in his company or the professors at his school lecture on and on about things that didn’t deal with business. Perhaps some of that rubbed off on him but hadn't shown itself until now? 

“If I had to guess, I’d say that it’s to keep the smell from coming in. Hell, I don’t know. I ain’t ever been to this part of town before.” 

 “I see,” Servi simply replied. They resumed walking. After taking that right, they proceeded straight for twenty meters before turning left. The passageway was narrow, maybe wide enough for two skinny Elves to walk side by side. At the end of this corridor was another gate, which reminded Servi of the Rank 10 sewer base in Canary. It was just as big, but there weren't any shops or medics.

The area was stretched out, opening into a funnel-shaped lobby. Five empty sets of jail cells stood on each side, next to the brick-like marble walls, while a group of four guards stood at attention next to the gate, two on each side. A single man, wearing a blue feather on his helmet, stood up from the nearby mahogany desk. His super shiny metal armor multiplied the candle reflections and nearly blinded everyone, even his fellow guards.  

He walked over and bowed, flooding Servi’s heart with caution. “My dearest madam and sir, it is most warming to my heart to see you two safe and sound. I do hope the common rabble didn’t bother you too much. If it pleases you, shall I go fetch two more? I imagine you two would love to carve into their bodies with knives and forks and daggers to relieve your stress.” 

“My dearest soldier,” Servi said, playing the part of a noblewoman. “While I do appreciate it, my grandfather and I are rather famished. We shall reside to a lovely little shop and rest away the day. Be a doll and open the gate, would you?” 

Old Man looked shocked as a face of horror mixed with utter disbelief filled his blank expression. The guard with the blue feather caught on, and his hand went to blade. He felt something was amiss. Using Telekinesis, Servi forced Old Man to kneel over in pain by purposely twisting his knee.

In a shocked manner, she overly exaggerated her movements, bending down and putting her arms around his back. In a heartrending voice, Servi pleaded with the guard. “Dearest grandfather, are you alright?! Was the walk much too great? Please, dearest guard, my grandfather would like to rest.” Servi made her eyes big, and after remembering the hurtful things Momo said to her, she forcibly contorted her face into a genuine frown. It was a plea for help that held both true and false meaning, but only she knew the truth.  

The feathered guard removed his hand from his blade and shouted at one of the four to open the gate. When the task was done, Servi released Telekinesis and stumbled through it with Old Man.  

It took a lot of work, more than what she expected for a simple task of selling drugs, but they were near the final step. Truth be told, Servi desperately wanted to go hide out somewhere and return to Deset after a few hours. She had more than enough to dupla to last her a lifetime, and she could use some of that to pay the Mafia, but she was stuck with Old Man.  

The thought of killing Old Man in an accident passed through her mind more than a few times, but it was his constant talk of his granddaughter which prevented her from doing so. More specifically, it was his talk of her love of foxes that prevented her from doing so. She knew that, probably and hopefully, the granddaughter realized that the person who gave her the expensive medicine was her grandfather. Maybe she was just afraid to take the first step to reconnect.  

In a way, it reminded her of her and Momo’s current situation. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it wasn’t that drastically different. They both led secret lives and had to lie to the one they cared about.  

But Servi knew she could think about that later.   

It was time to peddle some drugs.  

---

“Oh, and to answer your question, I’ve been lying for as long as I remember. My mind is always churning out things I can say to sway a conversation my way. The outcomes, the exceptions, the chances of failure and success, I try to account for everything. It’s a good thing you keeled over in pain. I was able to work off of that,” Servi said.  

After walking through the gate, they were met with a beautiful sight. Beautiful trees filled with leafy greens leaves, a crystalline pond with fish and frogs strutting about, a few handmade birdhouses sat nailed to a few trees. People were all walking around and chatting at tables like they didn’t have a care in the world. Their clothes were far more exquisite than what Servi and Old Man had on.  

And it wasn’t just a section dolled up to look good. No, it continued on for quite a while. It was a long strip of what seemed like an entirely different country; bakeries, restaurants, pharmacies, doctors, bars, taverns, and even hotels were all around her.

The area outside these bricked and sectioned-off walls divided the mega-rich from the super poor. Those inside were privileged with wealth that couldn’t be spent in a lifetime. And those outside was full of the poor, the sick, and the less fortunate. Their money had long since dried up by a mixture of bad luck and Monotonia.  

For some reason, the air itself was far cleaner and enjoyable to breathe. This sanctioned-off section belonged to the truly rich. And it was the complete opposite of the outside in every way. In a way, it was a different universe, but Servi knew that had to be impossible.  

After wandering around, Servi and Old Man found a decorative table that would put the décor in Parrel’s mansion to shame. She had just answered Old Man’s question about lying.  

“I’m very interested in your life, but I know if I pressed for it, you’d come up with some lie, and I’d be none the wiser.” 

“Don’t you dare pity me, Old Man,” Servi growled.  

“I ain’t doing nothing of the sort. Now, how are we gonna sell the pills?” Old Man plopped his bag on the table and took out a small container filled with white tablets. For some odd reason, and Servi wasn’t going to question it, the guards out front didn’t examine or inquire why they held two bags filled with clothes.  

“That I don’t know. It might be best to split up and stick to two areas. If something happens, just yell out, ‘Williana, I can’t breathe!’ and I’ll come running. Remember, you’re supposed to be my ailing grandfather,” Servi said, standing up. Old Man followed. “Oh, don’t do anything that’ll piss off the guards. Hell, lie if you need to.” 

“Girlie, there’s no use in teaching me how to lie. I’ve lived far longer than you have. Look, there’s a clock over there. Let’s meet back up at 1 PM, alright?” 

“Fine,” Servi grabbed her bag. As if flipping an invisible switch, Servi changed her voice into one more regal and noble sounding. “Grandfather, I’ll meet up with you later. Be safe, and don’t overdo it.”  

Old Man kept a rigid smile on his face. Inside, he was terrified that such a ruthless killer could play the role of a loving granddaughter. It’s like she didn’t just kill a guard in cold blood not even ten minutes ago.  

After giving a polite way to Old Man, Servi held her bag close to her chest and wandered around.  

Servi, I wonder what the best way to go about this is? 

After a few seconds, she just so happened to glance to her left and saw a little alleyway that looked like it was trying to hide. She stopped in her tracks and looked around. Like mindless zombies, the rich men in their expensive suits and the ladies in their high dupla dresses scurried about. Their eyes didn’t have much light in them; it was like they were living day after day, locked away in a bubble of protection that had no more pleasure to give.  

The whole area didn’t feel right, and on a personal level, Servi was kinda scared. But she pushed the fears away and wandered down the alley. The heels of her shoes clicked loudly against the concrete while the alcove above sheltered her from the sun.  

After turning left at the end of the alley, she found herself in a cornered dead-end lot. The same familiar brick walls that smelled sweet were to her left.  

“Then if I go through here, I’ll be on the outside?” Servi wondered. “Maybe. I wonder if the Mafia has any observers in here? Probably. It’s like they have their grimy tendrils everywhere.” After muttering to herself, Servi walked out of the empty lot.  

She didn’t know the rules of this little gated community. Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind. If she didn’t know the rules, then all she had to do was ask. And what better to find out than from the very people who had to enforce them?  

Her first task was to find a guard alone. Or, if not alone, a guard who would be willing to follow her for help. Based on her encounter with the blue feathered guard, the armed patrollers of this slice of paradise were more than happy to help its inhabitants.  

After not finding one outside of the alley, Servi turned left and proceeded to walk down the dressed-up road. Gorgeous pink plants and blue roses sat planted in small dirt-filled canals that lined the walkways. Servi took a left at the first intersection she came to.  

That was when she saw it.  

It was a building, clearly, but it was more than that. A regular building wouldn’t need the forty-plus guard patrolling in a wide berth, nor would it desire the ten watchtowers and twenty ballistae. And that was per side. In total, it had over 160 guards, 40 lookouts, and 80 ballistae.  

 The term ‘fortress’ was far more accurate than calling it a simple building. It stood well over four stories tall. Ten giant stone white pillars supported the massive outdoor balcony as well as provided some much-needed aesthetic value. The walls were completely solid white, like marble. There were no windows to gaze into or out of. And the sole entrance that Servi saw was on the side facing her. A massive Kobold stood guard, preventing anyone from entering. Three quadruple-headed nadrium axes— axes with a double-head at each end, rotated around him in a way similar to how Servi used Telekinesis to control her swords. His body was encased from head to toe in nadrium armor. Each part of his armor had two glowing blue lines, and they faintly flashed in sync with each other.  

It’s much smaller than Parrel’s mansion, yet it feels much more sinister. Servi, I wonder what it’s for? And that Kobold…. I feel something dangerous from him. He seems to be stronger than Fisher and Albert…. 

“It’s a mighty fine building, isn’t it?” Someone with a soft voice spoke from Servi's left. She turned her head and saw a prudish woman. Her brown hair, styled partly to the side and curled into a bun, was a style Servi had never seen before.  Three rings adorned both of her spotless hands as she put one to her chest, touching the purple blouse she had on. “I desperately want to go in, but none of us are worthy.” 

“Worthy?” asked Servi.  

“That’s right. That’s the only reason I can think of. I’ve been here three years, and not once have I seen someone enter or leave the building.” The prudish woman lowered her voice and leaned in, whispering, “I think the Mafia boss is inside there.” 

“Really?!” Servi exclaimed loudly enough for passersby to turn their head in confusion.  

If he was in there, then that would be the best news Servi had ever received. However, she knew she couldn’t be hasty.  

“It has to be. Why else would it be so guarded? I do think that there’s a secret entrance. Like I said, I’ve never once seen anyone pass through its guarded doors, and I watch every day. However, that large Kobold seems to move a little bit, but he’s never gone for more than a day or so. I wonder if he leads them? Oh, I have to leave. It’s time for a meeting with the Wind Zeppe—Oops! Toodles!” The woman waved and walked away, joining a gaggle of women who had walked over. Even though they seemed like they were happy, the light in their eyes told otherwise.   

“Wind? Zeppe--?” Servi quietly repeated. Regardless of what it was, she would exterminate it if it prevented her from rescuing Momo.