Fate favored me in one regard: Crow had a visit planned that night. The drawback, however, was twofold. First, I wish we weren’t rushing the recruitment – we rushed far too much in that period. Second, the job required me to dress far from my norm.

 

Crow requested a girl clothed in a punk aesthetic. I donned bright-white sneakers, a pair of pre-torn black jeans, and a coal-black tank top accented the pyramid-shaped logo printed in the center.

 

The logo belonged to a band known as The Pinnacle, a rock band that appeared at the top of the pyramid playing guitars. The band’s name, written in royal blue lettering, complemented the pyramid. I wasn’t familiar with the band, but the dossier mentioned them as his favorite, so I figured it could endear me. Even if it didn’t, the shirt flattered my figure, so his eyes would gravitate regardless.

 

Wynn obtained the shirt for me while I completed my guise. I broadened my face with brush and shading techniques, inserted gray contacts, and shrouded my hair with a neck-length, black wig that lightened to blond tips. Finally, I gave myself a good once-over before we departed from the safe house.

 

A massive, fluorescent sign which read The Coast Casa glittered green against the dimming sky, informing us where to park. Wynn cruised into the parking lot of a double-storied building brimming with vans and billowing litter. Swimsuit-clad teenagers lounged around outside one room, chatting and smoking.

 

The sooner we ended this, the better.

 

I waded through the stench of cigarettes, climbed the stairway to room seven, and knocked.

 

“Who is it?” asked a gravelly voice on the other end.

 

“Iris.”

 

Clicks and clacks rattled from the door before the man wrenched it open.

 

The stench of tobacco pierced me as filth incarnate revealed himself.

 

An unkempt, black beard enveloped Crow’s face while an unbelted, hooded black satin robe exposed his beige, angular torso. A pair of black shorts and slippers completed “the ensemble” while displaying his hairy, longish legs.

 

Please be part of a disguise, I thought while memorizing his brown, almond-shaped eyes.

 

“Come on in,” he said as he turned his back to me and strolled in.

 

Most of the room was what one would expect of a motel room, not too different from what I experienced in Sokkinhveim. The framed portraits of women were the one exception. It took little brainpower to discern he decorated the room, what with the realistically painted, scantily clad women.

 

“You alright?” he asked.

 

I maintained a stiff posture near the entrance, though not for the reason you’d suspect. Instead, my body warmed from the realization my distaste could serve me. It provided the sentiment I required to utilize an acting technique known as substitution. After that, I simply had to channel it into my performance.

 

“J-Jitters… This is my first time doing anything like this… C-Could we maybe share a few drinks first? It would help me relax…”

 

It should go without saying that I wouldn’t drink. Personal disinterest aside, I’m not fond of leaving myself vulnerable to someone drugging me via a beverage. On the other hand, I am comfortable with drugging somebody else – provided it’s for a good cause. In this case, for my scheme to work, Crow needed to rest for a little.

 

He patted the minifridge to the left of his bed. “If you wanna drink, there’s some stuff in here. Though you shouldn’t force yourself if you don’t wanna. I’ll pay no matter what.”

 

I remained rooted in the spot. “If you don’t care, why request me?”

 

He laced his fingers behind his head and flopped back on the bed. “Take a guess.”

 

Based on his reported loneliness, I surmised the answer. “Do you just want to talk…?”

 

“I’m cool with talking. We can talk, we can game. If you’re just going to stand there, let me get my supplies so I can draw you.”

 

I took measured steps into the room until a large portrait leaning against the wall caught my attention. A golden, setting sun painted the sky marigold while a crimson wave lapped against the wine-red shore.

 

I blitzed over, kneeled, and appraised. “This is Raum Sandulo!”

 

“You an art aficionado?”

 

“My father is fond of art. Your replication is wonderful.”

 

“I’d hope so, seeing as it’s hanging up where that’s supposed to be.”

 

My body froze as I assumed I had heard wrong. “E-excuse me?”

 

“I’m a thief. And a forger. Snagged that piece a couple of months ago. Nobody’s noticed a difference yet.”

 

What sort of thief announces such things so freely?! I wondered.

 

The irony of me recounting this question as I discuss my infractions is not lost on me. But, in my defense, I have the sanctity of confession protecting me.

 

Regardless, I asked, “W-Why would you tell me that about yourself…?”

 

“Who knows? Do what you will with that.”

 

I gulped. Crow’s disregard for his safety and reported loneliness led me to a conclusion I wished I hadn’t considered. “What if I were to do something which led to your demise?”

 

“You got any reason to kill me?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Then what’s the problem?”

 

I tilted my head and reexamined him as my pulse quickened.

 

This was, without a doubt, a rarity. I can’t say I’ve ever met an operative as candid as Crow. Nor do I suspect I ever will again. So I had to seize the moment and discover what more I could uncover from his experiences in our shared field.

 

Besides, my scheme no longer seemed all that suitable for him. What good was a threat to the life of someone who didn’t appear to fear death? I’d have to steer him towards The Maker’s Tear through another route. I could only accomplish such a feat with more information.

 

“Can I ask a question or two?” I asked.

 

“Not like you haven’t been already.”

 

I seated myself at a desk. “Why’d you choose this life? Why steal?”

 

“Cause I’m the best at what I do, and doing it puts food in my stomach. Some men stick with factory jobs ‘cause they take pride in their work and make plenty. I’m no different.”

 

Being good at something doesn’t justify doing it, I thought before deciding against saying it. I didn’t wish to antagonize Crow. “Wish I could say the same about what I’m doing…”

 

“Don’t know if it helps to hear this, but you are pretty hot. You’d make it in no time if you got over your nerves. I wouldn’t mind being with you, at the very least.”

 

My stomach tensed. How was I supposed to respond? The compliment pleased me, but it’s not as if I desired to excel in such a field.

 

“T-thank you?” I said, channeling the uncertainty into my voice. I figured the demure damsel disguise would serve me best, as it often did.

 

Crow remained as untroubled as ever. “No pressure though. As said, we can do whatever.”

 

I bowed my head. “I appreciate that.”

 

I could understand why he remained alive despite his guileless approach if he treated all the others who came to him in this manner. Perhaps I can return the gesture? I thought. Perhaps he would aid if I simply asked?

 

Don’t let your guard down! a part of me screamed. He was still a criminal. Worse, he was a criminal who embraced the lifestyle purely for his ego. I had no inkling what darkness lay beneath the surface.

 

Thus, the likelihood of him wounding me, if given a chance, remained high. However, instinct told me that this recruitment required me to relinquish something.

 

“Honestly,” I said, “I’m only doing this to accomplish a goal. This isn’t the normal me, and I don’t plan to do it for long.”

 

“Word of advice: you shouldn’t enter the underworld halfhearted. Going half in digs the deeper grave.”

 

I slumped my shoulders before crossing my arms into a self-hug and tucking my chin. How will you react? I wondered. If he showed concern, I’d target his sympathies more. If he failed to show compassion, I’d reassess.

 

He groaned. “You got money troubles? It’s the only reason I can think of why someone would turn to this if they don’t wanna.”

 

“It’s…complicated…”

 

He groined. “…How much?”

 

“W-what?”

 

“How much do you need? I’ve more than enough money built up and honestly don’t know how to spend even half of it. So, how much?”

 

A soothing heat radiated from my heart and flowed into the rest of my being. It was time to take a risk. “I’m not here for the money.”

 

“What else can you get out of sex work?”

 

“Connections, if one plays their cards right. Sex workers meet fascinating individuals: politicians, actors, contract criminals…”

 

He peered at me with newfound scrutiny. “Seeing as I’m neither arrested nor dead, I take it you’re after my know-how.”

 

“You are correct.”

 

“I’ll pass. Not feeling it.”

 

“Perhaps the score might improve your mood.”

 

“Doubt it but go ahead.”

 

“How acquainted are you with The Maker’s Tear?”

 

“Sounds familiar. Why does it sound familiar…?” He snagged his phone from the nightstand and typed. “Huh. Something just came out about it ten minutes ago.”

 

“Did it now?”

 

“Narcissa Richmond wins by default: The Grandmaster of Theft is nowhere to be seen.”

 

I bit my inner cheek while Crow let out a deep bellow.

 

“I get it now!” he said. “You’re The Grandmaster of Theft, aren’t ya?!”

 

“I will thank you to not shout such information. I’m not announcing to the world that you’re Crow.”

 

Crow slapped his thigh and burst into unbridled laughter. “The Grandmaster, coming to me?! For help?! Some ‘master thief’ you are!”

 

My jaw clenched, and my face warmed while I thought about how I could probably discover a solution without him. I decided against voicing those thoughts, though. I had a scheme, and, as I’ve said before, you cannot control others if you cannot control yourself.

 

“Isn’t that what individuals should do when faced with a task bigger than themselves?” I asked.

 

His laughter died down as he sat up. “We’re all flying solo in the end. The only way to survive in this field is to rely on your strength. No way of knowing what someone else might pull.”

 

Wynn’s decision in Sokkinhveim manifested in my mind, as did the stiffness in my jaw. I took a breath and banished the thought. “This approach sounds lonely.”

 

He laced his hands behind his head and flopped back into a lying position on the bed. “It gets me as close to happy as I can reasonably be.”

 

So, this is where having no attachments leads, I thought as my heart bounded into my throat. Thoughts of Wynn, The Crawfords, and my family sprung to the front of my mind.

 

And Becca surfaced once more.

 

“What if you’re incorrect?” I asked. “What if happiness can be achieved and you’ve yet to reach it?”

 

“This the part where you reveal how you have the cure to all my woes, and all I need to do is follow you?”

 

I shook my head. “I cannot say if what I offer can assist you. All I can do is share my experience with you and allow you to do as I do. Perhaps it’ll work, perhaps it won’t. Discovering such answers is what experiments are for.”

 

“Let me guess: trying your path out happens to jibe with me stealing The Maker’s Tear from Narcissa?”

 

“I find that being a genuine source of happiness for another brings happiness to oneself.”

 

“Already tried that out,” he said, monotone. “Contract criminal, remember?”

 

“You performed tasks for others to gain something from them. It’s…” I roosted my chin between my fingers. “…the difference is better experienced. Turning over something stolen to a client and aiding someone who needs help feel different.”

 

“Uh huh… Who are you aiding?”

 

“The Dilmurid.”

 

I brought him up to speed on the injustices suffered, though his face remained set, and he sprawled across the bed. I began questioning if this was the correct route when he said, “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll help. On one condition. You know how to play Nijal?”

 

I bit back a smirk. I gained a reputation with the game during my earlier teen years. I can even thank it for bringing Wynn into my life in a roundabout way – Grandpa and I baited Marius and him with my exhibitions.

 

Should I deceive him? I wondered. If he thought I was incompetent, it could’ve provided an edge. But, to cultivate an air of trust, I needed to combat his mistrust with sincerity. What’s more, it circumvented blowback.

 

“I’m acquainted,” I said.

 

“Good. How about Strip Nijal?”

 

I knew of variants, none of which I wished to play. “Elaborate.”

 

“The base game is the same. We draw five cards at the start, and the change sessions have the mandatory one-card minimum for the change session. The strip part comes up if a player challenges the other to a showdown, and the challenged player folds. As a penalty, they must strip. Oh, and the challenger still gets the option for an additional change during the following round.”

 

My body stiffened. The version I knew saw the loser strip but didn’t incorporate the stripping into the game. “Does anything happen if someone runs out of clothes before the deck is depleted?”

 

“Yeah. They play the game butt naked.”

 

I resisted pinching the bridge of my nose. “So, to confirm, the game is still decided by poker hand strength?”

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

I gulped down a steadying breath. “What do you have in mind?”

 

“I want one game against you. I’m in if you win.”