Chương 7: Strangers of Interest

At last, I had an outfit worth being proud of. Finding it required wandering into a proper city, not another village or dirt-road collection of wooden houses pretending to be civilization. This place had stone walls, iron gates, crowded streets, shouting merchants, and enough bodies packed together that my senses buzzed for the first hour, as though someone had kicked a hornet's nest inside my skull. The city was called Graymere. It was walled, crowded, and almost impressive.

More importantly, it had tailors worthy of the name. The outfit I chose was black and deep violet, practical enough for fighting but elegant enough that I no longer resembled a half-drowned vagrant rescuing people for profit. A fitted black bodice hugged my waist over a pale blouse with loose sleeves and lace-trimmed cuffs. A short cloak rested across my shoulders, light enough not to restrict my movements but useful for concealing bloodstains, weapons, or whatever else the day decided to throw at me.

The layered skirt flowed in all the right places, long enough to appear proper from a distance but split so I could run, kick, leap, or tear out a throat without becoming tangled in the fabric. Deep-purple cloth wrapped around my waist like a sash, decorated with chains, tassels, and small metal ornaments that jingled softly whenever I walked. The details caught the light and gave the entire outfit an expensive finish. The boots were my favorite part.

Black, sturdy, laced with purple, and durable enough to survive roads, forests, mud, and the occasional pursuit through hostile territory. I bought three sets. What? When something is exceptional, sensible people prepare backups. I looked into a mirror and enjoyed the person staring back. Silver-white hair framed pale skin and glowing violet eyes, while black and purple fabric shaped itself around me as though the world had finally realized I was meant to be noticed. Perhaps I admired myself longer than necessary.

No one was present to judge me, and anyone foolish enough to try would have to contend with my teeth. Naturally, looking this way brought problems of its own. Beauty, I had discovered, was irritating. I liked being beautiful. That was not the problem. After eighteen years of being called plain, forgettable, disappointing, and every gentler word people used when they wanted to call someone worthless politely, denying my enjoyment would've been dishonest.

Unfortunately, everyone else seemed determined to enjoy it as well. Men stared constantly, their eyes following me through streets and markets, lingering over my body until I disappeared from view. A few attempted subtlety, though most failed spectacularly, and some even smiled as though that alone entitled them to my attention. It did not. One man attempted to compliment my eyes, so I asked whether he wanted to keep his. He quickly decided that silence suited him better, which was a remarkably intelligent choice.

Romance held no interest for me, whether it came from men, women, or whatever categories this world's monsters had invented between the two. Love was useless, little more than a leash wrapped in silk before being presented as a gift. I had already witnessed how shallow it could be. My father loved his family name, while my mother loved appearances and Elias loved himself. Lord Vane had probably called whatever he wanted from women "love" as well. So no… My blood, gold, and body would remain entirely mine.

Graymere offered one place that immediately caught my interest: the mercenary guild. I had imagined something grander, with towering quest boards, ranked monsters, and a scarred old veteran warning newcomer's away from the deadliest contract in the building. The reality was far less theatrical, though still promising enough to investigate. The guild occupied a large, ugly building constructed from stone and aged wood, with a sign depicting crossed blades above a golden coin.

Inside, men and women crowded around scarred tables, drinking, arguing, sharpening weapons, comparing old injuries, and pretending not to stare the moment I entered. They were not particularly convincing. I wandered around out of curiosity and somehow ended up registering. Apparently, the guild offered jobs with predetermined rewards. What an absurd system. Where was the flexibility, or the satisfaction of negotiating for half of someone's gold after saving their life?

A fixed reward could hardly account for how dangerous, troublesome, or irritating the monster turned out to be. The arrangement didn't appeal to me. Still, the guild provided a card bearing my name and rank, and I decided to keep it. Proof that I was officially recognized might prove useful whenever someone questioned my perfectly reasonable rescue fees. Not that reputation mattered much. After leaving the guild, I wandered along the main street until the scent of sugar ambushed me. That was not an exaggeration.

One moment, I was considering ways to exploit mercenary work for additional profit. Next, my entire body had turned toward a small shop with brightly painted windows and trays overflowing with sweets. Cakes, pastries, candied fruits, honeyed biscuits, and tiny cream-filled creations dusted with powdered sugar waited beyond the glass. I entered immediately. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Thankfully, ordinary food remained edible.

More than edible, in fact… It was delicious. Blood was different. Blood was necessity, feeding the part of me that had awakened beneath Vane's revolting hands and now waited within like a throne made from teeth. Whenever too much time passed without feeding, the thirst gathered patiently inside me. Food could not satisfy that hunger. It offered pleasure instead.

After eighteen years of cold meals, missed meals, scraps, punishments, and hunger used as discipline, pleasure felt like something worth stealing from the world whenever the opportunity arose. This time, however, I paid for it. Having gold to spare made generosity much easier. My little rescue enterprise had become remarkably profitable. I purchased a box of pastries, a bag of candied nuts, and a flaky pastry filled with dark fruit that was almost good enough to make the world seem tolerable.

Afterward, I claimed a small table beside the window and ate while pedestrians passed outside, each pretending not to stare at the silver-haired woman dressed in black and violet. A smile curved against my pastry. Graymere was far larger than the villages, filled with more people, more money, and undoubtedly more monsters hiding behind civilized manners. That meant more chances to be useful and, more importantly, to be paid.

There was no father commanding me, no mother correcting me, no brother mocking me, no husband claiming ownership, and no locked door waiting at the end of a corridor. Graymere had no idea what had just passed through its gates. I took another bite of pastry and watched the city move beyond the window. Perhaps I would "help" someone before the day ended. Upon leaving the confection shop, I discovered two people waiting outside.

A man and a woman stood near the edge of the street, dressed like mercenaries in fitted leather and carrying polished weapons. Their quiet confidence belonged to people who had survived enough violence that they no longer felt the need to advertise it. They did not block my path, but they stood close enough that pretending they weren't waiting for me would have insulted everyone involved. They were holding hands… How revolting. The woman approached first with a similar silver shade to her hair as my own.

The silver was not truly like mine. It was softer and more natural, a pale moonlit shade without the unnatural gleam my own hair had taken on after awakening. Even so, the resemblance irritated me for reasons I preferred not to examine. Blue-gray eyes studied me with a sharpness that never became openly hostile. Perhaps she was a mage, or simply the kind of woman who noticed what others missed.

"Hello, Miss.. My name is Celeste." She gestured toward the man beside her.

"And this is Adrian." Adrian acknowledged me with a polite nod. He was dark-haired, handsome, and controlled, the sort of man who looked as though he had been born knowing how to stand dramatically in doorways. A well-maintained sword hung at his side, clearly functional rather than ornamental, and his gaze met mine without drifting elsewhere. That earned him one point.

"We recently accepted a dangerous mission," Celeste explained, "and we wanted to ask whether you would join us." I studied her before shifting my attention toward Adrian, then back to her.

"Do you often invite strangers on dangerous missions?"

"Only interesting strangers." Adrian's mouth twitched, giving the impression that he had endured that line before and somehow loved her for it. Disgusting…

"My wife is an accomplished mage," Adrian explained.

"She can wield multiple elements and is skilled in barriers, detection, and purification. She sensed you the moment you entered the mercenary guild."

"Did she?" Celeste showed no embarrassment. Her curiosity only sharpened.

"I did, and I have never felt anything like you." That was either flattering or deeply concerning. Possibly both… Adrian rested one hand near the hilt of his sword, not as a threat but seemingly from habit.

"Celeste believed we would regret allowing you to leave the city without approaching you."

"Does your wife make decisions for both of you?"

"When she is right." Celeste smiled at him. I nearly lost the remainder of my pastry. So they were married, not merely lovers. Somehow, that made the hand-holding even worse. Their eager expressions irritated me, but the mention of a dangerous mission had captured my interest. Danger suggested monsters, monsters carried blood, and blood offered opportunities for experimentation. A reward would only improve matters.

"I only received my guild card today," I replied.

"Honestly, I had no intention of accepting missions. My other methods are considerably more profitable." Both of them tilted their heads at exactly the same moment.

"Other methods?" they asked together. My eyes moved between them.

"What in the synchronized hell was that?" Celeste blinked, while Adrian looked faintly entertained. I waved the matter aside.

"Never mind, it is simply side work involving rescues, negotiations, and occasional property damage."

"That sounds illegal," Adrian observed.

"That sounds subjective." Celeste's smile widened, though her eyes remained fixed upon mine.

"Then perhaps this mission will interest you. The reward is substantial, and we would divide it fairly."

"Fairly?"

"Half for you and half for us." That immediately made the offer more appealing. I crossed my arms.

"Why would two accomplished mercenaries surrender half their reward to someone who joined the guild today?" Adrian answered.

"There is a manor north of Graymere that has stood abandoned for decades. The locals call it Black Hollow House." I recalled the road sign I had passed earlier.

"They claim a witch inhabits the estate," Celeste explained.

"Whether she is alive, dead, cursed, or something else entirely remains unclear. The grounds are filled with ghouls, skeletons, and restless creatures that refuse to stay dead after being cut apart."

"Physical fighters have performed poorly there," Adrian added.

"Several groups have already failed."

"And yet you accepted the mission?"

"We have never failed," Celeste replied. There was no arrogance in her voice. That made the statement significantly more irritating.

"We are among the highest-ranked teams in Graymere," Adrian added, "but rank doesn't excuse foolish pride. When something might kill us, we prefer to recognize the danger before it succeeds." I nodded slowly. Perhaps I was supposed to be impressed. Unfortunately, I knew nothing about this world's rankings or where I belonged among them. For all I knew, my recent victories seemed impressive only because I had spent several weeks tormenting whatever creatures inhabited the local starter region.

Celeste continued watching me.

"If several experienced groups have failed," I asked, "would recruiting someone experienced not be wiser than inviting a brand-new mercenary?"

"If you were a normal brand-new mercenary… Then yes."

"And I am?"

"Not normal." Well… That was difficult to dispute. Celeste drew a careful breath before continuing, as though choosing each word deliberately.

"I can sense magical power. The ability is not perfect, but it has kept us alive. Most people feel like candles, while skilled mages resemble hearth fires, and dangerous monsters burn like bonfires." She looked directly into my violet eyes.

"You feel like a storm trapped inside a person." Some of my amusement faded when I realized Celeste was telling the truth, which was the troubling part. She could sense whatever existed inside me: the violet power, the destruction, and perhaps even the hunger. Her perception might have been incomplete, but it was enough for her to know I was more than an attractive woman carrying a new guild card and a poor attitude.

"How poetic."

"I am serious."

"I noticed. That made it worse." Adrian glanced at Celeste before turning his attention back to me.

"We don't know what you are, and we have no intention of asking. But if Black Hollow House is as dangerous as the reports claim, we would rather face it with the strongest person available."

"And you believe that person is me?" Celeste answered without hesitation.

"Yes." For several moments, neither of us spoke. People continued passing around us. Wagons creaked along the street, and somewhere nearby, a child laughed. Graymere carried on, blissfully unaware that a silver-haired mage had just declared the newly awakened, blood-drinking disaster standing before her to be the strongest person in the guild. Refusing would have been sensible.

I did not need them; mercenary work, or companionship, especially from a married couple who looked at one another as though the world had not yet beaten the tenderness out of them. Still, something about them held my attention. They had not begged, worshiped, threatened, or demanded anything. They had assessed a danger and presented a practical offer. For some strange reason, I wanted to see what they would do when death finally reached for them.

Whether they would run, abandon one another, or discover that their lovely marital devotion could not survive a haunted manor filled with restless bones. Curiosity had become an increasingly dangerous habit. I released a heavy sigh, making the decision sound far more burdensome than it truly was.

"All right. Let us go." Celeste's expression brightened, while Adrian responded with another measured nod. I turned my attention toward the northern road.

"A witch," I murmured.

"I wonder what they're like."