No matter how many times I come face to face with this personality, I'm intrigued and intimidated at the same time. Mix in a bag of 'this guy's ridiculous' and that's exactly where I am right now. I can't take him seriously, and at the same time, I feel absolutely subliminal beside him.

With his arms in the position like skinned chicken wings and his hands gesticulating excessively, he only walks on his tiptoes, not wearing any shoes. He keeps his back extremely bent inward, in a way that seems like he has his head thrown into his neck at all times. This posture can't be healthy.

Add to that his bright red feather blazer and the tightest leather pants I have ever seen in my life, with nothing beneath, neither top nor bottom – I slept with enough men to catch that there is no other layer under his pants – and a golden halo headpiece, ornate with black and red artificial roses. Probably the only flower I can recognize and name. Okay, I recently learned what chrysanthemums look like so I can add that to my knowledge of flowers.

In contrast to his absolutely ridiculous way of dressing and walking – though if it were only one or the other it wouldn't be that bad at all – he keeps his blond hair short and neatly combed back. I am, however, unable to tell if he dyed his hair or if it's naturally blond.

"What a pleasure to have you at my humble home again!", his voice is deep but clear, as you'd expect of an opera singer. He's one of the few people who just made it in this city. The range of his voice is insane, his ability to sing the male and the female part of any piece got him the recognition he desperately deserved.

But at some point, it just kind of went out of control. He's a core example of what money can do to a person who isn't born with it. The right people heard him sing and suddenly he was famous in this city. It made him a fortune; the rich are paying insane amounts of money to hear him sing, even more to get a solo performance. Comparing him to the person he was seven years ago is like comparing day to night.

He was much like me, a no-one in a city dreading to consume him. He tried to vanish, blend in with the crowds, didn't draw attention. But that fear has gone, thanks to the money. If enough money could turn me into someone like him? I doubt it. I wouldn't want to be like him. I'd probably rather end up like that secluded old Archist living at the very edge of the city. Alone, secluded, and happy about it.

"A pleasure to be here again," Thomas bows his head slightly, and I follow his example. Andrew needs a moment to catch on, but eventually, he gets around to it. His confused hesitation, however, is enough to get the Duke's attention.

"What a nice addition you have today. Not much used to the upper city yet, is he?" he talks about Andrew as if he wasn't right here, much to my amusement. After all, the Duke is informed about our rookie and he treats him that way.

"It's his first day up here, at least as our 'addition'," As always Thomas handles the talking. And the Duke is one of the few who respects that decision and always has. He addresses me if something is the matter, but he tries not to out of consideration. Despite his extravagant appearance, he is one of the pleasant clients, likely because he hasn't forgotten his roots.

He lives an over-exaggerated lifestyle and has accumulated quite a lot of useless junk and an ego, but he remembers. I don't think it's an active choice though, considering his behavior it often feels like he falls into a habit he doesn't realize he still has.

I don't mind one bit, it gives me some peace and quiet I need to work, but I wouldn't say he is extremely considerate about me or my job. I just am, and that's enough for him to adjust without thinking about it.

"I hope he knows what he's up against?", it's a rhetorical question and I can't hold my own words back, "as do I…" I attempt to cover it up by clearing my throat but he heard. I get an overdramatic perplexed gesture of his hand, his face in contrast looks unmoved, so we both just move on.

"I trust your process," That's all I get in return, and that's fine by me.

"I am curious, Duke, about one thing," Thomas cuts to the point, maybe to ensure that my slip of tongue doesn't linger despite everyone's best effort to ignore it.

"A week," the Duke answers, as I expected him to. There is only one detail missing in the file, we all know what that means. Okay, our rookie probably doesn't, but his quiet tells me that he's busy looking around and getting lost in the opulent black and gold décor.

It's tame compared to the Lane mansion, the walls aren't as high, and the rooms aren't as spacious. However, a lot feels smaller than it actually is due to the dark colors. The walls are of deep, brown wood, most of them covered by big pictures of abstract art. Almost all of them are red. There aren't many doors in this building, more often than not a red curtain divides the rooms. The ceiling and stairs are white, but not as pristine as the Lanes'.

There's wear and tear visible. I guess the difference lies in the Duke being a very busy person, despite his wealth he has a job to maintain; hours upon hours of practice, songwriting, rehearsals, planning – like, a shit ton of planning – and whatever more there is.

Mrs. Lane on the other hand sits at home all day long, she has all the time in the world to make sure their mansion is spotless. Not that she's cleaning herself, but there has to be someone present to oversee the staff.

And speaking of staff; the only staff the Duke has poses all day long as statues on small pedestals. Painted in all white, they are living decorations, and not at all present today.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"It's not too bad," the Duke continues "I fed most of her to Marceline, but the smell just lingers and Betty refuses to get back into her cage with all the blood – You know she has a sensitive nose."

"Of course, we'll take care of it so Betty can return home in no time," Thomas reassures the Duke with a smile.

"I know you will!" He's happy with the answer, and his confidence gives me hope for today's assessment with Andrew at my side.

"Here we are!" The Duke comes to a halt in front of one of the only doors in this building, leading right outside into the garden.

"Here are the keys," he hands me the keys, "and what'd you say to a cup of tea, Mr. Ashworth?" and turns to Thomas right after.

"It would be my pleasure," Thomas smiles yet again, accepting the offer, and offers his arm to the Duke in return. We learn how to act with certain clients, well mainly Thomas does, I just follow the few guidelines I'm given beforehand or learn while working with them. Bowing, for example. It's not something I'd do with every client, but I learned that the Duke appreciates it and so I submit to it.

Thomas deals with a lot of eccentric people and adapts on the spot. It's one of the reasons why he is so good at his job, and why we are often paired up for jobs with client contact. I may fuck up, but he can save it in no time.

The Duke links his arm with Thomas' and pulls him right into an empty banter. Something Thomas can do for hours – talking without saying much. I watch them walk down the corridor, then I sort through the keys till I find the one I need.

I remember it, but finding it is another thing entirely. The Duke just handed the keychain to every possible lock of this property, at least it looks like it.

"What a character," I hear Andrew. I'm amazed how he managed to keep his mouth shut up till now, but then again, he isn't stupid. I just tend to forget thanks to his insufferable personality.

"Indeed," It's all I can say, really. I don't want to engage in discussions and banter, I want to do my job. But I know I can't stay quiet, I have to attend to him as my apprentice and train him properly.

"So rookie, give me a briefing," I don't bother to look at him, my fingers are still flipping keys from one side of the keyring to the other.

"I thought I read the file?" I hear his mocking undertone; he tries to get away with it. But not today, rookie, not today.

"I did, how about you?"

"I thought you do the planning; I do the cleaning?"

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. Briefing, now," I don't like repeating myself, but I guess I can't help it. How else will he learn to understand?

"Next time-"

"There won't be a next time," I cut him off calmly, finally finding the key I've been looking for. I slide it into the lock and turn it, but I keep the door shut for the moment, "One more month and you'll be out there alone. No other cleaners, no Thomas – If you're lucky you get a field agent because the circumstances ask for one. You have to be prepared, and you have to prepare yourself from start to finish."

I look at him, trying to see if the memo actually got through, but he just shrugs his shoulders, "I've still got a month of training so all's fine, don't break your pretty head over it."

I sigh, we had difficult rookies before but most of them didn't make it so far and left us before they even got close to the end of their training.

"Behind this door is a wild beast enclosure. And while the Duke gives them cute names they are highly dangerous. Did you ever come face to face with wild beasts?"

"Wait," suddenly all the color leaves his face. He could have been prepared for what is waiting behind that door, he chose not to. His loss.

"Are they… caged?"

"Don't know, didn't read the file."

"What? You just said you did!"

"Maybe, maybe I lied in hopes you read it."

"Wait. I know what you're doing."

"Does it help you in any way?" I eye him up and down, then I take the key out of the lock and pull open the door. I swear I see Andrew jump in the corner of my eye the moment he realizes the door is open.

I hear him breathe in deeply, hold his breath, and then exhale in relief. We only just accessed the garden but I hope that mini heart attack taught him a lesson, but I'm probably being too optimistic here.

I enter, or rather exit, through the door, just waiting for Andrew to follow me before I close the door and lock it back up. The sudden click the lock makes upon being locked again seems to startle Andrew for a moment.

"Why do you lock the door? What if we have to get out, like, very, very fast?" He sounds so tense… I know someone who would have an absolutely good time right now.

"What if the wild beasts get out?"

"Ah-" He opens his mouth to answer but I just move on. We have places to be and things to clean. This is already taking so much longer than it should.

I navigate through the garden, it is massive, bigger than the actual residence of the Duke. There are several ponds housing fish, smaller but still extremely big cages with birds. Most of them are asleep but there are a few breeds that will sing all night long.

"How… How does he take care of all these animals with the black fog?", I shoot a glance at Andrew, for once that's a good question, one I asked myself the first time I was here. The answer is almost embarrassing.

"Because we aren't really outside," I point up at the starless sky. It's just black at the moment, devoid of all colors, unnatural for the night sky even in today's world.

"It's a massive dome, you can actually see the tip of the dome from the lower city if you're close enough to the border."

"Wait, that's where we are?"

I nod. It can be kind of disorientating to travel with the streetcar to the upper city. The windows are nailed shut for security reasons, and the streetcar makes a few unpredictable fake stops, not displaying any of the stops at all. That's one of the reasons the watchers will make sure that everyone leaves at their individual destination. They have to guarantee that everyone gets in and out where they are supposed to, but also; people can't really tell where they are, so they need assistance to get out at the right stop.

"That's incredible. The dome is a magical force field, adapting to the weather outside and mirroring it to the inside – Minus the fog, of course, it displays the fog as night. The theater has an amphitheater with a similar dome."

"I guess that's what inspired the Duke to have this dome built."

"This is incredible." Now he falls silent for a whole other reason, I reason I didn't expect. He is mesmerized, his previous tension is just gone. His eyes glimmer with the curiosity and utmost fascination of a child seeing the theater or circus for the very first time.

It makes sense though, he studied history at the Arch, not just world history, but the history of magic and artifacts. So of course, something like this dome is captivating. I can understand it, but I lack the same fascination. It's… I don't know.

Seeing him like this makes me… sad? Melancholic fits it better, I think. Not that I feel melancholy as such, but what I feel is much closer to it than sadness. I'll never be able to see the world with such eyes. Everything is just… Well, it is. The most I can muster is the way I appreciate my cactus and the way I can look at the flower on my kitchen table. That's as much joy as I'll get.

But he's swept off his feet. I just hope it won't interfere with our clean-up.