The first thing Rokah found different when he took the first step to the usual tavern was the air. Something in it smelled different and felt strange. All the chatters and arguments he used to hear exploding over the entrance were gone. And the tables that used to be full are now empty.

In a moment of realization, he remembered the frightful mist of fear in his youthful days, when every breath he grasped was a blend of pain and uncertainty. The same kind of mist was wrapping around this small village little by little.

From the corner of his eyes, he observed all the vacant tables while moving toward his favorite dark spot. Somehow, it was very hard for the villager to enjoy a cup of their preferred drink and a light meal after the funeral of one of the Manor maids.

This was a red signal, a warning to all of them that live here. The days of their bliss in this tiny oasis were slipping away.

Rokah began reminiscing over the obligation that brought him to this village. His priority when he came was to employ this remote place and hide the subject of his experiment. Hid his presence from any danger until his recovery. This was the deal with that Lycanthrope, then to continue his journey to the south after he has paid his debt.

But in this life, nothing was simple or worked as he planned it. There were always those kinds of matters that kept him moving in never-ending circles, trapping him like a fly. And they always involved one or two dangerous predators.

The seat made the same irritating noise when he threw his weight on it and the table swing in unregulated motion. Rokah leaned on the palm of his hand, using his elbow as support on the surface of the wooden table. His eyes were fixated on who was supposed to be his patient.

Rokah's stares were like a piercing arrow in dark silence.

The Lycanthrope didn't speak, he just tried to confront his - supposed - doctor stares by looking back at him in the same manner.

Rokah could hardly make the details of his face, yet these glossy eyes were squeezed from all the sarcasm and contempt that was masked through the earlier playful words.

"What… do you want from me? ¨. The wolf inquired, moving his pupil to look far beyond the doctor, far at the other end of the set of tables. Then he added before the doctor could answer.

"You don't want me to help you kill the bear?"

The flow of current made Rokah muscles tremble. He wasn't ready for this encounter between two Metamorphs, not yet.

Apparently, the Aractanthrope was following the two of them. And Rokah didn't notice him or even detect his odor. He stood up in a hurry, not turning around the bush any more than he signaled with his left hand to the waitress to bring some booze to the table that he intended to change sit to.

Rokah couldn't help himself but notice the man's hands. They were dirty from the act of digging the soil this morning. There were also some scratches on his fingers. Rokah preferred to not sit down, afraid that the Aractanthrope will take this action as an act of disrespect, the impact of the last time visit.

The first thing the big man asked about when the booze had arrived was Rokah's companion, that he had left alone.

The doctor didn't have a choice but to tell him the truth. He said that he was the same corpse witnessed on the bed in the room.

The Aractanthrope gave a nod of understanding but never moved his gaze away from the man. His eyes had a trace of mistrust. But he didn't ask for more time being. His head was filled with something else…

After Rokah got the permission to sit- of course with the excuse to not bring up attention- the Aractanthrope asked him the real question. The information that he sought the most, the same information that Rokah resolved to use as bait to diverge from his attention more:

"How did it go?"

"There is a Magus who regulates a pact of slavery. Every worker in the manor must have signed it. I am not sure if he can do more."

For some unknown reason, Rokah didn't fathom the action of the Aractanthrope when he didn't touch the booze he has ordered. He was being cautious of someone who couldn't be a threat to him.

Was he afraid of being poisoned? Rokah murmured in his head.

Another person's shadow landed on them. Rokah perceived it to be the server, but the elegant black and white custom and the refined behavior made him realize she was one of the manor maids. She handed him a letter sealed with a red wax stamped in the middle with a symbol of a jasmine flower. Before she retired, He asked her marveled "Is this letter for me?"

She smiled at him and said "Yes." with a voice as if she has a sugar candy stuck in her mouth.

The maid opened a door to a large room, then she referred to the person who was behind her and signaled to him to enter the room before her.

An elegant voice came from inside: "Please… enter."

When the maid entered the room, she bowed respectfully before she guided the guest to the place where he should sit down. Mr. Hendrickson praised her again:

"Thank you Bi-an, please bring us some tea."

"Yes, sir."

After the maid quieted the room, Mr. Hendrickson turned the attention to his guest, who was still standing up. He gave him a friendly smile, not like the ones that he usually gives to the friends, but rather the sort that he gives to his accomplices. Then he waved with his right hand to permit him to sit.

"You are wondering about my invitation? I have heard that you got an invitation from the majordomo to join the service in the manor?" Mr. Hendrickson asked, "Did you accept it?"

Rokah felt as if this was the first time he has truly met Mr. Hendrickson, the first time he has seen his true face, and all the past occasions that they spent conversing together were merely a facade, a faked facade of this person.

He remembered him trying to kill himself, depressed, pitiful…

The second time he met him. He wasn't sure about his life and his situation. Yet he emitted such power as well as a dangerous Aurora…

And now he is completely another person. It was so astonishing how fast he recovered his sanity.

Rokah's sense of danger never failed him before. The moment that he entered this room, he felt he was having his foot inside the den of monsters.

Was this man a friend? A foe?

Could it be that he made a big mistake acting like a hero and stopping him from taking his own life?

Was it better for him to let this creature die on that stormy day?

Only the upcoming days can determine if Rokah had made a good or a bad choice.

When he perceived the question, the sound of his sixth sense ranged in the back of his head with piercing calls, alerting him for some unknown reason. Therefore, Rokah hesitated to answer.

The question appeared rational. Normally, Mr. Hendrickson heard about the invitation that Rokah has secured to work here since he lived here.

But why Rokah was feeling this awkward sensation that it was wrong to answer this inquiry. That there is some trap…

Mr. Hendrickson repeated: "Have you accepted it?"

Rokah couldn't think clearly. His mind got blank. It is one of those moments when he needed his brain so much, however; it failed him. So he chose to go with the truth.

"No," Rokah said while his gaze was locked on Mr. Hendrickson's eyes of an invisible chain to prevent him from thinking. And the intimidating way Mr. Hendrickson looked at him made him want to say more, to explain why he has refused the invitation.

But Rokah resisted not revealing himself. Hence, he repeated his answer using a long sentence: "No, I had refused."

Suddenly, Rokah perceived a glass-shattering sound coming from behind the door. And felt like the locking spell was dissolved. He held himself to not stand and fly but pretended to search for the cause of the sound. Then someone opened the door:

"I apologize for the disturbance. I will bring you the tea right away," Bi-an said from the door.

Rokah thought this maid was well-mannered, elegant, and professional. She didn't hit as the kind of clumsy maids who made this rookie mistake in front of her master and his guest. He brushed this event like it was a coincidence. However, he will come to regret this; dearly in the near future.

"Why? Isn't it a good opportunity?" Mr. Hendrickson threw this question. And Rokah anticipated it from a mile. He won't fall for the same trick a second time.

Rokah thought maybe this was the reason for this invitation all along. Mr. Hendrickson wanted to know why he refused the offer. And Rokah didn't want to lie. He also came here in the hope of gaining something too. If not for collecting the pieces of information, he wouldn't be sitting in his room.

Right now, he needed to answer this question cleverly, without revealing anything on his side. Saying: "My hands are full" or "For the sake of my patient" sounded very cheesy and suspicious.

"My family has worked in a big house like this before. It was just slavery, besides I am very content with my place and work here."

Mr. Hendrickson was really attentive while listening to the response, then he followed up: "Yes, doctors here are rare gems, there is no fear that you are going to die from hunger." Then he gave one of his a painted smile it was hard to decipher the meaning behind it. After that, he walked near the window where there was a drawing board resting on the wall. He stood near it and said: "It came to me. You need some drawing material. ¨ then he pointed to the board. After that, he continued: "I hope it will be enough¨.

Rokah approached him, taking a close look at the whiteboard, murmuring into his heart "Impossible that he invited me just to give me the board… ¨ then looked at him, trying to paint the expression of the thankfulness on his face.

Mr. Hendrickson smiled at the pretense and said: "After all, you are going to draw a portrait for me! Right!"

He was not the devil. Yet at this moment, Rokah felt like he was the most dreadful creature in the world.