He pulled out his wallet, scrambling six ints from it, leaving him with a single slade.

They better reimburse me, or I’ll have to take on even more jobs!

“Follow me,” she said, turning towards the staircase carpeted in red.

The crowd’s gazes followed them intriguingly, as the owner’s personal escort was usually only reserved for high-profile guests. When they disappeared to the second floor, they erupted in chattering.

After passing the last step, Madame Chérie led him down the right corridor, until veering into an inconspicuous room.

She stepped to the side, revealing a man with a broad frame sitting behind a mahogany desk, his feet resting crossed upon its surface. The rear wall was stacked with jars filled with liquids preserving several small rodents and organs.

Noel presumed they were all animals, but as he caught sight of a human hand, his entire body tensed up. His attention was directed back at the man, upon which he observed him fearfully.

The man had a plump face and smoked on a cigar, of which its cigar tin was placed next to him. Smoking cigars, especially in casual settings, was a sign of wealth.

“What do you want?” he said in a deep pitch.

Noel gulped and mustered his courage, muttering, “I’m a mediator of the Proxy Marketplace’s brokerage. The date has been agreed upon beforehand — it’s about a transaction of information.”

A foreboding silence hung in the air, and with each silent second passing, Noel’s worry grew larger. Finally, the man couldn’t hold it in anymore, his face contorting into a grimace.

“You? The broker?” he guffawed, his fist slamming down onto the mahogany desk. It creaked slightly, only barely withstanding the force, "The Blackbourne family isn’t what it once was, is it?"

Noel flinched, his stomach twisting. Although he didn’t answer him, he couldn’t help but agree with him inwardly.

Within this organization, he wasn’t even considered a full-fledged member. The results of his following deployments would determine if he’d join the outer circle.

Both his physical condition and mentality conflicted with his status as a broker. However, all clues he’d gathered led to this ‘Blackbourne family’, and he was set on invading this organization by any means necessary.

“Clovis!” warned Madame Chérie loudly, “Don’t.”

Clovis’s smile immediately faded, replaced by a stern expression. It was evident he held her advice in high regard.

He pulled his feet from the desk and straightened his back, finally stubbing his cigar.

“Excuse me,” he said directly, “What is your purpose? I presume it’s about that possession?”

Noel narrowed his eyes. “That’s right.”

“Well, I’m going to be straightforward with you. The agent failed.”

Noel’s heart skipped a beat while sweat ran down his back and armpits, soaking his white dress shirt. He fell into deep thought, slightly unsettled by the man’s rather nonchalant attitude.

If I complete the deal without their side being fulfilled, it’s clearly a breach of contract. Who will be held responsible?

Even if the blame shifts to them, I’ll definitely be implicated for rewarding the consideration. If they failed, how can I possibly do that?

However, will they so easily look down on the Blackbourne family? Their legacy spans over a century!

Noel gritted his teeth, calmly responding, “Well then, the contract hasn’t been fulfilled. Can you recount the events so we can clarify if there’s any compensatory damages?”

The man gripped the desk tightly and jerked to his feet, throwing it down at him.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Thud.

He screamed, “Compensation? Are you insane? You ought to pay us for the damages we suffered! ”

Noel’s knees turned to jelly, gripping tightly the silver chalice which was supposed to reward the job. Naturally, this was no ordinary chalice, although he wasn’t aware of its exact speciality.

His gaze desperately darted towards Madame Chérie. She was his only hope — if he continued to be this insistent, he’d either die at their hands or at those of the Blackbourne family.

However, there was only a fleeting afterimage as she’d lunged at Clovis without delay. She’d positioned her hand atop the desk which lay on its side, swinging her right foot covered in floral stockings at his neck.

From her high heel’s top piece, a sharp needle emerged dripping with a greenish liquid. It halted ever so slightly at his skin which turned pale.

A sharp voice took hostage the room, plunging it into an unbearable pressure. Noel felt like drowning, taking deep breaths.

“I apologize on behalf of his incompetence,” she said, tilting her gaze into his direction, “I’ll make sure he’s properly lectured.”

A shiver ran down his spine, but he understood why she was protective of him. It was not him she feared, but the organization behind him.

The Blackbourne family was a monopoly of all criminal brokerage in Novaston, thus a key element in all organized crime. As they piously honored contracts and fairly resolved the conflicts that arose from them with equal devotion, their reign remained nearly unhindered.

She lowered her foot. “Leave, I’ll take over.”

The man nodded, swiftly bending down to pick up the cigar case.

Madame Chérie’s forehead creased even further, but she endured the embarrassment. Noel stepped aside, making way for Clovis to leave.

He expected him to throw him an upset glare, but he didn’t dare do so. He left silently, closing the door gently so as to not anger her further.

“I’m going to be honest with you, we don’t know what happened exactly,” She sighed. “The collateral damage is high, but the aftermath hints at certain clues in his identity.”

Her eyebrows narrowed. “It’s a powerful evil spirit. It’s of no use hiding it anymore: Axel was killed — he’s of the ninth Strata, ‘The Puppeteer’, wielding [ Strings of Mind].”

She sat down on the desk, facing Noel directly. “Only when his victims are barely lucid can he invade their mental defenses and string a web between their minds. This requires a long time to prepare.”

He nodded, asking to clarify, “What does that entail in practice?”

She responded, “Once the web is strung, he can forcefully manipulate memories. When the situation demands it, he’s able to use a hidden card; while he can usually only manipulate memories, he will be able to send an abrupt impulse. This will loosen his control considerably.”

She brushed her hair aside, tucking it behind her ears and continued, “I’m sure you’re informed about the gist of it. He’d planned to intercept the coachmen in the night when the remaining were sleeping to forcefully put them to sleep. He’d then begin his control and assess the subject as per contract, as to gauge the threat he poses to the client.”

“You know, he can be quite impulsive sometimes. Admittedly, our structure is quite loose and decentralized. There's many advantages to this, mainly that we're able to recruit on a whim since there's many outcasts under the persuit of the sanctified forces."

She gritted her teeth. "However, it’s nearly impossible for me to enforce rules with just my strength. They're all unloyal bastards. It’s the reward which motivates them, but strength invites lunacy and madness.”

She shook her head, realizing she’d trailed off topic. “In the end, it was all for naught. He died, while the relic we lent him has been destroyed. When there was no response and we arrived on scene, there was no sign of life — countless mice carcesses were spread around, while everyone else had turned into ash.”

Her expression grew more grim as she concluded, “That evil spirit is extremely vicious. As it doesn’t even spare the children, I’d guess it would be rather indifferent to the client. As for its abilities, you’ll have to infer yourself.”

Noel’s breathing grew heavy as his imagination ran wild, trying to patch the clues together. How can there be such an existence in this world? May the Divinity, the God of Knowledge watch over us all.

A little light-headed, he staggered back, leaning against the door. He shook his head, trying to shake off the horrors which his mind gave birth to, and responded, “Alright, compensation won’t be necessary. However, as per contract, since there’s much anecdotal clues but no substantial evidence, its identity and relation to the client is still rather vague.”

He paused, hesitating to utter his final verdict, “T-Therefore, I’m unable to proceed with the consideration.”

When he noticed her piercing glare, he swiftly added, “However, I’ll put in a good word. This will definitely strengthen our ties.”

Madame Chérie nodded. These were times of rising heresy and scientific discovery — while manpower and relics could be replenished rather easily, lasting relationships had to be cultivated patiently.

“That’s fine with me.”

She stood up, signaling the end of their transaction.

Noel’s muscles relaxed and he turned to leave. He halted as Madame Chérie added, “You’ve already paid the entry fee. You don’t want to realize any of our services?”

His face flushed reddish as he muttered, “No, I’m good.”

Madame Chérie’s lips curled slightly as she teased, “Are you sure? I’m sure you’d find someone of your ‘tastes’ — our selection is quite diverse.”

He shook his head pushing open the door and mumbling, “Thank you, ma’am. I’m alright.”

She couldn’t hold back her chuckling, “Goodbye!”