Asher was perplexed by the words the woman had uttered, her voice echoing in the recesses of his mind.

What did she mean? If I don't return, we will both fade away? Where is this? Where am I? What was I doing before I found myself here?

“Where are we? Who are you?” he demanded, his curiosity and confusion mingling.

The woman appeared remarkably patient; she did not act as though his inquiries were burdensome or bothersome in any way.

Instead, her demeanor suggested an understanding that transcended the urgency of the moment.

“Within the ring you wear, I am its prisoner, Antoinette Figoris. If you pose another question, I fear it will be your last. Return now, and you will uncover the answers you seek in due time…”

Henry, who had been silently observing, swallowed hard and offered a silent prayer to the Night Goddess, seeking her protection over them.

He braced himself to squeeze the trigger on his revolver, prepared to unleash a devastating wave of destruction should the situation escalate.

Suddenly, the scars adorning Asher’s face began to recede beneath his skin, a phenomenon that was both alarming and awe-inspiring. His teeth shrank back within his mouth, regaining their original hue as if returning to their natural state.

Asher gasped as if he were a drowning man receiving a miraculous new lease on life.

“I’m back! Bloody hell, I thought I’d died forty times over!” he exclaimed, relief flooding through him like a warm wave.

Henry quickly lowered his revolver, his posture relaxing slightly as he exhaled a sigh of relief, the tension that had gripped him easing.

“You survived? That’s surprising... How strange. I genuinely thought you were a goner for sure. Clean this mess up and get the hell out of here. I’m utterly exhausted from babysitting you all damn day.”

This old man... such a prickly fellow, isn’t he?

Asher quickly set about tidying up his mess, gathering the scattered items into the chest and placing them in the storage room.

Afterward, he knocked on Mr. Bolard’s door, informing him that he was alright and receiving permission to leave for the day. He bid farewell to Liz, who had been silently supportive, and headed downstairs. He must not have been paying attention, as he stumbled halfway down the staircase, almost losing his balance.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

However, miraculously, he regained his footing midway through the act of falling, righting himself with ease in an absent-minded display of inhuman poise that left him momentarily astonished.

Ah? That’s new... the tightrope enthusiast ability highlighted in the dossier...

Asher felt a surge of excitement as he boarded a public carriage heading towards Colloway Street.

Feeling quite stupid, he fished a one-penny copper coin from his pocket, its surface cool and familiar against his fingertips. He concentrated for a moment, channeling his will onto the coin, and spoke, “Should I stop by the bakery before I return home?”

Clink!

The coin soared into the air in an exaggerated arc before landing in his palm. However, the coin bounced unnaturally after it landed, almost as if it were alive.

It settled heads up, and Asher took this as a sign that it was indeed a fortuitous idea to visit the bakery for evening refreshments.

The carriage meandered through the foggy streets of Menthil, collecting weary workers and ferrying them homeward.

Asher found himself lost in thought, gazing absentmindedly out the window at the blurred figures of passersby, each with their own stories, lives, and struggles.

“Pence for your thoughts?” a voice interrupted his reverie.

Asher felt his chair sink slightly as someone settled down next to him. Before he turned to face the newcomer, he already knew who it was. It was Renée, her beautiful face adorned with a lovely blue hyacinth bonnet that complemented her striking features.

She wore a matching cardigan over a crisp white blouse, exuding a charm that captivated him.

He inhaled softly at the sight of her; she was breathtaking as usual, a vision that brightened the dreariness of his day. Her perfume teased his senses, reminiscent of vanilla, lilies, and cardamom—warm, inviting, and clean, wrapping around him like an embrace.

Her blonde hair cascaded down her back today, loose and flowing, dancing gently with the movement of the carriage.

Her green eyes sparkled with a lively energy, resembling seafoam in the sunlight, and they were fixed on him with a playful glint that suggested mischief. She looked like a cat that had just discovered a particularly enticing yarn ball, ready to pounce.

“You’ve changed your perfume, Madame Duval, yet it does nothing to mask your radiance. It seems the sun shines even in this dreary city once again,” he remarked, attempting to match her playful energy.

Renée appeared accustomed to his compliments by now, a sly smile playing on her lips as she responded.

“Such astute observational skills for a young man. Color me impressed. Perhaps there’s more to you than your silver tongue? I was just on my way to Colloway for an evening snack. I enjoy reading at the bakery there before retiring for the night. Would you like to join me?”

Asher recalled the coin he had just flipped and smirked, wondering if this invitation was genuine or merely a whimsical stroke of fate...

“It would be my honor, my lady,” he replied, his heart racing at the prospect of spending time with her.

By the time they finished greeting one another, they had already reached their destination; Colloway Street was just a hop and a skip from Crestcheek, after all.

Alighting from the carriage, Asher offered his hand to Renée, assisting her down the steps with a gentleness that surprised him.

His heart quickened at her touch; he blushed secretly, striving to keep himself from becoming too flustered or awkward in her presence.

They approached the counter and placed their order, exchanging light banter as they did. Afterward, Renée followed him to a cozy two-person table tucked away in a quiet corner of the bakery. It was clearly designed for couples, but Asher feigned ignorance, focusing solely on her presence.

“So, what has been keeping you so terribly busy, Monsieur Moretti?” she inquired, her tone teasing yet sincere.

“Ah... goodness gracious, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” he responded, attempting to brush off her curiosity.

“Oh? Are you quite sure about that? I think I might have more of an open mind than most,” she countered, her eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Asher coughed, his mind racing as he wondered why the damn waiter hadn’t brought their food yet!

Determined to keep his attention firmly on Renée’s face while secretly admonishing himself for his wandering thoughts, he said, “Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you. Client confidentiality restricts me in this matter.”

Renée’s expression shifted; Asher thought he saw a flicker of anger flare up in her eyes for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of disappointment that made his heart sink.