Asher stared in disbelief as his blood disappeared, seemingly spirited away into the ring.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times, struggling to confirm the bizarre phenomenon was real.

The inlay of the ring shifted momentarily before settling down, perhaps satisfied with its meal. Asher hadn’t the slightest clue what to make of it.

The skin he had lost fell away from the ring, light as a feather swaying in the wind. It was completely dry, emptied of its life force; it crumpled midair, dissolving entirely.

Maybe... this is a cursed item?

Asher reached out again towards the ring, this time only grasping its case. He held it for a moment, and when nothing strange occurred, he began to settle down a bit.

Strangely enough, he didn’t feel the cold anymore, even if he kept abreast that he would have felt it.

The cold emanating from the ring was truly ghastly.

Moving his left hand towards the ring, he verified his conjecture. It's not cold anymore? Or maybe not cold for now?

“I really don’t know one way or the other. Perhaps it’s safe to touch now? Maybe even wear it.”

He removed the ring from its case and held it in his palm, swearing he felt it vibrate at his touch.

Gaining confidence, he slid it onto his left hand. The moment he did, he felt strange.

As if coming into focus suddenly, he could see tiny bits floating in the air. He remembered those quacks from the science faculty calling them particles—whatever the hell that is.

He could see something else among them, inundating the very air. It was particularly dense around him, and he struggled to find words to describe what he saw.

Like tiny motes of light, twinkling and glowing with ephemeral power, they came in all colors of the rainbow—even some he had never seen before.

They coalesced into various shapes, creating nebulous clouds.

But the motes clustering near him were black and sinister. Suddenly, the beautiful motes of light fell from his sight, fading back into the ether from which they came.

There was something unfamiliar within his heart, nascent and budding. Yet, he felt a strong will emanating from it. Whatever it was, he sensed a small connection with the ring.

The feeling, however, was fleeting; as quick as it came, it had left.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Asher looked at the ring, then at the box, before coming to a decision.

He grabbed his clothes and headed for the lobby washroom.

After washing and freshening up, Asher let out a relieved sigh.

Not even a breath later, though, he wished he could get a refund for that sigh.

The fatigue from his self-defense class with the old man had finally caught up with him.

Doubling over, he scrambled towards the toilet and relinquished his breakfast.

Maybe... maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard.

Asher changed his clothes and cleaned his face again, rinsing his mouth in the process. Then he reached over and shut off the lantern illuminating the bathroom.

There were no windows, so he had made do with it.

He knocked on Mr. Bolard’s door and waited; it didn’t take long.

Soon, a familiar stern voice reached his ears.

“Come in.”

Asher opened the door and walked inside, turning toward the detective and assessing his employer. A couple of things about this lucrative employment opportunity didn’t make sense.

At first, he hadn’t been concerned, perhaps blinded by the large advance paycheck he had received.

However, after the incident with the ring, he began to reconsider.

Four pounds a month was a wage a middle manager or a middle-class businessman could earn.

How could Mr. Bolard afford to hire him? He had no experience... he was young... not even a particularly good fighter.

He was bright, sure, but not brilliant—just a grad student collecting accolades.

His debatably inflated self-confidence couldn’t really justify it.

There were other employees too: Liz, Helena, and Henry.

Additionally, he suspected there were at least four more. Since the hallway had six doors, he had seen two of their owners.

No doubt the others were not vacant either. If they were all enjoying the same compensation at a minimum, that would mean Mr. Bolard was spending approximately 40 pounds a month on just payroll.

How on earth was he affording such expenditures? Perhaps his clientele was not only robust but also affluent.

There was also the fact that they could afford to have fresh cream on hand. Let’s not get distracted; I’ll have plenty of time to inquire later, I hope anyway.

“Good morning, Detective,” Asher said, giving a half bow while looking in Mr. Bolard’s direction.

Mr. Bolard had the same tired, lost expression on his face as he did on Tuesday.

If Asher hadn’t known better, he might’ve accused him of never having left. His jacket was still draped over his chair, and his ashtray contained just one cigarette. Asher suspected it was the very same one he had lit after they reached an agreement.

Peculiar.

The man in question looked at him from top to bottom, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with his attire.

“Good morning, Asher. I trust Henry has been taking care of you?”

“Indeed, I’ve just finished my morning session with him. It was highly enjoyable... truly to die for.”

Mr. Bolard wasn’t amused by his joke, or at least he didn’t seem to be until he revealed a knowing smile. He chuckled lightly and gave Asher a sympathetic look.

“Excellent! You can go home and rest for today. Your peers are busy in the field, combing for a person of interest. You will have to meet them some other time. Tomorrow, I will give you your first assignment. I know you said you’re an orphan. Despite that, should anyone fret your absence, I suggest you inform them. While it’s not expected, the assignment could very well require it. Additionally, make sure to maintain our dignity always. You must make an effort to carry any tools required for your post. It is imperative that you’re able to assume your responsibilities at a moment’s notice. You will be expected to arrive no later than a quarter past should you receive notice.”

Asher shuffled a bit, then placed the jewelry box he had taken the ring from on Mr. Bolard’s desk.

“I understand, Detective. I will, without fail, meet and surpass your expectations. However, there is something I can’t help but bring to your attention. It’s somewhat... how to say... fantastique, for lack of a better word.”