7.6.3502, 03:00, Votal, Avalon Park.

After hours of levitating above Votal, Blur decided to return to the hideout.

Combined with such a fantastic view, smoking had helped her process the past.

The metal cigarette box was considerably emptier now, and she felt ready to face the imminent future.

Using two of the many abilities she possessed, twenty to be exact, she flew in the direction of the market district.

She willed the illusion and air in perfect sync, propelling herself forward with inhuman speed.

Hidden from prying eyes, the pale scientist threw a look at the stars.

A storm, how fitting.

The silhouettes of the streets beneath her rushed past as she watched the thundering clouds move before the glittering stars.

Soon, her surroundings were devoid of their light. Dark clouds covered the sky, impeding its shine, and a torrential downpour began.

With the rain came the wind.

But that mattered little to Blur as she whirled the air around her, circumventing both rain and wind. Even so, neither illusion nor air would protect her from lightning strikes, not that they posed a real threat to her. Regardless of her tremendous durability, getting hit by one still wasn’t a pleasant experience and so she quickly descended.

Thankfully, most of the buildings were at least three-stories high, allowing her to fly through the streets at a comfortable height. Although there was barely anyone out at this hour anyway.

She arrived behind the five-story complex shortly. The Mireta merchant company's headquarters was built from dark, almost black wood, and constructed in truss style, reminiscent of a typical town hall.

Entering through a small door intended for staff, she moved quietly across the hallway. Subdued light shone through the curtains, piercing the night’s veil and offering sparse illumination.

Blur navigated through the dark hallway and after traversing two more doors, entered the underground bar. The atmosphere was teeming with chatter and laughter. Welcomed by the symphony of voices Blur took in the scene for a moment before closing the door behind herself and walking towards the bar counter.

Finding an empty seat, she sat down and turned to the slender bartender. Busy with mixing drinks, the young man didn't notice the new arrival. Instead, another bartender came up to her. Clad in a white shirt, black jacket, and dark knee-length skirt, she sported nearly the same outfit as her male counterpart.

“Welcome to our humble establishment dear customer. What is it you desire at this early hour?”

A faint smile formed on Blur’s lips at this exaggerated display of hospitality.

“A cup of black coffee.”

“Coming right up, miss.”

The young woman offered a playful curtsy and began to prepare the coffee with efficient hand movements. During these preparations, her shadow revealed a familiar anomaly, as her head, arms, and legs were missing.

Blur placed her elbows on the counter and clasped her hands together.

“You didn't even drink a drop of liquor before. What happened?”

This question made the puppet pause in her steps and the surroundings began to gradually envelop her. Stuck in reverie, she deliberated over her answer.

Long seconds of silence ensued.

Sitting quietly on the bar stool, Blur patiently awaited her answer.

Her expression was devoid of the usual humor that seemed to always alleviate the mood, no matter how heavy it was.

The bartender bit her lip, her face shifting from amiable to pained.

“I lost one.”

Although Blur picked up on Dupe’s emotional upheavals, she pressed for details, since she couldn’t help without knowing what happened. “Could you elaborate?”

“I lost a puppet to Avalon’s dogs a week ago. We were ambushed during a mission, and in an attempt to get them off our trail, I used puppets as decoys. One got knocked out and captured. Her and my suffering finally came to an end yesterday.”

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Connecting the dots, Blur now understood the cruel reality behind Dupe’s untypical behavior. Unsure how to console her or if she even needed that in the first place, the pale scientist let the silence following the puppet’s words linger.

Amidst the heavy interlude, the puppet had returned to her usual bartender antics, brewing the earlier requested coffee and whistling an upbeat melody, her gloomy demeanor all but gone.

“Here is your black coffee, miss.”

Looking at the exaggerated smile on the bartender’s lips, Blur returned the gesture, albeit less embellished.

“Thank you.”

The brown-haired woman gave her another curtsy before tending to a rather peculiar, newly arrived guest, Sliver. He had perched himself on the seat next to the pale scientist and was now ordering a glass of milk. With his considerable size, it looked almost comical for him to sit on a bar stool.

While the enthusiastic puppet disappeared into the storage room to fetch his unusual order, he addressed Blur, his tail swinging like an out-of-sync metronome.

“You smoked again?”

Had it been any other member, Sliver wouldn’t have found the smell of tobacco odd, but he knew that the one sitting next to him had a bitter history with cigarettes.

However, instead of an answer, he received a question.

“Any missions planned for today?”

This question resulted in a furtive glance from Sliver, his vermillion eyes flickering before his baritone voice rang out.

“No, but tomorrow there is one.”

“Alright.”

As she was sipping her bitter coffee, the feline next to her produced a telegram from his bag and handed it to her. Even the most mundane tasks looked ridiculous when performed by him. Nonetheless, he somehow managed to use his fluffy paws in a human-like manner.

The pale scientist set her cup down carefully and threw a look at the telegram, perusing its content.

It read:

“6.6.3502, Mission report written by Smoothtalker. Mission: Elimination of a Nyxara police department detective. Participants: Mimicry, Trail, Smoothtalker. Result: Target eliminated by Trail and Mimicry. No injuries sustained. Spoils and Allocation: -Enchanted silver-rimmed glasses (Foresight, one-second variant) [Trail] -Investigation papers of the detective [Mimicry] Extra information: After mission completion, Trail advanced to link might 7. Report on the Foresight enchantment will be sent in the coming days.”

Nothing on the report surprised her particularly, but it still gave her a sense of accomplishment. Three years of teaching Mimicry hadn’t been for naught.

“Here’s your milk, Mr. Cat.”

The black Lynxio fixed the glass between its front paws and began to lap the white fluid contently, his tail swishing from left to right.

Sparks of mischief glistered in Blur’s grey eyes, and she sneakily manipulated the air around the base of Sliver’s ears, letting a small gale flow through his fur.

He will hate me for this.

A soft purring filled the air and reverberated through the room. The instant Sliver realized what was happening, he suppressed his body’s instinct, but it was already too late.

For a short moment, there was absolute silence. Everyone looked at Sliver with disbelief, pausing their conversations and card games.

However, there was one person who was unperturbed by the situation, Dupe’s puppet, the bartender.

“I’m glad you like the milk so much, Mr. Cat.”

Her voice was ridiculously cheerful and acted like a wake-up call for the stunned onlookers. Conversations resumed awkwardly, and many had to give it their all in a strained effort to hold in their laughter. No one wanted to offend a head executive.

But Blur, being one, cared little.

“That milk must be exquisite. Could I have a glass of this sweet nectar?”

Her remark resulted in a nearly imperceptible twitch of Dupe’s lips, followed by her mask of joy shattering. The bartender’s expression twisted, going through an array of emotions that couldn’t have been more different from each other.

A subtle smirk was overshadowed by a hurt frown and then reconcealed by the mask of joy. All of this happened in the span of mere seconds, unbeknownst to anyone but Blur.

In addition to teasing Sliver, she had tried to lift Dupe’s spirits. However in comparison to the former the later objective had failed. Fresh pain was hard to overshadow, especially in this case.

Despite this setback, the pale scientist didn’t worry. She had personally trained the puppet-creating young woman and knew she wouldn’t crumble under a mental burden of this caliber.

Now that it lies in the past, she will be able to recover. Time heals all wounds.

It had been a few seconds since her underhanded maneuver against Sliver when the black feline decided to launch a counterattack. His tail shot out like a whip and cleanly swiped away Blur’s bar stool from under her.

Yet the attempt at revenge had been long expected and thus failed to achieve its goal. Instead of shamefully falling onto the floor, the black-haired woman was now sitting on thin air, nonchalantly sipping her coffee and savoring the taste.

With a baritone tsk, Sliver disappeared as if erased from existence. Nothing suggested that just an instant ago, a giant Lynxio had sat on the wooden bar stool next to Blur.

She enjoyed the rest of her bitter beverage before bidding farewell to the welcoming bartender. Dupe’s mask didn’t falter in the slightest, and she saw her superior off with a warm attitude. In this aspect, she had never been different, playing roles was her most developed skill. Faking expression, body language, and speech patterns came naturally to her.

Stepping out of the bar and towards her quarters, Blur thought back to the times she had trained her. Dupe had always lacked a distinctive personality and mirrored the behaviors of the people around her. This had made her the perfect agent for infiltration missions and Blur acknowledged her potential, capitalizing on it.

But after furthering her skills in acting it had quickly turned into an obsession. It seemed that instead of developing herself further and getting a personality of her own, she hid herself in the roles she played.

At some point during this process, Blur had noticed the constant disguising of her real self and warned her of the risks this behavior posed. Despite her master’s warning, Dupe had ceaselessly continued with her morbid roleplaying.

Now she was unable to let her mask of acting go. Perhaps the mask had become her real self.

If one’s real self is ignored on the path of acting, it will be warped, distorted or outright lost.

Even the puppeteer herself wasn’t safe from this fate.