“Please, stay here.” That's what the voice whispered to her, a tone unnaturally gentle. The pitch gradually diminished, until there was nothing left but the breeze of someone who might have been there.

Yevdokia turns around, but doesn't see even a glimpse of whoever was with her seconds ago. No tracks, no sound of steps, not even a small, distant silhouette. Like the rustling of the leaves of the tall momiji trees once the wind ceased to blow and, for an instant, the only resilient sound became just the small drops of rain and cars crossing the main street. That person was gone. And maybe, just maybe, she'll never see them again.

It's still rainy, a little more than usual. It's not heavy, although it's prolonged. It falls delicately on the smooth paving, the smell of earth and damp dry leaves filling the air. The plants wiggle happily in gratitude. The morning dawned cloudy and cold from the start, even though it was early fall — first day, in fact. For some, this would be the most pleasant and exciting sign. For others, however, there would still be doubts as to what the gods were trying to imply. As for Yev, the young woman standing under the awning carrying a small rucksack on her back and an envelope wrapped in hand was a symbol of hope.

The large parking lot was packed. Expensive cars lined the streets, most of them luxury, many of them imported, all worth a fortune. A small combination of all these to think that an ordinary person would certainly not earn in a year even a third of what the cheapest of these vehicles cost. The young woman gazed in fascination, a blend of curiosity, imagining herself in those people's shoes. Picturing herself there.

The place was called Hotel Imperium Corvus — an unusual name for the locals, although its structure did justice to a more western architecture. A large central part separating two large buildings divided into a left side and a right side. Known for its national fame and also popularity among foreigners, it was a deluxe hotel that had just been officially classified as five-star. The best of the best, the tabloids said. The logo being specifically a three-legged raven carved in gold: the yatagarasu, carrying great symbolism for the history of the place. The magnificence of its size and design was notoriously eye-catching even from the outside, exuding an air of power with the mere idea of being inside.

The luxuriousness of it was always evident, but looking closely, Yev felt like an ant in front of an immense pyramid.

Perhaps the most interesting thing was the magnetic pull that seemed to draw her inside. As if the whole thing was urging her to come closer. The structure itself seemed to offer her a silent, almost sublime invitation to take the first step, the walls creaking in supplication for her to enter. Even though her heart was pounding under the growing anxiety, every inch of her body was rushing forward. Fingers plunging the envelope into her sweatshirt pocket, Yevdokia gruffly drew in air to fill her lungs — short of breath for what she was about to do. There were no security guards in front of the entrance, the valet busy parking a Ferrari; fate seemed to be pleading with her to go at once.

“Please stay here” resounded in her mind with an echo, loud and commanding, a mental reminder of someone's request that she wouldn't refuse even in a thousand lifetimes. To refuse would be, or so she thinks, a great undoing and a sign of ingratitude. It would go against all her principles, morally and ethically, especially after everything they've done for her, helping her after all. What's more, the stranger mentioned something about the hotel manager. The owner himself, in full details. The younger woman didn't ask in depth, only assuming they were acquaintances or even old friends.

The entrance to the hotel alone was breathtaking, more than she could put into words. A single step and the polished glass doors open automatically, tall and adorned with a dark brown frame, its handles golden. The walls are just as high, giving an exaggerated impression of breadth, making anyone feel like a miniature inside an enormous box. It's like a small corridor before you go up a couple of steps and finally reach the main lobby. On the ceiling above is a lavish chandelier, albeit simpler than the rest, as there must be dozens in that room alone.

The glowing emblem under the golden ornament above the door moved its dark iris carefully and followed the human until she disappeared from sight into the inner area of the building. When the doors closed, it returned to its previous position, overcome by a bluish glow.

✦

The main hall was full, and it was unconscionable. Not simply full, but enough that there was so little free space that it was difficult to even move among the dozens of people gathered there, many of them jabbering and chuckling about a variety of subjects — and languages — that the girl doesn't understand. It's more than enough to make her stomach churn, making her feel like an intruder. Dozens if not hundreds of people in fancy dress, talking to each other, appearing to be the kind of high-class convention that only individuals of the highest status could attend. People of different ethnicities, religions and with... something else. Something else that Yevdokia couldn't, even with effort, properly recognize.

Not now, though. Whether it was the social phobia clouding her senses or the nervousness of being in the wrong place.

However, any apprehensions and other fears couldn't get in the way either. Being humans, she thinks, there's no point worrying about now — it would be a waste of time.

The soles of her shoes drag characteristically over the marble floor in a clatter. It's not intentional, but it's loud enough to attract a few stares, both curious and unfriendly, from all sides. Indiscreet whispers echo, some inaudible and others that seem to be said loudly on purpose. Whether it's because of her clothes or because it's an unfamiliar face, they all seem to have something to say. There is no attempt at discretion, not from the humans who look at her with some kind of scorn. Their gaze goes up and down like facing a creature from another world.

“What is this girl doing?”

“Who let her in?”

“Can she even afford to be here?”

“What are you wearing?”

A flurry of eavesdroppers gathered in the same spot. Some of the laughter sounds like mockery, laden with superiority; no attempt to pretend otherwise or display any politeness. Although there were a few dissenting glances at the majority's behavior towards the girl, no one dared to speak up or intervene. Others preferred to remain oblique about the situation, focusing on their own affairs as everyone else should. Humans being humans, after all.

What about her? Searching for the hotel owner? Not yet. Considering that she didn't know his face since she heard so little about the manager despite the hotel being so popular, instead she opted for another option first.

Her gaze turns to the most obvious goal: the reception desk. It can be seen from afar, and she immediately runs to it as she makes her way through the crowd undaunted, despite a few grumbles here and there. To her misfortune, however, there is no sign of a single receptionist at the moment on the other side of the counter. She waited one minute, two, three, even more, but nobody came. It was predictable considering they were in the middle of an event, most likely the staff were all busy greeting and attending to the rest of the guests.

‘Come to think of it, if it's a private event, they're probably not hosting anyone for a moment. That means… I'm technically an intruder?’

Her gaze wandered slowly to the golden bell on the marble counter. She picked it up, turned it, moved it up and down then put it back; frowned slightly before pressing the bell button just once. Waited, to no avail.

For a split second, deliberately short, Yevdokia felt her heart squeeze at the possibility. It would be a mess she'd like to avoid, especially in a place like this. What if there were reporters? Her face couldn't be exposed in such a way! And it wouldn't be a good impression on the hotel owner, whoever he was, or even the stranger who helped her earlier.

The gray eyes took on an enthusiastic gleam: ‘I still need to talk to the hotel owner!’

With exaggerated courage, the girl pushed away from the counter. She couldn't leave without doing that, even though it was a risky move. They hadn't kicked her out yet, so in a way it meant she could stay a little longer. With the amount of staff and security guards, if she broke any rules, something disastrous would have happened by now, and that wasn't in the plans at all.

Thus, looking around for a brief moment, she caught the rest of the scenery which she hadn't fully registered until then. The employees were wearing simple suits with a soft, shiny fabric, the main color of which being a lovely sky blue. They all had a gold brooch similar to the hotel logo pinned to their jacket flaps: the symbol of the three-legged raven, characteristic and brilliant. Although most of them were busy carrying trays to offer the guests, or even talking to them to clarify any doubts, there were still a few who seemed free enough to ask.

Yevdokia advanced on one of the women who was standing next to a large sofa in the foyer, her expression somewhat relaxed with a conceited grin between her teeth. Long blonde hair and light brown eyes, a dot below her mouth, a not-so-friendly face — not that there were many friendly options available. She and her small group seemed to be the only ones discussing the hotel, not caustically and with some seriousness in their tone. Precisely, perfect for telling where the owner possibly is, of course.

When the girl approaches, it's more than enough to make the lady frown and look at her with distaste. The subject certainly wasn't that important, but she seems annoyed at being interrupted all the same. The other three fall into the same bitter silence, casting critical glances at Ilyna. Meanwhile, the blonde seems to disbelieve that this girl came so close, but even more so that she even spoke to her.

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Could you tell me who the owner, manager or whoever is similar is, and where I can find him?” Yevdokia quietly asked, devoid of any previously apparent nervousness. “I really need to talk to him. It's a matter of extreme urgency!”

But the older woman only looks at her for a moment, up and down, rolling her eyes before turning her attention back to the previous conversation. The others do the same favor of complacently avoiding the black-haired girl. It's deliberate, Yev knows, and that's why her blood boils at the situation. She's making the effort to be kind, and this is how she's treated? How come humans are always so arrogant?

Shoulders relaxed, head tilted slightly to the side, Yev watches them silently for a moment before trying once more. The kindness drained from her tone as did her patience. Yevdokia was still being polite. What would it cost if the other one bothered to answer? Alternatively, the blonde could simply say that she didn't know. Lie, but don't ignore.

“So, I've asked you a question. Could you help me or not?”

The only thing that sets her apart from the other employees is the absence of the brooch, the red scarf wrapped around her neck and the gold jewelry. The breath was harshly drawn into her lungs, the brown eyes cast judgmentally on Ilyna this time directly. Posture even straightened, shoulders relaxed as the blonde leaned to the side causing the crystalline jewels to tinkle softly in her ear.

“For God's sake...”

An incredulous grin kissed those crimson lips, the quiet laughter escaping from the tallest one.

“After all, who do you think you are to talk to me like that? Better yet, who are you to think you can just demand to speak to the owner like that, all of a sudden?” The woman suddenly changed her tone, needing nothing more than a mere rise in pitch to make her feel entirely offended. As fragile as a poorly made porcelain vase. “Manage your tone, child. Are you not only an intruder, but also a poorly mannered one interrupting others’ conversations? How barbaric.”

Barbaric? Nobody takes any notice of the situation. At least, none of the other rich people nearby, whether they're standing or sitting on the seats. The curious looks are obvious, a generous number of nosy observers from the sidelines, but in the end, none of them are interested in helping or daring to give an opinion.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What? But— I just asked you a mere thing.” The girl looked incredulous at the other's aggressive stance. Not holding back the barbs on her tongue, despite her tone sounding almost like a whisper, the next one came out like a bullet. “You are the only one making a scandal.”

Ilyna's gaze rose lazily to the taller woman's face, her gray irises dark under the purest disgust, looking unperturbed. Of course, maybe she was a little nervous under the dozens of stares and perhaps afraid that the hotel owner was one of those stuck-up jerks, but she didn't let it show on the outside.

Meanwhile, a rigid expression formed on the woman's face, the lines of expression marked in subtle but obvious detail. She felt even more offended when she looked around and noticed that the whole scene had attracted more attention than she herself would have liked. The stares, the buzz; it all seemed to make her queasy. Seeing her at a moment when she felt offended, insulted, so vertiginously.

“Don't you dare answer me like that, you...” The tone of her voice weighs heavy as her hand rises upwards with a certain harshness.

The fingers are linked, adorned with those heavy rings. With the firmness with which she prepares the palm of it, she is sure that she will hit that face and mark the skin of that insolent with her five fingers as a painful reminder.

The crowd, which was more like an audience in the middle of a heated discussion, erupted into noise in reaction to the gesture.

“What's going on here?” A soft voice echoes under an undertone that reverberates throughout the hall like a melody. The sound of footsteps under the heavy sole of a high heel slowly approaches, so fast, so slight.

The two of them, if not everyone present, stopped for a moment, their gaze following ever so slowly towards the owner of that voice. They turned to find the face of a man of medium height wearing an impeccably tailored suit in the same colors as the one representing the hotel. Fancy, but not excessive. What is most striking, however, is the uniqueness of the figure. Long hair in a vivid shade of navy blue, the roots impeccable as if it were a natural feature. The eyes are a similar shade, although more intense, like two shiny jewels under long, light lashes. The man wore a golden monocle resting loosely on his face and perfectly poised.

Despite his calmness, his expression was completely unreadable, no emotion accurately displayed. As his gaze passed over those who had previously been discussing each other, his face tells as little about whatever he is thinking. How old is he supposed to be? Around thirty? The crowd gradually moves away, giving him room to pass under a mixture of startled and intrigued stares.

While the blonde seems slightly stunned to have been caught in such a situation by him, taking a step back, there is also a hint of awe crossing her eyes — the hand dropped as quickly as it was raised. It's as if that brief exchange of glances sends shivers all the way down her spine, a terrible feeling of being caught by an authority making a critical mistake. As a result, the entire hall falls into a dead silence.

As for Yevdokia — by God! She's actually enchanted. Just like someone who has just met an idol for the first time, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, her imagination running wild. Her heart felt like it would leap out of her mouth if she let it, body heavy against the ground and keeping her fixed in the exact spot where she is, watching him defend her from the human tyrant with glowing eyes, the gray irises having a fireworks display. He was real! He was completely real!

“You're not... Y-You...” The sentence gets stuck in the back of her throat, Yev unable to finish it. Yet a genuinely euphoric smile occupies her lips.

His gaze lingers for a few seconds on the younger girl's face. Curiosity? Interest? His expression is indistinguishable, although his gaze intensifies on her for some ulterior motive. Although, see, there's no reason why this should seem like a bad sign; there's no hint of reproach or displeasure in the man's gaze — and perhaps this is the first look that has made Yevdokia actually nervous since she arrived.

“One of the hotel rules...” The blue eyes turned morosely to the face of the woman wearing the blazer, eyebrows immediately furrowed. “...It's the prohibition of violence against any of my residents, under any circumstances. Especially when it comes to a special guest. You should know this as well as I do.”

Special guest — those two words swirled around the girl in an endless chorus. Not only Yevdokia, but everyone else in the room seemed to be shocked by those words, spoken with such clarity and assurance. It took everyone by surprise, especially Ilyna, who in theory shouldn't even have been in there. That sentence then set off a commotion from all sides that resounded throughout the entire hall. Did he know? Heard anything about the stranger who was there? Was he crazy?

The blonde woman's incredulity is priceless, and she remains speechless until she dares to say something. “She clearly came in without permission and was being a nuisance, so I thought...”

“No ‘thoughts’, no presumptions, only certainties. Your presumption is not such as the absolute truth.” His tone becomes harsher, although it's loaded with a certain softness and grace. His expression now, however, dripped with disapproval. “Miss Manon, I expected a lot more from a woman like you.”

The woman winces embarrassedly under her own shame. His tone carries a dejection that clearly weighs on her poignantly. Feeling outraged, she is unable to keep her composure and leaves the hall in hurried steps, heading down one of the corridors. Quickly she disappears from sight.

Only now do the onlookers turn their gazes accusatory, staring at the blonde as if she had made a serious mistake, although previously they hadn't lifted even a finger to help. It's something Yevdokia notices, despite knowing that mentioning it will lead to nothing. ‘Humans are all hypocrites’ is the prevailing thought as she watches everyone else casually return to their superficial conversations after the incident, as if nothing had happened.

A few sighs of relief echo from the staff, who quickly disperse when the whole thing calms down. The hall, as the seconds pass, eventually returns to the same stillness as at the beginning. Classical music returns with a simple snap of the blue-haired man's fingers, orchestrated by a small but harmonious band — containing everything from a pianist to a cellist. Quiet conversations resurface, this time mostly focused on other, mundane matters.

“Are you feeling alright?” The melodic voice sounded close once again, drawing Yev's attention immediately to those eyes that carried a certain serenity. Deep in their own way, as if able to read through the soul. “Had she said something rather crude to you? If so, please inform the management if she has made you feel any uncomfortable. It was a bad experience I assume, but don't let it discourage you. Miss Manon has a naturally… difficult temper, if I may say so.”

He seems genuinely concerned despite not knowing her, something as evident as the curious glances thrown at them both as the conversation unfolds. A sympathy that Yev would find unnecessary if it weren't coming from a non-human.

Perhaps, if Yevdokia wasn't venturing a far-fetched theory, he was embarrassed by the behavior of someone else who barely seemed bothered by the attention until he intervened. However, it was understandable, wasn't it? The hotel's brand image was an important thing to care about, although that still didn't answer the question about the ‘special guest’ thing. Without knowledge of his intentions, it was only a matter of imagining.

“A-Ah... Yes, I’m okay.” Yev answered, slightly embarrassed, looking away from that sea of meekness. Nervousness was bubbling up inside her for the second time that day. “You have nothing to worry about! I-I mean, it didn't go any further than necessary because of you. Thank you!”

The answer wasn't that convincing, certainly not to him. However, he doesn't try to ask any further.

“Mhm. I see.” All the nonchalance drained from him like a single breeze and disappearing in seconds. Shoulders relaxed, a small smile returned to his lips. “I heard you were looking for the hotel owner?”

It's the second thing he naturally asks — mention which Ilyna herself had vaguely forgotten for a moment. The gray eyes lifted slowly to that face again, the long eyelashes blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Oh, well...” For some reason, that lost expression of Ilyna's is reason enough to draw a soft laugh from him, at which he covers it with the back of his hand. “It's just that I heard you mention something to Miss Manon about looking for the proprietor of the hotel. You said it was urgent, didn't you? For a flashy appearance like this, I imagine it's quite important.”

Yes, the hotel owner! How could she forget? The commotion was redundant, messing with her head enough to briefly forget the main objective. And, of course, the presence of a dazzling being like him, who overwhelmed all her senses, too. You could even say that all this had an advantage thanks to his presence. As well as being magnificent, he was certainly someone important and he certainly knew where the person she was looking for was, and the glances of others around them confirmed this.

“Oh, yes, that's true...” Yev lowered her gaze to the sole of her worn out sneakers, fingers tightly gripping the strap of her backpack and adjusting it behind her back. “I need to talk to him about something major.”

‘And my life depends on it!’

“Hm... Major, is it?” He shook his head gently, a hand going under his chin.

Shivers running down her spine, she almost lost her balance when she noticed the other man's minute analysis, as if he was trying to read her. Whether he was trying to find out something or merely curious, she didn't know. There was no attempt at discretion, that expression giving no room for doubt while he relapsed for seconds into a strange seriousness.

He pondered the possibilities, murmuring some low melody until the idea popped into mind like a light bulb above his head. Posture straight, he cast his gaze in the direction just above Yevdokia's face, to something just behind her, gesturing in a light invitation. The still unnamed man raised his hand to a good height and gestured lightly.

“Mr. Burke, come here please. Take this sweetheart to the manager's office; it's of the utmost importance.”

The younger woman shivers all over as she glances around and — oops, there's someone who certainly shouldn't be there and she didn't even notice when or how he arrived.

In the blink of an eye, the man surnamed Burke stands next to Yevdokia, his posture perfectly straight while his small, greenish eyes stare at her with some unreadable expression, but flashing a charming, polite smile. Green eyes — as bright and vividly colored as two emeralds —, blond hair elegantly combed to one side, typically European and harmonious features; a foreigner, although this was not such an unusual face in that hall full of them.

But he is definitely another radiant man who has approached with some subtlety, characterized especially by the unique ability to move under such silent footsteps and possess a light presence. Like the other employees, he also wears a uniform in the hotel's color palette: an even more sophisticated sky blue suit with black gloves, although less luxurious than the blue-haired man, taller than the other two, too.

‘Another one!’ Yevdokia's mind screamed with excitement, her gray eyes taking on a unique explosion of color, her cheeks tinged with a subtle flush. Inside, her heart was jumping and fluttering like fireworks on New Year's Eve. It felt like a dream! She never imagined there would be more than one in one place. There were so many things she wanted to say and no courage to speak of.

Still, though.

Bowing in a sublime reverence, his head lowered together and his palm rested against his chest. “With pleasure, sir.” The blond's tone was tender, accompanied by a calm, gentle face. Everything about him seemed smooth and effortless, from his hair to his most subtle gestures, even though his gaze was as sharp as a razor.

Again, a peculiar figure for a peculiar hotel. And the girl likes it, enough to decide within a few minutes that this is where she wants to stay.

Before Yevdokia could even ask, however, when she looked away, the blue-haired man had disappeared from sight. Completely. With no sign of where he had gone or even a small silhouette of blue hair in the distance. She frowned in confusion. He had simply disappeared without her even hearing his footsteps, nor had there even been a goodbye. Strange, but quite impressive. Despite the frown of slight bafflement, it drew an excited smile from her.

The blond turned to the girl and flashed a small hint of a smirk as he adjusted his posture. Up close, he looked as tall as he should. With his forearm in front of his torso, he crossed the other against his back. He seemed, for a split second, to be analyzing her carefully. More of her face than any other detail, some even ignored. Although the gaze took what seemed like an eternity, less than thirty seconds, no obvious expression emerged on his face.

“It's a wonderful pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Ilyna!” He introduced himself calmly, a polite demeanor as he bowed to her. As soon as he stood up again, the blond raised the hand that was on his chest towards Yev in a gesture of greeting. “I'm Olivine Burke, the concierge of the hotel. Count on me for whatever you need, whenever you need it. I can answer any queries and offer support during working hours about the hotel and its services.”

Concierge; that word spins around in her mind. Only exquisite hotels tend to have one, even if her memory is hazy as to what its function is. Above all, though, she seems deliberately confused by the mention of her surname — which has never been spoken aloud before. She would remember if she had said it, right? There's nothing to disclose her identity either, so how does he...?

Her fingers, however, slowly reach up to grasp the blonde's hand and squeeze it gently. It's a surprisingly cool texture to the touch, almost too much so, even though it's just a silky fabric glove.

“I'm... Yevdokia...” She tried to pronounce with some firmness, but it came out more like a whisper. Still amazed — and dazzled — at the idea of how he could know that little piece of information without the tiniest effort. “...It's a pleasure to meet you, too.”

The gray irises were still fixed on the taller man's face, watching him in a mixture of curiosity and, partially, a little amazement. Her fingers trembled as the blond intensified his grip, only to release it after a few seconds. Eyelashes blinked rapidly and she took a slow step back.

“Oh, I know exactly who you are. It would be terrible of me not to have a profile about my clients.” Olivine hummed with great conviction in his tone, his eyes squinting slightly as his smile widened. Contemplating her expression of pure inner turmoil, he let out a witty laugh. Body slightly tilted towards her, he held out his palm in invitation. “Could you accompany me, please?”

“Of course...” Yev murmured before gently grasping the hand that was extended to him.

The smile that was curved even wider between the concierge's lips spread until small dimples appeared on his cheeks. The younger woman's hand held firmly, he returned to his usual posture.

“Perfect!” It was uttered in a melodious whisper that disappeared into thin air with ease.

The music melodically reverberated through the walls of the hall in a more agitated, ringing rhythm. Some of the guests move towards the band in unison, curious glances casting their way as the instruments echo harmoniously under a piano, viola, clarinets, trumpets and a little more. Like a puff of wind, the two figures in the center simply disappeared among the crowd that had spread out, not even a single sign of Ilyna or the so-called concierge.