"As for the payment, tell me how you got the cloak." Her voice was casual, almost too casual, but her eyes were sharp, honing in on me as if the answer would reveal something beyond what I intended. The cloak on me was hooded, its edges frayed yet pulsing with that faint neon glow, a slow rhythm that felt almost alive. Kael had claimed he'd spent his last coin on it, though I had my doubts even then. Now, under her scrutiny, those doubts stirred again. "A friend gave this to me," I replied, keeping my voice flat, steady.
She tilted her head, watching me closely. "Who was it?" she pressed, her curiosity unmasked, and I could see her weighing the information, trying to piece something together. I simply shook my head, a silent refusal. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of disappointment flashing across her face before she masked it behind a neutral expression. "Does this make up for the drink?" I asked, a faint grin tugging at my mouth, testing her patience, hoping she'd let it slide.
Her smile returned, sly and satisfied, like she'd won the exchange somehow. "Oh, yeah," she murmured. Without breaking eye contact, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a few coins, and flicked them onto the counter. They landed with a metallic clink, and the bartender swept them up in one smooth, practiced motion, not even sparing me a glance. "But," she added, her voice softening as she leaned back, "that's the only free drink you're getting from me."
She made a move to leave, her attention drifting elsewhere. But something in me wouldn't let her walk away that easily. "Hey," I called, my voice sharper than I intended. She turned, one eyebrow raised, a hint of curiosity returning to her expression.
"You said we could trade stories," I reminded her, trying to keep my tone even, casual. "Equal worth for information, wasn't it?"
That same glint of interest returned to her eyes, and her lips curved into a smile. "So, you've got something worth sharing, huh?" she asked, her gaze challenging me, as if daring me to make it worth her time.
"Yes." I hesitated, my fingers brushing the edge of the cloak, the strange, almost metallic fabric that held an unsettling weight. "This cloak. It's special, isn't it?" My voice was quiet, careful. I'd noticed things, small things—the way people's eyes lingered on it, the strange looks it drew. If this cloak was sold openly, I would've seen more of them by now. But it seemed… unique. The only other time I'd seen anything similar was on that man in the black suit, the one with the skull badge. His cloak had that same otherworldly shimmer, a quality that set it apart.
Her face remained impassive, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of interest—or perhaps recognition. She leaned in, lowering her voice, her tone laced with intrigue. "It's not something you just buy," she murmured. "If your friend got it for you, then he's someone who knows his way around."
I felt a pang of doubt. If Kael had possessed this cloak all along, then why had he never used it? It was a strange thing to keep hidden, a resource wasted. He could've sold it for a fortune, or at the very least put it to use. But he'd given it to me, almost casually, and I couldn't shake the feeling there was more to the story. And if he'd kept it a secret… was it because he knew exactly what it was? Or, worse, what it might attract?
Her eyes didn't waver as I studied her, trying to gauge how much she knew—or how much she'd be willing to share. Finally, I met her gaze, firm, unyielding, letting her see that I wasn't one to be lied to.
"If you tell me what I need to know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "then I'll tell you who gave this to me."
A gleam sparked in her eyes, her interest fully captured now. "So you're not just a lost kid after all," she mused, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Alright," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and challenge. "Ask what you need to know."
I leaned in, making sure no one else was listening. "Who are the men in black suits, the ones with skull badges?"
For a heartbeat, the entire bar seemed to go silent. The bartender, who'd been wiping down the counter, froze, his hand suspended mid-motion. He muttered something under his breath, glanced at us, and quickly disappeared behind the bar, leaving the broken glass he'd dropped scattered across the floor.
The woman's smile faltered, her expression darkening. "How do you know about them?" she asked, her tone laced with something between caution and threat.
"Is that your answer, or are you just stalling?" I replied calmly, refusing to back down. Her gaze flickered, something cold and calculating moving behind her eyes. She sighed, muttering under her breath, a slight edge of impatience slipping through.
"Tch... fine. But this isn't the place."
Without another word, she tilted her head toward a shadowy hallway at the back of the bar. I caught a glimpse of some patrons eyeing us curiously, but she moved with such purpose that they quickly looked away, losing interest. I followed her down the narrow corridor, the loud hum of the bar fading to a distant thump, leaving us in a silence thick with anticipation. The walls were lined with empty crates and crates filled with dusty bottles, the occasional flickering bulb casting brief flashes of light over her shoulders as she moved. A strange chill clung to the air here, mingling with the stale scents of spilled liquor and dust, making each breath feel heavy.
She pushed open a small door at the end of the hall, and we stepped inside. It was a cramped storage room, cluttered with unused chairs stacked haphazardly against the walls and shelves stacked with unopened boxes, their labels faded and peeling. The room was barely lit by the faint neon glow seeping through a tiny, grime-covered window high up on one wall. The thin sliver of light cast a dim, sickly pallor over everything, making shadows seem to shift along the walls.
She leaned against the wall, positioning herself near the window with her arms crossed, her silhouette framed against the faint glow. Her gaze held mine, piercing, as though she were evaluating every choice I'd made to end up here, standing in front of her with a cloak that had clearly set off alarms.
"So," she began in a low voice, her tone shifting to something serious, weighted. "You want to know about the ones in the black suits with skull badges."
I nodded, holding her gaze, refusing to look away. There was no turning back now.
"They call themselves the Sable Order," she said slowly, each word dropping like a stone. Her voice was quiet, but the caution behind it was unmistakable, as though even speaking their name risked drawing unwanted attention. "They're not just any street gang. The Sable Order is something more dangerous—something older, more rooted. They're the city's shadow, moving beneath the surface, keeping out of sight until they decide it's time to make themselves known. They keep to the edges of the Cybercity, the alleys, the forgotten corners where the neon doesn't quite reach."
She paused, her eyes shifting from my face to the cloak draped around my shoulders, the faint pulse of its neon trim casting brief glints in her eyes. "Your friend didn't just stumble on this, you know. Sable Order gear doesn't show up in markets. It's theirs, exclusively. Either he's connected to them… or he stole it." Her words hung in the air, each one twisting in my mind, bringing an uncomfortable weight that settled heavily on my chest. If Kael was involved with these people, this Sable Order, then he'd taken risks I couldn't even begin to understand. The memory of his nonchalant smile when he handed me the cloak now seemed like something else, something guarded, a flicker of something more beneath his easy demeanor.
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"And you," she continued, her voice softer but laced with a hint of sympathy that made her words land heavier, "you're either incredibly bold or incredibly foolish for walking around in it. There are people in this city who'd see that cloak and take it as a challenge, or worse—a threat."
I glanced down at the cloak, its glow now feeling like a beacon in the murky dimness of the room. "What exactly are they?" I asked, my voice low, though a strange heat had risen within me. "The Sable Order. What's their purpose?"
She tilted her head, studying me, perhaps weighing how much to tell. "They're the city's enforcers," she replied after a moment, her tone laden with something close to bitterness. "They don't answer to anyone—not the game, not the citizens. They're their own law, their own rule. And their brand of order… it's harsh, unforgiving. They're not here to keep peace—they're here to maintain a balance, one that keeps the Cybercity's darkest secrets hidden, even if it means blood is spilled. People cross them, people disappear. Simple as that."
Her gaze returned to the cloak, and for a moment, I thought she looked almost… pensive, her eyes darkened by some memory. "And that cloak," she murmured, almost as if speaking to herself, "it's more than just a piece of clothing. It's a symbol, a message, one that'll catch the wrong eyes if you're not careful."
I shifted, the weight of the cloak now feeling heavier, oppressive. "Why would my friend have it, then? Why would he even risk giving it to me if it's this dangerous?"
Her gaze softened, almost pitying. "Maybe he wanted you to understand something," she said, voice tinged with a strange sorrow. "Or maybe he wanted you to take his place. Either way, you're tangled up in it now."
The room seemed to close in around us, the silence thickening, settling heavily over me as her words took root. This was more than a cloak, more than a favor from a friend. It was a connection, a tie to something I didn't fully understand yet, but something that now seemed unavoidable.
Currently, I had nothing to do with the Sable Order. I'd come to this city for one purpose: to find a rune. But now that I'd heard their name, it seemed I was knee-deep in trouble without even knowing it.
"So, tell me—who gave you that cloak?" Her gaze was unyielding, every word laced with something sharper than curiosity. "Who is this 'friend' of yours?" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper, a hint of a threat lingering in her tone. "And don't try lying. My rune lets me distinguish between true and false information. Doesn't matter if it's something I see, hear, even a stray thought—it's all fair game." She crossed her arms. "I was going to hunt your friend down myself, but since you've put yourself right in front of me, you just made things easier."
I felt a chill, though I kept my expression blank. She didn't seem to be bluffing. If she could really sense truth and lies, my only choice was to be careful, even if it meant giving her a name.
"His name is Kael," I said at last, keeping my tone even, careful not to reveal anything more. Just his name. For now, that was all I was willing to give up.
She studied me, golden eyes narrowing with a mixture of satisfaction and suspicion, like a predator who'd found its prey but was still weighing its options. The slight smirk playing at her lips suggested her rune had verified my words, but it didn't make her any less dangerous. The silence hung between us, thick and tense. When she finally eased back, her gaze softened just a fraction, but the gleam of a hunter still lingered.
I swallowed, my mind racing, piecing together fragments of conversations, stray looks, and the weight Kael had carried when he handed me this cloak. Why had he given it to me? Did he know it would draw this kind of attention, mark me as some kind of target? Did he expect me to use it to get close to the Sable Order, to thread my way into the shadows of this city's underworld? Or… was I just a pawn, disposable, here to stir the pot and draw out whatever he needed? The suspicion sank in like a cold dagger to the gut. The anger began to simmer—anger at Kael, at myself for walking into this blindly, at the woman who seemed all too eager to twist the screws.
Garron's absence flashed through my mind, a strange detail now magnified. If this was a setup, where was he in all of it? Kael had handed me this cloak, and I'd accepted it without a second thought, but now every detail felt calculated, intentional. The silence around Kael, the shadows Garron had slipped into, the cloak that seemed to catch the attention of everyone in this cursed city.
My thoughts came to a halt as the woman shifted, her golden eyes glinting with a mix of intrigue and something else, something dangerous, as though she knew the trap I'd fallen into better than I did.
But it wasn't over. She suddenly pushed me aside and pressed her ear against the door, urgency radiating from her. I stumbled backward, crashing into dusty chairs and boxes of wine stacked haphazardly in the cramped storage room. The cloak wrapped around me absorbed most of the impact when my back hit the ground, but I still felt the jolt resonate through my body. At first, I thought she was making a run for it, trying to escape through the door, but that wasn't the case at all. She was intent on listening, straining to hear what was happening on the other side.
A feeling of dread washed over me as I observed the tension in her body, the way her forehead glistened with sweat. I pushed myself up, brushing off the dust as I whispered, "What's going on?" My voice felt too loud in the thick silence, but I needed answers.
She hesitated, her expression a mask of concentration. Finally, her lips parted, and she spoke, her voice low and tight, "They're here."
Confusion and shock collided within me, sending my thoughts spiraling. Who was "they"? I instinctively moved toward the wall, searching for a glimpse of whatever danger loomed outside. I remembered a tiny hole I had noticed when I first entered. I pressed my eye against it, but the darkness outside loomed heavily, the faint neon lights casting eerie shadows.
I leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the chaos unfolding beyond the door. Straining my ears against the opening, I heard muffled noises—rustling, distant screams, and an unsettling sound that resembled liquid sizzling against something hot. Panic surged through me as I pulled away, my heart pounding. "What should we do?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She shot me a scathing look, her eyes filled with determination. "We? Who's 'we'? I'm getting out of here. Whether you die or not is none of my problem." I should have expected that response, yet it stung all the same. My mind raced, trying to figure out my next move as adrenaline coursed through my veins.
Before I could muster a response, she seized a stool from the corner and smashed it against the window with a loud crash, shards of glass scattering across the floor like tiny stars. Without a moment's hesitation, she hopped out, her movements fluid and swift. I stood frozen for a moment, the choice weighing heavily on me—should I follow her into the unknown?
Just then, I instinctively pulled the cloak closer to my face, feeling it expand to cover my nose, eyes, and ears. The fabric felt alive, cocooning me in its embrace. Despite my eyes being sealed, I could still see, and even though my ears were covered, I could hear the chaos outside, muffled yet distinct. There was no time to process what had just happened; I had to act.
In a heartbeat, I jumped through the broken window, the ground rushing up to meet me. It was lower than I had expected, and I rolled as I landed, the cloak cushioning my fall and silencing my movements. I got to my feet quickly, scanning the surroundings for the woman, but she had vanished into the night, leaving me alone in the unsettling silence.
The dim light from the neon signs was gone, plunging everything into darkness. I glanced around, searching for any sign of life or a potential escape route. The streets felt eerily quiet, as if the city itself was holding its breath. Then, from the depths of the shadows, figures began to emerge, their forms outlined by faint, pulsating lights that glowed like veins beneath their skin—an unsettling sight, reminiscent of my own suit.
I felt my heart race as they closed in around me, the air thickening with an unspoken threat. I turned, trying to find an escape, but the shadows closed in too quickly. It was as if they had anticipated my every move. Just then, a man stepped out of the darkness behind me, and I froze in place.
He wore a sleek black and violet suit, the fabric clinging to his form like a second skin. The skull badge on his waist gleamed ominously, a stark reminder of the danger that lurked within the Sable Order. My breath hitched in my throat as I realized I was completely surrounded, and the weight of the moment settled heavily on my shoulders. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I was rooted to the spot, unable to move as dread washed over me.