Gabri walked through the deserted streets of Sichal, rubbing his wrist absently as he made his way towards his mother’s boutique. It was well past midnight, and the town lay in silence, the only sounds being the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of night creatures. He had just finished his guard duty for the Traveling Orchid's latest show, and the quiet was a welcome change from the bustling energy of the performance.

As he walked, he couldn’t help but reflect on how absurd it was for the Director to have hired him for such a task. Gabri might have been a skilled warrior, but he knew he was no match for the Director, who was probably the strongest cultivator in all of Sichal. He recalled the arm-wrestling contest that had ended with the Director's easy victory, the lanky man’s comically large mustache twitching as he laughed at Gabri’s futile efforts.

Gabri had asked him afterward why they were wasting money on someone who clearly wasn’t needed. The Director had just chuckled and said, "It’s all about appearances. When you’re putting on a show, it’s important that the audience feels a sense of awe, that they know they can’t just approach the dancers. A strong presence like yours helps maintain that illusion." He had then added, with a sly wink, "And it doesn’t hurt that you’re Miranda’s boy."

That last remark had stayed with Gabri, gnawing at him even now. He muttered under his breath, still annoyed by the memory, "...if he's gonna act like mother matters, he shouldn’t have kicked her out of the troupe after one mistake."

Gabri’s thoughts turned to his mother, Miranda, who had once been the star of the Traveling Orchid. Her beauty and grace had captivated audiences, but that was years ago, before she lost her cultivation. Gabri remembered her telling him that it was safer for her to stay away from the troupe now, as she could no longer defend herself against cultivators.

She had tried to console him by mentioning how the Director had sent Warrior manuals for Gabri and his brother, Imael, as a form of restitution. But Gabri knew it was little comfort. Miranda’s strength had faded over the years, and the vibrant energy she once possessed was now a shadow of its former self. The thought saddened him deeply, but he knew there was little they could do. The idea of restoring her atrophied meridians was nothing more than a distant dream.

Miracles were beyond their financial reach, and even if they could afford one, the chances of success were slim. They had no connections to the Priesthood, and the idea of asking for such a favor was out of the question. The other option—petitioning Grandmaster Ryker to melt away the necrotic energy channels and reform what was left of her healthy meridians—was even less feasible.

As Gabri approached Miranda’s Boutique, he forced a smile onto his face, determined not to show his mother the weight of his worries. He wanted to appear strong for her, to be the support she needed. He reached the door, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

The sight that met him caused his smile to vanish, his jaw dropping in shock as he took in the scene before him.

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Zinnia lay crumpled on the floor, paralyzed by Silas’s needle. Her eyes flicked around, frustration brewing as she was left immobilized. Selen, seated nearby, noticed how Silas had nudged Zinnia with his foot after rendering her motionless, just to check she could still breathe.

It was a small, almost indifferent gesture, reflecting the strange dynamic between them—a mix of harshness and familiarity that blurred the lines between friendship and bullying.

For the past hour, Silas had been fixated on reading Selen’s single-page story, his gaze intense enough to make her uncomfortable. Selen tried to concentrate on practicing the alphabet but found it difficult to ignore the heavy silence in the room, only broken by the occasional scratch of his quill.

Silas eventually stood up, taking a deep breath and tucking the page into his satchel. He moved toward Selen, placed a small vial on the table before her, and quickly wrote a note: ''ວivɘ ⑁ɘɿ ɟ⑁iƨ iʇ ƨ⑁ɘ ɟuɿnƨ ɿɘb.''

Selen nodded, understanding the command.

She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, Silas had vanished. His sudden disappearance was unsettling, but she had chosen not to question things too much—at least, not until she could engage him properly.

Selen glanced back at Zinnia, a fleeting thought crossing her mind, "Probably not red enough yet..." The thought brought a hint of amusement before she refocused on her alphabet practice.

Zinnia, meanwhile, simmered with irritation. "Where the hell is he off to now? And didn't he forget something?~" The paralysis left her feeling utterly helpless—an experience she despised.

The room returned to an uneasy quiet. Selen continued her practice, occasionally checking that Zinnia was breathing comfortably. The vial on the table remained untouched.

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Gabri stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock. "Mother, what happened to you?" His voice wavered as he took in Miranda's transformed appearance.

She looked as though she had stepped out of his childhood memories, her beauty restored to an almost unnatural radiance. The black robe she wore was unlike anything he had ever seen her in—opulent and extravagant, a stark departure from her usual flashy but tasteful attire.

Miranda’s face lit up with a radiant smile, and she hurried toward him. "Gabs!" she exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Gabri returned the hug instinctively, his mind swirling with questions.

"Mother, what’s going on? Why do you look like this? Are you alright?" His words spilled out in a rush as he pulled back to examine her more closely.

Miranda stepped back, composed herself with a light cough, and began, "Two intruders tried to assault me earlier."

Gabri’s reaction was immediate and fierce. "What?!" he roared, his body tensing with fury. He looked like a beast ready to tear apart anyone who had dared to harm his mother.

"Stop yelling! People are sleeping," Miranda quickly admonished. "It’s been handled. Don’t worry; I had help from a benefactor."

Gabri's mind raced to process her words. He grabbed her arms, searching for any sign of injury, but found none. His anger slowly gave way to confusion and concern. "What benefactor?" he asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Miranda offered a wry smile. "A crow named Nyx who was rummaging through our storage saved me and gave me a… simply wondrous tonic."

Gabri crossed his arms and exhaled deeply, nodding as he tried to make sense of the absurdity. "I see." He reached out to feel her forehead, checking for any signs of fever-induced delirium.

Miranda swatted his hand away irritably and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Let me explain in more detail, but before that..." She flicked her hand casually.

Gabri’s sword slid halfway out of its sheath on its own before sinking back down. His gaze snapped from the sword to his mother’s hand and then to her smirk.

"I’m told it’s temporary," Miranda said, her smirk widening into a grin, "however..."

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Nyx perched himself atop a building opposite Miranda's Boutique, his beady eyes fixated on the empty vial wrapped in his wing. He stared into it, lost in thought. "Definitely was a Dancer… temper is beautiful… meridians fit the aftereffects… too much of a coincidence… mhmm~ and the smell divine," he mused, chuckling in a disturbingly human-like manner. Shaking the empty vial, he added to his thoughts, "Such a shame… such a shame… this flower is almost ready to bloom."

A deeper shadow suddenly enveloped him, startling Nyx into a comical leap forward. He barely caught the empty vial as he almost dropped it. Turning around, he saw Silas sitting behind him, hunched over and bringing his face closer.

"It's only funny if I do it," Nyx squawked in anger.

Silas's raspy voice cut through the evening air. "Were you harmed? Why did you call me? Is there a problem with acquiring the ingredients?"

Nyx waved him off nonchalantly with his wing. "Calm down," he seemed to say, knowing Silas was genuine in his concern for him. After all, Nyx very rarely reverse summoned him.

Silas narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't call me for no reason, especially when we have a chance to decrypt the scroll."

Nyx pointed down at the boutique and, uncharacteristically, spoke in a distorted mimicry of Silas's voice, "ωнαт ∂σ уσυ ѕєє?"

Silas raised an eyebrow. Nyx usually detested speaking even with him.

He focused his gaze on the scene below. "I see a woman hugging a man."

Nyx chuckled. "ησ! ησт тнαт ѕιмρℓє. ѕнє ιѕ... мιяαη∂α, qυιтє α ℓινєℓу σηє, α ƒσямєя ∂αη¢єя ι'м ѕυяє. ωє кησω тнєιя ѕтуℓє, тнєяє ιѕ ησ мιѕтαкє тнєяє."

Silas nodded slowly. "I believe your judgment there." He assumed Nyx was inferring a connection between the woman and the troupe ''Travelling Orchid''—with a niche cultivation style like Dancer, it was most improbable for her to not have an affiliation.

Nyx continued describing Miranda with enthusiasm. "σннн, ѕнє ιѕ α ƒιєяу σηє, уσυ ωσυℓ∂ ℓιкє нєя. кιℓℓѕ ℓιкє α νιη∂ι¢тινє [вαηѕнєє]. ƒιєя¢єя тємρєя тнαη σηє мιgнт єχρє¢т, мσνєѕ ωєℓℓ ƒσя ѕσмєσηє яє∂υ¢є∂ тσ α мσятαℓ."

"Do you want me to seduce her for something?" Silas asked dryly.

Nyx chuckled again and handed him the empty vial. Silas uncorked it and took a whiff. The scent was unmistakable—[Fertile Substitute], a rank one red liquid fertilizer used by Alchemists to temporarily wean maturing herbs that required pure Energy as sustenance.

"нєя мєяι∂ιαηѕ αяє αтяσρнιє∂. тнιѕ нєαℓє∂ нєя," Nyx informed him.

Silas didn't need even a second to grasp what Nyx was implying. "A crippled Dancer with a fierce temper who was healed by [Fertile Substitute]?" he muttered.

Nyx squawked with a nod.

"One down then," Silas said thoughtfully before asking, "Have you gotten what I asked for?"

Nyx took off his tool belt and handed it to Silas with an affirmative caw.

Silas examined the contents of the belt briefly before looking back at Nyx. "Good work," he said simply.

Nyx preened his feathers proudly as Silas continued to scrutinize the scene below them.

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"You had the antidote this entire time?!" Zinnia's voice echoed through the room, her face a furious shade of crimson. She trembled with rage, her eyes locked onto Selen.

Selen, however, didn't understand a word of what Zinnia was yelling. She could only sense the displeasure radiating from her. "She is a loud one," Selen thought to herself. "I was carefully watching how red she got. Perhaps apple red was not red enough?"

Zinnia's outrage grew at Selen's nonchalance. She raised an accusatory finger at her, but before she could say more, she began to wobble on her feet. Her eyes darted to the antidote vial in Selen's hand.

"Son of a bi-" Zinnia managed to mutter before collapsing to the ground, falling into a deep sleep.

Selen looked at the vial in her hand and quickly knelt next to Zinnia's chest. Resting her head against it, she confirmed that Zinnia's heart was still beating. Placing a finger under her nose, she saw that she was still breathing normally.

With a shrug, Selen stood up and picked Zinnia up, placing her gently on the bed. She tucked her in carefully and brushed aside her hair so it would be more comfortable for her to sleep.

Satisfied that Zinnia was settled, Selen returned to her study area. The room was quiet now, save for the soft sounds of Zinnia's breathing.