A large plume of smoke curled and twisted as it rose into the air.

  The man tapped the end of his cigar into a half-full ashtray, resting it against the side. Sapphire blue eyes scanned through the open dossier, but squinted tight as they finished reading. His mouth poured another breath of tobacco into the room, wisps of smoke travelling through the room along with a muted sigh.

  "Hounds couldn't even get a good picture, let alone sniff a lead." The man massaged his wrinkled forehead as he heard someone rap their knuckles on the door.

  "Come in and have a seat". The doors to his captain's room squealed as the guest labouredly pushed past the set of gleaming oak doors.

  The young warrant officer's jet black hair and sharp features claimed his noble heritage before his mouth could confirm. His uniform looked more like a blank, navy blue canvas, especially compared to the glorified ‘tapestries’ that he saw his more accomplished seniors wear.

  "Good evening, Captain Pth- Captain Sergal, sir." Beet red embarrassment painted his face as the young man hurriedly pushed the chair in to sit, his fists clenched a sickly shade of white on his thighs betraying his otherwise stoic expression.

  "Drop the formalities, Melton. How are the people at the estate?"

  "I haven't visited in a while, Mr. Sergal, but they were still arguing about which chef should bake Mom's cake for her birthday"

  Sergal let out a hearty chuckle that momentarily filled the room as he tapped his cigar into the ashtray, smoke continuing to billow out the end. "So all is well then, haha!"

  "Anyways, take a look at this." The dossier slid across the desk.

  Melton flipped open the dossier as his eyes mechanically scanned through what little contents it held. Case files were usually enough to take a whole day to read through. This time, 30 seconds was enough to browse through the contents of the file. Had the mutts even done their job properly?

  "What do you think?"

  "Captain, I-"

  "Drop the formalities already, jeez. I've heard enough 'captain' to last me a lifetime."

  "Mr. Sergal, are you sure you have the right file?"

  "Yep. Your first official investigation 'in the name of His Highness' is one without even the smallest of a lead."

  Melton pushed the file aside as his brows furrowed. "When has the reconnaissance unit ever sent a rookie to solve a case this outlandish?"

  "Special cases for special cases, right?" The captain flashed Melton a wink. "Besides, insubordination means treason, so it's not like you have a say in these kinds of things anyways."

  "I don't know who you think I am, but I've got a long ways to go in terms of my own skills-"

  An exasperated sigh followed another puff of smoke.

  "Officer Melton. I will say this not as the Captain of the reconnaissance unit, but as a former mentor of House Tasselt. As long as you keep running away from your brother, you will never find your own success. Take this opportunity to show that you are brilliant in your own way, just as I've seen in you all those years before."

  The smoke in the room seemed to sink along with Melton's spirit, the tendrils of smoke wrapping around his neck as they threatened to pull taut. But the captain simply issued his typical eyeless smile as the smoke continued to rise into the ceiling.

  "You’re doing this, understood?"

  "Yes, captain."

  "I told you to drop it already!"

  Find and uncover information regarding Elisabeth of the Den of Sin.

  "Stupid place doesn't even exist..."

  He'd flipped through the empire's registry and combed through every street in the capital. No dice. If he had to search the entire empire just to find this one place, each and every mutt that was responsible for the junk in that dossier would be culled by his own two hands.

  "Another drink, please."

  A waiter, dressed in a black dress with white frills whisked away his empty drink before a mug of beer with head spilling from the lip almost left a crater in the table as she mumbled an 'enjoy' beneath her breath.

  Boisterous laughter bouncing between hoodlums professing their misdeeds mixed with the larger-than-life claims of middle aged men, each hoping to impress whoever else that might have still been listening. This particular tavern was far from a quiet space for rest and reflection, but combined with the numbing sensation of alcohol running through his body, his mind dove deep into the muck of his consciousness, drifting far, far away from everything. His emerald eyes hid behind his eyelids as they slowly fluttered shut, planting his face into the table for one. If only he could forget that day, his conscience would be eternally grateful...

  "-ou heard? People are going missing!"

  "Must be more of your old drivel, old man. Shut up already."

  "I'm telling you, it's true! They enter an alleyway and never come back, never to be seen again! It's true, I tell ya!"

  "Man, if you won't shut yourself up, I'll make sure you won't ever have a mouth to spout bullshit with again!"

  A guest leapt from his seat, the air drawing a hissing breath as the tip of his shiv gleamed under the tavern lights. His actions drew the glances of the others, but lost their attention just as quickly. It wasn't until he beat the pot-bellied man to the floor, his makeshift knife held above his jaw poised to strike, did the assailant capture the interest of the collective.

  Yet not a single fellow intervened.

  "Cut his ass up!"

  "Go for the neck!"

  A tavernful of people encircled the scene, some spilling their drink onto the floor as they drunkenly hobbled their way to that interesting commotion. On the other end, an opportunistic bookie encouraged people to bet on whether the armed guest would take just his tongue or his life outright. Throughout it all, the tavernkeeper was just happy to sell more cheap drink to the guests.

  The assailant hung his shiv high in the air, ready to strike at the other's gaping mouth. The victim's eyes glued open as his arms clawed away at the other to free himself from the man’s iron grip.

  "Let's see how much bullshit you can spout without a-"

  Before the man could plunge his knife into the other, a blur of dark blue materialised before the crowd for a moment. A deafening boom echoed through the building, turning the eardrums of everyone within the tavern into jelly.

  Silence propagated through the halls of the tavern. The victim's eyes squeaked open a smidge, then widened in surprise. Where his assailant once was now stood another peculiar individual. In a tavern full of lowlifes and has-beens, a well-dressed man resembling a government worker was about as out of place as a buck in the desert. He dusted off his navy uniform, briefly rubbing his temples to jog his inebriated mind.

  The pot-bellied victim took a peek to his left and laid eyes on an outlandish sight. The uniformed man's strike was a mere blur, but the resulting impact had left an unconscious criminal on top of a fracture the width of the wall that only seemed to grow larger the more seconds had passed.

  "...Now you've gone and fucked up my wall!", exclaimed the shopkeep.

  "Pay me my money, bookie! I won the bet!"

  "Hmph! Such a strike was nothing when I was in my prime!"

  "Spoilsport!"

  "You've ruined me! You've ruined me, you hear?"

  The crowd devolved into its regular ramblings as it slowly dispersed, Melton giving the insults nothing more than cursory glances, his mind still abuzz from the alcohol.

  He’d recognized his freedom from captivity too late, as Melton yanked the escapee by the collar. The man flailed, trying to break free from his mysterious saviour. This fellow was arguably an even greater threat to him than that hoodlum! In one smooth motion, Melton hoisted him up by the collar of his shirt with one arm.

  "You."

  "Y-yes?"

  "Name."

  "M-M-Mark, s-sir."

  "You're gonna tell me more about the missing people, Mark."

  "Sorry?"

  "And if I find out you're just spouting nonsense, I'll finish the job with my own hands, understand?" Mark's bald head nodded in agreement and fear at the threat of losing his tongue again.

  "Y-yes..."

  "This is the place...?"

  “S-so there was this sister and younger brother who stumbled across a rusted steel door when taking a shortcut home that passed through the streets near St. Monia's Cathedral, and they s-stopped by to check what was up with the door. S-sis wanted to leave and go home, but she looked around and her brother was nowhere to be f-found…”

  Melton wandered around the religious district, his running thoughts accompanied only by the sound of his loafers on the limestone paths. Every other building was a chapel, cathedral monastery or shelter, as expected of the religious hub of the capital.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  A derelict cathedral managed to catch Melton's attention. Many saints had cathedrals dedicated to their devotion and faith in their god, but St. Monia was a lesser known figure in her religion despite her status as a saint. Records say that she disappeared shortly after she had been anointed.

  Melton brushed away the stubborn overgrowth covering the bronze plaque of the cathedral, revealing its engravings.

  'ST. MONIA'S CATHEDRAL'

  His hands traced over deep, hand etched grooves over the engravings of her title as Saint. Odd, few among the religious would hold such animosity to do something as petty as to scratch out someone's title.

  Regardless, he felt a rising sense of anticipation, his instinct screaming at him that the source behind the disappearances was close.

  The man’s chest deflated as he let out a heavy sigh.

  Melton already had his hands full with the Elisabeth case, and now he just had to stumble upon another disappearance that he couldn't help but be drawn in by. But families deserved closure after loss, after all. It was his duty as a civil servant to give them the relief they needed to move on in their lives. Only the sound of shoe against brick accompanied him along with his thoughts as he kept his eyes peeled for any lead at all.

  ... Zeke would've been done with such a small case by now...

  '!'

  Right as he was lamenting his incompetence, Melton's hand ran over the cold, bumpy and unmistakable feel of old rotting iron. A step back revealed a building entrance with no doors or windows, not even a plaque or a potted plant for flair. Just a door on a building to serve as the front of the business.

  "Maybe if I solve this they'll let someone else take Elizabeth's case..."

  As soon as he nudged open that rusted metal door, the pungent smell of incense struck him right in the nose. Melton's hands scrambled to cover his nose in response to the dry stench that hung in the air.

  More importantly,

  This place is still running rather late into the night...

  Several hooded figures in black lounged on maroon couches scattered throughout what appeared to the concierge each holding a tiny scrip of paper. The only other piece of furnishing was a quaint wooden desk on the other end of the small reception area, away from all the guests.

  "After I couldn't see my brother around me anywhere, I swung the door open, and ran up to the concierge..."

  An elderly woman, likely old enough to be Melton's grandmother, manned the counter. She was dressed in long flowing robes in enamel white that reached the floor and a matching hood that obscured her face. A chill ran down Melton's spine the moment he laid eyes on her.

  "I asked if she had seen my brother, and she then handed me a slip of paper, it had the number '1' on it, and she told me to wait."

  The sound of loafers clacking against linoleum punctuated the room as Melton approached the 'concierge'.

  "I wish to meet the person behind '1'."

  The old lady bore a hole into his forehead with her gaze, scrutinizing him like a jeweler appraising a gem. Defying his expectations, she handed Melton a small wooden plaque, no larger than his palm and the number '1' hand carved into the soft wood. In his white shirt and slacks, he could not stand out more if he tried while now holding his wooden plaque.

  "Be seated and wait until your number is shown.", the lady remarks in a silent whisper.

  It really doesn't get any sketchier than this...

  A nondescript, tucked away building with god-knows-what kind of operation going on behind the scenes. It would be shockingly innocent if this was just as simple as a missing persons case. Worse comes to worst, this place was a front for an entire crime ring and Melton would mysteriously disappear from the face of the earth. Not like he could let that happen; he had far too many regrets for him to die early.

  And so he waited. And waited. And waited and waited. The sound of him tapping against the cushions and his shoes against the floor made him the standout person in the room, as if he wasn't already. Meanwhile, the hooded guests maintained their silence until they left towards the gate next to the desk.

  An hour passed. Then another.

  Melton's fingers against the couch betrayed a frustrated pace. All of the guests had since come up and left after seemingly accomplishing or getting what they came for. Maybe he'd been singled out as an intruder or outsider and the old lady was just seeing how long he could last until he gave up and left.

  A wooden scoreboard filled with cards representing all the numbers was used as a makeshift display to let guests know when to come forward. Never once did it display the number 1 when the old lady at the concierge changed the scoreboard, much to his annoyance.

  Melton, his head clouded by anger from the mistreatment, languidly rose from the couch to leave. Outwardly showing his displeasure was bad manners after all. Right as his body swivelled to face the door, the elderly lady’s voice called out to him.

  "Guest with the plaque, please enter. Hold the plaque's engraving against the keyhole."

  "I followed all the instructions and still, when I entered the room..."

  Where there was supposed to be a normal room, a pearlescent black expanse greeted Melton instead, much to his surprise. The old lady only ever called up to 15 numbers starting from 2, and the building itself looked rather quaint from the outside. Yet, this number 1 room looked humongous compared to the establishment it was in. Any larger and it could compare to one of his courtyards back home. Whoever had put up the subspace magic on this room was clearly a skilled practitioner, one of few within the empire.

  Melton's eyes scrambled to find a foothold to gauge distance, but the black, pearlescent material covering every inch of the room made it impossible. More importantly,

  "Two people stood in the center. One large and built, the other seated with a veil covering their face.”

  I asked them where my brother had gone, and the veiled figure replied 'You will see him soon.'. Then I passed out and woke up at home, but my brother was still nowhere to be found."

  "Or at least that was what I last heard of her. Think she also went missing not too long ago. I-I really don't know anything else when I spoke to her, I promise!"

  As per the woman's description, a stocky, muscular woman in a bob cut stood dressed in a vest and pants and a pair of gauntlets at her waist. The only hints she was a woman were her head and proportions and even that was stretching it. Seated beside her was another woman, this time thin and slender, a veil covering her face and her one piece dress identical in colour to Grandma at the counter, her silver hair extending down to her waist as she sat on the chair.

  "So, Mr. Officer, what are you here for?" The veiled woman's voice rang in Melton's ears like a glass of water struck by a metal rod. The statement suddenly clicked, the hypothetical metal rod striking his glass head full of water right on the side, wobbling everything within. If his poker face were any worse, God knows what they would've tried asking him.

  "What gave it away?"

  "Clean clothes, boots instead of sandals, well groomed; my typical guests are the common people, ascetics, monks and proselytes all wanting to hear what they hate about the other. You don't seem like any of the above."

  The veiled woman continued, leaning forward as she spoke.

  "I'll make you a deal. Tell me something I've never heard before, and I'll let you ask me about anything I know."

  "And if I don't?"

  "You automatically lose, and Patricia here will make sure you remember none of today."

  Her imposing figure backed her claim. Patricia cracked her neck as her gaze sized him up, top to bottom. Leaving this place wasn't going to be so easy after all.

  He delved deep into his thoughts, a hand over his forehead as he dug through his memories. Such a claim was clearly a trap. The deal was simply too fair. Going up against a head honcho like this? As it stood, he was a gnat caught in a spiderweb, and a way out was nigh impossible without a miracle.

  "...Uhhh, have you heard about a missing brother and sister?"

  The veiled figure, stunned by the answer, struggled with a response, her surprise apparent just through her voice.

  "... I don't know if you're just that daft, or you just want to lose, but that's fine either way. Patricia."

  Melton observed as Patricia closed the gap in one bound, a rush of wind pressing into his abdomen as she aimed for the solar plexus

  To a regular passer-by, Patricia would've vanished and appeared next to them in that one leap. Melton was anything but. Presenting a thin profile, the fist missed its target with a sharp snap, piercing the room. Panickedly, she threw another strike. Blocked before air could announce the hit. Melton’s arm folded into a guard, deflecting another stray punch aside before his forearm extended to land a clean jab straight to her nose.

  "Let's kick it up a notch."

  The smell of ozone filled the air as Melton disappeared from Patricia's sight. Patricia scrambled to find her opponent, yet all she saw were azure blue sparks where he once was.

  The next instance, she was out cold on the floor after being chopped in the neck. A sonic boom filled the room right after, blue bolts of electricity wreathing Melton's body as he took a seat on her unconscious body.

  "I get another chance to answer your question, right?"

  "Congratulations? I don't know how I should reward you, so I'll tell you what exactly happened to the two of them. The brother got kidnapped and sold to slave traders, and the sister met a far more gruesome fate, I'll leave it at that."

  "... Organ harvesters? They probably used the link between them as brother and sister. Those two trades work together often as well."

  "Bingo, Mr. Detective. But you ought to be more careful, you see."

  '!'

  His seat rumbled as Patricia shot Melton into the air like a cannonball, locking him in place with a firm bear hug the moment he fell within reach.

  Melton grunted as he pushed against Patricia's grip, but the hold simply tightened. The veiled woman sauntered over before ripping off the veil, indigo flames erupting from her eyes as he went limp. Both took a second to breathe, before the once veiled woman demanded an answer.

  "Mr. Officer, be honest with me: what are your deepest, darkest thoughts that you can never share with me?"

  Melton's eyes glassed over. His mind screamed for the body to stay still to no avail. The head lied, yet the body was always honest, after all. Her eyes still ablaze, the once veiled woman returned to her seat.

  "... I think that the person in front of me right now is the prettiest, most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life."

  "...What kind of stupid officer has walked into this room at this hour? Are we sure he's even nobility, much less an officer?" Whatever had come out of his mouth had the bodyguard in disbelief.

  "......-eth. Elisabeth!"

  "Hueh?"

  "Snap out of it!"

  Her cheeks flushed red, her dimples straining to stop a smile from creeping up her lips. The flames nearly went out before they relit, and who knew what the man in Patricia's arms would do then. "To think you would rather spit up other secrets than to admit my beauty ...You win, Mr. Officer. That's something I've never heard before.", she remarked.

  Melton’s mouth jolted open as the flames roared a deeper shade of purple.

  "Mr. Officer, tell me where you live."

  Incessant chirping of mynas outside his window still coaxed Melton out of the muck of unconsciousness, rubbing his eyelids as he woke.

  "When did I get back home?"

  It didn't take long for the wheels to turn and click inside his head with a ding. To be defeated in such humiliating fashion; maybe he really wasn't fit for the job as he feared.

  His stiff and aching body rose from the couch with a strain, a necklace with a ring and a small note falling out of his trouser pocket as he twisted his body to leave the couch.

  Hello, Mr. Officer,

  Since you passed out before I had a chance to introduce myself, I figured a small letter would suffice to introduce myself. My name is Elisabeth and the woman you lovingly knocked out for half a minute yesterday is Patricia. Thanks for the kind words yesterday, it really made my day.

  Along with this letter is a small something to remember me by. Bring it to the concierge and you'll be let in with no fuss. Must be infuriating to be kept waiting for hours every time, after all. I'll be holding up my side of the deal since you won the bet yesterday. See you soon! :)

  Elisabeth

  The Den of Sin

  Along with the letter was the small necklace, gleaming as the mirror finish shone in the morning sun. But more importantly...

  Elisabeth of the Den of Sin?

  The small detour he took out of his own volition ended up being a massive lead in his own case. Such a stroke of luck was surely once in a lifetime. As he scrolled through yesterday's memories, he came across a certain phrase he said to Elisabeth.

  "... I think that the person in front of me right now is the prettiest woman I've ever seen in my life."

  Melton shrunk into a ball of embarrassment. To think he said that out loud. Death wouldn't be enough to relieve him of such shame.

  But whatever the case, he must meet Elisabeth again.

  It's purely for work. Nothing else.