Episode 8
Enoch didn’t care what anyone else thought — even while Rania kept saying “my customers are pitiful!” over and over, he didn’t feel anything. He tried to look extra gentle and innocent to make himself seem wounded, and said, “Really? You can’t? I’m asking you nicely.”
“No, I can’t. Is there anything else?” Rania asked.
“Then sell me the shop.”
“What— that’s… this place is my dream castle!” she cried.
“Okay then, sign here.”
“No,” she shook her head. “But my customers… and me… I can’t.”
A tear, a sip. Rania sniffled and kept shaking her head. Jerel glanced at Enoch, thinking Enoch’s patience was about to run out.
By coincidence, Night’s Eye planned to open a branch on Plumeria Street soon. The problem was, the royal court was subtly blocking Night’s Eye’s expansion — the guild had influence, but the Crown didn’t want them getting stronger. So the easiest trick was this: take over an already-licensed shop. But there weren’t many bars around; the only place with a liquor license on that street was Rania’s café, Rosemary. Perfect luck for them.
Normally, they could pressure someone, but Enoch liked Rania and wanted her in the guild instead. Plus, she’d been babbling drunk — it made getting her to agree easier. Thanks to the magic item he used, she was more susceptible to. Still, Jerel wanted to avoid unnecessary trouble. Today’s booze Rania drank cost about five times her café’s yearly income; including the night before, it exceeded a year’s revenue. Night’s Eye could afford it, but Jerel wanted to at least recoup small losses. They didn’t traffic slaves or drugs — that kind of crime they avoided; one reason the Crown tolerated them. If they took the café, made Rania work three years at minimum wage, they’d cover costs. It seemed like a fair deal to them.
Just then, Enoch muttered to Jerel, “Hey Jerel — don’t you think she’s cuter when she cries?”
Jerel froze. He was the type who was pretty self-aware — he didn’t think himself moral, but he thought he was at least less awful than Enoch. Hearing that made him sick to his bones.
“Were you planning to kill her?” Jerel asked quietly.
“Kill her? Me? Why would I?” Enoch replied, offended.
Jerel didn’t push. He’d already decided the important thing was that they weren’t going to harm her outright. He looked at Rania, who still hadn’t fully come to her senses, and said, “If you won’t, fine — do it now. Put her fingerprint on the contract. If Enoch won’t, I will.”
“No way I’ll hold her hand in front of everyone,” Enoch huffed, making Jerel snap. Rania startled awake at the raised voice and reflexively answered, “Yes! What do I need to do?”
Enoch quickly brought the employment contract forward. “Pretty — your hand.”
“My hand? Okay, here!” She offered her hand, and in a blur, a thumb was inked and pressed onto the contract. In normal cases, you’d sign and get it notarized, but a fingerprint is often enough when someone’s been in a mess like this. Later, if she tried to deny it, after all she’d been through, she couldn’t honestly lie.
Enoch handed the paper to Jerel with a calm face. The guild members kept pouring drinks without a pause. One of them dampened a cloth and was ready to wipe Rania’s finger. “Our guild members learn fast,” Enoch smirked, and cleaned her finger, gently complimenting, “Pretty fingers.”
Rania blinked slowly, dazed. “Uh… my finger?” she mumbled. Enoch laughed softly, “Yes, your fingers are pretty. Jerel will bring more wine. Drink up.”
Was something huge just happened? Rania stared between her clean fingers and Enoch’s face, unsure. Jerel stood and quietly ordered the men waiting outside to bring another crate. This time it was different wines — even more exquisite. Rania squealed and laughed at the labels, enjoying herself like nothing bad could happen tomorrow.
“Ugh…” Rania felt like someone was hammering her skull. She groaned and clutched her forehead. After suffering through the hangover and then drinking again, she could barely wake up. She scolded her own stupidity and painfully sat up.
“Wake up, Ms. Rania. I’ve got medicine that helps with hangovers. Take two pills and you’ll feel better,” a calm voice said.
Rania’s eyes widened. A blond young man stood beside the bed, neat and composed, smiling gently. His blue eyes met hers, softening as he looked.
