Jeanne and Talulah stepped into the cottage. It was a run-down, dilapidated place—the interior so broken that wooden beams were bound together with frayed ropes, and sagging shelves required crude wooden braces just to stay upright.
It took only a single glance to see how impoverished the family was. The sheer bareness of the room laid their poverty completely bare.
Cluttering the corners were dozens of empty glass vials and small tins. Talulah reached down, picked one up, and examined the label. It was marked as an active suppression solution—a preventative medication meant for industrial workers to lower the risk of Contracting Oripathy on the job. But something about the solution's color was entirely wrong.
"It's fake," the woman said, her voice heavy with grief. "My husband was a worker at the local processing plant. Just because he was Taran, those overseers docked his medical rations and handed us forged solution instead!"
Her voice shook, hatred spitting through her words like broken glass. Greed had driven those overseers to turn a healthy man into an Infected, leaving him to wither and die, all so a few Victorian managers could pocket the extra funds and enrich their own families.
"I know it's fake," Talulah murmured, setting the empty vial down. "Truth be told, across all of Victoria, you could count the factories that actually give their workers genuine medication on one hand."
That ongoing injustice was one of the primary reasons she had come. Countless Infected workers had shared identical stories of corporate neglect, and Victorian authorities couldn't be bothered to enforce health regulations for the lower classes.
"Is that so? I wouldn't know..." The Feline woman shook her head sorrowfully. Sweeping the empty bottles aside, she looked up at them like a prisoner awaiting a sentence. "So... what do you want from me?"
Seeing her defensive posture, Jeanne and Talulah exchanged a quiet glance.
"We want to know what that man was trying to do," Talulah asked directly. "Why did he approach you, and what is this organization he wanted you to join? What do you know about them?"
Meanwhile, several streets away, Ronan slipped into a secluded hideout. Face-to-face with a group of shadowy, sharp-eyed figures, he shrank back. The men surrounded him with cold, unwelcoming expressions, their postures tense.
"I have no idea who those two women were, but I knew I was no match for them!" Ronan stammered nervously, trying to defend his panic. "I came straight here so our cause wouldn't be compromised!"
"So... you compromised our location instead?" one of the men growled, stepping closer. Handing a heavy blade behind his back, his fingers twitched around the hilt. One wrong answer would mean Ronan's life!
"No! I swear I didn't!" Ronan yelped, sweat beading on his forehead. "They showed up before I even mentioned the organization! I ran off immediately! They don't know a thing about us!"
Though he considered these people his comrades, he knew the vast gap in rank and authority between them. If he made a fatal slip here, they wouldn't hesitate to slit his throat.
Sensing his genuine terror, the men relaxed their grips slightly, stepping back with cold scowls.
Even if he hadn't compromised their operations, failing a simple recruitment task was unforgivable. They intended to use this blunder to beat some discipline into him, making sure he understood that joining their ranks didn't make him their equal.
"I am rather curious, though..."
A smooth, melodious voice drifted from the shadows, instantly freezing everyone in place. The men who had been posturing threateningly dropped their hands, none daring to make a sound.
"Stand down, all of you. If he broke protocol, I will hand down the punishment on behalf of our leader," the voice continued gently. "Now, describe those two strangers to me—even if it's just their hair color and physical traits."
"Understood, Lady Harmonie!" the men chimed in unison, bowing deeply.
Harmonie stepped into the dim light. She was a smiling, soft-spoken green-haired Feline with an inviting demeanor, yet the underlying aura she carried made the surrounding men look away in deference.
Only one person in the hideout dared to stare back at her with an unbothered, almost scowling expression: a Feline woman standing right behind her named Mandragora. Like Harmonie, Mandragora held a senior position within the organization.
All eyes turned toward Ronan, who was now bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the cobblestones, trembling violently as he fumbled for words.
"There's no need to be frightened. Ronan, was it?" Harmonie spoke with an odd, captivating warmth that naturally put listeners at ease. Ronan felt the paralyzing terror in his chest ease slightly.
"Y-Yes, Lady Harmonie!"
"Then stand up and tell me what happened," Harmonie urged, a sharp spark of vigilance in her eyes. "Every insult brought against our people will be repaid in full. So tell me... who were those two?"
She knew breaking a solid iron lamppost was a simple feat of physical strength, but the appearance of such a formidable stranger at this critical hour required caution.
Ronan stumbled through his explanation of the failed recruitment attempt. Harmonie listened passively, showing little interest until he reached the details of the two intruders.
"Those two women... they were eavesdropping nearby!" Ronan explained defensively. "I drew my blade to quiet them, but the blonde one possessed terrifying strength! I couldn't stand against her..."
"Their appearance." Harmonie interrupted, her smiling facade holding firm even as her patience wore thin. "Get to the point."
"One had golden hair—I couldn't identify her race since she lacked distinct animal features. The other had white hair and looked like a very unusual Vouivre..."
"A very unusual Vouivre?" Mandragora interjected, stepping past Harmonie to glare down at Ronan. "How so?"
"I... I can't quite describe it," Ronan stammered. "She had features similar to a Vouivre, but her horns rose straight upward, unlike the curved horns I usually see on them. Is that unusual?"
Straight horns? Harmonie's eyes narrowed slightly as a realization crossed her mind. "Did you catch her name?"
"N-No, ma'am! I ran before I could hear anything..."
"You don't need to cower," Harmonie said gently, stepping forward to pat his shoulder. "We are comrades, aren't we? There's no need for fear among us."
Turning to her subordinates, she commanded before anyone could object, "Fetch him a uniform. From today onward, he is one of us."
Ronan gasped, practically falling to his knees to shower her with gratitude. The surrounding men exchanged glances, muttering about how lucky the fool was, before instantly switching their demeanor.
"Lucky bastard! Well, we're comrades now, so let's get along!" they grinned, completely brushing off the fact that they had been ready to execute him moments prior.
Ronan paid their shallow behavior no mind. All that mattered was that he had joined their ranks—he no longer had to fear being pushed around by local oppressors.
Meanwhile, Harmonie walked down the corridor, her pleasant smile fading into a troubled scowl. Ronan's description aligned suspiciously well with figures she desperately hoped wouldn't interfere with their plot. If those two were who she thought they were, their presence could derail everything—and she would have to answer to their leader for any failure.
Hearing Mandragora's footsteps beside her, Harmonie looked at the hot-headed officer, a sly gleam surfacing in her eyes.
"Mandragora," Harmonie murmured softly, her tone dripping with quiet concern. "What do you suppose brought those two strangers here? Do you think they might interfere with our master plan? Two unaccounted variables could cause immense trouble for our leader's grand design..."