Shura couldn't pull his eyes away from the view.
When he finally blinked, the world snapped back into place.
White uniforms. Everywhere.
The air inside felt warmer than outside, but not welcoming—just contained, like it had been sealed for too long.
The Keeper Station moved like it had already decided how everything should behave. Calm steps. Controlled gestures. Soft voices that never quite rose into urgency.
A few of them laughed. Not loudly.
But enough to feel out of place in a room that smelled like ink, wood polish, and old paper.
Tall shelves lined the walls. Lantern light softened the edges of everything, making even the shadows feel organized.
Shura stood still.
His first thought came before anything else settled. Shura didn't move at first.
Not because he was afraid because he was still deciding what he was looking at.
Are they like policemen?
Then his eyes drifted upward. A full wall was covered in images. Shura stepped closer without thinking.
Faces.
Hundreds of them.
Some were new. Some looked like they had been there for years.
Some neatly arranged, others slightly tilted, all pinned with careful attention.
Not prisoners. Not citizens either. Something in between. Like memory, filed and categorized.
Shura stared longer than he meant to. Something in his chest tightened slightly. Like the wall wasn't displaying people. It was remembering them.
A Keeper noticed him.
"What happened, kid?"
Shura turned slowly.
"I'm here to deliver a letter."
He pulled it from his pocket with careful hands. The Keeper didn't take it immediately. He looked at Shura first.
As if confirming the letter was the least interesting thing in the room.
Then he took it.
"A letter," he repeated, flatly.
He walked it over to the counter. Shura stayed where he was.
But his attention moved with them. The letter was opened. The seal broken without ceremony.
The woman reading it paused.
Just once.
Then—
"Ah."
Her tone shifted slightly.
Not like she was hearing something new like she had just confirmed what she already knew. She tilted the paper slightly toward the Keeper.
"Letter addressed to Mr. Halvic."
The room shifted.
Not visibly. But noticeably.
Like A thread pulled tight.
A few Keepers glanced at each other.
One exhaled like this was an inconvenience they already expected.
"…That Halvic," someone muttered.
A few seconds passed where no one seemed to decide what tone to take. A short laugh broke somewhere in the room.
Not amused. More like reflex. Shura noticed it. Even if he didn't understand it.
A man near the corner shifted slightly.
Too carefully.
Trying to leave without drawing attention.
A man near the corner shifted slightly.
Too carefully.
Trying to leave without drawing attention.
A Keeper pointed without looking up.
"Not you."
The man froze.
Another Keeper glanced over lazily.
"Oh right. That idiot tried to steal from Halvic's house."
A few short laughs followed. Not kind. Just practiced dismissal.
"There are five hundred and ten houses in this town," another Keeper said. "And he picks Halvic's."
Someone else leaned back in their chair.
"If you stole from the Empress's palace, that'd be normal at least."
A pause.
"But Halvic…"
He shook his head slightly, like the rest didn't need finishing.
Shura watched without moving and asked.
A Keeper finally waved a hand toward the man by the corner.
"Just run away, kid."
Then Shura spoke again.
"But I was paid to deliver this."
The thief tried to move again.
A Keeper grabbed him by the collar without looking.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Casual strength. No effort.
The man stopped resisting immediately.
"Relax," the Keeper said. "We've got free labor now."
He tossed the statement away like it meant nothing.
Shura's expression didn't change.
But something in him tightened slightly.
"I'll attempt it once," he said.
The Keeper looked at him for a moment. Like deciding whether he was naive or already gone.
"Try harder to survive," he said.
Shura nodded once.
"Complete your procedure," Shura replied. "I'll leave after."
That made the room go quiet for half a second. Then the woman behind the counter spoke again.
"If you're going, take these as well."
She slid a stack of envelopes forward. Shura looked at them. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"What do you mean by "Survive"?"
She leaned forward a little.
"He may not open the door."
A pause.
"Or he may open it with a revolver."
Shura held still.
"…Why?"
She only shrugged.
"Who knows."
Then Shura spoke.
Shura didn't answer immediately.
"Alright."
He adjusted the letter in his hand.
"But I'm only delivering what I was paid for."
A Keeper immediately leaned forward.
"Bet."
Another followed.
"He won't make it."
"Three copper he turns back," someone added.
Coins began moving across the counter.
Quiet at first, then faster, the room shifted from conversation into prediction as coins began moving across the counter, the woman watching without stopping it like it was normal here, ten copper, twenty, then more.
"Full tin and twenty copp on him. If he pulls it off, I'll give him the full amount."
Shura stood in the center of it.
Still.
Then he let out a small breath.
"So you're betting on a stranger," he said softly. "Whatever. It's still my profit either way."
"But I'm not paying if I fail."
No one corrected him. The woman simply placed the letter back into his hand. Shura turned toward the door.
A Keeper called after him:
"You're serious, kid? He's got a revolver. What if he shoots you?"
Shura didn't stop walking.
"I don't think he'll use it on me."
Behind him, someone immediately adjusted the bet.
"Two tin if he actually does it."
One Keeper exhaled through his nose.
"That's a quarter of a month's salary…"
A few laughs followed. Not because it was funny. Because it was easier that way.
At the exit, a Keeper asked. "Where are you going?"
Shura pointed slightly upward.
"Follow the dirt path."
"The Halvic residence," the Keeper corrected. "He's probably not home. Tavern, if anywhere."
Shura paused.
"…Tavern?"
"You don't know what that is?"
Shura shook his head slightly.
A sigh.
"Third street. Keep walking until the end. Near the lake."
A pause.
"…You'll know it when you see it."
Shura stepped outside, where the air felt quieter than inside not safer, just less controlled as he adjusted the letter in his hand and started walking.