The hall began to breathe again.
Slowly.
Like a breath returning after having been held for far too long.
The air was still heavy, laden.
The whispers came first — low, cautious, slithering between raised glasses and glances that avoided meeting for too long.
"Mad…"
"He's going to die…"
"To cross her…"
The clinking of glass returned, timid at first, then steadier, trying to restore some sense of normalcy no one there truly believed in.
A sweet perfume hovered in the air, thick, almost nauseating.
Mixed with incense burning slowly somewhere in the hall.
And beneath it all…
the smell of blood.
Hidden under layers of luxury… but impossible to erase.
One of the servants knelt beside the fallen young woman.
Her hands trembled.
Her fingers pressed fabric against the wounded skin, trying to contain the red that insisted on breaking through everything.
Nika's gaze moved toward her.
Unhurried.
And even so, the space around seemed to adjust to the direction of that gaze.
"Amélia."
The voice came low.
Soft.
But firm enough not to allow delay.
A servant at the back stiffened immediately.
She stepped forward.
Her appearance was simple.
Discreet.
The kind of face that would go unnoticed anywhere else.
But there was precision in her movements.
Control.
She approached without lifting her gaze.
Nika did not move.
She simply kept watching.
"Take her… and tend to her wounds."
A brief pause.
Almost imperceptible.
"I will not tolerate further carelessness under this roof."
Amélia inclined her head slightly.
"Yes, ma'am."
Silent, she knelt beside the young woman and began to act with contained efficiency, each gesture precise, each movement measured.
The hall watched.
But now… no one spoke.
Not even in whispers.
Nika's eyes then shifted.
Slow.
Deliberate.
To Éreon.
The blade still in his hands.
The air around him…
did not obey the rest of the hall.
"Lili."
The call came in the same tone.
Calm.
Contained.
"Remove his katana."
A brief pause.
"Louren… take him to the purple room."
A slight inclination of her head was enough.
Lili did not move immediately.
Her eyes met Éreon's.
Steady.
Watchful.
The daggers still raised for a brief moment, catching the amber light of the lanterns.
Nika's voice came again.
Lower.
Closer.
"I trust you won't make this an inconvenience… for me."
Her gaze remained on him.
Unmoving.
Precise.
Without hostility.
But without concession.
Lili then sheathed the daggers.
A clean movement.
Silent.
She stepped forward.
Stopped in front of Éreon.
Silence stretched.
The entire hall seemed suspended in that interval.
Éreon did not move.
His eyes still on Nika.
Deep.
The blade remained steady for a moment.
Unhurried.
Without any apparent tension—
Éreon simply extended the katana.
Direct.
Without ceremony.
Lili received it with both hands.
With due caution.
Without fully looking away, she turned slightly—
and handed the weapon to another servant who waited in silence.
She took it immediately.
Stepping back.
keeping to the rear.
Louren then stepped forward.
Moved ahead of Éreon.
Without a word.
Without a gesture beyond what was necessary.
Indicating the way.
Éreon's eyes remained on Nika for one more moment.
Long enough to be felt.
Not long enough to become defiance.
Then he turned.
The cloak followed the movement in a soft glide.
Without sound.
Without hesitation.
And he began to walk.
Following her.
Servants stepped back before they even realized they were moving.
No word was spoken, no gaze held for too long.
The hall still breathed under the weight of what had occurred.
But Nika did not.
She turned slowly to the men.
Her gaze traveled the hall without hurry.
Cold, measuring.
There was no anger there.
Nor any need to impose force.
Authority had already been established.
"Gentlemen…"
The voice came soft.
Almost courteous.
"I'm afraid this evening cannot proceed as planned."
A brief pause.
Black eyes lingered on a few faces.
Enough.
"I regret the inconvenience."
It did not sound like an apology.
It sounded like a conclusion.
"The night ends here."
The hall reacted in silence.
Chairs shifted.
Glasses were set aside.
The men began to stand.
Too fast to seem natural.
Too slow to be called flight.
Tense faces.
Avoided gazes.
One of them hesitated.
The same one who had laughed before.
His eyes lifted—
and met hers.
Black.
Unmoving.
Deeper than they should be.
For an instant—
he did not breathe.
His body stiffened.
As if he had come close to something he did not understand.
Something he should not look at.
Then he looked away.
Quick.
Almost abrupt.
And withdrew with the others.
Nika remained still.
Watching.
Waiting.
Until the flow thinned.
Then—
without raising her voice—
"You."
A nearby servant stiffened.
Approached immediately.
Head lowered.
"Yes, ma'am."
"How many remain on the second floor?"
The servant hesitated for less than a second.
"Seven, ma'am."
Nika nodded.
Slightly.
Almost imperceptible.
"Inform them the establishment is hereby closed."
A pause.
"And that they are not to remain."
The servant inclined her head.
"Yes, ma'am."
And left immediately.
Without looking back.
The hall was now almost empty.
But the echo of the night still remained.
Hurried footsteps began to descend the stairs.
One.
Then another.
And more.
The men appeared.
Some still adjusting their clothes.
Others trying to recover a dignity they no longer held.
Shirts poorly fastened.
Belts being tightened in haste.
Eyes lowered.
None of them spoke.
They passed by Nika in silence.
Quick, contained.
As if remaining for one more second would be too much of a risk.
And the entire time—
her eyes remained fixed.
On the door of the Golden Breath.
Unmoving.
As if there was no longer any interest in those who were leaving.
Only in what still remained.
The last man crossed the exit.
The sound of the street flooded in for a brief instant—
before being cut off.
Nika raised her hand.
A small gesture.
Precise.
The servants at the door understood immediately.
The doors closed.
Firm.
The sound echoed through the hall—
Then—
silence.
Dense.
Complete.
No witnesses.
No distractions.
Only what remained.
Nika moved.
Passed by Lili without hurry.
The fabric of her dress slid softly across the polished floor.
Without looking back—
Lili followed her in silence.
Their footsteps echoed low as they crossed the emptied hall.
The weight of the place still lingered.
Like a residue that refused to disappear.
They reached the stairs.
Nika did not slow.
Each step precise.
Controlled.
Without hesitation.
"The events of this night… were more revealing than they appear."
Lili came just behind.
Attentive.
"It was not merely disorder."
The soft sound of heels spread through the vertical space.
"Revelations rarely occur by chance."
The second floor emerged.
Partially lit corridors.
Half-open doors.
Traces of a night interrupted.
"Do you believe we were being watched?"
Some glances still hid in the cracks—
too quick to hold.
Nika did not turn.
"I believe we were noticed."
She continued.
Without pause.
Without deviation.
"And when that happens… it is wise to decide what will be remembered."
The next staircase was reached.
Narrower.
More secluded.
"That is why you ordered the pavilion closed."
Nika gave a slight nod as she climbed.
"For a short period."
The third floor emerged.
The air there was different.
More contained.
More silent.
"Long enough for silence to work in our favor."
The corridor stretched ahead.
Dimmer light.
Closed space.
Reserved.
"And what of those who have already witnessed it?"
Nika continued without slowing.
"To see is not to understand."
The door at the end—
discreet.
But distinct.
"And understanding… can be guided."
Nika advanced to it.
Stopped.
For a brief instant.
Her hand rested on the handle.
"Strength does not reside in the absence of flaws."
A light pause.
"But in the way one chooses to reveal them."
The door opened without a sound.
Nika entered first.
Lili remained half a step behind.
The room was submerged in shadows.
Only the faint light escaping from the corridor crossed the space, tracing soft outlines over the furniture and tinting everything in muted tones.
The air was dense, still — as if the room itself were watching.
He was there.
Seated on the floor.
Leaning against the side of the bed.
Head lowered.
Shoulders slightly curved.
Still silent.
Like a presence that did not need to announce itself.
Nika did not hurry.
She advanced a few steps.
Stopped at a safe distance.
And observed him.
Entirely.
Without haste.
Without immediate judgment.
"When I sent you to the orphanage…" she began, her voice low, serene, "I did not foresee that you would return under such… distinct circumstances."
A brief pause.
Almost measured.
"Nor did I imagine you would be returned to me in a state more severe than the one in which you left."
Silence remained.
Intact.
Then—
Éreon lifted his gaze.
Unhurried.
Nika held it.
"Your actions tonight…" she continued "went further than you may have intended."
A slight tilt of her head.
"Certain gestures, when seen through the wrong eyes… cease to be merely acts."
"They become signals."
A pause.
Subtle.
"And signals… invite unwelcome interpretations."
Her eyes did not stray.
"Even so… I do not perceive unrest in you."
An instant.
Pure reading.
"Which leads me to believe your concerns lie elsewhere."
A slight pause.
Her eyes did not waver.
"Or, more precisely… that they do not rest."
Silence.
"There is something in you that does not allow itself to turn away."
The tone remained calm.
Nika registered it.
Silently.
"It is a predictable fixation." she said, with measured softness.
"But at times… it is at the edges of an objective that the true risks reside."
She stepped forward.
Controlled.
Without intrusion.
"There are those who believe conflicts are resolved at the moment of the strike."
A brief silence.
"However… recent history has been particularly cruel to such certainties."
The tone did not rise.
But it gained density.
"Houses once unshakable… have fallen."
"Not by battles."
"But by a single word… spoken into the right ear."
The air seemed to adjust.
"And from it… alliances unraveled, doors closed… and fates were sealed before the blade ever left the sheath."
Her eyes remained on him.
Steady.
"Strength, therefore… is rarely the decisive factor."
"Understanding, on the other hand… often is."
A pause.
"Especially when there are presences… whose mere interest alters the course of nations."
No name was spoken.
It was not necessary.
"The world, as we knew it… no longer stands upon the same foundations."
She inclined her head slightly.
"In light of this… to act without considering who may be listening… is a luxury few can afford."
The pause stretched only as long as needed.
"To kill, Éreon… is merely the final gesture."
Her voice lowered slightly.
Quieter.
Sharper.
"What precedes it… is what defines who remains standing when silence returns."
The room seemed smaller.
More contained.
As if the walls listened.
Nika inclined her head, almost imperceptibly.
"I do not know for certain what Teseu deemed appropriate to cultivate in that orphanage… over the past years."
The tone carried no curiosity.
"But it would be wise for you to understand something clearly."
A brief silence.
"There are rules."
"And one of them was broken the moment you chose to draw your blade under this roof."
No accusation.
No explicit threat.
And yet—
The weight fell.
Without sound.
Nika then moved.
Turned.
With contained elegance.
As one who had already said enough.
She took a step.
Then another.
But—
she stopped.
Slightly.
Without turning her body fully.
Only enough.
"Your anger…" she said, with controlled softness "is, without doubt, directed at the count."
A brief pause. Measured.
"That is evident."
Her gaze slid back to him.
Over her shoulder.
Cold.
Precise.
"What seems less clear to me… is whether you still remember the reason."
Silence.
Dense.
Cutting.
"Or if all that remains… is the echo of that anger."
She turned fully.
Unhurried.
With no need for reaction.
"I suggest you reflect on that."
The sentence came light.
Almost courteous.
And then—
Nika moved toward the exit.
Without looking back.
Each step silent.
Measured.
As if the conversation had never been a confrontation—
But rather…
a warning.