Shuren, Assad and Mya start walking to the front door of the mansion. The front door's ornate design screamed arrogance like the owner wanted to say, 'Yes, I'm rich as fuck. What are you gonna do about it?
They enter inside Shuren with a calm expression is waiting for an attack but nothing. Assad still holding Mya enters after, then he senses a familiar presence right in front of them.
"Good evening guests of honor." Mischa paused while lifting her maid's outfit with a polite bow. "Welcome to the mansion of Young Master Zheng Yan."
Assad was filled with emotions and many questions started filling his head, why was she here? Why did she approach them first?
Something was up and it looked like this won't end well. Then out of surprise Shuren started walking towards Mischa still smoking.
"Madam it's forbidden to smoke in the front hall if you wish to have a smoke there is a smoking center next to the garden at the back of the mansion." Mischa said.
"Who asked you? Pretty sure no one spoke except for you." Shuren stated as she exhaled some smoke out into an o.
Mischa's smile remained steady, though her eyes flickered for just a heartbeat—like a brief glitch in an otherwise flawless facade.
"My apologies," she said with a smooth tone, lowering her bow. "We have certain standards here. Clean air and also clean manners."
Assad's grip on Mya tightened. That word—kills—carried a weight that was anything but casual.
The marble beneath Shuren's boots let out a faint crack as she stepped forward, the ember of her cigarette glowing brighter in the dim light. "You sure talk a lot for a maid."
"Occupational hazard," Mischa replied with a lightness in her voice, folding her hands neatly in front of her apron. "I chat to tidy up after the mess."
The tension in the air stretched thin—so thin that Assad could almost hear it vibrating. Then Shuren dropped her cigarette, crushing it under her heel.
Snap.
The sound rang out like a gunshot.
Moments later, the chandelier flickered. A gentle breeze swept through the hallway. Assad barely saw Mischa move—one moment she was still, and the next, a silver flash appeared near Shuren's neck.
Shuren sidestepped with ease, the blade grazing a few strands of her hair. She smirked. "You're quicker than you seem."
"Thank you," Mischa whispered, flipping her dagger and taking her stance. "Young Master mentioned you were intriguing. I plan to find out if that's true."
Assad started to step forward, but Shuren raised a hand slightly without glancing back. "Stay."
The word landed with the force of a command.
Then she turned her gaze to Mischa, her eyes narrowing. "Alright, maid," Shuren said, her voice low and steady. "Let's tidy this place up."
The two women glided silently down a long, narrow corridor. The polished marble beneath their feet gradually gave way to dark stone as the light from the chandeliers faded behind them.
Up ahead, moonlight poured through tall windows draped in crimson, casting streaks of silver and red across the floor.
They stepped into the east conservatory, a glass-walled hall choked with overgrown vines and broken pots. Once a lavish greenhouse, it now stood half-abandoned and eerily quiet.
The air was thick and damp, heavy with the scent of wilted roses mingling with gunpowder wafting in from the courtyard.
A perfect place for blood to bloom once more.
Shuren paused near the center, flicking the ash off her cigarette as her reflection shimmered faintly in the glass panels. Her hand moved with casual precision—two fingers tapping against her thigh in a steady rhythm. It was subtle, intentional. A signal.
Keep moving. I'll take care of her.
Behind her, Assad hesitated for just a heartbeat before the message clicked.
Got it, he thought, narrowing his eyes as he steered Mya toward a side passage.
But just as he was about to take another step—
"Interesting."
Mischa's voice sliced through the silence like a knife.
Her heels clicked against the marble as she turned slightly, her eyes sparkling with quiet amusement. "I believe," she said softly, "you told him to stay put."
Assad froze mid-step.
Mischa's gaze shifted to him, her tone still calm and polite—but laced with a sense of danger. "So where does that boy of yours think he's off to now?"
Shuren didn't even glance back. Smoke curled lazily from her lips as she replied, "You've got sharp ears for someone about to lose them."
Mischa let out a soft chuckle. "Sharp tongue for someone outnumbered."
"Outnumbered?" Shuren finally turned to face her, her eyes cold and unwavering. "You're adorable."
In one fluid motion, she flicked the cigarette to the ground. The ember hissed as it hit the damp soil near the shattered pots.
Then she cracked her neck to the side.
"Assad," she said without looking back. "Go."
Mischa's dagger flashed in the moonlight as she lunged—
But Shuren was already gone from where she stood.
A gust of wind followed, scattering rose petals across the glass floor.
The fight had begun.
Assad and Mya dashed down the corridor, their footsteps echoing off the polished marble floors. Outside, the gunfire had quieted, but the tension in the air was still palpable. The further they ventured into the mansion, the thicker the atmosphere became heavy with the scent of perfume, dust, and something else. Something metallic.
They burst into room after room guest suites, studies, storage halls each one empty.
Then Mya suddenly stopped.
Her eyes widened as she pushed open a large double door, the hinges creaking like a wounded animal.
The room beyond was shrouded in darkness except for the faint orange glow of a fireplace at the far end.
The flames crackled softly, casting gentle shadows across the furniture. And somewhere in that dim warmth… a melody drifted through the air.
It was classical music.
Elegant. Somber. Almost too perfect for a place soaked in blood.
Assad stepped inside first, his gaze sweeping the room with caution. His hand hovered near his concealed blade.
Classical music…? Even that made it here. How fuckin' beautiful.
He let out a breath, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. But that fleeting admiration vanished when he spotted the gramophone slowly spinning on a small table by the fire. The record was stuck on a loop, playing the same tune over and over.
The as something told him Assad looks down and sees that the floor was glass. It also has something underground. He can't see clearly so he crouches down for a closer look. That's until something pops up it looked human. It hit the glass floor and dies on the spot.
Assad is afraid but only in his head his body is perfectly still and calm. It helps since Mya is here he should not look like a fucking weak boy in front of the person he is trying to help.
Something drops on his cheek it feels warm and sticky. He sees what it is looks like blood and when he checks where it came from the world fell apart. It More and more start falling like its raining inside the house. Mya and Assad look up and see countless bodies of mermaids and mermen all hanged and it looks like there were all tortured to death
Assads eyes widened as he sees the horror above him. Mya is shaking and filled with tears as she also sees the horror but her eyes are darted somewhere else.
"Mya where are you looking at?" Assad asked.
Mya pointed at a mermaid that look familiar with the worse conditions. This makes Assads eyes widened even more.
"No fuckin' way. What the fuck am I looking at?"