On his way back, Kieran heard gossips about the smoke uphill from the closing stalls and vendors.
"Did you hear? The viscount's manor caught fire during the banquet!"
"Could it be a candle?"
"I would swear it's a demon, but I'm afraid it'd come for me!"
'Ah… Words do spread faster than fire, don't they?' Kieran smiled with hands in his pockets as he strolled through the faint haze like a man coming home from a long day at work.
By the time he arrived in the estate, the flames had long been tamed. The air in the yard stank of wet ash and smoke, and before him, the once-gleaming manor of house Donahue now looked like a half-burnt cake. Charred dents and burnt black streaks ran along the walls and edges of the lower quarter, decorating it in the afterglow of the accident.
The broken windows hung like missing teeth, and the grand doors were reduced to splintered memories.
The manor stood, however, with its upper floors intact. It seemed to have only suffered blemishes in the lower floor.
' With this, the fire can be passed off as a minor accident.' Kieran murmured with a grin. It would have raised a bigger suspicion if the fire had caused more damage than it has.
Looking around, Kieran saw two to three guests leave on foot, dragging on like frightened snails. Their powdered wigs were askew, and their obviously fake jewels glinted even through soot. They were middle class folks who followed nobles and sucked up to them. Seems they had been left behind.
Kieran stopped paying them a mind and quickly looked to spot Sorthon Von Donahue, Metis' illustrious noble father. The Viscount stood watching the footmen going in and out, saving whatever property was left. His eyes were reddened, either from the smoke or the hurt in them. He occasionally paced like a kettle about to blow, receiving reports from his footmen.
Nearby stood Metis' half-brother, Brannon Don Vonahue, the golden heir of house Donahue. He stood with a cloak draped around his shoulders as if to absorb all pity in the world. Unlike Metis, Brannon had a tall build and was fit. His dark, silver-lined, hair and dignified expression that stuck to his cut face had a striking semblance to their father's.
Beside him, Susanne -Metis' fiancée- clung to him, her delicate, polished face pale under her disheveled curly blonde hair yet desiring, and her curvy figure covered in a sheet.
'Sorry Metis, she's for the streets.' Kieran tilted his head, flashing an awry smile. 'Do they even realize I'm missing?'
Still under the Voyeur skill's shroud, Kieran sauntered past them into the charred hall. The once vibrant hall had become a disaster, walls blackened, tiles seared and murals scorched. He headed towards the stairway, gaiting over the glass shards, broken furniture and burnt remains scattered around. Kieran pondered kicking some of the items to scare the footmen who tidied the hall, but he decided to be careful and not raise any more suspicions.
The corridor leading to Metis' room was half-burnt but intact, only marked by the faint smell of singed varnish and despair. He stepped over broken glass, careful not to crunch it underfoot until he reached the door to Metis' room. He gently pushed without hesitation and quickly stepped in.
The room greeted him with the same stale air it always had- unloved, unvisited, unimportant. Kieran was still impressed by its detail. It was small and stuffed.
Regal curtains of dark red and yellow embroidery darkened the ambience, leaving no room for light. The bed in the middle of the room was covered by a hanging net, its covers thick and seemingly comfy. A wooden stool and a full-body mirror stood in the corner, and a chest of clothes adorned the side.
'My oh my, this is better than what I had on earth!' Kieran shook his head as he sized the room. He sauntered around for a bit and sank into the mattress shortly after, almost entangling himself in the net in the process.
"Guess I'm the first man to ever start a fire in his home and end up taking a nap right after," he muttered with a grin, rolling onto his back. Lying on the comfy bed, it felt like it had been stuffed with hay and regret. He looked at the smoke curling lazily from the cracked window, his gaze distant.
[The effect of the skill 'Voyeur' has lapsed]
His grin faded into thought, and he reached for the card in his pocket.
'The 8 of clubs…' Kieran traced the edge of the card, feeling it weigh heavier now.
He couldn't shake off the coincidence. How he'd bumped into that strange man and had found the card, how that mercenary and that fierce lady had followed him from the crooked lantern tavern when he'd left.
Kieran was a firm believer in fate, and right now, it was starting to look like fate had a sense of humor. It seemed like fate was messing with him.
Still, the thought didn't unsettle him. Rather, it intrigued him.
' It seems this world has bigger games to play than banquets, and noble dramas.' Kieran's thoughts wandered to the things he'd heard from the tavern owner, about the cults and evil entities. It all started to make sense to him.
A faint grin tugged at his lips. "If fate's the dealer, I'll bluff my way through the table."
However, Kieran's musings were cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps. He snapped his eyes shut, grabbed the thick bed cover and yanked it over himself, instantly resuming the perfect pose of a man deep in blissful ignorance of slumber.
The door creaked open shortly after and two footmen stepped in.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," one muttered, "he's been sleeping through all this?"
"Typical useless bastard," the other hissed. "Lord Sorthorn's been having at our heads, only for the freak to not even notice the whole commotion"
They left, slamming the door behind them in a fit.
The silence returned, followed by the faintest chuckle from the bed. Kieran opened one eye.
"They bought it," he whispered. "Of course they did. Background characters never get suspected of anything."
He relaxed into the mattress once again, awaiting the chaos outside to dim.
Soon after, things slowly quietened outside. The rushed steps and shouts below reduced into murmurs and whispers, merely louder than the chirps of crickets. The night was back to pretending to be peaceful again as it seems everyone had returned to their quarters for the day.
For a brief moment, Kieran felt tired. His eyes grew heavy and his body weighed down.
' I think I've done well for today. But there's much more to do. Tomorrow would bring another performance. Another scene in this strange theater I've found myself in. Not that anyone else would be coming into my room now. Susanne is sure to stay with Brannon, and Sorthon would probably be in his study assessing the damages and his next action. He's probably been told I've been sleeping all along by those footmen. Guess I can rest for now.' Kieran sighed in relief and let out a quiet yawn.
" I can already imagine the talk of tomorrow about me. Hehe. The bastard son of the viscount slept through the tragedy of his house, at his very own betrothal banquet. What a headline. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if I became a legend…"
Just as his eyes fluttered shut, a soft sound pricked the air.
It was a short scrape, faint but close.
Kieran's brow furrowed as he picked up where the sound came from.
The window!
Kieran didn't move. He simply pretended to be asleep while peeking to see who it was, his thoughts racing as to what to do next.
He believed it had to be a thief looking to break in and seek 'opportunities' to loot the manor after the fire incident. Devil's flint would make the thief scream as he burned, and that would raise alert. The only skill he could use now was voyeur but he'd already casted it twice past the limit. He could only cast it again in the next 6 hours.
While contemplating whether to ignore the imminent danger and pretend to sleep through it all, Kieran saw a shadow slip in through the frame of the window. A lithe figure landed silently on the wooden floor, the amber moonlight that shone in through the crack of the curtain illustrated a scar that ran down her neck into the collar of her blouse.
Kieran blinked, his mind taking a second to register the face. 'No way it's her again.' He just stared, forgetting to pretend he was asleep.
"It's you!?" The figure stood frozen and hissed as her eyes met Kieran's, narrowing in realization.
Kieran flashed an awry smile, 'What are you, a sneaky link?'