The night air of the Central Plaza was alive with the roar of the crowd and the sizzling aroma of grilled meats, but I moved through the sea of people like a shadow.
"Roxy, did you smell the herb roasted skewers? A pang of nostalgia from my veins."
"Not now, Plasma. I need to act fast."
My hood was pulled low, my cloak draped carefully to hide the mechanical silhouette of my arm. To the adventurers celebrating their latest hunts, I was just another soul in the crowd. They didn't know that the "Hero" they were toasted was currently hunting a ghost.
I bypassed the vibrant street stalls and turned into the more refined district, where the shop signs were made of polished brass rather than painted wood. I finally stopped before a shop with a sign that read…
The Gilded Thread.
I pushed the door open, the scent of expensive silk and cedarwood greeting me. A tailor, an elderly man with a measuring tape draped like a scarf around his neck, looked up from a roll of brocade.
"Good evening! I need a nobleman's attire. High quality, dark colors… deep charcoal or midnight blue. It needs to be sized for a man that is broad-shouldered and an extra large." I said, my voice low.
The tailor adjusted his spectacles, his eyes landing on my face. He froze, his gaze lingering on the black leather of my eyepatch.
"Wait... I know that eyes. You're the one, you must be Elicia's sister, Eirene."
After that, I was surprised to see the tailor' gaze pointed out my sister. I replied casually.
"Wait, you know my sister!?"
"Definitely, that silver-haired girl always resizing her dress. I recognized you from your face, your identical to your sister. Eirene"
"Oh, thank you."
Then, the tailor caught attention from my demeanor, an eye patch and my prosthetic arm.
"Oh, you must be the hero. You saved the whole town from that disease. I didn't knew Elicia's sister was a hard working lady."
I shifted uncomfortably, my prosthetic arm giving a faint, metallic click.
"I'm just a customer, sir."
"Nonsense, the stories of what you did for the town... for the maids... it's the least I can do. I won't take a single copper from you, Miss Eirene. It would be an honor to see my work worn by someone of your courage."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the old man was already moving, pulling down bolts of finest black velvet and silver-threaded silk.
"A nobleman's attire for an XL frame. I shall make it fit for a king or a devil."
"Thank you," I whispered, the word feeling heavy in my throat.
I took a seat on a small wooden bench in the corner, the shadows of the shop cloaking me. As the tailor's needle began its rhythmic dance, I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. In my mind, I could still feel the phantom weight of Dominik's body, the broadness of his chest, the height that made everyone else look small.
I was sitting in a shop of beauty, waiting for the skin of a monster to be dressed in the silks of a lord.
The needle moved back and forth, a silver flicker in the dim light. Soon, I would have everything I needed to become the nightmare that Dominik never saw coming. I just had to wait for the thread to bind the lie together.
The rhythmic snip of shears and the soft hum of the tailor's work were the only sounds until the shop door chimed again. A flash of familiar fabric. the crisp white apron and dark lace of a maid's uniform, caught my remaining eye. My heart leaped into my throat.
"Miera?"
I stood up, my boots thumping hard against the floor as I charged forward, desperate to catch a glimpse of the silky smooth hair I had just been wearing as a mask. The girl turned around, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Roxy? Is that you?"
The voice was wrong. It wasn't the melodic chime of the girl I had lost. It was Alice Brook, the vineyard manager who worked for Snow. The resemblance from behind had been a cruel trick of the light and my own fractured mind.
"Roxy, what happened to you? Your eye... the last time I saw you was at the vineyard, and your red eye..."
I stopped in my tracks, my shoulders tensing. The disappointment felt like a physical weight.
"Don't ask me, why are you here, Alice?"
"Oh... my maid dress is getting too short. I came to the tailor shop to have it resized. But Roxy... look at you. Your arm, it's prosthetic. What happened?"
"Well... I…"
The words died in my throat. How could I explain the basement? How could I tell her about the blood?
Ding!
The tailor rang a small silver bell on the counter, cutting through the suffocating tension.
"Miss Eirene, your clothes are ready."
I didn't offer Alice another word. I turned on my heel and walked to the counter, where a heavy, high-collared suit of midnight-black velvet and silver-lined silk lay folded. It was beautiful, masculine, and smelled of new beginnings and old ends. I grabbed the bundle and said to the tailor
"Thanks, where is the dressing room?"
The tailor blinked, a look of utter confusion washing over his face. He looked at the feminine curves of my adventurer's gear and then at the massive, broad-shouldered XL nobleman's suit in my arms.
"Eirene... you're a girl. Why do you want to try that suit? It won't fit you in the slightest."
"Just point the way,"
The tailor swallowed hard and pointed toward a curtained alcove in the back. I stepped toward it, feeling the weight of two pairs of confused eyes, Alice's and the tailor's burning holes into my back.
I pulled the heavy velvet curtain shut, plunging myself into the dim light of the dressing room. I stood before the tall mirror, staring at the girl with the eyepatch one last time.
"They won't understand, they don't need to."
I reached for the mana swirling in my chest, the dark, stolen essence of Dominik. Outside, Alice and the tailor were likely whispering about my sanity. Inside, the Butcher was preparing to wear a dead man's face.
"Roxy?"
Alice called out from the other side of the curtain, her voice cautious.
"Are you okay in there? That suit... it's for a very large man. Is it a gift?"
I didn't answer. I just started unbuckling my boots. The hunt for the Bronze Coin was about to get very, very personal.
I took a deep breath inside the small, curtained alcove. The air felt thick with the anticipation of what I was about to do. I focused, reaching down to that jagged, arrogant source of DNA within my mana core.
[Analyzing genetic data... 100% match found in blood reservoir. Commencing Morphological Shift.]
"Wait, you're goona wear that brat's body again?"
"Plasma, im gonna try that disguise ,I'm make sure it fits."
The transformation was smoother this time, though no less painful. My bones stretched with a dull ache, the muscles broadening across my shoulders and chest. I felt my height surge, my perspective shifting upwards. I opened my eyes, two eyes again, and the man in the mirror was the nightmare that had haunted the Rynd manor.
During
[Visual confirmation: 100% accuracy. Heart rate, scent, and vocal cords successfully calibrated. Successfully shapeshifted into Dominik Meyer]
I looked down at the pile of fine clothing. Slowly, deliberately, I began to dress. The XL silk shirt slid over the broad shoulders. The heavy velvet coat settled with a satisfying weight. I buttoned the cuffs, the expensive fabric whispering against my stolen skin. The high collar framed a jawline that I despised.
"It fit perfectly. Of course, it did. This was the plumage of the predator." I said to Plasma
"Now, the legendary revenge arc had only just began."
I smirked at my reflection, letting Dominik's smooth, deep baritone fill the small space.
"Well, you arrogant prick, you certainly knew how to dress the part. All this fine silk to cover the rotting soul of a butcher. I bet you thought this coat made you look like a god, didn't you? Instead, it just makes you look like a gilded target."
I ran a hand through the short, dark hair.
"I'm going to walk right into your city, Dominik. I'm going to wear your face, use your voice, and sleep in your bed. And when the time is right, I'm going to burn everything you built, while wearing the very suit you would have been buried in."