"Henri," Anette called.

  The teen barely stirred.

  "Henri, wake up," she called again, nudging the sleeping teenager.

  "Hrmph, what?" he groggily asked.

  Having spent most of the night talking, either her getting intel about the garden from him or just catching up like proper older siblings, the two of them had barely slept. So it was no surprise that Henri was still in shambles, considering the little sleep he had.

  "I'm about to leave."

  "Leave? Where to? Oh... what time is it?"

  "It's still early in the morning. You can keep sleeping if you have nothing to do. You can close behind. Keep these keys, I have mine. I'll be using this as a main base for my activities."

  Lifting himself out of the sheets, Anette’s sheets, Henri rubbed his eyes to cast off grogginess and take her in with his sight.

  "How do I look?" she asked, seeing him stare.

  Today she was dressed in the outfit she had purchased the day before: a light gray cardigan over a striped blouse with a loose black tie, tucked into a high-waisted black pencil skirt. She finished the look with simple black Mary Janes.

  "What look are you going for exactly?"

  "Erm, something that doesn’t stand out too much, neither too shabby nor too fancy."

  "You’re planning to scout the Garden today, right?"

  Anette nodded.

  The day before, with the ride she had hitched, she explored the vicinity of the garden. Today she planned on scouting the place, seeing what she could learn on the ground.

  "There’s that, and I also plan on establishing a secondary base in one of the nearby inns or hotels, if there’s any. This place is too far away."

  "I see. In that case, you’re dressed alright, except..."

  "Except?"

  "I don’t know, you look secretary?"

  "Secretary?"

  She looked at herself, trying to understand the remark.

  "My point is that it’s not too eye-catchy—it’s dignified. Too dignified, perhaps?"

  "Dignified, hm? Should I change into something else, then?"

  "No, it should be alright. If you were in the vicinity, you’d look like you’d be there for a purpose, like finding your lord master who'd spent the night in the garden. So this is per—do you have a hooded cloack?"

  "I do," she declared, promptly retrieving a black cloak, which she put on. "How does it look?"

  He raised a thumb up.

  "But isn’t this a little too conspicuous?"

  "It’s alright, I’d say. There’s plenty of people dressed like you roaming around the garden, hiding beneath their cloaks their ‘dignified’ priestly uniform. Not everyone can be open about being a client of a place like the garden. Most, due to their rank and status, have to be discreet about it. So you should be alright."

  "I see."

  She wanted to raise the question of her gender, which she imagined might matter in the demographic visiting that place, but chose not to, trusting his judgment. After all, between the two of them, he knew the place better than she did.

  "Master has recently visited the garden. It’ll be some days before I’ll be able to visit—" Henri began but stopped at the sight of Anette staring, halfway through putting on her black leather gloves.

  Removing the gloves, she warned, "Henri, I—"

  "I got it, I got it, no need to stare at me like that. I wasn’t planning on doing anything. I just meant that it’ll be some time before I can visit the garden, meaning that I won’t be able to do what you expect of me which is keeping my eyes peeled."

  "Alright, alright, good," she proclaimed, sheathing her hands back into her gloves.

  ***

  Anette had just stepped off a carriage onto a street near the most high-end brothel on the continent: the Floravelle. Or, as the priest-targeting franchise was commonly known: the Garden.

  Established across the major cities of the continent, the Garden filled a need that, ironically, had been fostered by the Faith.

  Highbreeds, though vastly outnumbered by the peon population, often found their lives intertwined with the Faith. Most became healers or priests, roles that suited their innate talents—healing and holy-related power. As such, Highbreeds were frequently associated with temples and religious duties. And being so they were, compared to the average peon, relatively well-off.

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  A particular group that would become the Garden saw an opportunity in this: a business model targeting these well-off, Faith-affiliated Highbreeds. Much like the Adventurers' Guild, the Wardenpost Guild, or the L&L Postal Company, the two major postal services on the continent, this group established itself in all major cities. But not just anywhere: they always set up near the temples of the Faith, close to their primary clientele.

  Their strategy wasn’t genius—it was simply logical. And lucky. The Faith, despite being prudish as it was, never openly opposed the Garden. Why? Because it would be hypocritical of them.

  Despite their public morality, the Faith quietly appreciated the existence of establishments like the Garden. They wouldn’t admit it, but brothels in general helped them in one major way: increasing the Highbreed population's libido, which in consequence increase the Highbreed population. More Highbreeds meant more workers for the Faith.

  So, while never acknowledging it, the Faith tolerated the Garden as in never doing anything directly against them despite the latter clear as water intent by installing their establishment near the most prominent temples all across the continent. In fact, of all similar institutions, the Garden enjoyed the most symbiotic relationship with the Faith, even receiving official medical support in the form of assigned doctors.

  In the Holy Capital, where such places would normally never be publicly allowed, the Garden alone was permitted to exist openly. The local Garden headquarters stood like a palace in the center of a vast courtyard, surrounded by high stone walls. Anette stood there outside its walls.

  Why was Anette here?

  To scout. To see if there was any valuable information to be found. If she wanted to learn more about the missing flower, she had to go straight to the source.

  "The best way to collect information is to seek it from those who have it directly. No intermediaries," Anette reminded herself.

  But in that moment, standing before the towering walls of the Garden, she couldn’t help but sigh.

  "Living by that motto might’ve been a mistake. This was such a stupid idea."

  Anette was not new to investigating. As an Inquisitor, she had conducted her fair share. Unfortunately, none of them involved this kind of work. And the realization hit her hard: she was somewhat clueless about what to do next.

  This case was unlike any other. In the past, investigations typically involved her extracting information directly from someone or most oftenly from behind a desk within four walls. Simple. Predictable. This however was not.

  Her current plan was to pose as a client, hire an escort, and question them about the missing flower. It looked good on paper. But in practice? She had severely overestimated her own nerves. Henri had assured her the Garden accepted female clients. It would be suspicious, but not unheard of. She’d be welcomed like any other customer.

  So why had she passed by the Garden's domain entrance five times without going in?

  "I should’ve come later in the evening, not this early... If I walk in now, I’ll look like some impudent early-riser freak—Aaarrgh!"

  Anette paced back and forth in front of the wall enclosing the Garden, silently lamenting the collapse of her big plan.

  Even though the street was ominously quiet, populated only by passing hired carriages, she felt exposed, like she was radiating the words I am “that” kind of person into the air around her. "No, please, I’m not here for—aargh! Screw this!"

  She decided to detour around the massive Garden’s courtyard wall, hoping the seclusion would help her think.

  "Why am I so flustered by this?" she muttered. "This isn’t like me. Since when do I care what people think—well, I guess I always do, but this isn’t just about that. This is important."

  Henri’s face flashed through her mind, making her steps tense. Then the memory of her conversation with the Chairman filled her with urgency. And finally, the face of that noble surfaced, pulling her thoughts into focus.

  "I can’t afford to mess this up."

  Walking along the wall, she reached into her bag to retrieve a hand-sized mirror and began removing one glove, ready to literally psych herself up and force herself to follow through.

  Just as she reached the end of the Garden’s perimeter and turned the corner, she froze.

  Pssshitt!

  There was a girl standing alone at the far side of the wall.

  But Anette swore, just for a split second, there had been a second person beside her. Someone with white or silver hair. Then, in a near-instantaneous flash, they were gone.

  Teleportation.

  Anette’s heart skipped. That had to be it. That flash, that vanishing act, there was no other explanation.

  But teleportation magic was supposed to be legendary. Mythic. Rare enough that anyone with such skill was either snapped up by the Faith, the high nobility, or one of the continent's elite factions.

  "Did I really see that? Did I imagine it?"

  She might’ve doubted herself if her mind hadn’t felt so sharp. Flustered or not, she was certain of what she’d seen: someone with white or silver hair had teleported.

  Her mind ran wild, cataloging known factions with teleportation capabilities when she noticed the girl’s gaze shift, directly onto her.

  A vicious stare.

  Even at a distance, it burned into her. Anette held her ground, not daring to step away or toward her. Only a back gate leading to the Rose Blanche courtyard separated them.

  Still, that look...

  There was something primal in it. Threatening.

  Anette had grown up surrounded by people who killed for a living. She wasn’t easily intimidated. But this was different.

  She turned her gaze across the street. Empty. Deserted. Just the two of them.

  The girl's glare didn’t waver.

  Anette could only pretend not to notice for so long. When she dared glance back, the girl was already approaching. Fast. Her pace, her clenched fists, every detail screamed confrontation.

  "Tch." With a subtle hand movement, Anette activated one of her safety spells and turned to leave.

  And promptly walked into someone. "Aaah," the other person startled in a high pitched voice.

  "Sorry," she muttered.

  The person she bumped into was a petite, tanned, brunette girl. She was distinctly pretty, startled, and clearly not a threat. But before she could take another step after dismissing her as a non-threat, a hand grabbed her wrist.

  "Hey, you... wait! Where are you going?"

  Anette tried to ignore the voice, but the grip tightened.

  She turned back. The fierce-eyed girl was there, less than meter away from her. From a distance, the intensity had been chilling. From this close, it was suffocating.

  Her hair was a wild tangle of thick dark curls streaked with white at the roots. Her face was an unique brand of pretty—high cheekbones, smooth skin, and a chin that gave her an ethereal sort of severity. An unique beauty mark perched just beneath her lower lip, to the right. Her eyes, dark and almond-shaped, glinted with Anette could only imagine to be malice. She was tall about the same as Anette even though she somewhat felt taller.

  "Could you let go of me?" Anette asked, glaring back. And oddly enough, Anette belatedly noticed, the girl shared a particular trait, especially in the shape of her eyes, with the girl Anette had bumped into, except where the first girl radiated vulnerability, this one was ice.

  "Not until you answer my question."

  "Let go of me. What question are you even talking about?"

  "Earlier. What did you see?"

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about. But would you please let go of my arm? I have somewhere to be."

  "You didn’t answer my question."

  "I saw nothing."

  "I don’t believe you."

  The tension between them peaked.

  Then—

  "Um... Are you two here for the enrollment too?"

  Both girls turned.

  The petite, tanned brunette girl they’d both forgotten about blinked up at them, wide-eyed and expectant.

  "Huh?" they both blurted, startled by her question bringing her existence back to their attention.