Fern sat with Azrael in front of her, while Hafa was between them. The three of them talked over coffee, which Fern had prepared. From the moment they stepped inside, Azrael couldn''t believe what he was seeing.


    The house''s exterior looked plain, as if little thought had been put into its design. But inside, it was a completely different story. Elegant chandeliers, finely crafted lamps, crystal glasses, and other expensive furnishings filled the space. Everything was spotless, as if cleaned meticulously several times a week.


    Silence hung between them as they sat around a square table. Fern had her arms crossed, eyes shut in thought. Azrael sat quietly, hands resting in his lap, staring at the floor.


    Fern was the first to break the silence. “So, what do you need?”


    Azrael hesitated before sliding a small card across the table. “Here.”


    She picked it up, her brows rising in surprise. “Qedue sent you? For what?”


    Before he could answer, Hafa jumped in. “Sir, Qedue wants you to help us get inside the Lost House.”


    Fern raised an eyebrow. “Us? You’re going in with this kid?” she said, looking at Azrael.


    “Oh! No, I mean Azrael and his friends.”


    Her gaze shifted back. “And what exactly do you want from the Lost House?”


    Azrael pause. Then, finally, “We want to apply for work with the Kent family.”


    She stared at him, surprised. “Why?”


    “We’re trying to leave the North.” His voice held firm determination.


    Fern exhaled, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know what you and your friends did to the point that you’re using the Kents’... ‘business’ just to get out of here. There are other ways, like taking a ship to another country... unless...”


    Her sharp eyes bore into him. “You’re running from something, aren’t you?”


    This time, he didn’t hesitate. “It doesn’t matter what we did. What matters is if you can get us inside.”


    A smirk played on her lips. “You lot are criminals, huh?” Her gaze turned fierce. “Listen, kid—”


    ‘Kid?’ he thought, raising an eyebrow. ‘We’re practically the same age.’


    “I can get you inside that damn house, but this is the black market we’re talking about.” She shrugged as if it were obvious.


    Azrael let out a sigh, forcing a small smile. ‘I thought this would go as smoothly as it did with mr. Qedue.’


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    “What’s with that creepy smile?” Fern narrowed her eyes.


    He quickly waved his hands in surrender. “Ah... no, I just thought we could talk this through.”


    “We can,” she said casually. “For the right price.”


    His confidence wavered. “Ahm… about that…”


    Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you have nothing.”


    He avoided her gaze, looking anywhere but at her.


    She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Kid, I run a business. I don’t work for free.” Her voice was sharp with irritation.


    “Fern, please, calm down,” Hafa said, trying to ease the tension.


    She exhaled deeply, crossing her arms. “Fine. I’ll give you until tomorrow. I’ll be here, come back when you have something to offer.”


    His eyes widened. “Really? Th-thank you. I’ll talk to my group and figure something out.” He gave a small bow of gratitude.


    *


    Azrael and Hafa walked through the bustling marketplace near their hotel, the air filled with the chatter of merchants and the scent of street food. Despite the lively surroundings, Azrael felt a sense of defeat weighing on him. He had failed to convince Fern to help them for free.


    Hafa noticed his frustration and gave him a reassuring smile. "Don’t stress over it. She’s actually nice. Maybe we can talk things through. Besides, nothing comes free these days."


    Azrael let out a deep sigh before slapping both hands against his cheeks. "Alright! No giving up!"


    Hafa chuckled. "I’m sure Mika will lend us some money."


    Azrael frowned. "I wouldn’t be too sure about that…"


    *


    "Nope. Not happening," Mika said flatly.


    "What?! Why not?" Azrael groaned, sitting on the bed with his arms crossed.


    Mika didn’t even look up from the book she was reading. "That woman’s from the black market. How do you know she won’t just scam you?"


    The room fell silent. No one wanted to argue with Mika, not just because she was in charge of their finances, but also because every single coin they had was from her own pocket.


    Carl, sitting beside Azrael, remained quiet. He had already been scammed once and had no desire to put himself on Mika’s radar again. He shot Azrael a look that practically screamed, ''You’re on your own.''


    Azrael hesitated before mumbling, "Well… she’s Hafa’s friend?"


    At that, Mika finally looked up, her sharp gaze landing directly on Hafa.


    Hafa, who had been quietly minding his own business, suddenly felt like a knife had been driven through his chest. His shoulders tensed under Mika’s intense stare.


    "Is that true?" she asked, her voice cold.


    Hafa swallowed hard. "Uh… y-yeah."


    "Are you certain she can help us?"


    He shifted uncomfortably. "She… she knows someone inside the Lost House."


    Mika didn’t blink. "And if she betrays us? Sells us out? Are you ready to take responsibility for that?"


    Hafa straightened his back, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "Y-yes!"


    A slow smile spread across Mika’s lips. "Oh? You sound pretty confident about her," Mika said, raising an eyebrow.


    Hafa met her gaze with unwavering determination. "Of course I am! I’ve known her for a long time. She wouldn’t betray us."


    Azrael quickly jumped in. "S-see? We can trust her! I know we can. So please..." He pressed his palms together and gave a small bow. "If this goes wrong, Hafa and I will take full responsibility."


    Hafa blinked in surprise. He was ready to shoulder the blame if things went south, but hearing Azrael openly stand by him gave him more confidence. Maybe, just maybe, they could convince Mika after all.