"A merchant must always understand the flow of money."
It was a phrase Amelia Frost had grown up hearing again and again.
And so, even now, her descent down a rough, rocky path—utterly unsuited to her fine dress—was because of that very principle.
"I wish to inquire about your name," said the guard at the entrance.
"Amelia Frost," she replied calmly. "Do you need me to say more?"
"Welcome, Miss Frost. Please, step inside."
With a deep rumble, the massive stone gate split open, revealing the hidden interior.
The black market.
Not the kind of shady bazaar commoners whispered about, but one where nobles themselves came to trade what couldn't be touched in daylight.
Amelia's heels clicked against the stone as she stepped forward, her eyes narrowing slightly at the scale of it.
"…It's bigger than I imagined."
"Amelia! You're here already!"
She turned at the familiar voice. Alice had arrived as well—pushed here by her father's will, just like her.
