EJ now walked the streets of Hedir, cloaked in the unassuming guise of a merchant. The city sprawled endlessly before him, far larger than Garrand, easily ten times its size. Towers of pale stone gleamed in the morning sun, and the crowded avenues buzzed with merchants, nobles, and travelers from every corner of the Mortal Realm.
Hedir had experienced recent sightings of the dark phoenix, enough to warrant his stationing here. His orders were clear: merge with the mortals, draw no suspicion, and observe.
It wasn't difficult for EJ. After all, he had been mortal once.
Now, he was just another face in the throng, a soft-spoken merchant passing through, or so it seemed. Yet he intended to stay much longer.
On his second day, he visited the Merchant's Association, politely requesting a permit and a modest stall in one of the quieter alleys near the east bazaar. He claimed to have brought his wares from distant cities, golden thread, delicate and luminous, spun fine as a hair. Of course, in truth, the thread was woven by his own Celestial power, each strand humming faintly with light.
By the fourth day, the modest little stall was already drawing attention.
"Mr. E, do you have the supply now?"
EJ looked up from where he was arranging skeins of thread in an oak chest. A nobleman stood in the entrance to the stall, young, sharp-featured, with a sash of blue velvet and impatient eyes.
Reo.
EJ greeted him with a professional, warm smile, every inch the courteous merchant. "Of course, Sir Reo," he said smoothly. "You've come at just the right time."
He drew out a fresh spool of the golden thread, the strands catching the morning light and glowing faintly between his fingers.
Reo's eyes lit up as he stepped forward, his tone nearly reverent. "Your golden thread has been blooming in the courts lately. They say it catches the candlelight like fire and moonlight at once. And you've only been here four days."
EJ inclined his head modestly.
"I would like to be your loyal customer," Reo added, almost triumphantly, before laying down three crisp coins of solid gold.
EJ accepted the payment gracefully, noting how much lighter his presence felt here than in Garrand, at least by day.
Because by night, it was different.
It had been nearly a week now. By day, he was Mr. E, the quiet merchant in the east bazaar whose golden thread captivated the nobles of Hedir. But by night, once the lanterns dimmed and the laughter of the taverns faded, he shed the disguise and moved through the city like a shadow.
Seeking. Listening. Hunting.
The door to his shop creaked open, and the soft chime of the wind bell above announced the arrival of another customer.
EJ instinctively straightened, smoothing his expression into the polite, professional smile he wore for everyone.
"Good day—"
The words caught in his throat.
The man standing in the doorway was the last person he expected to see.
Nicholas.
But not the Nicholas he remembered from the rooftops and shadows. Not clad in black or draped in the oppressive presence of the Underworld.
No—this Nicholas wore the humble garb of a low-level noble: a muted brown tunic lined with soft kiwi-green embroidery, a traveling cloak slung over his shoulder, a plain gold clasp at his collar.
For a moment, EJ simply stared, his hands frozen mid-motion over the threads on his table.
He had spent days thinking of nothing but this man — planning how he might find him, corner him, demand answers. And yet here Nicholas stood, calm as ever, strolling into his stall as if summoned by some cruel cosmic joke.
Was someone playing with him?
EJ's jaw tightened as he found his voice again, forcing himself to remain composed, to hold his ground.
"W… What are you doing here?" he demanded, each word deliberate, cold.
Nicholas only raised a brow and, without missing a beat, replied, "I'm here to buy, of course."
"Don't joke with me," EJ snapped, his voice dropping to a low hiss as his amber eyes narrowed. "Last time you ran away, and now you show up like nothing happened? What are you on about?"
Nicholas smirked faintly — infuriatingly — and stepped closer, his attention drifting lazily to the golden thread samples displayed before him. His fingers grazed one spool, tilting it into the light to examine its shimmer.
"There's no need to be hostile," he said evenly. "Just like you, I'm here to investigate."
EJ scoffed and crossed his arms, his patience thinning. "Investigate?" He let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Investigate your own kind?"
That was when Nicholas's gaze met his — and it was no longer lazy or amused. It was sharp. Piercing. His ash-gray eyes cut through him like a blade.
"I do not wish to argue with you," Nicholas said quietly, his voice laced with something heavier now. "I want to know what's happening, just as you do. If you don't believe me, that's your choice. But if working together will put an end to this, then I'm willing."
"Work together?" EJ's brows shot up, disbelief coloring every word. "Are you crazy? A Legacy and a Shadower, working together? Do you even hear yourself?"
For the first time, Nicholas's composure faltered. His jaw tightened. His fingers stilled over the thread.
And EJ noticed it.
Not wanting to linger on it, he cleared his throat and looked away, biting his lip hard.
After a beat, Nicholas spoke again, softer now.
"I understand your grudge," he said, "but you don't know what happened to me."
EJ's hands curled into fists. The words burned in his chest.
"You didn't explain," he shot back bitterly.
Nicholas's smirk was gone now, replaced with something colder, something weary.
"That's because," he said quietly, "you never gave me the chance to."
"Can you blame me, Nicholas?" EJ finally burst out, his voice low but laced with all the hurt he'd kept buried. "You appeared all of a sudden, calm as ever, became one with the Underworld and then… what? What did you think I would believe?"
His hands trembled slightly as he clenched them behind the counter, forcing himself to hold Nicholas's gaze. "What did you expect me to think?"
Nicholas said nothing.
His ash-gray eyes stayed on EJ, unreadable, as though he were silently weighing a thousand unspoken words but refusing to let a single one slip.
EJ's chest heaved. He hated that silence more than any answer Nicholas could have given.
But before either of them could speak again, the faint chime of the wind bell cut through the tension, and the door swung open.
A pair of young women stepped inside, their laughter spilling into the shop as they brushed past the threshold.
"Mr. E!" one of them called cheerfully, holding up a basket. "We're here to buy some more of your golden thread!"
EJ froze for half a breath, then instinctively straightened and forced his expression back into the practiced calm of a merchant.
"Of course," he said, his voice smooth again. "Please, take a look around."
The girls busied themselves with the spools, chattering amongst each other about which shimmered brightest.
To EJ's surprise, Nicholas didn't retreat to the shadows or slip away as he usually did. Instead, he silently stepped closer to the counter, picking up a few rolls of thread and handing them to EJ with a faintly disdainful sort of efficiency, as though he'd done this a thousand times before.
EJ raised a brow at him but said nothing.
And Nicholas, in turn, didn't look at him, didn't speak, didn't complain.
After the last customers left and the wind bell fell silent, EJ locked the door and turned the sign to "Closed." The faint golden light of dusk pooled through the windows, casting long shadows over the spools of shimmering thread.
Nicholas stayed where he was, leaning casually against the counter, his arms crossed but his eyes fixed on EJ.
When EJ finally turned to face him, the air between them seemed to thrum with all the unspoken questions that had piled up over the past century.
"So," EJ began, his voice clipped but steady. "What do you really want?"
Nicholas didn't flinch. His gaze sharpened, his tone cool. "Why are you here?"
EJ's jaw tightened. "Emperor's orders."
Nicholas's expression darkened, his ash-gray eyes narrowing as he clicked his tongue softly. Something about his reaction made EJ's chest tighten, though he couldn't explain why.
He opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but Nicholas beat him to it.
"How many phoenixes did you find?"
EJ froze. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know about that?"
Nicholas slipped his hands into his pockets, exuding that maddening calm. "We've heard the reports too. The same phoenixes showing up all over the Mortal World, leaving cities in ruin. Someone created them. Or cast them."
EJ studied him then, really studied him. The way his eyes didn't waver, the way his shoulders stayed relaxed.
He used to know when Nicholas was lying. Back when they were still children, before the war, before all of these happened.
But it had been a hundred years.
People could change.
And yet—some stubborn part of EJ still wanted to believe him.
Even though now, Nicholas was his enemy.
EJ swallowed hard and set aside his bitterness for the moment.
"That's what we believe too," he admitted, his voice low. "We're certain the Underworld is behind this."
Nicholas tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah," he said softly, almost to himself. "Someone."
"Are you admitting that you could be behind this?" EJ pressed, his voice sharp as his amber eyes searched Nicholas's face for a hint of guilt.
Nicholas didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a quiet, humorless laugh and shook his head.
"The Underworld is vast, EJ. Chaotic and messy. Not everyone down there even pretends to follow the same goal," he said evenly. His eyes held EJ's without flinching, but there was a tired edge in his voice now. "Yes, someone from the Underworld might have cast this curse. But that doesn't mean I share their sentiments. Or their intentions."
EJ's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't answer immediately.
Because Nicholas was right.
He hated to admit it, but the Underworld was not a single united force. It was fractured, filled with warring factions, dangerous schemes, and creatures who barely tolerated each other. The curses, the darkness, the endless hunger for power—those were just its nature.
And he knew that.
Still…
EJ lowered his gaze, his fists curling at his sides as the weight of all those old memories and grudges pressed down on him.