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Ereon advanced through the alleys of the favela. The black cloak hid his face, and the sword rested on his back.
His steps were silent, but did not go unnoticed. Curious and suspicious eyes appeared in the improvised windows, while young people hid in the shadows, watching the stranger who dared to cross those streets.
The smell of smoke, trash, and burnt food formed a suffocating cloak.
As he advanced, the shacks gave way to more solid constructions, painted and decorated. The stench persisted, but now it mixed with the aroma of incense and candles emanating from refined shops.
The favela dissolved, yielding space to the Red Zone. The contrast was brutal: wide, paved streets, colorful lanterns, exuberant facades. Perfumes and fine drinks dominated the air.
The young man followed alert, eyes sweeping every shadow, until stopping in front of the Golden Breath. The imposing facade — carved doors, amber lanterns, decorated columns — seemed to invite and warn at the same time.
As you cross the threshold,, he found luxury in every detail: chandeliers reflected on the wooden floor, embroidered carpets, glass lanterns, velvet armchairs, and elegant screens. Maids moved gracefully, wearing fine fabrics that gleamed under the warm light.
It was a paradise of beauty. He remained for a moment at the entrance, absorbing every aroma, every sound, every shadow. Aware that, although he was in a more beautiful and rich place, the vigilance and danger were as present as in the alleys he had left behind.
The cloak continued to hide his face, and the sword, secured on his back, seemed to weigh less than the attentive gaze he cast over the environment ahead.
He advanced through the hall, each step firm and silent. The gazes of the men and some of the servants followed him, attentive, but soon returned to the routine of the place, returning to laugh and converse, as if nothing was happening.
He did not care; his focus remained on the mission that awaited him.
From the second floor, a man descended, his expression loaded with rage. He had been taken from the room where he had beaten one of the maids he had hired to satisfy him, and the punishment had only fueled his fury.
The aggressor stopped in front of the young man, chest heaving, fists clenched:
"get out, brat! This is not a place for you!" he shouted, his voice loaded with anger.
Ereon remained silent, his gaze cold. The indifference further fueled the man's anger, who insulted him, laughing at him as if he were a worthless child.
"Hey, are you deaf? Didn't your mother teach you manners? This place used to be better… now even children dare to enter!" His hands waved, and the eyes of those present followed every word, some laughing, others just observing.
A maid, trying to intervene, approached to calm the situation, but the man pushed her away with a slap that echoed like thunder, cutting the weak laughter of some men and knocking the young woman to the ground.
The impact made her dizzy, her dress tearing as she tried to curl up, but the aggressor did not stop: he crushed her body with heavy stomps, each blow extracting weak moans not only from the flesh but from dignity.
"You are worth nothing!" he shouted, his face twisted in rage. "You who sell yourselves to the first who throws coins!"
With her face swollen and body trembling, the young woman raised her tear-filled eyes and pleaded, her voice failing:
"P-please, sir… don't do this… I beg you…"
The man did not stop. He laughed loudly and scattered coins over her as if throwing crumbs to an animal, each clink of gold on the marble sounding like mockery.
"This is what you are worth!" he shouted. "Money and silence! Nothing but trash!"
The plea did not generate compassion, only laughter. Some men toasted with wine, others whispered sarcastically: "Listen to this… they even beg like bitches. Do they think they deserve respect? What a joke…"
The other maids watched in silence, tears restrained in their eyes, but none dared to move. All knew that intervening meant turning a punishment into a massacre. In that place, made for the pleasure of the powerful, the only rule left for the weaker was to accept silently.
The young man advanced, the cloak wrapping his figure, fingers firm on the sword hilt. His eyes captured every detail: the scattered coins, the tears mixed with blood, the muffled laughter — all recorded as if each gesture were calculated for the right moment.
The aggressor, intoxicated by his own tyranny, turned to him:
"And you… still here?"
Ereon murmured, low like a presage:
"Totsuka no Tsurugi..."
The blade shone. The entire hall held its breath. But, before the blow could be struck, the aggressor recoiled: a figure interposed.
It was an agile maid — but not just any. Light fabrics wrapped her body, and in her hands gleamed two daggers. The metallic clash cut the silence.
"I am sorry," she said, firm. "But I cannot allow you to kill him."
The young man attacked. The maid blocked and deflected, moving like a war dancer. Her eyes remained cold, calculating every movement, every step of the enemy. The hall watched in tension.
The aggressor, once arrogant, now receded, frightened.
With each silent strike, the maid responded firmly, the daggers cutting the air, guided by her experience and agility. Neither could overpower the other; he tested her defense, she probed the enemy's coldness. The duel was balanced, each strike and block revealing skill with no clear advantage.
"You… are faster than I imagined," said the maid, keeping her stance, but not retreating.
The young man did not respond. He continued measuring each reaction, silent like a shadow gliding through the hall.
The metallic sounds echoed, creating a dance of steel that hypnotized those present. But suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The air became heavy, charged with authority.
No words were necessary; even before identifying herself, both felt the presence that commanded silence and immediate attention. All eyes turned to the entrance.
She appeared: Nika, head of the Red District pavilion. Ivory-clear skin, piercing black eyes, black hair tied in a luxurious hairstyle studded with gold. She wore black silk embroidered in gold, with daring slits and translucent tulle sleeves. Her simple step dominated the environment.
"Lili…" Nika's voice sounded firm and cold. "This is not what I sent you ahead for."
The maid froze, recognizing authority, still in a defensive position. Ereon remained alert, eyes attentive, but did not advance. The tension remained suspended in the air, as the true leader approached, making the duel naturally cease.
She moved forward, looking around, and quickly understood the situation in the hall during her absence. With elegant steps, she walked to that count's servant, stopped, and then spoke in a sweet and seductive voice to the listeners:
"I apologize for the troubles you had in my absence…" — but her eyes said otherwise, showing only coldness.
The man, who had once been like a wild boar, became passive in her presence. Stammering, he said:
"Y-you should educate your maids better! Do you know how much the count invested here?"
Nika smiled with sarcasm, voice sweet as poison:
"But sir, haven't you already disciplined them personally?" — and, directing a fierce look at him, made her oppressive presence crush him.
The entire hall felt the weight of those words.
The count's servant insisted:
"The count will not like knowing that his servant was almost murdered here! Who guarantees that this boy was not someone hired by you to attack me?" — he tried to cling to authority he did not have.
The chief cast a frosty look at him.
"I will discipline him."
And, before everyone, she advanced against the young man. Her blows were not with a sword, but open palm: slaps that echoed through the hall, repeated. He did not react. He endured silently, eyes fixed.
For a long time, only the sound of the slaps echoed through the hall. Everyone there knew that behind Nika's delicate face, the "Dandelion" of the Red District, hid a terrifying woman.
The men, who seconds before were laughing and mocking, now discreetly withdrew. They knew that hurting a maid was tolerated, but challenging her was suicide.
Even seeing the crowd empty, she continued striking until the count's servant, defeated, spoke:
"I understand, no need to continue… let us forget the events that occurred here today."
She then stopped and wiped the blood from her hands on a cloth offered by a maid. She smiled with irony:
"We thank you for the mercy you showed. Next time you come, I will personally serve you a drink."
The man left humiliated. The doors closed behind him.
Nika turned to the maids:
"Take those who need treatment, clean all this mess, and send a messenger to inform that we will be closed for a week."
Then she stared at the young man. Her eyes were like blades, cutting through every space of silence.
"Do you have any idea what you would have caused if you had killed that man? The count's fury would have fallen on all of us like a precise blow. I took him in because Teseu asked me and, as it was a request from an old friend, I accepted without hesitation. But if I had known I was bringing into these walls someone devoid of any trace of humanity, I would never have opened this door for you. Don't be mistaken, boy: the consequences of your actions will not fall only on your head, but on each one of us. If you are going to live among humans, learn to think like one — because, whether you like it or not, in a society your actions never affect only you. Remember that."
Her voice grew, loaded with contained fury:
"Do you think holding a sword and cutting down everyone in your way will solve anything? Do you believe that standing there with these cold, empty eyes changes someone's destiny? No, boy. That indifference of yours brings no victory, only ruin."
Then the harshness gave way to something deeper, almost a confession:
"I know about your past with the count. I know no six-year-old child should carry scars like the ones you bear. I will not blame you for that… but don't think it absolves you from the consequences of what you do now."
The words cut deep. In an instant, fury overtook the young man. He advanced against the leader, blade in hand, ready to silence the voice that dared expose his wounds.
But, before the sword could touch her skin, Lili appeared like lightning. With a single movement, she deflected the blow and smashed his face against the stone floor, pinning him there.
She took a deep breath, regaining control.
"Lili, take his sword and throw him into the Purple Room, on the third floor. Teach him the rules of this place and, if even then he refuses to adapt… kill him."
Nika turned, her dress swaying like a living shadow. Her tone dropped to almost a whisper, as if speaking only to herself:
"What have you been doing in this orphanage, Teseu?"
Silence returned to the hall.
What do you think will happen to Ereon? Comment below!