The hired carriage rocked over the cobbles; with every clip‑clop of hooves, Hedi’s restless heart settled like dust after rain.

She weighed the pocket watch’s heft. Her shoulder rested on the moss‑green window frame. Outside, buildings packed tight like stones clenched in a fist.

Between one façade and the next was under a meter, like earthworms after rain sliding past the window, a thin trail skimming the edge of sight.

“Ma’am.” The driver was about fifty, his profile sharp and predatory. He rolled his shoulders. His woven straw coat swayed like a sleeping beast shifting to shake off its fur. “I’ll drop you at the corner. Gutong Street’s too chaotic.”

Selina leaned forward, palms on the frame, urging, “Please, faster.”

“If the horse dies, I die.”

“We can pay more!”

Hedi pressed Selina’s hand, tucking her wallet back into her pocket. “This is faster than a bus every thirty minutes.”

“It won’t be in time!”

“Don’t rush.” Hedi rubbed Selina’s eyelid with her thumb, feeling the round globe beneath. “We still need to sway Olina. Hurry breaks things.”

“You were more anxious than me at first.”

“I’m calm now. Even if we’re late, they’ll drag your sister out—what will you do then?”

“Then...” Selina shut her eyes, trembling, unsure. “Then I’ll know what to do then.” She glanced at Gutong Street crawling closer and let out a deep sigh.

Hedi fixed her gaze on Selina’s face, watching confusion bloom on a pale mask.

A knife of wind cut across from the window, grazing her eyes with a dry sting like blown sand.

She narrowed her eyes and sifted her mind, searching for words that could soothe. Her tongue felt empty; any sentence would vanish on air.

“Looks like rain,” Hedi said, swallowing tight.

“So stiff.”

“Huh?”

“How you switched topics.”

Hedi pinched Selina’s small earlobe. “Sorry... I shouldn’t have said that...”

“It is about to rain. Look.”

She looked out. The sky pressed down; clotted ink‑black clouds locked overhead like a lid.

Cold wind fought to pour into the cab, jostling like a crowd at a gate.

A hawker’s cry rose not far away, hot with urgency to make one last sale before packing up.

The carriage kept its cadence toward Gutong Street. The front oil lamps swept along the walls like passing moons. A kicked stone pinged off the body with a crisp tap. With every bump, the lamps jumped like anxious fireflies.

“Almost there, ma’am.”

Hedi slid a twenty to the driver.

“Nights on Gutong Street aren’t peaceful. Drunks everywhere.”

“I’ll be careful.”

He went silent, as if underlining a line on a page. “I’ll forget whatever you said in my cab.”

“Sorry.” Hedi produced another bill. “Forgot fare’s by distance.”

“You serve too many riders a day... You get my meaning. See you.”

Hedi set her jaw and looked straight ahead, feeling glances brush her as she walked with certain steps. Chestnut heels clicked cleanly on stone. Wind tugged her hem. December carried a rough, bruising cold. She pulled her collar and took Selina’s hand. Their red‑numb fingers laced tight, two small hands burning with frost.

“Novel way to extort,” Selina muttered.

“To riders, a carriage’s a private room. To the driver, it isn’t.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“If he heard, he heard. Just scraps of talk.”

Hedi kept walking.

Curious looks slid off her like rain off slate.

She wasn’t the kind of woman who stopped passersby with a single glance. At first look, only the egg‑smooth outline of her face counted as beautiful.

Yet that was also her strangeness: with strangers, or when talk wasn’t required, her expression ran bone‑dry.

Her lips stayed shut, opening only when necessary.

Her eyes worked like an excellent foreman—unyielding, cold, never slacking.

So her features seldom lodged in anyone’s memory.

Often, what draws notice isn’t beauty or ugliness, but the quiet emotion, the inner weather on a still face.

Hedi reached No. 233 on Gutong Street. Before they entered, Selina reviewed the shop name and smiled. “So cute.”

“Shame the owner isn’t as cute.”

A brass bell chimed softly, a thin, ringing thread.

Winnie lounged on a sofa with a magazine. At the sound, she tipped the book to uncover her face. Her eyes were languid yet alert, slanting toward the two women at the door. In the next heartbeat, her gaze flowed back to the page.

“We don’t serve mages.”

“Spellcaster,” Hedi corrected. “Today, this ordinary person wants a custom potion.”

“You work in public safety or law enforcement?”

Selina dropped her voice. “Do Investigators count?”

“They do!” Winnie snapped, springing up in a flash. “A Dark Realm Investigator ties into public safety!”

Hedi sighed, mouth quirking. “You heard even that whisper... She’s a trainee Investigator. She resigned. She’s my teaching assistant now.”

Winnie wagged a hard finger. “Add a rule. No business with ex‑Investigators.”

“So the one who ordered a forgetting potion was both an Investigator and a Spellcaster.”

“Customers’ matters—”

Hedi cut in, guessing, “Was it Evelyn Stratford?”

“Who’s that?”

“The city you mentioned before—was it Shattered City?”

“What about Shattered City?”

“And then you sold Stratford a forgetting potion.”

“No.”

Hedi crossed to the door and flipped the wooden sign from Open to Resting. “Brew me a Memory Potion. I won’t tell the police about this.”

“Don’t talk like that. I can wipe your memory.”

“Perfect. I want to recall a dream. Selina needs to remember some things too.”

“I said wipe!”

“You’ll only end up fighting me in a busy street.” Hedi drew Selina behind her, like cupping a flame in wind. “The human police will only arrest you.”

Winnie’s smile hooked up, a curve with a trace of pain.

“So? I only need a Memory Potion.”

“Call the police and have me hauled off!”

Hedi patted Selina’s arm, sending her toward the nearest phone booth.

“Wait—kidding!” Winnie flung the magazine aside. “Why are you like this? We were talking just fine—”

“So you admit it?”

“N‑no... I don’t admit anything...”

“Go call the police.”

Winnie rushed to Hedi and grabbed her arm. “I’ll brew! As much as you want!”

“This is... your way of persuasion...” Selina looked at Hedi, awkward, like standing on thin ice.

Hedi answered, steady and warm, “It’s a threat with the art of negotiation.”