Mirelle immediately ordered four bottles of their finest Rheinhardt Red Reserve.

  “Senior… that’s really expensive, are you sure you can afford it?” Henry gaze towards Mirelle.

  “No worries, no worries. We’ve got two more cuties joining our merry group. Do you know how hard it is to get others to tag along? Most of them go straight to bed the moment they leave the office. But look at these two—fit as fiddles, not shying away from a drink now, haha!”

  The girls only smiled sheepishly as Mirelle laughed her heart out. In the office she barely spoke unless spoken to, always tired and brooding, but the moment she stepped outside, she became a whole different person.

  Not long after, the waiter brought the bottles. Sylia clapped her hands, popped the cork, and drank straight from the bottle—totally catching Vierna and Lina by surprise. Mirelle and Henry only laughed; clearly, they were used to this side of her.

  “Here… Drink!” Mirelle offered them a glass.

  Vierna and Lina looked at the red liquid, its fruity aroma wrapping around their noses, enticing them to drink. For Vierna, this was the first time she had tasted wine, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. She glanced at Lina, who downed her glass like a seasoned pro.

  I guess we’re going to see a drunken ballerina again tonight, she thought, taking a cautious sip.

  Henry and Sylia joined them, downing their wine in one gulp.

  Mirelle called the waiter over again. The waiter gave them a sharp look; it seemed Mirelle was right—tax officers were treated like pariahs there.

  “What do you guys want?” the waiter asked flatly. Mirelle, Sylia, and Henry didn’t seem bothered; they were clearly used to it.

  “I’ll have the caramelized meat, please,” Vierna said.

  “Beef stew for me,” Lina said.

  “Pork sausages and potatoes,” Mirelle said.

  “Honeyed trout,” Sylia added.

  “Mutton stew,” Henry said. “No nuts in it.”

  The waiter turned away and left the table.

  “Sorry, Herr Henry, but I can’t help being curious—do you dislike peanuts?” Vierna asked, taking another sip of wine.

  “Haha, it’s not about liking them or not,” Sylia replied, her cheeks reddening from the drink. “Henry here can’t eat peanuts. If he does, he breaks out in an allergic reaction. One time he swelled up and turned so red he looked like a boiled crab… I shouldn’t laugh, but it was ridiculous.”

  Henry laughed too. “But it comes in handy, you know. Korrn never lets me take time off, not even when my parents are sick. So I used the allergy instead—made myself sick on purpose. He’s terrified of contagion, so the moment I broke out, he waved me off. That was the only way I could look after them. Oh, and drop the Herr thing, just call me casually.”

  He paused, the smile folding into something quieter. “It’s not pleasant,” he said, voice low. “My skin swells, it itches like a fire under the skin, and breathing gets...tight. I have to force myself to stay upright when it hits, just to get the leave. But seeing my parents helpless—watching them and not being able to do anything—that’s worse than any rash. I’d rather bite through a day of agony than watch them suffer.”

  The table’s mood grew heavy after Henry’s words, the weight of it settling over their meal. Seeing this, he forced a crooked smile and clapped the table. “Enough about me—this was supposed to be a celebration, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” Mirelle said. “We can’t let Korrn live rent free in our heads. Let’s talk about something else.”

  Bit by bit, with the help of wine and dry humor, the gloom ebbed away. The others leaned into lighter stories—small triumphs at work, harmless gossip, even Sylia teasing Lina about how quickly she emptied her glass. For a little while, Korrn’s cruelty was forgotten.

  It was in that loosened mood, when the laughter felt easy again, that Lina leaned forward, eyes glinting with intent. She saw her chance to steer the conversation toward something that mattered to her and Vierna—toward the mission.

  “Hey, tell me honestly—Rolbart Village, is it really that bad?” Lina leaned forward with a half-smile. “Crysta told me you warned her it was troublesome, Mirelle.”

  As Lina asked this, the mood changed again.

  “It’s not the village,” Mirelle said, her tone darkening. “It’s Korrn. None of us can stomach his cruelty there. Like I said, Rolbart is full of demi-humans, and Korrn is xenophobic. Sometimes he even demands more than what’s due. Honestly, if Rolbart rebelled, I won’t be surprised.”

  Hearing those words, Vierna felt something, a surge of disgust and anger coalesced in her heart.

  “I remember one time Korrn slapped an elven girl just because she bowed too late.” Sylia hugged her arms to her chest. “And when her father demanded justice, Korrn just—no, I can’t.” She closed her eyes.

  “Why doesn’t anyone report him? Isn’t the Reich supposed to be tolerant toward non-humans?” Vierna asked.

  “The baron is his relative. He won’t lift a finger for Rolbart,” Henry replied as he look at the floor. “And the Reich is indifferent to small villages. They only care about non-humans with power—those who rule large territories. But the ones stranded in places like Haustwitch? It’s just unfortunate for them.”

  “How does Arkmarschall Leopold respond to this?” Lina leaned in.

  Mirelle shrugged, swirling her glass. “Leopold isn’t known for discrimination. But if you’re not useful, he won’t bother. His focus is almost entirely on Netherhelm and Einhartturm. Rolbart’s too far, too small—no way to reach him without going through the baron first.”

  “If he knew, he wouldn’t let it stand—” Vierna stopped mid-sentence, the words slipping out before she realized her mistake.

  The table went quiet. Sylia’s eyes narrowed. “That’s an odd way to put it. Do you guys personally know him?”

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  Vierna’s throat closed up. She opened her mouth, then nothing came.

  “Well we did know him in a way…” Lina cut in, too quickly. Her smile was sharp, her hand tightening around her glass. “Without him, we’d be rotting in debt prison.”

  “Ohh?” Henry leaned forward with interest. “I’ve always liked a good story. And that sounded like the start of one. If you don’t mind, of course.”

  “Haha, not at all—pretty much everyone in Einhartturm already knows.” Lina refilled her glass, surprising Vierna. “So both our parents borrowed money from a loan shark for their garlic business. Turns out it wasn’t such a good idea. They were imprisoned, but the loan shark wasn’t satisfied. When he saw the daughters of his debtors, he decided to take us as payment.”

  The three of them leaned in curiously. Even Vierna was surprised by how articulate Lina sounded; apparently, wine did loosen the tongue.

  “We were fortunate the Arkmarschall happened to pass by when we were in chains,” Lina said smoothly. “He purchased us on the spot, said he saw some ‘potential’ in us. That’s how he saved us. He even put us in Arkanpfad Academy. But since neither of us could stomach battle, we basically let him down. And now the Arkmarschall assigned us here—to work off our debt to him.”

  Both Sylia and Henry’s faces softened at the tale, a story too similar to be ignored.

  “Another unlucky soul shackled by debt, eh?” Henry said. His eyes and voice carried a subdued weight. “I’m basically the same. I can’t leave this job because of my sick parents. I need the money even if it means breaking bones and losing my morals every day I deal with Korrn.”

  “Me too,” Sylia said. “I want my brother to have a normal childhood. But he’s so fragile, and on top of that he has this illness—if he eats too many sweets, he gets sick for days. With our parents gone, I have to stay home sometimes to take care of him. Every time I leave for Rolbart, I can’t stay calm, and then I end up making some stupid mistake. Korrn punishes me for it.”

  Vierna took another sip of wine. At first, she’d only thought of asking Henry and Sylia to switch for the sake of her mission. But hearing how much they dreaded Korrn’s cruelty—and how heavy their own burdens already were—shifted something in her. If she and Lina went in their place, the mission would move forward, and Henry and Sylia wouldn’t be spared from a duty which they both hate. Maybe, just maybe, this way could benefit them all.

  “Hey—since you two really don’t want to go to Rolbart,” Vierna asked, “why don’t Aline and I go in your stead?”

  “Uh-huh…” Mirelle shook her head. “Bad idea.”

  The words struck like thunder; her persuasion had failed before it even began.

  “Yeah, we can’t.” Sylia frowned. “Korrn never lets anyone switch shifts. He’s obsessive about it, like he knows exactly how to break people.”

  “Honestly, I’d love to take your offer, but I can’t fake an allergic reaction again,” Henry said. “He said he’d fire me if I got sick one more time, and I don’t know where else I’d work.”

  “Aww, that’s rough,” Lina murmured.

  “In the future, if you ever want to dodge the Rolbart shift, just get sick,” Mirelle added. “

  “Yeah, but make it convincing,” Sylia warned. “I once faked being ill, and he found out—docked a month’s pay. He said if I got sick again, even for real, he’d fire me on the spot. But don’t do it too many times like Henry; he’ll notice.”

  Henry laughed bitterly.

  “Haha… I see,” Vierna said. Her mind went into panic, scrambling for a solution so they could still depart tomorrow. From what she knew, tax collection happened once a month, so if they missed their chance, they would have to wait another month—and that was something they couldn’t afford.

  “Hey where do you guys sleep tonight?” Sylia leaned forward.

  Vierna looked at Lina, who jerked her shoulders, signaling that she had no clue. With all the details of the mission cramming her head, Vierna hadn’t even thought about it.

  “Haha, I figured you two must’ve forgotten. You both look like the clumsy type,” Sylia said with a smile. “You can stay at my house. There’s an empty bedroom that used to belong to my parents.”

  “What happened to them?” The words slipped out of Lina’s mouth before she could stop herself.

  “Ahhh, forgive my friend here… I guess she’s starting to get drunk, asking such personal things,” Vierna quickly apologized to the group.

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind. They’ve ‘gone to buy milk.’ I guess the line at the store was too long, so they haven’t come back.” Her smile turned bitter.

  Vierna looked at Sylia’s shadowed expression, guilt prickling in her chest. “Are you sure, Syl? We’re basically strangers.”

  “Strangers? Ahaha—no one’s a stranger after drinking together!” Sylia tipped the bottle back. “We’ll be best friends, I just know it.”

  “Haha, we will. All right, let’s keep drinking, and change the topic to something lighter.” Lina declared.

  The group ate and drank until dawn. Their conversation shifted, no longer circling the oppressive nature of the office they were trapped in. Henry shared warm memories of their families before eventually they become ill. Mirelle spoke of her plan to move away, and the group offered bittersweet congratulations—happy for her dream, yet quietly pained by the thought of losing her. That, after all, was what friendship demanded.

  Throughout the night, Lina stole glances at Vierna. She barely responded anymore, her eyes fixed on the floor as if weighed down by a future not yet come to pass. She was planning something, Lina realized, especially after their attempt at persuasion had gone nowhere against Korrn’s obstinance.

  The group then ordered another round of food and drinks, saying they had missed dinner because of work.

  By one in the morning, Mirelle excused herself, half-tipsy from the wine. Sylia and Henry soon collapsed onto the table, completely wasted, leaving only Lina and Vierna awake.

  “Lina, you aren’t drunk already?” Vierna asked, her face reddened.

  “No. I’m just a bit tipsy. What about you, Vierna?”

  “I only had a sip,” she said. Lina, however, knew that wasn’t the case. Maybe Vierna was just a natural-born drinker after all.

  “So, we can’t go to Rolbart, huh?” Lina asked.

  “We can’t—unless we do something,” Vierna replied, crushing the peanut butter biscuit she had ordered not long ago. But for Lina, it seems like Vierna tore out her soul and crush it into pieces, the burden of the action was something even visible to her.

  “Vierna, what are you doing?” Lina asked just as Vierna kept grinding the biscuit. Lina’s breath hitched when she realized what Vierna intended — to trigger Henry’s allergy and force him to miss Rolbart.

  “If they can’t go, we take their place. We’re the only ones left free.” Vierna replied

  “But they said they’d get fired if they were sick.”

  “I know…” Vierna let the spoon fall from her fingers. Her voice broke. “This is exactly what I’m afraid of, Lina. Tonight we pretended to be their friends, and they welcomed us. Sylia even offered her home for the night.”

  Lina saw the pain written on Vierna’s face, her shoulders trembling under the weight of guilt—a crushing boulder balanced on porcelain like shoulder. To sabotage someone’s career, to risk trapping them in a mess they never would have faced if they had never met her—every thought of it was heart-wrenching. Yet Lina also knew it had to be done. Without this, their mission would fail. Another tax would be collected next month, far too soon, and their deadline would slip beyond reach.

  “They’re going to be fired, even though they keep saying they need this job,” Vierna sobbed. “And it’s all because of me—because they were unfortunate enough to meet someone like me.”

  “…”

  “I’m sorry, Lina. I’m a selfish monster. I never should have accepted this mission. I thought it would make us stronger. You chose to follow me, and I should have thought about the consequences—the lies, all of it. Back then, I believed this was the only way to win the Arkmarschall’s favor.”

  “Vierna…”

  “But I can’t, Lina. I can’t carry on. I can’t have you see me as a monster—someone cruel enough to make innocents suffer just so I can reach for something that was never meant to be mine. I’m sorry… we should just tell the Arkmarschall we can’t—”

  Lina hugged her, refusing to let her finish. She knew how much this mission meant to both of them. If the Arkmarschall favored them, their chances of being reduced to nothing more than guinea pigs would lessen. And Lina knew this was only a shadow of what would come during Ewige Schlange. If she couldn’t prevent it, then at least she would walk beside Vierna through the sin, not watch her sink alone.

  She cupped Vierna’s face in her hands. Her older features, framed by lush black hair, were streaked with tears—eyes like wet obsidian meeting Lina’s unwavering gaze. It was as if she were saying without words: I’ll be with you too.