Dawn wrapped Lunaris like an old coat, soaked with rain and secrets. The sleek black car's engine rumbled softly as it glided through the dark streets of the Lower Quarter, steered with a predator's elegance by Mr?Bad's steady hands. The vehicle looked as though it had rolled straight out of a grim fairy?tale: smooth yet menacing curves, gold head?lamps shining like watchful eyes, and a silver grille shaped like sharp fangs.

  Seated beside him, Red gazed idly at the streets sliding past in misty smears. One hand rested on the half?open window, letting the cold wind slip between her fingers in a comforting whisper.

  'You know something? I really do like this city at night,' she remarked lazily. 'There's something about it—a smell... I can't quite explain. Cheap magic, perhaps.'

  Mr?Bad offered a crooked smile without lifting his eyes from the road. 'Cheap magic and expensive trouble, Red. That's Lunaris' official perfume.'

  'If there weren't expensive trouble, you'd be out of work,' she teased, an ironic grin on her lips.

  He chuckled low— the sound of someone who knows the night too well.

  Lunaris showed its dual nature: squat buildings plastered with elixir posters, pawn?shops where enchanted goods glimmered discreetly. On every corner, unlikely characters: night?fairies arguing with a top?hatted troll, two witch sisters smoking long cigarettes and casting seductive laughter at passers?by.

  Red adjusted her hood, eyes on her partner. 'Do you think Alex can hold out?'

  'He's stubborn. He'll keep going until we get answers—or until he makes a mistake. Either way, we win.'

  She arched an eyebrow. 'It's almost sad watching him desperate.'

  Mr?Bad shrugged. 'He's reaping what he sowed. None of it is our problem.'

  The road broadened; shabby alleys and rundown buildings fell away as they climbed towards the Upper City. Red twirled her dagger between her fingers, the gold head?lamps dancing along the blade.

  'Mirror Lake...' Mr?Bad muttered, tension edging his voice. 'Not sure I fancy going back this soon.'

  'Relax. This time we're only investigating, not socialising,' Red quipped.

  He shot her a brief glance, red eyes glowing in the dashboard light. 'No guarantees.'

  She laughed softly, shaking her head, while the car slipped deeper into the night, carrying them towards the heart of a silent mystery.

  Mr?Bad pulled into a side?street beneath plane?trees whose silver leaves cloaked the vehicle in deep shadow. The car sat there, motionless, headlights glowing like a beast's watchful eyes. It was still too early for the city to wake; Lunaris breathed deeply between the end of night and the first stirrings of day.

  Red stepped out with feline ease, stretching her shoulders and inhaling the cold air. The scent here was different: wet earth, grass, an undertone of magic and the sugary perfumes wafting from bakeries. The old buildings around the park were stone giants with smoked?glass windows, wrought?iron ornaments and pointed towers; faint magical lights crackled in some panes, and gargoyles shifted lazily, half?asleep.

  'Only you would drag me to a park at this hour,' she murmured, amused.

  Mr?Bad offered a sideways glance and a half?smile. 'Complain less and look at the city... it's almost waking.'

  'You're absolutely addicted to little dramas,' Red laughed, elbowing him. 'Going to put this into a tune?'

  He gave a short bark of laughter. 'Maybe. With the right jazz, even mornings like these become bearable.'

  'Warn me before you play it at the bar,' she said, already crossing the street; the two of them melted into the dawn hush.

  The gate creaked softly—enchanted rust—opening onto a damp stone path lined with silver trees. Ancient benches, many occupied by figures wrapped in dark blankets, told another tale: those who had survived Lunaris' cold night. A dwarven elder slept beside a three?legged dog. A young sorceress sheltered from the growing light beneath a magical newspaper whose letters drifted lazily.

  As they walked on, the sky brightened slowly. Everything felt suspended while the light decided whose side to take. A blue?haired woman pushed a pram holding a pointed?eared baby; she greeted Red, ignoring Mr?Bad's frosty stare.

  'See who sleeps out here?' Red murmured, discreetly indicating a group of children beneath a patchwork blanket. 'Every morning one girl tries to steal fruit from the trees, even though she knows she'll never reach.'

  Mr?Bad shrugged. 'The city doesn't change because the sun shows up. It only improves for those who can choose where they wake.'

  They passed a street artist painting magical canvases that changed colour under his brush. An elderly woman performed tai chi by the lake, butterflies of light hovering around her.

  Then the sun rose and Mirror Lake awoke.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Golden light pierced the treetops and exploded across the lake's surface, turning it into a liquid carpet of reflections. The surrounding skyscrapers—Art?Deco lines and enchanted crystal windows—scattered the rays into a thousand sparks. Gargoyles seemed to smile, touched by a glow only magical mornings know.

  Suspended above the park floated vast enchanted mirrors, islands of silver and crystal in the sky. Each was rimmed with arcane filigree and linked by translucent bridges, reflecting and fracturing the light. Elegant figures crossed those bridges—mages, nobles, wealthy families—portal to portal, oblivious to the park?life below. For those on the ground, the mirrors were a silent reminder of social distance: the rich in the sky, everyone else on earth.

  Red paused to savour the sight, her face softened by dawn?light. 'Some days I almost forget the monsters this city hides,' she said, half to herself, half to Mr?Bad.

  He merely observed, red eyes registering every detail without the faintest enchantment. 'Lunaris only looks pretty when no one peers too closely... nothing here is what it seems.'

  They crossed a stone bridge over a brook where rainbow?scaled fish leapt whenever the light touched the water. Red smiled at a jogging woman wearing trainers that levitated above the grass. Farther on, a dwarf vendor offered enchanted pastries to apprentices—Red declined with a wink; Mr?Bad never slowed.

  'You've always been more sociable than I am,' he remarked. 'It'll land us in trouble.'

  'Or save us, who knows.' Red gestured towards the mirrors. 'I'd wager half that crowd no longer remembers how to walk on solid ground.'

  Mr?Bad chuckled. 'Good. Less competition.'

  The park was filling up. A violinist played enchanted melodies by the shore; elders fed silver?feathered ducks. The sun, now high, cast long, brilliant shadows of the bridges across the lawn.

  They drew near the crime?scene. The stretch of yellow tape looked out of place amid such morning beauty. A lone constable waved away curiosity and jotted notes. The space around stayed empty, as though the lake itself respected what had happened.

  Mr?Bad slowed when he saw the tape between the trees, glancing first at the water then at Red.

  That corner of the park seemed to hold its breath; first light still hesitated beneath dense foliage. Stillness lay thick, pierced only by the distant hum of the waking city. Invisible birds dropped short notes and a breeze carried the scent of water and damp earth.

  No crowd, no press—only the enforced discretion that tragedies involving important people impose on public space. Red halted beside Mr?Bad, her gaze solemn. Their footsteps sounded on the wet gravel. Ahead, by the water, one figure stood out like an ancient stone: the officer guarding the scene.

  He was unmistakable: a towering creature clad in tawny?gold and brown fur, his dark?blue uniform straining over boulder?like shoulders and a beast's chest. His face blended lion and bear—broad jaw, visible fangs, deep golden eyes. Thick patches reinforced his sleeves; a heavy mane cascaded down neck and shoulders, merging with cloth. Claws glinted from glove?seams; his belt held keys, a worn leather pouch and a scuffed baton. No other officers were near: only Beast, the true guardian of this ground.

  When Mr?Bad and Red approached, Beast lifted his gaze in a look half smile, half warning. A low rumble left his muzzle, recognising the old friend.

  'Should've known you'd stick your snout in, Wolf,' he rumbled, stepping aside from the tape with a broad wave—permission without admission.

  Mr?Bad returned a crooked grin, clasping the massive hand. 'You're earlier than I thought, Beast. Long night?'

  Their handshake was firm, heavy with shared history. Beast kept eye contact—a silent respect. Red lingered a step back, discreet smile, arms folded.

  'Just another night,' Beast sighed from the city's depths. Then he turned to Red, his gaze softening yet still powerful. 'And you, Red Hood, keeping the wolf company at this hour? Not afraid he'll drag you into trouble?'

  Red smiled, settling her hood. 'Fear's not quite it. I call it survival instinct.' She glanced at the perimeter, trying to read the scene before moving closer.

  Beast laughed, gravel?deep. 'Instinct keeps us alive round here, believe me.' He nodded towards the taped area. 'Go on. Nothing left to spoil, and curiosity is half the battle.'

  The Wolf ducked under the tape, Red right behind. The ground was trampled, still wet with dew. A few scuffs marked where officers had worked overnight. No blood, only the dense sense of something interrupted.

  'It's been days,' the Wolf observed, crouching to study a mark in the soil. 'I suppose the easy pickings are gone.'

  Beast folded his huge arms, eyeing the lake. 'They're treating this like there's fire under the rug. Forensics grabbed the obvious. The rest is for press vultures and folk who can't leave the dead alone.'

  Red scanned the scene. 'Do they really believe it was the prince?' she asked evenly. 'Or is that just a tale to plug the holes?'

  Beast barked a rough laugh. 'They do and they don't—depends who's asking. The papers love big names and the court loves easy scapegoats. Here, no one buys it. Alex... far from a saint, but I can't see him tossing women off those bridges.'

  The Wolf straightened. 'So she fell. Slipped—or was she pushed?'

  'Fell,' Beast said at once. 'From the main bridge up there.' He jerked his chin at a crystal span gleaming in the sun, suspended over the lake. 'No sign of struggle, no magic flash. Just a long fall and a neat death.'

  Silence settled. Red stepped back, tracing the bridge with her eyes.

  'See anything else?' the Wolf asked, calm but curious.

  Beast hesitated. 'Nothing helpful. Place was spotless when we arrived. Whoever did it knew their craft—or the city's shielding someone it won't name.'

  Red crouched by the margin. 'Important folk always get extra cover.'

  Beast measured her. 'You're new, but you'll learn fast: truth isn't always the point. The point is whichever story buys a few days' peace.'

  Mr?Bad remained silent. He moved to a snapped root, noticed a damp scrap of paper—maybe nothing, maybe everything. He crouched, studied it, then slipped it into his pocket.

  'What was she doing up there?' Red asked, arms folded against the morning chill.

  'Visiting family, they say—her mother and her sister, Drizella. Apparently she was heading home when she... fell. Everything feels far too tidy.'

  Red ran a hand over a bent plant. 'No magic residue. No blood. No struggle.'

  'Just a fall,' Beast repeated. 'And the portal logs for that night? Blank. Maybe never collected. Strange, coming from a house like that.'

  'Sometimes the city swallows tracks before anyone sees them,' the Wolf murmured, eyes sweeping the silent grass.

  'Or there was never anything to find,' Beast muttered. 'Sometimes absence is the biggest trail of all. I'm beginning to think it might really have been an accident—worse, suicide. Everything's too clean, too... quiet.'

  A hush fell again. The breeze stirred the lake's surface.

  'Shall we?' Red asked.

  'Let's,' the Wolf answered.

  They left the park without another word, each carrying questions yet to grow teeth. In the car, the engine purred awake like a roused animal.

  'Feels like a dead end,' Red said to the window.

  'No alley's truly blind,' he replied. 'We just haven't found the door yet.'

  'Where do we look?'

  He glanced at the rear?view mirror—the yellow tape now a distant ribbon. 'Where she was last seen alive. Her mother's house.'

  Red nodded, and the car plunged back into Lunaris' streets, where even fairy?tales wore fangs.

  End of Chapter