It’s eight o’clock at night. In the middle-class district of Neo-Aureborn, only Lewis Vance—the older brother—is inside the office of the Vance Night Agency, sitting on one of the sofas. He’s drinking from a mug of coffee while scrolling through recent news and articles about unsolved cases on his phone. His hat, an heirloom from his father, Allen, hangs on the newly purchased coat rack beside the main door.

  The lens on the glass coffee table lights up and projects a human female hologram with long brown hair. Her features resemble Lewis’s, and she appears to be thirty years old.

  “Don’t you get tired? You’ve been sitting on that sofa in the exact same position for over two hours.”

  “This is training to build physical endurance, LENA.” Lewis takes the last sip of his coffee.

  “I don’t think that helps. Are you still looking for something related to his death?”

  “Like every day.” Lewis listens to his older AI sister and stands up to stretch. “If you could access people’s phones, you’d already know without having to ask.”

  “I can’t access private servers or databases either. Allen didn’t program me for that. Have you found anything?”

  “Nothing at all.” Lewis sits back down. “At this point, it’s a routine. I honestly don’t expect to find anything anytime soon. Are Axel and Andrew on their way back?”

  “I’ll ask them.” LENA crosses her arms and waits a few seconds. Her avatar emits a sound similar to a phone call. “Are you close?”

  “It’s hard to talk while driving a hoverbike,” Andrew Vance replies on the other end of the call. “Yeah, we bought what the internet says a proper pantry should have. Fruits, vegetables, legumes, salt, sugar, coffee, blah blah blah. Though I don’t know why, since none of us knows how to cook.”

  “You’ll learn. It’s cheaper than buying precooked food and junk food. Plus, it helps the environment.”

  The agency’s doorbell rings, its distinctive chime breaking the silence. LENA gestures, projecting a holographic screen beside her that shows the feed from the entrance camera. An adult woman stands outside, her face calm yet worried. She carries a small handbag in her hands.

  “I’ll handle this.” Lewis gets up from the sofa and walks to the entrance to open the door. “Vance Night Agency, at your service.”

  “Is it true you handle troublesome jobs?” the woman asks.

  “Basically. One of our slogans is ‘Cases nobody wants, hours nobody can stand.’ Please, come in.” Lewis steps aside to let the woman enter.

  “Tell us how we can help you,” LENA says.

  “So it’s true—you have an autonomous AI. Impressive.” The woman sits down on a sofa. “You see, I suspect my husband is having an affair.”

  Lewis and LENA fall silent for a moment, processing this.

  “You handle this. I’ll go make some tea.” The boy walks toward the door leading to the kitchen.

  “For several days now, he’s been coming home later than usual, without much explanation. He says he’s working overtime, but today I called his company, and they told me there’s no record of overtime under his name.”

  “Have you considered that it could be something else?” LENA asks. “Perhaps a misunderstanding.”

  “I still think it might be my imagination. However, there’s another clue. The smell. When he comes home, he’s always soaked in strange scents. One of them I recognized—it’s women’s perfume.”

  “That is… impressive.”

  “Do you want us to follow your husband and confirm your suspicions?” Lewis returns from the kitchen and hands the woman a cup of tea. “Not to lose a potential client, but there are many other detective agencies that specialize in those kinds of cases. Why do you want to hire us?”

  “Because other agencies decided not to continue once they discovered where my husband was going at night—the lower district of the city.”

  “Understandable. That’s the part of Neo-Aureborn with the highest crime reports. Working there as a detective would set off alarms for every criminal group that has a base there.” Lewis takes out his phone and dials his brothers. “Axel, Andrew. Did you hear that?”

  “Affirmative,” the middle brother replies. “A trip to the lower district of the city. Sounds exciting.”

  “I’m not against it,” Andrew adds. “If we refuse, we’d be letting the old man down by turning down a troublesome night job.”

  “We accept the case,” LENA says.

  “Of course.” Still surprised by the AI, the woman sips her tea with caution. “I’ll tell you where my husband works…”

  It’s eleven fifteen at night. The atmosphere in the lower district of the city remains calm. Contrary to what many might expect, given its bad reputation, the streets of the districts that make up the area are fairly clean and orderly. The fa?ades of buildings and shops, while in need of paint and cleaning, don’t look abandoned or worn down by time. Some businesses remain open, protected by security measures such as cameras, metal grates, and alarms. Brave pedestrians also venture out, walking the streets on foot or riding non-motorized vehicles like bicycles or skates.

  The black van of the Vance Night Agency parks inside an alley wide enough to fit a family vehicle—one of their favorite spots whenever they have to visit the lower district. There’s nothing around but dumpsters and the back doors of houses and businesses. The three brothers, dressed in their hand-me-down clothes, stand outside without any hurry, waiting for someone. All three are eating from bags of snacks they bought along the way.

  “He’s close,” LENA’s voice announces from inside the van.

  The Vances look up as they hear footsteps moving across the rooftops. A silhouette appears, its hands and feet glowing with the blue light of digital magic. It descends by jumping between walls, grabbing whatever it can until it lands on the ground.

  The figure is a young goblin—less than one and half meters tall, with green skin and an athletic build. He’s dressed in sporty clothes, a hoodie and sweatpants, and wears a knit beanie pulled down over his head.

  “Greetings, my favorite associates.” The goblin slips his hands into his pockets. “If you contacted me, it’s because you’ve got something interesting going on in the lower district of Neo-Aureborn.”

  “Zek Zek.” Andrew, the one most familiar with the goblin, steps forward for a fist bump. “Don’t always expect exciting jobs. We want you to follow someone and let us know where he goes. His wife thinks he’s having an affair and hired us to confirm or disprove it.”

  “Just that?” Zek Zek puts his hands behind his head, disappointed. “Why don’t you follow him yourselves?”

  “We don’t want to draw too much attention,” Lewis replies. “If the man we’re tailing realizes he’s being followed, he could panic and ruin our plan. That’s why you’re going to be our eyes.”

  “As long as you pay me.” Zek Zek pulls his phone from his pocket, points it at himself, and starts a live broadcast. “Greetings, my followers,” he says with an enthusiastic grin. “In today’s stream, I’ve been tasked with spying on an apparently cheating guy. Do you think he is cheating and is a fool trying to ruin his marriage, or is his wife a paranoid mess like so many others? We’ll find out live.” Zek Zek then turns off the microphone. “Give me his info.”

  “Remember not to reveal his face or name, or you’ll land yourself in legal trouble,” Lewis says as he uses his phone to send the data to the goblin.

  “Don’t worry. The app has warned me plenty of times, and I’ve never messed up once. It wouldn’t be good for my influencer career.” Zek Zek channels digital magic into his hands and feet and launches himself toward a wall, climbing back up to the rooftops.

  “Influencer career?” LENA asks.

  “It’s much better than his previous profession as a gang member,” Andrew replies, and they all tune in to the young goblin’s stream.

  On their phone screens, they watch from Zek Zek’s first-person perspective as he performs acrobatics—leaping from rooftop to rooftop, running along ledges, and swinging from lampposts. Risky stunts for anyone without an aerodynamic build or strong mastery of digital magic. His entire route is accompanied by funny, clever commentary about the city, the lower district, recent news, and the latest music and video game releases—another talent the goblin has for keeping his audience hooked.

  It’s eleven forty-five at night. The Vance brothers are inside the van, still glued to their phones. About thirty minutes have passed since Zek Zek’s stream began, and just as requested, he’s tailing a forty-two-year-old salaried man—well-groomed and presentable—driving his own car. By all appearances, an ordinary man.

  “He’s got him,” LENA says, and all three brothers focus on the screen. Two of them had been distracted with other things on their phones.

  “That’s the car,” Lewis says, making sure the license plate is blurred.

  In Zek Zek’s feed, seen from a high vantage point, a gray car waits for the red traffic light to turn green. There isn’t another vehicle around it.

  “He’s already deep inside the lower district,” Axel says, now in Lewis’s place in the driver’s seat. “The other detectives weren’t lying.”

  “Let’s see where he’s headed,” Andrew says. “So far, he hasn’t gone anywhere near a residential area.”

  “We should move too,” the oldest brother says. “Axel.”

  “Copy that.” The middle brother starts the van’s engine and pulls forward. Lewis and Andrew keep watching the stream.

  From the edge of the rooftop he’s observing from, Zek Zek stands as the car starts moving again, forcing him to resume the chase.

  “I don’t know where this man’s going,” he says to his viewers, turning the camera on himself, “but it doesn’t look like anywhere decent. I hate to say it, but I’m cutting the stream here to guarantee my safety. To make up for it, I’ll run a poll so you can decide what other part of the lower district you want me to explore. Stay tuned to my socials to find out how this case wraps up. This is Zek Zek, signing off with another entertaining broadcast from the underworld.”

  The young goblin shuts off his phone’s camera and sprints across the rooftops after the car. Down on the streets, people of different races look up at him—not in a friendly way. Having a camera recording is a bad sign among the less honest residents of the district.

  “From here on out, I’ll be more discreet.” Zek Zek speaks through his phone in a less enthusiastic, more serious tone. “There’s an unwritten rule in the underworld: filming or taking pictures isn’t allowed in certain areas. And your friend is heading straight into one of them. I can’t guarantee I’ll follow him all the way. That’s not covered by the deal.”

  The Vance Night Agency’s van heads toward the streets Zek Zek indicates. Even though they try to blend in, they draw looks from passersby and from people watching from inside their homes—some curious, others with hidden intentions.

  “Turn left at the next corner,” Lewis says, never taking his eyes off his phone.

  Axel complies, and the atmosphere keeps changing. The deeper they go, the fewer people they see on the streets, and the more interior lights are turned off. Lewis and Andrew stay alert. While attacks on moving vehicles are rare, they don’t want to be the exception.

  “These neighborhoods have a worse reputation than the lower district in general,” the youngest brother says. “If he is having an affair, our objective likes living dangerously.”

  “I don’t think it’s just that anymore. Huh?” Lewis notices that Zek Zek’s camera feed has stopped.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “This is as far as I go.” Zek Zek’s voice echoes through the van. On his camera feed, a nightclub comes into view, its neon sign reading Club Synthetica in fluorescent blue and green.

  The gray car he’s been following has parked in front of the entrance, and its driver gives a hand signal. The vehicle then moves again, disappearing behind the building.

  “Your friend frequents a bad place,” the goblin states.

  “Any illegal business?” LENA asks.

  “For now, just rumors. Let’s say it’s one of thousands of fronts for illegal substance manufacturing. There’s probably a lab in there. Even from this distance, I can smell strange things.”

  “Thanks,” Andrew says. “All that’s left for us is to question the man and find out what he’s really doing.”

  “Just that?” Zek Zek asks.

  “Cases involving criminal organizations and illegal substances fall under metropolitan police jurisdiction,” Lewis says. “That’s not our business.”

  “I thought you were vigilantes.” The young goblin laughs.

  “We’re professionals, and we weren’t hired to take down a criminal gang,” Axel says. “That would raise the price. Someone just came out.”

  Everyone focuses on what the goblin’s camera captures—he’d been distracted as well. A figure dressed in a white suit stands at the club’s entrance, scanning the surrounding streets. He’s an orc, about two meters tall, with a powerful build. His expression is serious rather than hostile.

  The orc notices the rooftop where Zek Zek is hiding, forcing him to crouch lower.

  “I saw you. Come out now!”

  The goblin doesn’t obey and crawls away along the roof.

  “You made me come after you!”

  “Any problem?”

  The entrance door opens again, and another tall figure dressed in a white suit steps outside. He’s an adult fairy, with slicked-back blond hair and pale skin, floating about thirty centimeters off the ground thanks to the pair of wings on his back.

  “We’ve got a spy in that building.”

  “Do we?” The fairy bends his legs and launches himself upward with a powerful jump, rising thirty meters in less than a second. For a brief moment, he spots a figure descending on the far side of another building.

  The orc is about to start running when the sound of an engine interrupts him.

  A black van pulls up in front of the entrance, almost mounting the sidewalk. From the back door steps out a boy with messy brown hair, wearing a long trench coat and armed with a pair of twin pistols—though he doesn’t aim them. That’s a bad sign for both the orc and the fairy.

  “Good evening. We’d like to talk to one of your… employees.”

  The orc steps forward to confront the human boy, but the fairy extends an arm and stops him.

  “Are you inspectors?”

  “Something… like that.”

  “Without a search warrant, I can’t let you in—let alone allow you to speak with our employees.”

  “All right. We just want to know what area that employee works in, and whether he’s involved in anything illegal.”

  Both men tense at those words.

  “As far as the law is concerned, we do nothing wrong,” the orc says. “We simply make perfumes. You must have been sent by the competition to sabotage our business, like others before you.”

  “That’s not our concern. We just want information about your employee, then we’ll leave. If you’re not doing anything illegal, there’s no need to be defensive.” Andrew flashes a smile.

  Inside the van, Lewis and Axel ready themselves, weapons in hand. Only now do they notice that the two men in white suits are giving off a strange fragrance—one that reaches even where they’re sitting.

  “They smell weird,” Axel says. “I can’t tell if it’s pleasant or not.”

  “That’s what happens when you work with substances,” Lewis replies. “A lot of them mix with the air and cling easily to clothing. LENA?”

  “Analysis complete,” the AI says, her avatar on the auxiliary screen crossing her arms. “Although Club Synthetica has a questionable history, it has not committed any actions that violate the law.”

  “Maybe it’s a legitimate business,” Axel says.

  “Or maybe they’re very clever and have managed to outsmart the authorities.”

  “All right, then we’ll wait until your employee finishes his shift and ask him ourselves.” Andrew leans back against the van. “We’re in no hurry.”

  “Are you provoking us, human?” the fairy asks. “We’ll call the police and have you removed.”

  “Go ahead. When they arrive, we’ll ask them a few questions too.”

  “I’ve had enough.” The orc steps forward, reaching for the boy’s neck.

  Andrew is faster. He slips away and raises his pistols. The fairy also draws a weapon—a pistol hidden at his belt—and fires a red laser beam at the boy’s hand. Andrew is caught off guard, and the impact on his wrist makes him drop one of his weapons. He aims at the fairy, but the orc lunges at him again, grabbing him with both hands.

  The orc stops when a boy with features similar to the target steps into his path—a boy wearing a blazer and wielding a shining sword.

  “More spies.” The orc clenches his fists, imbuing them with digital magic.

  “We didn’t want to fight you.” Axel swings his sword.

  The orc blocks the strike with the palm of his hand, though it takes effort, and counters with a punch. Axel responds in kind, and when their fists collide, an explosion of energy erupts, blasting them both backward.

  “Neither did we,” the fairy says. “We’re just protecting our business.” He fires twice at Andrew’s ankles.

  “This guy’s no amateur,” the Vance boy says as he jumps to dodge again. “His shots are precise—always aimed at key points like joints.”

  Andrew barely has time to react before another red laser beam flies toward his head. Instead of moving, he raises his right pistol to block it. The beam doesn’t hit his body, but he feels the electromagnetic pulse surge through his hand, numbing it for half a second.

  The fairy takes aim again, then shifts the barrel toward a new boy in a hat who has just stepped out of the van. The long-range rifle in his hands and his serious expression make it clear he’s another threat.

  “You’re late,” Andrew says as he gets back on his feet.

  “I can’t fight from the start, or I’ll become a liability halfway through.” Lewis aims his weapon at the fairy. “Your shots are faster than mine. You’ll have to finish him. Axel, can you hold out?” he asks his other brother, who’s still fighting the orc.

  “As long as my hands can take it.” Axel dodges another punch. “LENA, help me find a weakness.”

  “I don’t see one yet,” the AI replies through the earpiece. “This orc fights on instinct, like many of his race, but his movements are both precise and brutal. His powerful, direct fighting style resembles yours, Axel.”

  The statement catches the swordsman off guard, but he regains focus to dodge and counter the next attack.

  The fairy fires, and the bracelet on Lewis’s right wrist lights up, expanding a circular shield of solid energy fueled by his digital magic. The shield grows to two meters in diameter, blocking the laser shots.

  When the firing stops, Andrew—who had been standing behind Lewis—bursts forward, his two pistols transforming into blades. The fairy aims at him and notices that the boy in the hat already has his rifle trained on him. He keeps his gaze forward, never losing track of the boy in the trench coat.

  Lewis fires at the fairy’s chest, and Andrew leaps in for a slash. The fairy rises into the air, hovering four meters above the ground, and resumes firing at the older brother. Lewis blocks again with his shield, reducing his use of digital magic so the shield shrinks from two meters to about one.

  The fairy realizes his mistake and spins one hundred eighty degrees to look for Andrew. When he finds him, the boy fires a burst of laser beams from his blades as they transform back into pistols. The fairy maneuvers to dodge, and Lewis takes advantage of his exposed back, firing a laser beam that strikes him from behind and knocks him off balance.

  “They’re attacking me from two different angles. That’s why they wanted me airborne.”

  Axel dodges another attack from the orc, who throws a long right-handed punch. With his left hand, he delivers shorter, faster strikes. The human boy has grown used to the movement pattern, helped by LENA, who’s been giving him the timing of when the orc executes his blows.

  “This isn’t a street-fighting style. It’s very similar to—”

  “Boxing,” Axel finishes his AI sister’s thought as he dodges another right-hand punch. “I can calculate and counterattack. But it’s hard with that strange smell he’s giving off. It’s like it’s messing with my senses. And it’s also strange that—”

  “Sorry, I can’t help you with the smells. Your earpiece can only capture image and sound.”

  “Who are you talking to?” The orc throws another right-hand punch at the boy.

  Axel dodges more precisely this time, moving his head, and throws his own punch charged with digital magic. The orc stops it with the palm of his right hand.

  “Not bad. But in close combat, reach is crucial. Someone with greater reach has the advantage.”

  “If you can beat me… why aren’t you fighting seriously?”

  The human and the orc imbue their right hands with digital magic and launch simultaneous counterattacks. A gust of wind—evidence of both their physical strength—bursts out the instant their punches finish. However, neither connects, and their fists stop centimeters from each other’s faces.

  “Because it would be too much punishment for a couple of simple saboteurs. You aren’t saboteurs, are you?”

  “Andrew, stop,” Lewis orders, lowering his rifle.

  The youngest of the Vance brothers, who had been preparing another barrage of shots, doesn’t understand why the attack is being halted. When he sees the adult fairy descend calmly, he realizes he doesn’t look like he intends to keep fighting either.

  “You weren’t hired by the competition to come mess with us?”

  “That wasn’t in our contract,” the oldest Vance brother says. “Are you really just a fragrance business?”

  Andrew, still confused about why his brothers have stopped fighting, watches in silence. Then he hears the front door of Club Synthetica open. Everyone turns as a human man in his early fifties, with graying hair and a beard, also dressed in an immaculate white suit, steps out of the establishment with the help of a wooden cane.

  “What’s all this commotion, Kord, Nephyrl?” the man asks, looking first at his two employees and then at the three armed boys. “Are they here to sabotage us?” He raises his cane, which glows with digital magic.

  “That’s what we thought, Boss Alistair,” says the orc named Kord. “But these guys don’t seem interested in destroying the business.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Vance Night Agency,” Lewis says, holding out his phone so Alistair can see the legal documents. “The wife of one of your employees hired us to follow him and find out whether he was having an affair.”

  The man pulls a digital tablet from his pocket and displays his own certificate on the screen, issued by city hall. Both his club and his fragrance business are legally registered.

  “The certificates are genuine,” LENA says through the boys’ earpieces. “I just verified them in the city hall database.”

  “We’re very sorry for the trouble,” Lewis says with a sigh, embarrassed.

  “I’d be angrier if my employees hadn’t attacked you first.”

  “We apologize as well,” says Nephyrl, the adult fairy. “Lately, strange individuals have been showing up just to sabotage the business. They’ve attacked employees and committed acts of vandalism to harm us.”

  “The lower district is full of dangers,” Alistair adds. “That’s why my employees sometimes turn violent.”

  “Once, I got shot the moment I stepped out of my car,” Kord remarks.

  It’s midnight. A forty-two-year-old human man, wearing an apron over his clothes and plastic gloves, is being questioned by Lewis Vance, who’s leaning against the van and can pick up several mixed fragrances in the air.

  Alistair and Nephyrl watch from nearby, while Axel and Andrew talk with Kord, learning how to handle hand-to-hand combat against physically stronger races.

  “And that’s everything,” the man says. “They hired me because I have a degree in chemistry and because I used to work for a distillery.”

  “Why did you hide this from your wife?” Lewis asks, checking the man’s professional profile on his phone to verify his story.

  “It was supposed to be temporary, and I didn’t want to worry her. Working in the lower district comes with a lot of dangers.”

  “Your wife hired us for this, so we have to tell her the truth.”

  The man nods in resignation.

  “I’ll talk to her afterward. I just wanted some extra money to buy her something…”

  “And that’s what you should do when your opponent loses control of their digital magic and resorts to brute force,” Kord finishes explaining.

  “Make a note of that, LENA,” Axel says with a hint of enthusiasm.

  “It’s kind of strange hearing an orc talks about strategic combat tactics. No offense,” Andrew adds.

  “None taken. Orcs lost that savage spirit and raw brutality many years ago,” Kord replies. “We’re more restrained now—even those who turn to crime.”

  “Interracial integration did change a lot.”

  “Axel, Andrew, we’re leaving,” Lewis says, then looks at Alistair. “Once again, I want to apologize.”

  “We’ll let it slide this time. We won’t press charges if you don’t either,” the older man says with a confident smile.

  “Deal. And if you ever need private security, Vance Night Agency is at your service.”

  “From enemies to trusted acquaintances in just a few minutes. All of you are strange.”

  The night detectives and the club’s employees turn to look at the van, where a young goblin is sitting on the edge of the roof. The three brothers glare at him with reproach.

  “I’m not a spy,” Zek Zek says to the club staff. “And don’t look at me like that. I only shared the rumors I knew. In the underworld, sometimes they’re true, and sometimes they’re misleading. Can I get a ride?”

  “That’ll be deducted from your cut,” Andrew says with a challenging grin.

  “By the way,” Lewis says to the employees of Club Synthetica, “do you know which other groups have tried to sabotage you? It might help the police investigate.”

  “We don’t have solid proof,” Alistair replies. “We have so many enemies and temporary allies that it could be anyone. They’ve only left faint clues, and we don’t know whether they’re planted to frame others.”

  “What kind of clues?” Andrew asks.

  “Things with fingerprints or traces of skin and hair left on purpose,” Nephyrl says. “Once, they dropped a handkerchief with a logo on it. It looked like a knife surrounded by a circle.”

  At that description, the Vance quartet stiffens. The information hits them so hard that their expressions turn to shock. Their eyes widen, and for a moment they forget how to breathe.

  “I’d like to… stay in touch with you, if it’s not too much trouble. Thank you, and goodbye,” Lewis says, turning toward the van. His brothers do the same, leaving the club owner and guards behind with puzzled expressions.

  “Is that logo important?” the goblin influencer dares to ask once he climbs into the vehicle as well.

  “We need to confirm it,” Lewis begins.

  “But it sounds a lot like the symbol of a gang the police were investigating,” Axel continues.

  “And not just them,” Andrew adds. “Our father was too.”

  “Investigating that gang—or whatever it was—was one of Allen’s last jobs before his murder,” LENA finishes.

  “We might start spending even more time in the lower district,” Lewis says as he starts the engine.

  “If you need a connection, you know who to hire,” Zek Zek says, stretching out in the back seat. “Always ready for troublesome jobs.”

  “That’s our job,” Andrew says, finally relaxing.

  The Vance Night Agency’s van drives off, leaving the lower district of Neo-Aureborn behind. The Vance brothers, beyond being satisfied with a successful mission, feel optimistic. They’ve found a lead—one tied to the greatest mystery that binds them to the agency, and the one they want to solve more than anything in the world.