The sun poured into the room, brushing the white walls like fingers across old parchment. The air was thick with the mingling scents of tea and tobacco, a calm perfume that grounded the tension of the meeting. We sat across from each other, the faint clink of porcelain punctuating the moment, and the world outside seemed distant, softened by the window's glass.
"Lady Von Edelstein, it has been confirmed that Sir Collins made contact with a member of the Hongjaemun sect about two months ago. This is our chance to get him before… well, the nation fears he sells state secrets to those… those cultivators. After that contract we found in his abode proving he had summoned a demon, this matter becomes of national importance," he said, leaning forward slightly, voice precise yet edged with urgency.
I turned from the window to him, noting his tone—careful, practiced, but teetering on impatience. "Oh! The types," I thought, letting a hint of amusement brush me, "even after 10,000 years, and humans are still the same. So predictable, so fragile, so delightfully tiresome." My reflection caught in the glass: blonde hair streaked with silver and black, mismatched eyes now a striking red that made me think someone else had a hand in this, guiding appearances like a painter over a canvas.
"Miss—Lady Seliregina? Madam Seliregina Von Edelstein, are you even listening to me?!" His voice snapped, the carefully maintained mask of civility almost cracking.
I lifted my teacup, letting the steam curl around my fingers. I didn't relish these roles, yet the pay was considerable. "Two million pounds," I stated, voice calm, almost bored. I didn't need to ask why the urgency. I could already guess enough to entertain myself.
"Two million pounds for a professor? That is most—Miss Seliregina, do reconsider!" His face flushed as red as the afternoon sun climbing above the rooftops.
"We cannot have him selling mana research and technology to those cultivators," he murmured, lowering his voice as though the walls themselves might listen.
"That's your cup of tea," I said lazily, gesturing toward the porcelain in front of him. The irony pleased me—the casual statement against the weight of espionage and demon summoning.
"You know as well as I do the tension between our nations after that incident with the hero… I am not eager to put myself in danger for—change," I said, letting my gaze linger on him, measuring every twitch of his face, every flicker in his eyes.
He narrowed his eyes. "Alright, £2,000,000, but we want you to have one of our own with you," he said, taking a measured sip of his tea, the liquid reflecting the light like molten gold. "Also, I need you to retrieve a map. The state will provide an additional two million five hundred thousand pounds for it."
I raised a brow, treating it as secondary. "I work alone, and I am not in the mood for games," I said with a faint smile, cutting him off before he could add more. The smile was faint, but it carried the weight of centuries of experience, of observing humanity's predictable motions.
He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, letting silence fill the room. "An agent could help you get in and out—"
"I appreciate the aid, but I will manage on my own," I replied smoothly, setting down my teacup. My hand lingered on the porcelain for a heartbeat, enjoying the warmth that contrasted with the cold, calculating thoughts swirling in my mind.
"Alright, Lady Seliregina. It has been a pleasure," he said, rising and extending a hand. A pleasure indeed, I mirrored the gesture, noting the way the afternoon light hit his face, casting shadows that seemed almost symbolic of his nervousness.
I walked to the window, watching him enter his carriage. The town sprawled below, streets alive with the hum of commerce and the quiet drama of human lives unfolding in ways they didn't even realize. I let my eyes linger on the passersby, their motions familiar, comforting in their repetition.
"What do you think, Paige?" I asked aloud, though no one else was in the room.
"Sounds nice. I was looking to purchase a new gun— a Webley would be lovely," came the dry reply, detached but observant with a hint of nonchalance.
"And you, Brianna?"
"What an interesting period," another voice mused, eyes scanning the bustling streets below.
"You look like a child between Luna and yourself," a quieter voice,added with a chuckle, "but sightseeing seems an interesting pastime."
I allowed myself a small, private smile, the thought of humanity's endless patterns lingering. Even after ten millennia, humans repeated the same dances of ambition, fear, and greed. Some found it tiresome, some tragic, and some… amusing. For me, it was all three, and the awareness made the world feel smaller and infinitely more peculiar.
The sun continued its slow march across the sky, painting the streets with golden light. I watched a merchant balancing crates while children darted between legs, laughing. A carriage rattled over cobblestones. A dog barked at a stranger, and the stranger swore under his breath. It was all ordinary, banal, and endlessly entertaining.
I sipped my tea again, letting the warmth spread through me, the faint bitterness grounding me in the present. There was comfort in watching humans stumble through the same mistakes, in hearing them argue over money and power, in seeing ambition fail against laziness and ego. They were eternally the same, yet endlessly fascinating to an immortal observer.
Another sip. Another glance out the window. The city continued its quiet pulse, unaware of the decisions being made in this small room, of the threads being pulled invisibly. And in that pulse, I felt a strange satisfaction. I was part of the world, but never of it—not anymore it seemed. I could act, intervene, calculate, and yet observe all with the detachment that only experience in era now lost to tine and history could grant.
The afternoon stretched, shadows lengthening across the walls, the tea cooling in its cup. I knew the work ahead would be dangerous, intricate, and possibly… amusing. But it would also be profitable, precise, and predictable. And I liked predictability in small doses.
For now, though, I simply watched. And even after some many years, humans were still the same, even though I myself have not lived all of it.
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