A week later.
On the second day of the second week of the month, Dusk finally had a day off. He clasped Dawn's tiny hand in his own and led her toward the Market Area.
The moment they stepped onto Market Street, noise and color washed over them.
Vendors bellowed their wares, their voices clashing like swords. The smells of roasted bread, frying fish, and pickled vegetables mingled with the sour reek of horse dung left by carriages. The cobbled street was so crowded that each step meant brushing shoulders with strangers in gray, blue, black, and brown clothes. Laborers barked prices, clerks hurried with quills tucked behind their ears, and women carrying baskets of onions and leeks meandered between stalls, comparing quality and muttering about costs.
Peddlers lined both sides of the street, their stands and carts swallowing half the road, leaving only a narrow path for carriages to creak through.
"Whiskey Sour, Apple Whiskey Sour! Two fells a liter!"
"Freshwater fish from Bondi's pond! Still alive, still wriggling!"
"Onion bread, only one fell—just one fell!"
"Soap and wigs imported from Leno! Luxury fit for nobles!"
"Buy the kids a bottle of refreshing soda!"
The air was alive with it all—shouts, smells, the clatter of hooves and wheels, the jingle of coins changing hands.
Dusk turned to his sister, who looked impossibly small amid the tide of people. Her long bunny ears twitched at every sound. He smiled, reaching down to ruffle her white hair.
"Let's go eat something. Brother got his salary," he said warmly. "So, it's brother's treat today."
Dawn's red eyes lit up. She wasn't looking at the bread or fish or soda. Instead, her gaze locked on a stand where candied walnuts were being poured into a giant bowl, their sugar glaze glistening in the sunlight.
Dusk chuckled. "So that's what you want, huh?"
Minutes later, both siblings stood to the side of the street with small paper cones of candied walnuts in hand. Dawn popped one in her mouth, her cheeks puffing like a squirrel's, and gave a blissful sigh.
"Yummy," she mumbled, smiling so brightly that Dusk couldn't help but laugh. He patted her head again, as though committing the moment to memory.
Neither of them noticed the man watching.
He stood across the street, half-hidden by a cart. A double-breasted coat buttoned to his throat, a wide hat pulled low, and a newspaper in one hand. His eyes never left the children.
"Is it them?" he muttered to himself.
The vendor beside him, without glancing up from arranging onions, nodded once. "Yeah. But don't take any risks. That boy's working at the cathedral."
The man's lips twitched into a faint smirk. He folded his paper under one arm, crossed the street, and brushed casually past Dusk. For the briefest second, his hand patted the boy's shoulder.
Dusk stiffened, turning at once—but the man had already vanished into the river of people.
Something small and square fluttered to the cobbles. A folded letter.
"What was that?" Dawn asked, nibbling another walnut.
Dusk bent and picked it up, his brow furrowing at the unfamiliar scrawl. "That person dropped it. But…" He shook his head, sighing. "Brother doesn't even know how to read."
He tossed the letter toward a nearby trash can. It hit the rim and slid inside with a hollow thunk.
Somewhere in the crowd, the man's expression froze. Watching from behind another cart, he muttered curses under his breath. "How could I forget? They're uneducated… Damn it."
His jaw clenched. "Plan B. I'll need to use Plan B."
A sudden hoot echoed from an alley. The man's head snapped toward it. Perched on a crooked signpost was a great owl, its feathers a mottled gray-black, eyes wide and unblinking.
"Plan B… Plan B…" the owl croaked, mocking his words. Its eyes glowed faintly in the shadows, like embers refusing to die.
The man shuddered but forced a grin. "Heh. Perfect. This time, they won't slip away."
---
Unaware of the stalker, Dusk tugged Dawn toward a small trinket stall. A orange hairpin caught his eye, cheap but polished to a shine, its end shaped like a carrot. He bought it and crouched to pin it gently into Dawn's hair.
She spun around, bunny ears swishing, her eyes sparkling. "Brother, pretty?"
Dusk smiled faintly. "Yeah… pretty."
She turned again, expecting another compliment. But her brother was gone.
Her heart leapt. She spotted him further ahead, already walking toward a narrow alley.
"Brother?" she called, hurrying after him. A hand settled on her shoulder.
Relieved, she spun. "Brother!"
But the instant she saw his face, her smile faltered. It wasn't Dusk.
She slapped the hand away and bolted after the figure ahead. "Brother! Wait for me!"
The alley swallowed her whole. Shadows deepened, damp air pressing close. Ahead, the boy she thought was her brother ran without glancing back.
"Brother!" she cried again, tears stinging her eyes.
But then he was gone. Simply gone.
Her heart lurched. Breath caught in her throat.
A voice spoke softly behind her. "Dawn…"
She whirled around —and nearly collapsed with relief. Dusk stood there, brows knit in confusion.
"Why did you run away? You even knocked my hands off" he asked, steadying her trembling shoulders.
"You—You were the one who ran!" Dawn protested, clinging to him. "You didn't even look back, and I…"
"Hehehehe…"
The laughter slithered through the alley, bouncing off the stone walls. It was high-pitched, mocking, hungry.
Dusk's eyes hardened. He scooped Dawn into his arms and turned to run back the way they had come.
But the way was blocked.
A man stood there in a double-breasted coat, hat low over his face. His hands rested easily in his pockets, as if he had all the time in the world.
Dusk pivoted, dragging Dawn the other way. But the owl was there— perched in the shadows, staring with those ember eyes that never blinked.
A cold chill lanced through him.
The man chuckled and stepped forward, his face sliding into the dim light. His teeth gleamed too white against the gloom.
"Hello, kids," he said in a voice dripping with mockery. "Do you want some candy?"
He grinned. "Hehehehe…"