"Where's the cat?" Ksenia asked, closing the door behind her. Henry was busy assembling an automatic feeder, but the apartment seemed empty.
"Probably hiding behind the curtains. She's shy. You should give her a name."
"A girl, hmm..." Thousands of names flashed through Ksenia's mind. "Let's call her Darling."
"Then what do I get to call you?" Henry finished with the feeder and stepped over, shyly pulling Ksenia into his arms.
"You call me... Ksenia."
Henry shook his head, dissatisfied. "Too formal. Not intimate enough."
"Well, I don't care. The cat is Darling." Ksenia slipped out of his embrace and tore open a cat treat, cooing softly, "Darling, Darling, come here."
"I'll leave you to the cat, then. I should head out." Henry picked up his bag. He knew that Ksenia letting him stay the night before was mostly to spite that Asian man. He cared, but he didn't mind being used by her.
"Where are you going?"
"Home?"
The treat was gone. Darling licked her paws, deciding not to retreat behind the curtains.
"Can you stay? With me?" Ksenia tilted her head, matching the cat's curious gaze.
"Of... Of course. I'll just need to head back once to grab my things."
"Good."
Even though the theater was temporarily shuttered, a dancer's discipline never faltered. In the rehearsal hall, the air was thick with the rhythm of whispered steps: glissade, pas jeté, coupé, pas de chat, pas de bourrée, entrechat, soubresaut...
Ksenia practiced with her usual intensity, occasionally catching Henry's gaze from across the room. It was a gaze that had followed her for ten years.
Back when she was sixteen, a newcomer to the country, she had been nothing but a silent, hardworking outsider. Her talent was undeniable, but her poor English and reserved nature led to misunderstandings. She had no friends—only Henry and Ella had stayed by her side. Henry had been her anchor, helping her with lifts and teaching her the language.
And Ella... Ella was the kind of girl everyone loved, yet she chose to be friends with someone as unpopular as Ksenia.
"Are you and Henry really together?"
A young dancer she had never spoken to stood before her during a break. Tears welled in the girl's eyes, but Ksenia felt nothing.
"Yes."
The girl burst into sobs and ran back to her clique to be comforted.
"What was that about?" Henry asked, handing Ksenia her water bottle.
"She likes you." Ksenia took a sip and placed her foot back on the barre.
"Don't you feel even a little bit jealous?"
"I am jealous. Could you give me a hard shove?"
Henry obeyed, confused. "Are you serious?"
"I am. Her first time ever speaking to me was because I'm with you, not because of how well I dance."
"..."
Ksenia wasn't the jealous type; she hadn't even felt it with Lu Jiting.
"Do you want me to be jealous?" Ksenia arched an eyebrow.
"It might be a nice change of pace."
"But I know you're loyal, Henry. You aren't easily swayed. I trust you."
As the day wound down, Ella came running toward her, looking frantic.
"Ksenia!"
Ksenia stopped her exercise, steadying herself as she saw Ella's pale face. "What happened?"
"I just heard the managers talking. They're planning to pull you from Swan Lake."
"On what grounds?"
"Apparently because of the war. People have been complaining to the company, demanding you be removed."
The war. Ksenia loathed it. Because of the war, she had lost her parents. Her accent and her culture had become weapons used against her. And now, her work was being sabotaged.
"What are we going to do? What if they fire you next? I don't want you to leave," Ella cried.
"I'm not leaving," Ksenia said coldly, returning to her practice. Swan Lake was her soul; she wouldn't give it up for anything.
"Kate, I want to discuss the new arrangements," Ksenia said, approaching the instructor.
"Wait until rehearsal is over," Kate snapped, clapping her hands. "Rehearsal! Everyone, focus!"
Ksenia warmed her ankles and knees, her face a mask of iron. She tuned out the world, focusing only on the story, the music, and the movement. When she took the floor, every look and gesture radiated the seduction, passion, and audacity that defined the Black Swan.
Her flexibility and control were her greatest assets. Most dancers feared the thirty-four fouettés, dreading the loss of center or the break in rhythm. Ksenia feared nothing. Even those who hated her watched in begrudging awe.
The music swelled. The fouettés began.
She counted in her head. One, two, three... twenty-four... Suddenly, in the blur of high-speed rotation, a detail caught her eye. In the mirror, the sole of her shoe flashed with a glint of silver. Like a blade.
"Ah!"
The scream didn't come from Ksenia. It was Ella.
The sudden cry broke Ksenia's rhythm. Her supporting foot slipped, her center collapsed, and she crashed to the floor. Through the pain, she saw the manager and the other dancers staring at her failure with twisted expressions.
Suddenly, the room changed. She saw a bearded man with his hands behind his back. The bitter, sharp Madame Lu stood behind him, rolling her eyes. And there was Lu Jiting, reaching out, calling her name.
In that moment, the world went black.
"Have you seen my childhood friend?"
Ksenia woke to the blinding white ceiling of a hospital room. Her ankle throbbed, and the air smelled of rubbing alcohol. She thought she was going mad. Why, after all this time, was the shadow of Lu Jiting still so vivid?
"You're awake." Henry's voice was hoarse. "I haven't seen him. Ksenia, the doctor said it was a temporary blackout caused by extreme anxiety. You need to take care of yourself."
"I see." She looked out the window. A heavy rain was washing the city in shades of grey.
"I know the play means everything to you, but your health comes first. There will be hundreds of other shows once you recover."
"Who is replacing me?"
"The company said they'll hold new auditions while you heal. You'll have other chances."
Chances? This was a world of survival of the fittest. The moment she fell, the others would stomp over her body to climb higher.
"There was something in my shoe. Someone planted a blade."
"What? That's too much... these petty tricks!"
"Calm down, Henry."
"How can I stay calm?" Henry snapped. "I'll take you home, but then I'm going back to the studio to find out who touched your shoes."
Ksenia didn't need to guess. Erica. This was the "karma" she had promised.
With Darling for company, Ksenia's forced downtime was more bearable. It gave her time to think about the M-6 investigation. Should she frame someone?
The Organization had told her not to worry, that they would cover her tracks. I should never have trusted anyone, she thought.
The door clicked open. Henry was back. Darling hopped off Ksenia's lap to greet him.
"Did you find anything?"
"The security cameras near the lockers were 'broken.' What a coincidence," Henry said, kicking off his shoes. He scratched Darling under the chin. "We should let the Security Bureau handle this. It's malicious competition. I'm starting to suspect someone in the company leaked those rumors about you and Martin, too."
"Can you find out who the leaker was? Isn't your uncle the CEO of News Voice?" Ksenia's eyes were cold and lethal. She had endured their petty games for years because they seemed insignificant compared to her real sins. But this injury could end her career. She was done enduring.
"I can. I'll look into it."
Late that night, while Henry slept, Ksenia checked her phone. Amidst the sea of notifications was a message from McKinney, a fashion designer.
"Hi Ksenia, are you interested in a party this weekend?"
A party?
"Sure. Where?" she replied. McKinney was a designer for a niche brand they'd met at a gala. They only spoke occasionally.
Could this be the invitation from the note?
"Formal attire. I'll pick you up when the time comes."
Meanwhile, the investigation into Martin Sharon continued. His wife, Megan Knightley, was the prime suspect and under heavy M-6 surveillance.
"Have you heard of Cloudglow Manor?" Megan sobbed during questioning.
Christine's pen stopped. "What is that? Why do you think it's linked to Martin's death?"
Megan's face was ashen. "He only mentioned it once, when he was drunk. When I asked him later, he claimed to know nothing. He was terrified. I could feel it. I've looked for the place, but no one knows it. Google has nothing. I know there's something wrong with that place... something to do with why he was killed."
Christine didn't believe in solving cases through "sixths senses," but she noted the name. She dialed the information department. "Vole, look up a place called Cloudglow Manor. Now."
"Are we getting close to the truth?" her assistant asked.
Christine shook her head, her eyes fixed on the photos spread across her desk. She picked up a photo of Ksenia. "Keep a close eye on this woman."
"Why? She has no motive."
"It was only for a split second, but I sensed it—she was acting. The fear, the shock... it was a performance. Only that moment of coldness when she turned her back was real. I've felt that same aura in professional killers before."
"And what about Mrs. Knightley?"
"Keep digging. Find out who she's been talking to. Hiring a hitman is still very much on the table."