A small orchestra's music filled the reception room with a subtle yet indispensable texture, allowing the various nobles present to feel at ease conversing with each other. In a corner, a group of ladies were discussing the latest release of a prestigious cosmetics company, while their husbands nearby were discussing trade agreements to present to the king later. On the dance floor, the younger generation was learning more about itself, various teenagers mingling in hopes of finding the perfect partner for an eventual arranged marriage. Sitting on the side were the grandparents, now retired from their noble responsibilities, arguing about the future pairings of their grandchildren.

Among this gathering of the upper crust of Carileran society, a stranger stood tall, her long black hair and red dress flowing behind her as she elegantly navigated the party. No one knew her, but no one doubted that she was a peer. After all, how could a simple commoner afford such luxurious attires and carry herself with such grace?

Despite the certainty shared among the crowd, one noble still approached her, a question burning on his lips:

"My Lady, I don't believe we have met before. Might you offer me the pleasure of your name?"

Perfectly hiding her annoyance aimed at the man who dared interrupt her task, she responded:

"Of course, my Lord. I am Clara Viennisse, from the kingdom of Taledie. I had business in your beautiful kingdom and, as luck would have it, I heard about this little event organized by local nobility. I decided to extend my stay by a night so that I may acquaint myself with Carileran High Society."

"You honor us with your presence. To have traveled so far from your home... Oh, but where are my manners? I am..."

The woman tuned out the man's name, merely pretending to listen. She couldn't afford to fill her mind with the names of those of little consequence, and this man would never meet "Clara Vienisse" again, offering little reason to remember him.

After an additional minute of meaningless banter, Clara interrupted the man.

"I was hoping to meet Lord Berivon tonight, as my husband wishes to present an offer to him that will surely be of interest. Do you know where I might find him?"

"Of course! He's currently in the back, over there, discussing with fellow merchants. You will recognize him from his belly, which is far more prominent than anyone else's. But pray do not tell him I said so, he is... rather sensitive about his weight."

With a smile and a nod, Clara thanked the man before making her way to the table she was pointed towards. There, an extremely fat man was laughing, drinking, and consuming large quantities of juicy meat from an oversized plate that seemed to have been brought in specifically for him. His fellows were clearly uncomfortable with the lack of nobility on display, but they knew better than to comment on it. Clara expected as much from the large man, who she had heard much about before coming to this party.

She tapped on the table to make her presence known. While a few of the men noticed her, they quickly looked away and went back to laughing loudly at Lord Berivon's jokes. Annoyed, Clara knocked with enough force to cause the surrounding tables to turn in their direction, finally causing the large man to notice her. After a short pause, he bellowed:

"Who dares interrupt my best story...?"

Seeing such a beauty rendered him speechless, and his tone quickly shifted.

"Ah, fair Lady, how may I be of help to you tonight?"

"I would like to discuss business on the behalf of my husband, Lord Vienisse. He could not attend this soirée, but strongly believes that we could all benefit from cooperating on some ventures."

Lord Berivon scratched his greasy chin, causing his pudgy fingers to smear the mess even further up his cheeks. After giving it some thought, he responded:

"Lord Vienisse, you say? He resides quite a distance from here. Is he confident this will not cause undue trouble if I come to an agreement?"

"My husband and I are very confident that you will see the wisdom in our proposal once it is laid out before you. However, I would prefer to handle this in private, it would not do for outside ears to learn of this."

A malicious smile flashed across the man's lips, revealing his perfectly white teeth. He took a look around the table before stumbling up.

"Please accept my apology, gentlemen, but I'm very curious about the lady's offer. Worry not, I shall be back before night's end to resume this conversation."

A few goodbyes and a good wash later, Lord Berivon guided Clara to a set of stairs.

"My chambers are on the second floor. I can promise that we shall not be disturbed there."

Clara went up and, following the man, made her way to the Lord's room. He grabbed a key out of a pocket and unlocked it, inviting his guest to walk in.

Once inside, he took the time to activate the wall-mounted lightstones through a small panel next to the door before locking the room back. It was richly decorated, with several paintings from high-profile artists from around the continent hanging on the walls, carpets decorated with complex embroidery that even the best-equipped factories couldn't replicate, gold trims running along the carved wooden decorations at the top and bottom of the walls, and even a bust of Lord Berivon himself in a corner, although one might not be able to recognize him due to how idealized this version of the man was.

Pocketing the key necessary to leave the room, he sat on a wooden chair, causing it to creak uncomfortably under the weight. Joining his hands together, a grin forming under his well-kept mustache, he opened:

"Please pardon the modesty of the room, I only reside here a few nights a year. Now, I believe you had a proposal for me. Let's hear it."

Now in private, Clara let go of all pretense of nobility and sat on the bed before bluntly responding:

"I know that you're overseeing a pretty big trade network of human and beastkin slaves. What do you have to say about that?"

Offended by the accusation, Lord Berivon grew red in anger.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I will let you know that I am an upstanding citizen of this proud country, and that my wealth is entirely legitimate!"

"Yeah, yeah, of course... Look, I'm not here to argue about this. I've seen the auctions."

"I am aware that some... unsavory characters have been holding sales of persons in this city, but please stay assured that I alerted the relevant authorities. They have nothing to do with me."

"Oh? Are you going to maintain that lie even if I say that I saw you there with my own two eyes?"

"I'm afraid that your eyes have been lying to you, miss."

"Like I said, I'm not here to argue. I'm here to make sure you can't hurt any more people."

Lord Berivon's smile reappeared, larger than before, as he got up and pushed Clara down on the bed, using his prodigious weight to his advantage.

"Oh, are you now? And how do you plan on doing so when I'm much stronger than you, and there's only the two of us here? Now be a good girl and let me have my way with you if you don't wish to be punished any harder."

Clara struggled against the mass now crushing her down for a few seconds before smiling back at the man. Her lips moved, but the sound came from elsewhere in the room, startling Berivon.

"I don't believe you understand the situation you find yourself in."

He turned in the direction of the voice, where Clara stood, a dagger now in her hand. Trying to make sense of what just happened, he looked back down under him, seeing nothing but the bed.

"But... how...? You were right here!"

Clara approached, and the dagger approached with her. Sensing that he had lost the advantage, Lord Berivon got back up and took a few steps back as his assailant responded:

"It's simple: your eyes lied to you. Don't trust them, okay?"

She then slashed the dagger in the air, far from him, causing a wound to appear on his chest and blood to dirty his grease-stained white shirt. With a scream of both fear and pain, he ran to the door, trying his best to grab the key in his pocket.

Key, key... It wasn't there? Perhaps in this other pocket... No? What about this one?

Becoming more and more desperate, he started putting his hands again and again in the same pockets, hoping that the key would finally show up in one of them, his movements becoming more frantic as the sound of footsteps behind him grew louder. However, he stopped moving completely when the dagger was put on his shoulder, the cutting side directed towards his throat.

Behind him, a voice full of contempt asked:

"Is this what you're looking for?"

Fearing for his life, and terrified of what he might see, he nonetheless slowly turned his head until the key he was so desperate for came into view, held between the assassin's delicate fingers.

"... How? How!?"

How did the key find it's way there? How was such a beautiful woman so ready to kill? How did he get found out? How would his wife and children react if he died? How would society at large? Which of his many enemies were behind this? How much were they paying her? Did he have some chance to bargain?

So many questions condensed in a single shout. So many questions he knew he would never get answers to. So many questions at the end of his life.

No. He couldn't give up. He couldn't afford to die here!

Despite the proximity of the dagger to his neck, Lord Berivon pushed himself back with all his might, shoving Clara away. If he could just reach the window, he might be able to jump down or call for help. Not all was lost!

He ran towards his goal, a smile of hope chasing away the fears in his heart. He would survive! He would make it out! He would...

A sudden pain in his chest stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, which caused Clara to appear in front of him, holding the dagger that was now embedded in his chest. She laughed a bit before saying:

"To think you'd impale yourself on it. I didn't even have to try."

"But... but you were..."

All hope had left him, along with the strength of his limbs. He was unable to resist as Clara grabbed his hair and pushed his head back before whispering:

"I told you to not trust your eyes."

Then, without a single hesitation and in a single movement, she pulled the dagger out of Lord Berivon's chest and sliced his throat, causing blood to stain the nearby bust. She let the body fall on the ground, the red carpet happily drinking up the liquid now flowing onto it.

Looking at the now lifeless body, Clara muttered:

"I'd have played with you a bit more, but this whole operation was as much risk as I can handle by myself. If we ever meet again, however..."

She didn't finish the sentence, simply smiling at the ways she could trick such an idiot of a man. However, she couldn't afford to admire her work any longer. She cut her dress to make it easier to move in before opening the window and jumping down. She then left her high-heel shoes in nearby bushes, putting on a pair of boots she had placed there prior instead, and ran away. She believed she had a few hours before the body was discovered, but she wasn't keen on taking any further risks.

Far away in the distance, a voice amplified by magic could be heard coming from a large circus tent, presenting the next act that would delight the crowd:

"Aaaand now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, people of all ages, genders, and horizons, I invite you to welcome Miss Fierina Niberri, the greatest illusionist in the world!"