Alice

  I pushed open the door to my apartment, dropped my cas and collapsed onto the pouf by the shoe cabinet. My legs ached. It had been a day—long, intense, and nothing like I expected.

  With effort, I slipped off my wine-colored heels and flexed my toes, trying to coax some life back into them. That’s when an impatient knock rattled the door.

  I sighed, dragged myself upright, and peered through the magnifier lens on the peephole, already guessing who it would be. I swung the door open.

  “Alice! Finally!” came the breathless voice of my neighbor—and best friend—Lilly. “I’ve been waiting forever! Third time I came by. So? First day at work—how was it?!”

  We met four years ago, back when I was sobbing on a park bench across from the Academy of Arcane Forensics. That summer, my boyfriend, Philip—whom I’d been dating since our first year—left for a seaside trip with his friends. I stayed behind. My mother had fallen ill, and I couldn’t leave her alone.

  Grandfather had offered to come help, to let me take the trip, but I didn’t want to trouble him. I could manage. Besides, I told myself it would give me time to study—time to work on the idea that had been growing in my head for months: building a scientific framework to mask my gift. If I succeeded, I could finally use my abilities more openly, more freely.

  So no, it wasn’t the end of the world to skip the vacation.

  Philip didn’t take it well.

  He left without me. I thought he’d cool off and come back to me. I was wrong. He returned engaged—to the Headmaster’s daughter. A spoiled, sharp-tongued socialite with a taste for trouble. I’d seen her eyeing him during lectures. The moment I wasn’t around, she made her move. And he let her.

  Part of me wanted to demand an explanation—or at least a dignified goodbye. But that would’ve meant lowering myself. And I couldn’t do that. Still, every time I saw them together, it stung. He could’ve at least had the decency to tell me.

  But no. He paraded her through the halls of the Academy, made it clear I was now irrelevant.

  One afternoon, I wandered out into the garden near the library, only to catch them wrapped around each other in one of the arbored pavilions. The pain hit so fast, I could barely breathe. I ran.

  Across the street, I collapsed onto a bench and let the tears fall. Somewhere nearby, I heard a couple giggling—low male laughter, light feminine whispers—but I didn’t care. The world could laugh. I had nothing left in me.

  As they passed by, the girl slowed.

  “Ohhh, I know this look,” said the brunette, letting go of her date’s arm as her eyes swept over me. “Sweetheart, we’ll reschedule. I have an emergency.”

  I blinked, confused, and she shot me a playful wink before turning back to the man beside her—tall, well-dressed, undeniably handsome.

  “See?” she told him. “Friend in emotional crisis. I’m deploying urgent girl-code intervention.”

  “But Lillian,” he protested, frowning. “We have a reservation. You’ve been dying to try White Orchid!”

  “Well, darling,” she purred, “I was—now I’m not. Go on, I’ll find you later. Kiss goodbye—just how you like it.”

  The man sighed dramatically, shot me a slightly betrayed look, and walked off in the direction of the park gates. Lillian, in her scarlet silk dress, sank onto the bench beside me and tilted her head.

  “So. Who are we crying over? Let me guess—cheating boyfriend?”

  I sniffled and nodded, the whole tangled story tumbling out of me in bits and pieces. She listened patiently, didn’t interrupt once, then said, with complete confidence:

  “This isn’t a crying situation. This is a revenge situation. Trust me—it’ll feel better. I’m Lillian. Friends call me Lilly.”

  “Alice,” I murmured, eyes still stinging. “But it’s kind of my fault. I let him travel alone—”

  “Oh, sure. Your fault he lasted, what—a month? Before crawling under someone else’s sheets?” Lilly rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. Small-town boy? Trying to act big?”

  I stared. “Yeah… he’s from a tiny place outside the capital. Wanted to be a lawyer. Got into Academy of Arcane Forensics, was really proud… But he barely studies. Spends more time cozying up to the city’s upper crust than actually attending class.”

  “Textbook.” Lilly shook her head, curls bouncing. “Honestly? You’re lucky. He found a new idiot to impress.”

  I shot her a glare, my lips tightening.

  “Don’t puff up like a hamster,” she teased. “I didn’t mean you. I actually saw you once or twice—with your satyr-looking boyfriend, at Tea Bloom. You were so blissfully in love you didn’t notice anyone else in the room.”

  I huffed, trying not to smile. And then, of course, I glanced at her properly.

  Lillian didn’t just enter a room—she changed its temperature.

  She was small, but there was a boldness in her presence that pulled attention. Her silhouette hinted at old-world curves, unapologetically feminine, wrapped in modern elegance. Her hair, black as spilled ink, moved like it had stories to tell. Her eyes—dark, knowing—didn’t just look at you, they read you.

  And that smile? It wasn’t coy. It was deliberate. A quiet dare. Like she already knew where your mind would go next—and didn’t mind.

  No, I didn’t remember her. Which wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement for a future forensic investigator supposedly blessed with a flawless memory.

  I smiled, a little embarrassed.

  “Sorry. I really don’t remember you.”

  “No big deal. What matters is—you won’t forget me now,” Lillian grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “Let’s go to my place. Time to plot some revenge.”

  Before I could react, she jumped up from the bench and tugged me along.

  Chatting the whole way, we made it to the glider stop and zipped straight into the heart of the Central District.

  A few stops later, we stepped out onto Clayton Street and headed toward a tall residential tower—Lillian’s place.

  “I only fear two things in life: snakes and heights,” she said as we reached her apartment door. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find something specifically on the second floor.”

  “Why live in the city center then? Do you work nearby?” I asked while slipping off my shoes in the narrow hallway—wedged between the front door and an enormous wardrobe that seemed... strangely out of place.

  I was still wondering what anyone would need a closet that massive for when Lillian kicked off her skyscraper heels, opened one of the doors, and neatly placed them on a little stand inside. The mystery unraveled fast. The entire wardrobe was packed with shoes—dozens of styles, most of them with heels that looked like a threat to public safety.

  “That wardrobe’s a gift from my ex-lover. So is the apartment—his farewell present,” Lillian said, catching my expression. Then she looked me straight in the eye and added, tone sharp and unapologetic:

  “And just so we’re clear from the start—my great-grandmother was a full-blooded succubus. So yes, I do like men.”

  I just shrugged and nodded. I’d never had a problem with succubi—and I wasn’t one of those women who saw them as a threat. Everyone’s got their own brand of crazy, right?

  Seeing that her confession didn’t faze me, Lillian relaxed and finally answered my question.

  “I live in the center because I work just a few blocks away—at Brun & Co.”

  That earned her a second look. Brun & Co. was one of the top law firms in the country.

  I followed her inside and asked, a bit too casually,

  “So… you’re a secretary?”

  She smirked knowingly.

  “No. I’m a divorce lawyer. One of the best in the city, and no, I’m not being humble.”

  I flushed. “Sorry—I wasn’t trying to stereotype you. You’re just… gorgeous, and you kind of give off that whole ‘enchanted ex-lover’ vibe, you know?’”

  Lillian chuckled.

  “Alice, have you seen yourself? Curls, floral dress, eyes full of wonder—and you’re studying at the Academy of Arcane Forensics.”

  Okay, I walked into that one.

  We stepped into a spacious kitchen—and there he was.

  A massive ginger cat sprawled out like royalty right on the dining table. He flicked his tail and let out a pointed meow when he spotted us.

  Lillian walked over and scratched behind his ear. The cat narrowed his eyes in pure bliss and started purring like an old engine warming up.

  “Meet Sebastian,” she said with dramatic affection. “The most important man in my life. Friends call him Busty.”

  Sebastian stretched, leapt off the table, and strutted over to me. He sniffed my shoes first, then my hand when I crouched down and offered it. After a quick inspection, he bumped his broad forehead into my palm.

  “You’ve been approved,” Lillian said. “Busty rarely lets strangers pet him.”

  I smiled and gave him a scratch under the chin. He licked my hand, meowed once more, and strolled out of the kitchen with a kind of practiced dignity.

  “He’s magnificent,” I said, settling at the table and glancing around.

  The kitchen reflected a love for function over fluff. Everything was clean and orderly. A single dark glass teacup sat in the sink. The dining table was simple and round, made of pale hardwood—sturdy and elegant, surrounded by solid chairs with no frilly carvings but clearly the work of skilled hands. The curtains were sheer and modern, no ruffles or girlish accents. Everything felt intentional, clean, quietly expensive.

  Honestly, this was exactly how I’d design my own space—once I managed to escape the university dorms and get an apartment of my own. I’d definitely steal a few ideas from Lillian’s setup.

  She tapped a crystal embedded beneath a sleek chrome teapot and measured out tea into a white infuser. After wiping down the table (thanks to Sebastian’s earlier nap), she pulled two cups from the cupboard and placed them in front of me.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Then she opened a large refrigeration unit—one of those high-end models—and brought out butter, cheese, and slices of salami. Last came a box of bright orange pastries.

  “All right,” she declared, “snack first, revenge planning second.”

  Just the sight of the food made me realize how hungry I was.

  “Want help? I can slice the bread,” I offered.

  “Sit, it’s done,” she replied, pulling a warm straw-colored basket from a sleek bread box. The subtle logo marked it as one of those clever brands known for smart kitchen gear—keeps bread soft, slightly warm, like it had just come out of the oven.

  Once everything was set, she joined me at the table.

  “When I saw you at Tea Blossom with your boyfriend,” she said casually, “I thought he looked a little too sweet and shiny. Like he was trying too hard to impress his rich friends. All coiled up like a snake in a bowtie. He left you sitting alone while he schmoozed around, tail wagging.”

  She sipped her tea, watching me over the rim of her cup.

  “You just sat there reading, completely unfazed. I remember thinking—either that girl is unbothered, or she’s in another world entirely.”

  I didn’t remember that exact day, but it made sense. Philip and I used to stop by that teahouse all the time—it was just around the corner from the Academy, and a favorite among students. And yes, he did have a habit of leaving me alone at the table while he flitted around chatting with his friends.

  Not that I minded. Throughout my years at the Academy, I’d never felt bored in my own company. The moment I had a sliver of free time, I’d drift off into my research. Always another angle to explore. Another theory to test.

  So I just shrugged.

  “I’ve always had better things to do than throw tantrums.”

  Lillian gave me a look.

  “Men need to be trained. Kept on their toes. A little drama now and then never hurts a relationship.”

  I tilted my head, unsure whether she was joking.

  “I don’t know… I never really thought about it like that. I guess I just believe in being yourself. Mutual respect. And drama doesn’t exactly fit into that—at least not for me.”

  She studied me for a moment, then smiled softly.

  “You grew up in a happy, well-adjusted family, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I reached for the bread and began spreading butter across the slice.

  Lillian didn’t press.

  “Alright,” she said, her tone shifting as she poured the tea. “Back to the revenge plan.”

  Then she stood up and disappeared for a few minutes. When she came back, Lillian was carrying a standard crystal reader. She sat back at a table and started scrolling through something invisible in the air, swiping with two fingers like she was reviewing a case file.

  “You’ve mentioned Philip being interested in becoming a lawyer, let me run a few checks…”

  I watched her in anticipation, and within a few minutes, she said:

  “You’re not going to believe this! He is even more of an idiot than I thought he was…”

  “What is it?” I asked impatiently.

  “Weekly intake summaries. They push flagged entries to all senior associates for review.” Her voice was casual, but I could see it—her grin was starting. “It’s mostly dull. One guy tried to list a phoenix egg as a dependent. But then…”

  She tapped the air, and the arcane interface flared. She tilted it so I could see.

  Name: Philip Alvarien

  Application: Ascendancy Legal Internship Program

  Status: Application Invalidated – Fabricated Documentation Confirmed

  I almost dropped the teacup.

  “No…” I said, “He really did this? To Brun & Co.? Of all firms?”

  “Oh yes,” Lillian replied, scrolling through the attached documentation. “He listed himself as a ‘descendant of House Alvarien, direct bloodline of minor nobility from the First Estate of Alvarien. Which—by the way—doesn’t exist.”

  She tapped another file open.

  “And this? A glowing recommendation from Senior Fellow of the Concordian Legal Forum T. Harrow. Except Harrow’s signature on that letter doesn’t match our registry… At all. Our audit team flagged it within two seconds.”

  She closed the illusion with a satisfied flick of her fingers and turned to me, positively glowing.

  “Normally, an associate would just deny it through the system,” She paused.

  “But now… I’m thinking—no. This one deserves delivery.”

  She opened a drawer, pulled out a black envelope lined with silver.

  “Tracebound, urgent-priority. Will locate the recipient anywhere on the continent. Standard protocol for serious rejections.”

  I stared at her. “What do you have in mind?”

  She smiled sweetly, sealing the envelope with a tap of her wand ring.

  “Timing is everything. Tell me more about his lifestyle and places he likes to go to with his important friends”

  ***

  That same evening, still giggling under our breaths, we arrived at a fancy restaurant just down the street from the Academy. It was a popular spot among the wealthier students—Philip included. He’d started frequenting it even more after he began dating the Headmaster’s daughter.

  Back when Philip and I used to come here, I’d made friends with one of the waitresses—bright smile, fast wit. We used to sneak out through the side door to talk in peace. Philip hated that. Said people like her didn’t belong in my world. So, I just kept that ongoing connection to myself.

  Now, thinking back on it, I realized something: I never saw Philip as someone truly close to me. I didn’t lie to people I considered close. So why was I with him in the first place?

  Was it just the human urge to feel… wanted? Desired? Maybe. After all, I’d always had stronger bonds with my father than with my mother. And my grandfather—I’d adored him since I was little. I loved my mom and late grandmother, of course. But it always felt like we were tuned to different frequencies.

  Now this friendship helped me and Lillian to get to a table in the shadowy corner near the side exit unnoticed. The server brought us tea and water. Lillian didn’t touch hers. She leaned back, crossed her legs, and casually tilted her head toward the center of the room.

  Our spot was ideal. We could see everything, but no one noticed us.

  There he was—Philip, surrounded by his usual entourage, laughing too loudly and gesturing like he was desperate to prove he belonged. His fiancée sat quietly beside him.

  Lillian’s fingers tapped a quiet rhythm on the table.

  “I queued the courier enchantment ten minutes ago,” she murmured. “Any second now.”

  I blinked, focused, and looked back to the center of the room.

  Our little operation was in motion. All that was left was to watch it unfold.

  Right on cue, a ripple of silver shimmered in the air above Philip’s table. Diners paused mid-sentence, forks halfway to their mouths. A scroll materialized out of thin air, sealed in violet wax and trailing faint glimmers like embers.

  Philip stopped talking.

  The scroll floated, spun once, and unrolled itself with a sharp snap. At its top was the unmistakable seal of Brun & Co., Office of Legal Review.

  Lillian sipped her tea, expression serene.

  “This notice is issued to Philip Alvarien regarding your recent application to the Ascendancy Legal Internship.”

  The scroll’s voice was crisp, polite—and just loud enough to be heard by the entire room.

  “Your request has been denied on the grounds of material misrepresentation, including but not limited to:

  — A falsified recommendation from Senior Fellow of the Concordian Legal Forum T. Harrow

  — A forged noble lineage seal from House Alvarien.

  A murmur rolled through the restaurant like a wave. Philip’s friends turned toward him. His fiancée froze, wineglass hovering mid-air.

  Then came the final flourish: a glowing sigil flared above the scroll—DISQUALIFIED— rotating mid-air in a slow, damning spin—utterly unmissable.

  Philip jumped up and reached for the scroll like he could stuff it back into silence. Too late.

  “Brun & Co maintains a zero-tolerance policy for falsified applications. You are hereby blacklisted from all affiliate legal internships for a period of five academic years.”

  The scroll flared once, then dissolved into a wisp of smoke. The DISQUALIFIED sigil lingered for a beat longer, then popped like a soap bubble.

  The silence that followed was delicious.

  Philip stood motionless, face pale. His fiancée was already rising from her seat.

  “Is that true?” she asked.

  He stammered something, eyes darting between her and his friends, who were now suddenly very busy not making eye contact.

  Lillian leaned slightly toward me, eyes never leaving the scene.

  “I give her thirty seconds.”

  I said nothing, watching the fiancée gather her purse and stride out without waiting for Philip to follow.

  He hesitated, halfway between chasing after her and defending himself. Then he looked around and realized no one was on his side.

  I couldn’t help it. I smiled.

  Lillian finally turned to me, lifting her cup.

  “To well-documented consequences.”

  I clinked my glass of water against hers.

  We didn’t stick around to watch the aftermath. Slipping quietly through the side exit, we made it to the street and burst into uncontrollable laughter—loud enough to startle a passerby, who gave us a wide-eyed look and quickened their pace.

  From that night on, there was no one closer to me than Lillian. I even rented an apartment in her building—just to be near.

  That was months ago. Tonight, Lillian was once again at my door—arms crossed, already scolding.

  “Alice, seriously—tired? No excuses,” Lillian said, already halfway through my door. “You’re coming over with that report first, then you can sleep. Go shower, I’ll reheat dinner. You’re probably starving, and I bet there’s nothing edible at your place—as usual.”

  I sighed in defeat.

  “There’s no stopping you, is there, you relentless pest?”

  She smirked.

  “Fifteen minutes,” I added, shutting the door behind her victorious exit and dragging myself to the shower.

  By the time I made it to her kitchen, dinner was ready—simple, delicious, and plated with the kind of care that doesn’t need to be explained. I gave Lillian a grateful look and immediately dove in.

  “When are you going to stop living like a chronic bachelor and learn to eat properly?” she asked, sipping her tea from an oversized mug.

  “I was going to grab food at the tavern, but it slipped my mind,” I mumbled through a mouthful. Then I added, with shameless flattery, “Besides, I have you—the best chef in all of Vraveil.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s obviously manipulative, but I’ll allow it.”

  Then, with the gleam of gossip in her eyes, she leaned forward.

  “Alright—spill. First day. Your team. And most importantly… Thorne the Gorgeous?”

  Lillian had seen an arcanegraph of Raen six months ago when the papers ran a story about his arrest of the vampire serial killer. Ever since, she’d swooned every time his name came up. Not even my past account—how Raen had led the investigation that ended with my father’s death—could dim the shimmer of his romantic reputation in her eyes.

  As far as Lillian was concerned, if the case had been dropped, there must’ve been good reason. She frequently reminded me that it wasn’t Raen’s decision alone. And she never missed a chance to convince me that blaming him was, at best, dramatic.

  I gave her a brief recap of the day and mentioned Raen’s apology.

  Sebastian wandered into the kitchen, rubbed against my legs, and started purring the moment I scratched behind his ears.

  “You see?” Lillian said, taking my empty plate to the sink. “The man apologized. He’s clearly not a monster, Alice. You act like he personally orchestrated everything that happened to your father and that friend of yours. He didn’t. You know that.”

  She sat back down. Sebastian, ever opportunistic, leapt onto my lap and curled into a satisfied loaf.

  As I ran my fingers through his thick fur, I let her words settle.

  Some part of me did agree with her. But I couldn’t let it go.

  He hadn’t done everything he could have. Everything he should have done—as an investigator. As a professional. As someone who could’ve made a different call.

  “No.” I said firmly, “He didn’t do enough. Not then. Not when it mattered.”

  It wasn’t the first time we’d had this argument, and I doubted it would be the last. We always ended up right where we started. But I never held it against Lillian for not taking my side. If anything, I admired her for it—for her honesty, her refusal to sugarcoat the truth just because she cared about me.

  “Alice,” she said, setting her tea down with a soft clink, “you know I have a sixth sense for men. I may not know this Thorne personally, but he seems like a solid investigator. Stop picking him apart. You’ve been following his career for years. You joined his team. This is bordering on obsession. Honestly? You should see a mind-weaver.”

  I didn’t dignify the “mind-weaver” comment with a response. Instead, I said thoughtfully:

  “I think his guilt might be useful to me. I could leverage it to reopen the case.”

  Lillian’s teasing expression faded. The usual sparkle in her eyes disappeared, replaced by something colder—harder.

  She went quiet for a moment, then spoke, her tone sharp:

  “Then you need to figure out what it is you actually want. Do you want justice for your father and to punish the real killer? That, I could respect. Truly.

  But if what you want is to make Thorne suffer for a decision he didn’t make alone—if all of this is about revenge—then I’m disappointed in you.”

  I lowered my gaze, heat rising to my cheeks.

  Of course, she understood. Of course, she knew why I’d chosen to join his team. Lillian knew me too well not to see through me.

  “And I’ll say this too,” she added, folding her arms. “Your whole plan to reopen the case? Honestly, it’s naive. I know you’re in pain. I know what you lost. But it’s been eight years, Alice. All you’ve got now are papers in an archive. Torian is gone. You can’t take a blood sample. You can’t use your gift.”

  Lillian and my grandfather were the only ones who ever believed in my ability to read water. To hear her say that—so plainly—felt like something breaking inside me.

  The tears came before I could stop them, slipping down onto Sebastian, who yowled, flicked his back, and leapt off my lap in protest.

  Lillian sighed—one of those deep, soul-weary sighs—and stood.

  She pulled closer and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Then she stroked my hair, gently, like she used to in our early days of friendship, and murmured,

  “Hey, hey… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just want you to look at things as they are, not as you wish they could be. You’re smart, brave, and you’re a good person... You’ve got this incredible job now, a gift that could help people. Maybe that’s what you should focus on.

  I know you’re hurting. I know what you’ve lost. But you can’t bring them back. And if your dad and your friend were here… they’d want you to live. To be happy.

  Revenge doesn’t fix anything, Alice. It just eats at you from the inside. Let go of that weight. Please. I only want good things for you, my favorite girl.”

  I wiped my face and gave her a crooked smile.

  “And this is coming from the woman who dragged me into a revenge plot the day we met?”

  Lillian pulled back, put on a mock-serious face, and said,

  “Excuse me. That man ghosted you and ditched you for the Headmaster’s daughter. That was public service.”

  Then she cracked up. I couldn’t help laughing too.

  Sebastian gave us both a tired, disgusted look, as if we’d completely lost our minds, and padded out of the kitchen with his tail flicking in judgment.

  And as we laughed, I thought: I really did have the best friend in the world.

  She saw the darkest parts of me—and never once walked away.

  I still wasn’t sure how far I’d go when it came to Raen. I didn’t know if I had the strength to chase ghosts again—or if I’d just lose myself trying. But I did know one thing with complete certainty.

  Whatever I chose to do—Lillian would be there for me.