“Stupid boy!” Furious, I knock over half the knickknacks on the table onto the floor, breathing so angrily my chest rises and falls like a bellows. As if it isn’t enough he almost was exiled, he leaves guaranteed safety to have a temper tantrum. Perhaps I should just leave him to exile, have him learn it all the hard way. “This ungrateful—!”

Slamming my fist on the desk, I settle myself back down on the seat, head throbbing. My eyes closing, I massage my temples as I try to steady my pulse.

There's no point in chasing after him. This pig-headed son of mine always resorts to his emotions over reason. I'll never reach him if it isn't something he already wants to hear.

The door opens. “You both get so angry so quickly. Definitely related.”

“Keep your comments to yourself.” I glance over at the floor as Ete slips in from my peripheral vision to take a running dive for the couch. One of the things I knocked over was non-descript chest the size of a small cat. Varying sizes of envelopes lay fallen on the ground, along with some particular papers and an intrically carved authorization stamp. There’s spilled ink on the floor from the cracked inkwell.

“Suuuure thing~” Ete yawns over where they’ve likely settled comfortably. It sounds like a whale. “But remember, if Henry dies, it’s game over.”

I frown, already standing up again already. The chair knocks against the wall behind me.

“It’s okay.” Ete waves a lazy hand, causing me to halt in mid stride towards the door. “That’s in the original ending! Not now. You’ve avoided the public lynching and warned him about Lily, so he’s not going anywhere.”

Shuffling through the papers, I catch sight of deeds, contracts, and IOUs, and...

Lysander Narh,

Your son has become an eyesore,

My fists wrinkle the paper further. There's no sender on the front or the back. “Ete...how does my son die in this novel?”

“Hmm.” Lackadaisical, Ete rests the heels over their shoes over the arm of the sofa. “You  know, originally, they locked and imprisoned him for three days without food and water in the castle dungeon just because they could. They beat him up so badly his father—the guy you’re in—didn’t even recognize him. You washed your hands or him and pretended you never had a son.”

My fists clenched, discomfit boils in my stomach.

“And then,” Ete continues, “they sent him out of the country where he gets beaten, starved, and dies of sickness and lovesickness.” Ete peers over their shoulder at me, black-eyed gaze wide. “Kinda melodramatic, but that’s writing.”

“What is the point of this novel?”

“Oh, you think that’s bad? Technically, he’s the second male lead too. Probably author had to kill him because he got too popular. In fact maybe it’s better if we go find him, because what if he’s in danger right now?”

My hands drop the papers, and I immediately rise to stand.

“Or not?” That knowing smile again.

“You little—“

“Why so mad, Lee Huang?” Ete says, gleefully, as soon as my hand grabs their lapel, pulling it up to my nose. “He told me he was headed home first, so that’s not going to happen.” They cackles in my face as I fling them away in disgust.

What a blasted creature. I don’t know if it’s better or worse it’s so hands-off.

I get distracted halfway, reading through papers and information as I find them. Sunset comes and goes by the time I've sorted everything into a system. Cool moonlight streaks across the paper on the table, and the window behind me paints bars around my shadow on the door.

Dragging the wooden door open, occassional specks of moonlight drip through the dark hallway. 

My steps are even. The briefcase under my arm feels like some sort of ammunition, grounding in better sorts as I close the door after Ete. "How much can you help and how much can't you? Or is your assistance limited to you hovering over my shoulder and being a nuisance?"

Long limbs wrap around my shoulders as it swings around my body playfully in answer. At the candlelight in the distance, Ete's form twists back into humanity. They pick up the holder, one finger held to their lips. "I can't interfere and you can't tell anyone about me. Those are the only two rules. But how much I help...it depends."

I think back to that gathering--the value that young prince seemed to claim his father had placed in me. The King... "What is your cost?"

"You being interesting! Kekeke~”

Ete takes me through exterior hallways, down a grand staircase where the chandeliers at dim candle glow hang above us. A few other stragglers are headed out--presumably at the end of the day, but none of them wear the fine, neutral masks that I saw in that auditorium. Outside the prestigious doors is a cobblestone road that curves in circular fashion towards the entrance.

The driver of the last waiting carriage removes his hat at our approach. I have no taste in these things, but its design is neutral rather than ridiculous, painted well. The two horses with blinders paw their hooves lightly on the ground, but otherwise remain still.

Beside him is a tall, strong, broad-shouldered man wearing light armor, who salutes with the flat of his fist thunked over his breastplate. "Sir," he utters respectfully. He has a square jaw and his hair cropped short, with scars aligning up one eye and lips. One of his his gloved, armored hands sits upon the hilt of a broadsword hanging from his waist. At his deference, I can only assume I am his employer, though why he'd be at the carriage and not outside my workroom in the case of an attack seems questionable.

Even standing at him from this distance, I falter. Ete peers at him, head craning forward with a strange smile on their face. The man doesn't even look at them, eyes resting on some space over my shoulder and past my head.

"You're boring as always, Bayiz. Good evening, Rewez." A look back over their shoulder tells me that Ete's naming them for my benefit.

"Good evening, Nalii." The driver accepts the candle and holder that Ete has passed onto them, head bowed respectfully as Ete enters the carriage. "Sir, the young master has already been sent home. Shall I take you that way as well?"

"Thank you...Rewez. Yes, do that." Both the armored man and the driver bow their heads respectfully. With a breath, the candle goes out and we are all wreathed in the darkness where the moon does not touch. 

Unsure of what else to do or say, I enter the carriage.

Ete's dark other eyes and teeth greet me when I sit down, but we're not alone. In the front, I can feel the weight change as the two sit. Across from me, is a figure wearing a hooded cloak. The mask is different than the ones I saw this afternoon; where theirs were blank, almost plain white with Venetian-styled gold trimming, this mask is but a black, flat, curved slate.

My shoulders stiffen. "Who are you?"

"Akun Amoateng of the Nine greets his Master," weedles the voice of an old, ancient man. One gloved hand holds at his heart, the skin that peeks out from his sleeve is thin but decorated. Trace designs of tattoo circle his wrists and seem to lead further out. "I come to report to you as is my duty as your broker."

It's one after another. Lsyander was more than just a merchant, it seems. Then again, information is always a strong source of currency.

"Just as a heads up, nobody from this novel can hear or see me in this form." Ete circles him. The old man does not move save for the slight tilting of his head in Ete's direction. "He can sense me, though. All those connected to the Aether of the world can sense an intruder that doesn't belong to it."

The carriage ride jostles. Ete slides their way to curl chin over my shoulder, a small purring in my ears. Akun hasn’t said anything, appearing to be waiting for my approval, so I give it.

"We remain in contact with Tawia in the western provinces, with all going according to plan. The Rahana retinue will return back to their country with promises that they will speak to their leader. The opposing nobles in the lower circle are speaking of drafting a bill that may change the market value of sugar and salt. And," the old man pauses, "Agyeihi has informed me that the black market is in chaos. A strange, foreign magical device has been put up for auction."

I won't deny the growing interest. "A magical device," I repeat carefully. So far I've seen a desk-sized deposit box, mentions of mana crystals, and a creature known as Ete, but I've yet to see how magic works in this world.

"We do not know its origins, but it is a strange one. It is the size of a man's palm, rectangular. Light appears from one end with strange symbols and images we have never heard before." As he describes it, his hands move. "It plays sounds, and captures the souls of those who are caught when it wakes."

"A phone," Ete murmurs into my ears suddenly. "How lucky. You should ask this Man of the Nine to take you to the black market."

A phone won't really help me in the world of a novel. My eyebrows furrow, trying to understand the logic of it. "Is this from my world?" A plot device that was part of the original novel or something else?

"Master?" the old man asks. His tone is very carefully respectful. "I do not think it is. I have my warriors watching the movements of the market for now, but if you wish to acquire it, you need only say and I will prepare the funds."

The rocking of the carriage is beginning to nauseate me. I try to sit back only to have my back straightened further when we hit a particularly rocky part of the road. My hands curl on the sides of the seat as Ete titters in amusement around us.

I watch Ete tug open the sliding window at the side, close to the driver's side. The night air helps only a bit; my stomach churns. "Rewez," I demand, "which is closer, my home or this market?" If I'm not careful, I'll be throwing up.

"The market is a few minutes from here, sir."

The market it is. Once I've confirmed my interest, Akun stands and passes through the window as if there weren't cloth in the way, presumably to prepare for my arrival. 

The few minutes to destination kills me. I have Rewez stop at an alleyway, enough for me to stumble out and dry-heave next to a brick wall. It's dark enough outside that Ete keeps to its otherwordly form, but I'm not sick enough that the echo of a tens of voices doesn't make me feel even worse. After, Rewez offers to circle the area for an hour, while Bayiz remains dutifully at the ready for an arm to balance me.

It's easier than I thought to reach the market. There is no twisted turns or secret passwords. It is simply an overly large off-the-path building with a stable. As we near the entrance, Ete slips through the shadows and returns as a human to nobody's reaction, nevermind Bayiz who seems to act as if he doesn't see it.

Inside is a tavern. Tables and tables of men and women and all sorts of creatures sit and chat and eat together. At the end is one counter for the kitchen and its orders. On the other side there are stairs, presumably where yawning people are headed to get a good night's sleep.

I follow Bayiz's lead to a lobby. It's filled with more tables, but these ones are more booth-like in design for privacy. Signboards with postings are at every available side of the walls. At the end behind a wooden counter sits a receptionist in uniform.

"Please put out your hand," she requests, opening a grand book at our approach. At the bottom of her palm are strange tattooed markings. They glow a blue light when my hand approaches, and the same for Bayiz. For Ete, it stutters for a moment, turning black before it too turns a blue, but the receptionist acts as though this isn't a problem. "Thank you for complying. Please take a seat until a guide is assigned for you."

Eventually, a small pageboy arrives. He takes us through one of the many doors to a larger, open hall. From the looks of it, we are only on the second floor of a six story-high building. Busy people traverse past us until we arrive at a room with a balcony overseeing a large stage. An enchanted netting traces the edges and the overseeing ledge. Bayiz hands him coin for his services, and the door is closed shut, leaving us in awkward silence.

Or at least, me.

It's a comfortable, well-furnished room otherwise. The only real difference from my office earlier is that there are two chairs at the balcony, and a set of tea already waiting at the centre work table. There's carpeted flooring, a resting couch, a bookshelf with some books, and a work table with a comfortable looking chair. Ete takes a running leap for the ouch, stretching their long body on it in rest with their hands cushioning their head.

"Nalii," Bayiz utters. His voice is low and sharp in warning.

"The Master  is very forgiving to me," Ete cooes back. I watch Bayiz's hand clench into a fist. "Why don't you join me?"

Its cajoling is ignored. Instead of sitting, my guard elects to stand with his shoulders rigid and his gaze far away.

"Bayiz, right?" I ask, feeling odd to sit down. "How long have you working here?"

"Twelve years," Bayiz replies, without blinking.

"I see." He is a man who prefers not to speak much unless spoken to. I debate the strangeness until there is a pounding at the door.

At once, Bayiz steps in front of me to open it, while Ete remains lazy and useless on the couch.

“Ah!” On the other side of the door is a pale-faced, round-faced portly man. He has many rings on his fingers, and he is wiping his forehead with a soaked handkerchief. "Lysander, old friend," he splutters, shocked, fearful, “I, I, I know how much you enjoy your peace and quiets and I m-must apologize for disturbing you, I didn’t realize —“

I'm about to ask what for, when I hear an angry young woman’s voice.

"Sir Valentino, I don’t know what the hold up is.”

“Miss,” Valentino turns around, panicked and gestured, “you were to wait in the waiting rooms—“

“I always use this room. If there’s someone in here, just kick them out.”

“Miss, I really can’t—"

“Hey you, this room is reserved for—"

The door suddenly opens wider, and Lily Evanheart meets my gaze.