[Jevan Perspective]

In life sometimes you go through unexpected situations, and that's normal, but for almost all the situations I go through to be completely unexpected, that's honestly an exaggeration. I mean, who is this man with the colored hair, and why does he act like he knows me? And what was the deal with that ice spear he shot at me? If it weren't for my nature as someone with burning fast reflexes, I'd be a frozen corpse lying on the shop's floor right now… No, even with my heightened senses, he almost hit me. If not for the mask amplifying them tenfold, I'd already be dead.

Was he testing me? Did he just want to confirm that I am indeed that masked figure?

I was walking behind Corvin, who was in turn walking behind that strange man. Corvin's expression told me a lot: first, the relationship between them was anything but friendly. Second, it was obvious this man outranked him within the gang. Even so, he didn't strike me as the boss himself, more like a strong subordinate close to him. And honestly, that made a lot of sense. Why would the boss himself bother to come here?

We stopped when that man halted in front of a simple carriage waiting outside. There was nothing remarkable about the carriage, it was just an ordinary wooden cart. The man got in first. Corvin turned to me, as if asking, "Will you allow me to get in?"

I gestured with my hand for him to go ahead. It was a polite gesture from me, or so I thought. But instead of feeling reassured, his face grew even paler, and he kept staring at the carriage for a while before finally climbing in. I followed after him.

As soon as we were all inside, the carriage moved. Corvin was sitting between me and that man. Now I understood why his face had gone pale after all, who would want to sit next to the man with the colored hair?

That got me thinking: which gang exactly does Corvin belong to? Sure, he owns a shop, but I think it's nothing more than a cover. But it's hard to believe his work is limited to smuggling people and forging identities. Maybe he works as an informant on the side?

That man cut my train of thought with his cold voice:

"What is the reason for your reappearance?"

I turned my eyes toward him only, not bothering to move my head. And apparently he thought the same, since he didn't turn his head toward me either.

"What do you mean?"

He replied in a dry tone:

"I'm not in the mood for this nonsense. Why did you disappear for years without doing anything, then suddenly return and assassinate one of the claw men?"

I chuckled lightly:

"Oh, that's what you mean? Honestly, I didn't even know he was one of the claw men. His men just ruined my meal, so I made him pay the price. Nothing more, nothing less."

That wasn't the truth, but apparently it was convincing enough for him. The moment he heard my answer, he turned back to the window.

Well, this was a big problem. It seemed this man knew the real Jevan under the masked identity I was supposed to be wearing now. If he believed me that easily…

I'd have to retrain young Jevan from scratch.

It was clear the kid had gone astray. I don't think this deviation began with the Street Sons; that woman Yara would never have allowed it, even if he wanted to. Which meant the change in his character must have started after he left her for sure. And when Vensen asked me about the others, it seemed there were some kind of coercive circumstances behind it.

I just hope he's alright now.

***

[Ash Perspective]

It's only been a few days since I made that damned contract with the lunatic masked man with the black mask. When you live in the Lower District and work with gangs, you witness plenty of supernatural phenomena, especially in the Eastern Quarter where their owners gather in great numbers. And though they try to hide their powers, it's glaringly obvious to those who know where to look. But a book where if you agree to sell your soul you literally become a slave to whoever holds it I never expected to see something like that in my life.

I was lying on an old piece of cloth when I heard the grating, annoying voice of that crow:

"Servant, come here."

I exhaled heavily and got up from my place. Ever since I sold my soul, the word dignity no longer applied to me. I now lived in an abandoned storeroom reeking of dust and rusty iron, with no companion but this talking crow and calling him a companion was absurd, for he was nothing but an irritating bird. When I reached him, he was perched atop a crate. The moment I stood before him, I raised my head then knelt on my knees and said:

"What do you want, great Lord Crow?"

"Nothing, go back to your place."

My fists clenched on my thighs as I tried to stop myself from cursing him. In the end, I managed to restrain myself and returned to my dark corner. But as soon as I laid my head on the cloth, I barely heard his voice again:

"Servant, come here."

I swallowed more curses, and finally got up again, head bowed, back bent. When I stood before him, I knelt again and said:

"What do you want, great crow?"

He spread his wings and screeched in my face:

"It's Lord Crow the Great to you, you foolish servant! Say it again."

I ground my teeth, nearly losing control. I wanted to roast him alive. But I restrained myself and said:

"Forgive me, Lord Crow the Great, I won't repeat this mistake again."

"good Now leave."

I stood and returned again to my piece of cloth. But the moment I lay down, I heard his voice again:

"Servant, come here."

My stomach growled with hunger as I dragged my feet toward this annoying bird. I raised my eyes when I reached him, only to find the masked man standing beside the crow, looking at me with his green eyes from behind the mask.

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