A mournful tolling rippled through the room, causing the person tucked into the quilted bed to stir. Kuro struggled to open his gluey eyelids and blink the sleep away. The sound of the bell went on. He turned his head to the unobstructed square of a window overlooking a steeple.

  He wondered what the ringing meant.

  Deliriously, he thought it could be a wedding. Or maybe it told the time. That would be the simplest answer.

  Slowly, he pushed into an upright position and the blankets slipped down. He froze. The gut he’d grown used to seeing above his toes was suddenly gone — and not just gone, but replaced with a rack of flat abs.

  An electric shiver surged through him, but it was too soon to celebrate. There was still a weakness in his limbs and a dizziness behind his eyes. Leaning back against the bedframe, he contented himself with admiring them for now.

  The door creaked, swinging inward, and Cinti popped in with a surprised gasp.

  “You’re finally up, you crazy fool!”

  She headed straight for the windowsill, taking in the steeple glittering under the hazy sunset-gold. But Kuro only had eyes for one view. It felt good to see a familiar face so soon after waking. With a gentle breeze rolling in, her hair, which poured loosely past her shoulders, billowed gently behind her.

  “What happened? I could have sworn we were in the forest…” Kuro said, clearing his throat quietly.

  “After you fell unconscious again, we brought you to the city. Thank God you made it.” She turned to him with a sorrowful expression. “I don’t think my conscience could handle another death.”

  She came over to him and reached under the bed. Pulling out a wooden footstool, she took a seat and stared at him. Kuro held her gaze. He couldn’t believe she had worried about him that much, but it felt good.

  “The cook is preparing lunch. I’ll ask him for a tray and bring it for you if you feel up to eating.”

  Kuro nodded, still groggy.

  “Where are we?” he said, glancing around.

  “Mistifa — high elf territory. We’re here to hunt muskrats, remember?”

  “What?”

  Kuro leaned forward a little, eyes wide. He searched Cinti’s face for a hint of an explanation or the punchline of a joke.

  “After everything that happened, we’re still doing that?” he scoffed. “Why the hell would we?”

  The idea of fighting anything at that point, especially filthy rats, appalled him. He wanted to take a long soak in a tub and recover his strength at his own pace.

  But Cinti only shrugged. “The last I checked, we still needed money.”

  “Didn’t we get any money for our good deed in that nightmare of an outpost? We almost died.”

  “Unfortunately not,” she said, shaking her head. “The girl we rescued, Mahara, was merely a servant. But at least it got us lodging here at the household of her masters. They even paid a physician to give you a full checkup.”

  Kuro went cold. A sense of unease filled him as he considered what a “full checkup” included.

  Cinti knitted her brows. “Anyway, we’ve already spent up their hospitality, so we won’t be paid. On the bright side, you acquired your first summon. And an imp, no less!”

  “Oh, yeah… I almost forgot,” Kuro said. “Alright. Let’s see the little troublemaker who almost killed me.”

  He glanced around the room. “Where is it?”

  Cinti gave a dainty chuckle behind her hand. “You have to summon it, silly.”

  Spotting the orb floating at the foot of the bed, he beckoned it with a thought. The orb drifted over and hovered in the air beside him.

  “I summon… Imp?”

  The orb shimmered and expanded, projecting a rip in space. Within it was a black void from which the imp emerged and stepped onto the blankets. Except, that once fearsome demon waddled out looking like a toddler, chubby cheeks and all. Around its neck was a collar that corresponded with the color of the orb. But besides the clunky neckpiece, the imp was adorable. Kuro stared at those big dark eyes, the much tinier set of horns and cloven feet, the miniature forked tail, and he burst out laughing.

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  “What happened to you?”

  “I can change forms, didn’t you know that? No, you didn’t, because you know nothing,” the imp snarled. “Just my bad fortune to end up with an idiot for a master.”

  Kuro blinked back his shock at the scathing response. It felt so out of character with the way the imp looked. But it didn’t really bother him. So ignoring the demon’s harshness, he dove into his first question.

  “Right, anyway… What’s your nam— ”

  “Stop it,” Cinti said. “You’re speaking Vilhallen, the tongue of demons. You can’t do that around here, not even if you think no one is listening.”

  Kuro snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t even noticed he’d switched to another language. It was so seamless. It only made sense that if he were to command this creature, he would need to communicate with it.

  There were a ton of questions he still wanted to ask. He tried to speak again in his original language, but a rush of dizziness sent him straight back into the pillows. In a spark like glass breaking, the summoning failed and the imp was sucked back into the orb.

  Cinti sprang to her feet, pressing her hand to his forehead. Shaking her head, she sighed and tutted like a nursemaid.

  “I’m sorry for pushing you. Get some more rest. We still have lots to do here.”

  Kuro groaned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Muskrats,” she said, making her way to the door.

  He let out another groan.

  ***

  By the next evening, Cinti had their things packed and Kuro was back on his feet. They didn’t see Mahara, who had remained shut in her room since the day they returned from Lord Grod’s Wood. Whispers shared between the other servants reached their ears. Kuro had cringed internally when he heard someone on the stairwell on his way down, saying it would have been better if she hadn’t returned at all.

  Mahara’s sister was the only servant who saw them off and even kissed Kuro on the cheek in thanks. Except, she never met his eyes and hurried back inside while their hosts said the final goodbyes. Cinti nudged him suggestively when the doors shut. But he shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, but what was with the mood in there?” he muttered. “I thought they were grateful, but besides her sister, it’s like they didn’t want her to come back.”

  “You’re not wrong. While you were resting, the family she works for started discussing what they should do with her. They will be merciful, but it’s true that they think she would have been better off dying with their countrymen.”

  Kuro whipped around as if she’d slapped him. “Are you serious?”

  She nodded and ushered him away from that gloomy house, into the heart of the city.

  “To be raped is humiliating enough, but to be raped by goblins, orcs, and especially demons is a fate worse than death for an elf.”

  After all they had gone through to save her, those words felt like an insult to Kuro. He had half a mind to turn back and get her, but when he glanced at Cinti, her eyes were focused on the path ahead. Was there really anything he could do for that elf when he was relying on Cinti’s help to get by. He didn’t have a home or a job. What could he do for that girl?

  They continued toward the city square in silence. While he was recovering, Cinti had explained that Mistifa was one of a few high elf cities on the continent of Fondas, the elven nation. She’d described the streets as made of the most polished and pristine cobblestone, and she hadn’t exaggerated. As Kuro stared at his feet, he marvelled at the shimmering stone beneath. And when he looked up, gilded buildings that rose five stories high were a common sight. Carriages pulled by centaurs throttled past, forcing him to step aside, while elves rode through the sky on the backs of flying beasts. It was more overwhelming than he’d thought it would be. He let himself be taken by that wonder, choosing to forget about the hopeless thoughts that nagged him earlier.

  “Are those dragons?” he said.

  Cinti followed his line of focus and smiled a little to herself.

  “Those are dagons. They’re essentially non-intelligent, smaller, and more primitive versions of a dragon. Trust me when you see a dragon, you’ll know. It will be one of the most terrifying moments of your life.”

  Kuro nodded. “So like what an ape is to a human. Got it.”

  Mistifa’s open displays of power and pomp easily impressed him, but more impressive than their wealth, were their women. It felt criminal to gaze at any one of them for too long. It was as though he hadn’t earned the right or paid the proper price for what his wandering eyes lingered on.

  The elven women were flawless. Not one blemish on their porcelain skin. They radiated vitality and youth. Even their silky, fair hair spilled like waterfalls down graceful backs. Kuro couldn't help but have his head on a swivel as the women, standing eye-to-eye with him at six-feet, walked by in slinky, sheer outfits that left nothing to the imagination.

  They put those slender bodies and petite figures on full display without shame. Eyes like jewels of all colours stared back at Kuro, before they flashed sparkling white teeth in smiles brimming with pity. He must look like a dog in heat to them.

  Cinti refused to acknowledge his obvious pining, keeping her eyes straight ahead, but blushing hard.

  Suddenly, she said, “If you’re quite done gawking, we’ve arrived.”

  Kuro dragged his gaze off a passing group of elves and dumbly said, “Huh? Where exactly?”

  But as he turned his attention, he was met with a pair of tall wooden double doors and a sign hung above it that read: Guild of Mistifa.

  Cinti stared at the entrance with him for a bit before releasing a long sigh, like she’d been holding onto dread for the entire journey.

  In an undertone, she said, “Let’s just get this over with.”

  She pushed open the doors with Kuro close behind, and dozens of faces immediately turned to stare right at them.