Chapter 106: That Smelled Like Trouble IX
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"Lily is a storm in a silk dress," Elena said. "Bat Bat is a storm with teeth and no shame."
Sekhmet’s brow lifted. "No shame."
Elena stared at him.
"She asked one of the maids why humans wear underwear," Elena said flatly.
Sekhmet paused.
Then he rubbed his forehead slowly.
"I see," he murmured.
Elena continued like she had been holding this grievance for hours.
"She also tried to bite a spoon because she thought it was shiny prey," Elena added. "Then she declared the spoon ’too hard’ and blamed the spoon for being rude."
Sekhmet exhaled.
"I am sorry," he said, voice dry.
Elena waved it off.
"I am not complaining," she lied.
Sekhmet stared at her.
Elena’s lips twitched again, and she finally admitted the truth.
"I am complaining," she corrected. "But her growth did increase. She listens when she feels challenged. Yesterday, Lily challenged me without meaning to. Today I took it personally."
Sekhmet’s eyes softened slightly.
"I appreciate it," he said.
Elena nodded.
Then her face grew serious again.
"Why did you call me here," she asked. "You could have asked all this in the hall."
Sekhmet’s gaze sharpened.
"Because," he said quietly, "I want you to watch Reyan from inside the house side. Not openly. Not like a spy. Like Elena."
Elena’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Sekhmet continued.
"You know everyone," he said. "You know how they act when they lie. You know who suddenly buys new jewelry when their salary does not allow it. You know who suddenly sends money to unknown relatives."
Elena’s expression hardened.
"I understand," she said.
Sekhmet’s voice remained calm, but the weight under it deepened.
"If Dawn House is being attacked," he said, "I will not let my father return to ashes."
Elena’s eyes softened slightly.
Not pity.
Pride.
She had raised him. She had watched him grow from a sharp-eyed child into a man who had survived a place that should have broken him.
"I will watch," Elena promised. "Quietly."
Sekhmet nodded once.
"Good," he said.
He stood.
Elena stood as well.
The meeting had not been warm.
It had been necessary.
That was how Dawn House survived. Not by comfort. By decisions.
Sekhmet opened the door.
Creak...
Noise rushed back in immediately.
Chatter... footsteps... distant laughter...
Bat Bat’s voice echoed from somewhere, yelling about jam again.
Sekhmet’s eyes flicked once down the corridor, then back to Elena.
"I will go to the library," he said. "I need to plan. I need lists."
Elena nodded.
"Yes," she replied. "And Sekhmet."
He paused.
Elena’s eyes held his.
"Do not let them pull you back into the dark," she said quietly.
Sekhmet stared at her.
For a moment, the memory of the dark room pressed behind his eyes again.
Drip... drip... drip...
He forced himself to breathe.
"I won’t," he said.
Then he walked away, steps steady, posture calm.
Tap... tap... tap...
One step at a time. Toward the library. Toward the ledgers. Toward the fight that did not involve claws, but contracts.
And toward the enemies who smiled while sharpening knives.
A few hours later...
Night did not arrive in Slik like a curtain.
It arrived like a decision.
The sun did not slowly fade with beauty. It simply lost authority, and the city changed its face. Lanterns ignited one by one. Street torches were fed with oil. The sky deepened into a bruised violet, then into a darker shade that made even confident people walk faster.
The city’s noise did not die.
It shifted.
Daytime Slik was the sound of trade. Carriages. Arguments over prices. Merchants calling out discounts like prayers. Guards yelling at crowds to keep moving. Customers complaining about being cheated while secretly hoping to cheat the next stall.
Night time Slik was the sound of hunger.
Not the hunger of food.
The hunger of opportunity.
The kind of hunger that made the underground market breathe like a second heart beneath the city.
Inside Dawn House, the mansion was calmer than outside, but Sekhmet’s body refused to fully relax. The last few days had been full of too many changes. Too many faces. Too many pressures. Too many thoughts that had nowhere to settle.
He stood by the window of his room, looking down at the courtyard. A few servants were moving with quick steps, carrying warm lamps into the inner corridors. Elena had ordered the house to be quiet tonight, but quiet did not mean empty. Dawn House always had movement, always had small sounds of life.
Step... step...
Cloth sliding.
A door shutting softly.
Click.
Bat Bat was on Sekhmet’s bed, curled into a small lump in her bat form, pretending to sleep. The pretending was not convincing. Her ears were twitching too often. Her wings shifted slightly every time Sekhmet moved.
She was listening.
She always listened.
Auri was not in the room.
Auri was in the void land, as Sekhmet ordered.
The other bats were also stored, layered inside the dark sky of that floating territory like living shadows resting on invisible branches. Sekhmet could feel them faintly through his connection. Not thoughts. Not words. Just presence. Like a swarm of quiet breath.
Tonight, he did not want them near him yet.
Not because he did not trust them.
Because he trusted the city even less.
Sekhmet exhaled slowly.
His throat felt... wrong.
Not pain.
Not dryness.
Something deeper.
The kind of thirst that did not care how much water he drank.
He had tried earlier, out of habit. He had poured water into a cup and swallowed it. He had even forced himself to drink until his stomach felt full.
It did nothing.
The thirst remained.
The thirst laughed at water.
Bat Bat had drunk almost all the blood jars today.
Not just her. The other bats in the void land had fed as well, because Sekhmet allowed it. They needed to grow. They were his hidden strength. His silent army.
He had bought those jars with chaos stones that would make normal merchants faint. He had told himself it was an investment.