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**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ Clockwork Masquerade *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*

The rain lashed against the tall, arched windows, streaking down the glass in frantic rivulets. Beyond the panes, the streets of Clockhaven were little more than a blur of gaslight halos and shimmering puddles, the city cloaked in a damp, unrelenting gloom. Inside the sitting room, the warmth of a roaring fire battled against the dreary night, its amber glow casting long shadows that danced across the wood-paneled walls. Brass fixtures gleamed in the flickering light, and the faint hum of a clockwork contraption—something small and ornamental—filled the silence like a heartbeat.
A woman lounged near the hearth, her damp auburn hair clinging to her temples in soft, curling strands. Her hazel eyefloas, sharp and restless, flitted to the clock on the mantle, where exposed gears ticked with mechanical precision. She wore a fitted vest over a crisp blouse, the fabric slightly wrinkled from the rain, and her high-waisted breeches were tucked neatly into knee-high boots. A pair of brass-framed goggles perched atop her head, the lenses fogged and forgotten. She sat with her legs crossed, one boot tapping a rhythmic pattern against the edge of the tiled hearth as she toyed absently with a small brass key.

“You know,” Illya said between bites, her voice small but pointed, “I could get used to this. Warm fire, cookies, and no one trying to kill us. Feels downright cozy.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” the woman in the armchair replied, sipping at a cup of tea with a pleased, somewhat dreamy expression. “Can’t you just picture it? A tall, brooding figure, dripping from the rain, his coat swirling behind him like a cloak—oh, and maybe a perfectly timed lightning strike as he steps inside. A proper hero for our little adventure.”
Illya raised an eyebrow, brushing crumbs from her hands as she hovered in midair on her mechanical wings. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
“Well, of course!” Pella said with a grin, sitting up straighter. “We’re about to infiltrate the Coldiron estate, uncover a web of secrets, and bring down a family of corrupt aristocrats. It’s practically begging for a mysterious, dashing lead.”
Illya chewed on her biscuit for a moment, staring at the woman for a few quiet seconds. “All I’m hoping for is someone who can read between the lines. Agnus Coldiron looks and acts like a perfectly innocent citizen. But she lets it slip here and there when she thinks she’s in good company. If we can get some evidence from this auction, I’ll prove what her family does, and I won’t have to look over my shoulder anymore.”
Pella’s smile softened as she regarded Illya, setting her teacup down on the side table. “You’ll get there, Illya. If this detective is half as clever as they should be, they’ll see the truth.”
Illya stood up from her sitting position on the table, dusting off the crumbs from her outfit. “Thank you, by the way—for believing me, and for helping with all this. Most people wouldn’t. have afforded me the time let alone the monetary means.”
“Well,” Pella said with a wink, “it’s not every day a six-inch-tall fairy with mechanical wings shows up at my door with a story like yours. Getting involved with you is sure to find me in an exciting adventure, like the ones I've always read. How could I not get involved?”
Illya smirked, a faint warmth flickering in her expression. Before either could say more, a sharp knock echoed through the room, cutting through the storm outside. The attention of both the females went to the door. A hint of nervousness and excitement passing between them. "Come in Gerard!" Lady Pella called towards the door. As soon as she did, the door creaked open to reveal an older gentleman, his silver hair slicked back neatly and his suit immaculate. He stepped inside with a bow, his voice calm and deliberate.
“My lady, I have returned with the investigator sent by the guild. May I introduce, Miss Victorique Sopheana.”
Just as the detective was announced, a stroke of lightning lit up the room with a bright light. Pella blinked a few times as she gazed at the blonde gnome, a bit of disappointment passing across her expression. "Well there goes my Noir romance"

An urgent matter requires the skills of a sharp and discreet investigator. Evidence suggests that an influential aristocratic family in Widersia is involved in illegal activities, including the capture and trafficking of fae beings. Their public reputation as honorable citizens has shielded them from scrutiny, but those who know the truth cannot remain silent.
The task involves attending a high-society event under the guise of a guest to gather evidence of these crimes. The event in question may be used as a cover for a covert auction of poached fae. Successful candidates must be adept at infiltration, observation, and uncovering hidden truths while maintaining the appearance of a refined and unsuspecting attendee.
The task involves attending a high-society event under the guise of a guest to gather evidence of these crimes. The event in question may be used as a cover for a covert auction of poached fae. Successful candidates must be adept at infiltration, observation, and uncovering hidden truths while maintaining the appearance of a refined and unsuspecting attendee.