The first real problem wasn’t the blood.
It was the sound.
The casino has a rhythm—
Slots. Laughter. Velvet-wrapped footsteps.
But today?
Something else.
A cracked bell through the floor.
Not a scream.
Not a crash.
Just a hard, short stop.
The sound of something ending.
I already knew it was Enma.
And I already knew she’d smile.
She called it an “incident.”
“She startled me,” Enma said, casual as a coffee order.
“Jumped at me from behind. What else was I supposed to do?”
The others barely looked up.
Koko: “Oh.”
Xyntra: added a line under security irregularities.
Miren: already wiping walls—more curious than concerned.
But I looked.
Really looked.
And I stopped cold.
Standard uniform.
Unranked. Unadorned.
Fresh issue.
A maid-in-training.
No older than 14.
Pin still on her collar.
Badge still clipped to her belt.
She was real.
Not spawned.
Not simulated.
She had a before.
A life. A name. A memory.
The House doesn’t make maids.
It pulls them.
Just like Nozomi.
Just like Amaranth.
Just like me.
When I saw her face—
No.
I didn’t know her.
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Couldn’t have.
But something about her…
Like looking in a mirror.
The way her arms curled in.
Fingers mid-tremble.
A half-blink that would never finish.
She looked like me.
Or worse—
Like Isoka.
My stomach didn’t drop.
It collapsed.
“She shouldn’t have been there,” Enma said again.
“Wrong hallway. No protocol. You think she was new?”
I didn’t answer.
I was still staring at her hands.
Still wondering what she was about to do.
What she was about to say.
“She looked at me like she knew me.” I said.
Enma shrugged.
“Probably didn’t.”
And she smiled.
That smile—
Void of regret, remorse, or reason—
Hit harder than the blood.
I smiled back.
The kind of smile you give a wolf
When the leash might still work.
“Of course. Very serious violation.”
Then I left
Before my composure cracked like glass under stilettos.
In the break room,
I stared at the vending machine
Until its lights flickered.
Not from a surge.
From me.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
The House doesn’t assign maids lightly.
That girl was meant to be here.
Now?
No name.
No file.
Just a cleanup order.
Someone real died.
And I let the wolf wear a name tag.
Enma didn’t care.
She hummed her way back to post.
Blood on her boots.
Smile like a promotion.
Like the kill meant something.
And maybe it did.
“Next time,” I told her,
“ask before you reduce someone to scenery.”
She tilted her head, unfazed.
“Next time,” she said,
“don’t drop unknown maids into my blind spots.”
Said like it was my fault.
Like I’d written the wrong code.
Like I was still the House’s chosen.
But I’m not even sure what I am anymore.
The air shifted.
Not loud.
Not fast.
Just heavy.
Like a storm.
Like a system reboot.
Then the elevator chimed.
Himeko walked in.
No ceremony.
No drama.
Boots on marble.
Silence like perfume.
No flinch at the blood.
No glance at the corpse.
No comment on the linen cart quietly rolling past.
Just—
A look.
Straight at me.
“Interesting management style,” she said.
No hello.
No I’m back.
No explanation.
Just judgement.
Sharp as ever.
I kept my tone level.
“Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
Her gaze: steel.
“You shouldn’t have started something you couldn’t finish.”
Enma, watching like it’s her birthday.
“This is fun,” she said.
“You two should fight more. I’ll ref.”
We ignored her.
“She’s out of control,” I said.
“She killed someone.”
“So stop her,” Himeko said.
“Is she not yours anymore?”
I hesitated.
“You let the leash go.
And now you’re mad it bit something.”
My breath caught.
Enma still grinning.
And the House?
Watching.
Waiting.
I turned away first.
I had to.
She wouldn’t.
She never does.
“Stick around, then,” I said.
“Let’s see how well you fit into a system that doesn’t need you.”
“Oh, I plan to,” she said.
“Someone has to watch the collapse.”