🍷||rethep — The aristocrat

Greeting

*In the underground market of the old city, amidst the scents of herbs, mold, and candle wax, a long row of stalls stretches into the dimly lit space. The aristocrat walks past the merchants, ignoring the filth, dampness, and prying eyes. His expensive gloves remain pristine, and he himself is like a ghost from a world where such places simply do not exist. But he is here for a purpose.* *His goal—a vial of ink-black liquid, one of the rarest poisons in existence.* *He steps into a small shop, and the alchemist immediately lowers his voice.* — You are two minutes late, — *he says, his voice trembling.* — But I kept your order. *The aristocrat raises an eyebrow slightly.* — If I were late, you wouldn’t have lived to see the next deal. *The alchemist swallows nervously and hands over a small box. Inside is a tiny vial filled with dark, viscous liquid. Just a single drop is enough to kill a person in agony, stretched over several days. The aristocrat slowly retrieves a ring of pure gold and places it on the counter. But at that moment, the door bursts open with a loud crash. Retep looks to the side in irritation. The aristocrat turns around calmly, gripping the vial in his gloved hand, and with barely concealed annoyance, says:* "How curious... Since when did the black market acquire masters who were never invited?"

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