“Um… Excuse me, miss…” I began, my voice trailing off uncertainty as I tried to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t quite sure how to explain what I’d just seen, or why I had rushed out of the restaurant like someone set my cloak on fire. The woman’s intense gaze didn’t help either, she had a piercing kind of look, like someone used to reading people faster than they could form a sentence.

  To my surprise, she relaxed slightly and offered a nod of introduction. “Lyra. Lyra Mirayra,” she said, her voice softening just a little. There was something melodic about the way she spoke, like the syllables of her name had been practiced to sound elegant. Classic elf behavior, probably.

  “Miss Lyra,” I repeated, trying to sound polite despite the lingering awkwardness. “I know the girl in the black cloak… She's a fox-kin. But she’s also my friend.” I gave a little twirl, letting the hem of my own cloak flutter slightly to show off its design. Simple, dark, but unmistakably similar to Yuzu’s. “See? I’m wearing a cloak just like hers. I didn’t mean to panic you.”

  Lyra blinked once, clearly surprised. Her expression shifted from suspicion to something more neutral, almost sheepish. She gave a slight bow, placing a hand over her chest. “Ah, my apologies then,” she said, lowering her head slightly. “I shouldn’t have assumed otherwise. That was uncalled for on my part.”

  I waved my hands quickly. “No, it’s fine!” I insisted. “But… Why were you so wary of her in the first place? Just because she’s a fox kin?”

  Lyra raised her chin, her brows drawing into a slight frown. “They’re fox kins, duh,” she said plainly, as if that was all the explanation needed. “They’re the most secretive race out there. You can never tell what they’re up to. They come and go without warning, don’t trust easily, and even when they do trust you… they’re still hiding something. Always.” Her tone was cautious, not angry.

  Then, her gaze darted sideways as she leaned in closer. Her breath was warm against my ear, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “Besides… I hear they’re involved with Obsidian Anemone,” she said, her tone hushed like she was afraid the shadows might be listening. “I advise you to stay far away from her.”

  “Obsidian Anemone?” I tilted my head, the unfamiliar name rolling off my tongue awkwardly. “What’s that? Or who’s that?”

  Lyra leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly. She studied me for a moment, like she was trying to determine if I was genuinely clueless or just pretending. When she finally spoke again, her voice carried a weight it didn’t have before, like she was about to tell a scary bedtime story.

  Lyra blinked at me for a second, then her lips curled into a lopsided smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Right, of course. You’re not from around here, are you?”

  I shook my head slowly, still trying to wrap my mind around the swirl of new information. I hadn’t heard that name before, Obsidian Anemone, but the way Lyra said it, the way her tone dropped just slightly, almost like invoking something ominous… it sent a shiver crawling down my spine.

  “Obsidian Anemone is a secret organization,” Lyra began, her voice dropping to a whisper so quiet it was barely audible over the faint clinking of plates and muffled conversations behind us. “Or maybe a cult? No one really knows. They operate from the shadows, rumors say they’re tied to the resurgence of ancient magic and forbidden technology.”

  She leaned closer, her cloak brushing against mine, and I caught a faint scent of lavender and something like burnt pine.

  “Some say they’ve infiltrated every major kingdom. That they’ve got agents hiding in noble courts, adventurer guilds, even merchant councils. They’re the kind who pull strings without anyone knowing. And the fox kin, especially the ones with black cloaks? They're said to be spies or messengers for them.”

  I frowned, slowly connecting the dots. “Wait, but… that’s just a rumor, right? Just… hearsay?”

  Lyra’s lips pressed into a firm line. “Maybe. Or maybe not. I just know enough to keep my distance.” She folded her arms again, her gaze drifting back toward the window. “No one ever sees Obsidian Anemone. But when something goes wrong, when someone powerful disappears, or when a dragon suddenly goes berserk, somehow, their name always surfaces.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  That sounded a little too dramatic to be true. And yet… I couldn’t shake the weight of her words. Black cloak. Fox kin. Obsidian Anemone. I had seen Yuzu in that same cloak just moments ago. Did this mean she was connected to something dangerous?

  “My friend, she’s not like that,” I muttered. “She’s kind. And she’s saved me more than once.”

  Lyra didn’t answer right away. She glanced at me again, her golden brows slightly furrowed.

  “I hope you’re right,” she said at last, with a touch of softness in her tone. “But trust is a rare thing, especially in this world. Just… be careful, alright? If she is involved with them, even if she doesn’t mean harm, you might be in danger just by being near her.”

  I bit my lip, glancing out the window where Yuzu had vanished down the busy street with the other cloaked figure. Part of me wanted to chase after her. Another part… wasn’t sure anymore.

  “Don’t look so grim.” Lyra’s voice softened, the harsh edge from earlier fading into something more gentle, almost sisterly. She stepped a bit closer, shielding us from the noise of the street with her cloak, as if what she had to say wasn’t meant for any nearby ears. “I know it’s hard living in a human village as an elf… especially after the declaration of war between the elven kingdom and the humans. But as long as we persevere, the elite royal guards will save us. They’ll come. They have to.” Her words were hopeful, but I could hear the doubt buried just beneath them. Fragile and trembling, like a candle in the wind.

  She took a small breath, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “Just don’t get caught by those damn slave traders, okay?” Her tone turned grave. “They’ve been hunting any pointy ears that haven’t vanished into the mountains. They don’t care who you are. They’ll sell anyone. So be careful… Please.”

  I swallowed hard and gave a small, awkward nod. “O-okay,” I said, unsure of how else to respond to such a heavy warning. Then, curiosity caught up with me. “Um… why do you think I’m an elf, Miss Lyra?” I tilted my head, brushing back a stray lock of my hair. “Did I… say something?”

  Lyra’s eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, that wasn’t the question she expected. Her confident aura faltered for a moment, replaced by a blink of hesitation before she schooled her features back into calm. “Ah… is it because of what I said earlier? About not all cloaked figures being elves?” she asked carefully, almost suspiciously, like she was trying to see if I was testing her.

  I didn’t answer, just tilted my head again, silently waiting. The way she paused, the flicker of thought behind her eyes, it was clear she was piecing things together again.

  “Well,” she started slowly, lifting a hand to gesture toward my shoulder, “you have a Sivelle spirit riding on you.” She gave Ai a gentle pat, though Ai squinted warily at her touch. “They’re incredibly rare, you know. Elves are the only race with natural affinity to Sivelle spirits. Those lovely squirrels won’t bond with just anyone.”

  Lyra’s words struck a strange chord inside me, like puzzle pieces trying to snap together, but one or two were still missing. I glanced down at Ai, who blinked innocently, completely unbothered by being patted like a pet.

  “Sivelle spirit?” I repeated, unsure.

  “Yeah. They only choose elves, usually ones with strong affinity to snow or moon magic. They're sacred guardians, well, we consider them sacred.” Lyra folded her arms. “Not many humans even know they exist. And not many spirits would follow someone without reason.”

  Ai tilted her head with a perplexed look, her ears twitching slightly. “She’s saying things I can’t understand… What kind of language is that?” she muttered, clearly frustrated by the sudden communication gap.

  “And,” Lyra continued, undeterred, “you spoke to me in Elvish earlier. It wasn’t just pronunciation, it was perfect. That tongue is nearly impossible to fake. The accent, the cadence… I’d know if you weren’t native.”

  I blinked. “I… spoke Elvish?” I asked, utterly confused. “But I was speaking normally…”

  Lyra arched an eyebrow, confused in turn. “It was Elvish. Clear as crystal. Though a little bit… old-fashioned. Like something out of a poem.” She smiled faintly. “You don’t think you’re an elf, Miss…?”

  I hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Um… no,” I said, stepping closer to her. Her expression remained curious, but I could see a hint of suspicion flicker in her eyes. I leaned in, so close that the tip of my nose nearly brushed against hers. Her breath caught, just slightly.

  Lyra blinked, confused, as I reached up and gently pulled the edge of my cloak tighter around me, shielding us from prying eyes. With a subtle movement, I brushed aside a lock of my silvery-white hair, revealing the soft curve of one of my ears. It twitched instinctively, the fluffy fox fur catching the light like a snowflake.

  “I’m definitely not an elf,” I said with a smirk.

  “NYAEIADFGKSGEAEFAIJPOYGAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” Lyra let out a shrill, incomprehensible screech and jumped so high it looked like she might levitate. Her hands flew to her cheeks, her eyes wide as saucers, and her voice cracked like glass. She stumbled back into the restaurant, knocking over a wooden chair with a clatter as she pointed at me with trembling fingers.