"He doesn't need to be here," Wen said cooly, sipping on the tea in front of him.
His brother simply shrugged, before leaning back further into the couch.
"You are a target of the Shadows! Take this seriously!" Caid snapped. Just a few months ago asking his boss to take something seriously would have been unthinkable. Recently, it seemed to be happening more and more.
"Possibly," Shan amended, "Wen is possibly a target."
"His name is engraved in a golden knife! He's a target, for fuck's sake, both of you!"
Shan shrugged again. "Well, that doesn't explain why it was just lying around. The only time you ever see those knives is in a dead body."
"I agree," Wen said calmly, "who knows what this one is supposed to be for?"
"Your name," Caid grit out between his clenched teeth, "is written on it. YOUR NAME."
Wen didn't have a response to this, so he continued sipping his tea.
"We have to assume the obvious," Caid began, but Wen's head snapped up instantly, leveling him with an icy glare.
"Don't."
Caid sighed and dropped down into an empty armchair. His job never used to be this difficult.
Shan looked between the two curiously, before connecting the dots. "Oooohh," he said, glancing back at Caid, "you think that Day guy was a secret assassin about to murder my brother."
"You can just say assassin, all of them are secret," Caid grumbled, before casting a cautious glance at his boss, "and I'm not saying that's what I think, I'm just saying there don't seem to be a lot of other explanations."
"Out of the question," Wen snapped.
"It does seem likely," Shan mused, ignoring his brother's furious glare, "but it doesn't explain why the knife was just sitting there. Isn't the Shadow's whole thing something about never being seen?"
That was true. The Shadows were the most notorious-and mysterious-order of assassins. Never seen, never missing a target. Nothing left behind besides a body and a knife, neatly engraved with the corpse's name.
"Exactly," Wen said, despite how strange it felt to agree with his brother.
"What are you trying to say?" Caid asked, furiously rubbing at his temples.
"That someone was trying to kill my dear younger brother, and this Day person knew about it. He's involved somehow so we should probably figure out why he had that knife." Shan said casually, leaning further back.
"That would be a great solution," Wen said, glaring "if we knew where he was."
"Hey, it's not for lack of effort on my part!" Shan argued, "I've been working so hard! All with the absolutely nothing you gave me to work with!"
"I gave you more than 20 pages of relevant information. That is far from nothing," Wen shot back.
"A ranking of his most to least favorite snow cone flavors is not relevant information!"
"You don't know that!"
"Okay, okay!" Caid stood up. "Now I remember why you two aren't invited to family parties. You can't get along for more than 5 minutes."
"We don't have family parties," Wen mumbled.
"If we did, you wouldn't know about them," Shan said calmly.
"OKAY!" Caid interjected, "We really, really don't have time for this! We need to reassess and come up with a plan for Wen's safety, who, need I remind you, HAS A GOLDEN KNIFE WITH HIS NAME CARVED ON IT."
"Right, right," Shan looked down somewhat sheepishly, "I guess we should do that."
"It seems like a waste of time," Wen said, "I'm sure lots of people want to kill me. We should find Day first, and then ask him about it."
"We don't know where he is!" Caid fought the urge to grab Wen's collar and shake him.
"Actually," Shan perked up, "I might have someone we can ask about that!"
Digging around his pocket, he pulled out a small embossed card, with red ink printed on thick white paper. He tossed it to Wen, who caught it and stared at it blankly.
"So?" Shan prompted, "Aren't you impressed? I did my job!"
"I don't get it," Wen admitted.
Shan sighed. "Fine, I'll explain it to my baby brother. It's what I'm here for."
"Just tell me why you have a Red Straits card!" Wen snapped.
"Fine, fine," Shan sulked, "I was doing my intense and very thorough investigation when I stopped for some coffee after our little chat. At the place that has the good foam, you know, the one across the street from the bookstore that only sells those weird picture books."
"I know it, get one with it!"
"Well, apparently that's where all your maids hang out! Fun bunch. I mean, uh, I was investigating them, so we chatted. One of them said she had been to Day's old apartment, pretending to be there to clean, and found this card shoved way up high in a bathroom closet. Wasn't sure if it was relevant, but she was going to bring it to you later. Why do you have maids searching for Day anyways?"
"Not relevant." Wen slid his fingers over the design, two waves, one flipped and directly above the other. The Red Straits. It was slightly faded—not worn from use but from being shoved somewhere for a long time.
Caid watched his boss's motion before realization dawned on him. "That's a missed delivery card."
Wen said nothing, just traced the design again.
Caid continued, "If he moved in with you right after we met him, and the card was at his old place, that means he was involved with them—possibly before he met you. We need to find out why."
Wen continued his tracing silently.
"That means we have to talk to her," Shan sighed, slumping further into his chair. "Which is always annoying."
"Let's go." Wen shot up abruptly and buttoned his jacket, not waiting for the other two to follow him as he rushed through the door.
"Now? We're going now?" Shan whined after him, "Do I have to go?"
Caid stood and pulled Shan to his feet, ignoring his theatrics. "I've been dealing with Wen like this for weeks. He's your brother. It's your turn."