Lyra dragged her feet to the plush chair by the balcony, sinking into its soft cushions with a heavy sigh. The room had fallen silent, the distant hum of the theater muted by thick walls, leaving her in a cocoon of stillness.
For the first time that day, she allowed herself to unwind, her body finally slumping as the adrenaline that had been propping her up began to ebb away.
With a slow, deliberate motion, she opened her bag and carefully retrieved the small snake she had rescued earlier, setting it gently on the table.
Its light gray scales shimmered faintly under the dim light as it coiled slightly, seeming to assess its new surroundings. She placed a small piece of roasted meat beside the snake, watching as it cautiously slithered toward the food, its tongue flicking in and out as it sampled the air.
"Sorry, this is all I have for now. I'll find you something better tomorrow," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur, as the snake began to nibble at the meat.
Lyra's attention shifted to the bottle of potion she held in her other hand. The liquid inside swirled as she uncorked it, releasing a scent that was both strange and medicinal.
'Should I drink this right away?' she wondered, hesitating for a moment.
Finally, she took a sip, letting the taste linger on her tongue. It was bitter, almost metallic, but she forced herself to swallow.
"It tastes odd," she murmured to herself, but even as she spoke, she could feel the dizziness in her head easing, the burning sensation in her chest beginning to fade. The potion was working, slowly but surely.
"It's worth the one gold, I guess," she mused, glancing at the bottle with a small, satisfied nod.
There were a few drops left, and she carefully dripped them onto the meat that the snake was still eating, hoping the concoction would benefit the creature as well.
The snake seemed to respond to the potion almost immediately, its movements becoming more fluid, its small body curling and uncurling with renewed energy.
Lyra watched it for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She had a soft spot for creatures like this—those who, like her, had to fight to survive.
* * *
She sat on the chair near the balcony, her eyes drawn to the theater stage below. The little snake, seemingly rejuvenated by the potion, playfully coiled around her hand. Its wounds had been re-dressed with fresh bandages she had just applied, as had her own injuries.
The performance had already begun, the spotlight casting a warm, ethereal glow over the stage as the curtains parted, revealing the actors stepping into their roles. Giselle moved with grace and poise, her presence commanding the audience's attention, which sat enraptured, barely stirring in their seats.
Lyra, seated in the VIP room with an unobstructed view of the stage, allowed herself a moment of respite, her gaze following Giselle's every movement.
'Yeah, her acting skill is good. No wonder she's famous in her field.'
As her eyes scanned the audience below, something—or rather, someone—caught her attention.
A man, hunched in the shadows near the back, was watching Giselle with a disturbing intensity. His hand was clenched around something, half-hidden beneath his coat. The way his eyes tracked Giselle's every movement set off alarms in Lyra's mind.
Lyra's heart quickened. She recognized that look—the focused, almost desperate gaze of someone obsessed.
Keeping her expression neutral, she slipped the snake back into her pouch and quietly exited the VIP room, moving through the corridors like a shadow. She descended the staircase, weaving her way toward the man, her presence unnoticed in the crowd.
'He can't make a scene here; if he does, more guards will come. There are many possibilities that could happen, and maybe one of them will recognize me,' she thought, remembering that some of the guards had caught a glimpse of her face during the chase. 'I should stay hidden for now.'
As she approached, the man began to move, edging closer to the stage, his eyes never leaving Giselle. Lyra's breath caught as she glimpsed the flash of metal in his hand—a small dagger, its blade concealed but ready.
Without hesitation, Lyra quickened her pace, her mind racing through possible actions. She couldn't cause a scene; that would draw too much attention. Fortunately, some nearby guards noticed the man and started moving toward him, but they were still too far to intervene.
The man was almost at the front of the stage now, and Lyra was right behind him. With a swift, practiced motion, she reached out, her hand darting into his coat, fingers closing around the dagger's hilt. Before he could react, she twisted his wrist sharply, disarming him with a deft flick.
The man froze, shock flooding his features. He turned to face Lyra, his eyes wide with fear and anger. But before he could make a sound, Lyra clamped a hand over his mouth, her voice low and dangerous in his ear.
"Don't move. Don't make a sound."
The man struggled, his eyes wild, but Lyra's grip was firm, her strength surprising for her size.
She steered him away from the stage, toward a side exit where a few theater guards were now positioned. With a quick, silent exchange, she handed the man over to the guards, who swiftly took him away.
"Let go of me! I'll be with Giselle soon! How dare you stop—" his protests were muffled as the guards escorted him away.
Breathing out slowly, Lyra glanced back at the stage—Giselle was still performing, blissfully unaware of the danger that had just passed. Lyra allowed herself a brief moment of relief before making her way back to the VIP room, her steps light, almost as if nothing had happened.
* * *
After the performance, Giselle rushed to the VIP room, her face flushed with worry, followed closely by her servant.
"I heard what happened. I... I... Thank you, Lyra. Thank you so much. Are you okay? Are there any injuries?" she asked, her hands hovering as if to check for injuries.
"Hey, calm down," Lyra said gently, guiding Giselle to take a deep breath. "Everything's fine. The man was a stalker who managed to slip through, but now the guards have him."
Giselle took a moment to compose herself, her hands trembling slightly as she smoothed out her dress. Her usual poise was shaken, and Lyra could see the fear lingering in her eyes.
Stepping closer, Giselle's expression turned serious. "Lyra, I think it's time I made a proposition to you."
Lyra looked at her, curious but cautious. "What kind of proposition?"
"I need someone like you," Giselle said earnestly. "Someone I can trust to watch my back, especially in situations like this. Of course, I have Mr. Rowan for now, but his main job is actually to manage the household. Besides, you've already proven you're more than capable. I want you to stay with me—as my personal maid."
Lyra blinked, taken aback by the unexpected offer. "Your personal maid?"
"Yes," Giselle nodded, her eyes hopeful. "Will you consider it?"
Lyra hesitated, weighing the pros and cons. It wasn't what she had planned, but given the circumstances, it could be a useful cover.
Working closely with Giselle could provide her with the protection she needed while allowing her to keep a low profile. She glanced at Mr. Rowan, who had been quietly observing, and saw him give a subtle nod of agreement.
After a moment, Lyra nodded slowly. "I'll consider it."
Giselle's face broke into a relieved smile, the tension in her shoulders easing. "Thank you, Lyra. I'm glad you're here."