The Legendary Stalker.

Lea Florence Monad.

A name prattled with caution among Bastards and Sweepers alike, and even by stray passers-by in the narrow, gut-like alleys of Krat, in smoke-choked basements, on rotting staircases, and amidst the long-abandoned, forever orphaned streets. But no one, except you and Romeo, truly knew who she really was.

Even her sister Sophia had long since lost the ability to understand what was going on inside Lea after the unfortunate quarrel when she finally cut herself off from the family.

Funny, if there was even a touch of humour in it, but maybe he, Arlecchino, knew her almost as deeply as you did. That absurdly lacquered nightmare saw in her what even those closest to her rarely did. He knew her fears.

But that was another story of hers; one that someone might tell someday. Or not.

One of her fears, however, had found a way to bleed into reality. The fear of losing Carlo. She grab to the idea that everything would be fine with him until the very end, that a miracle wasn't just a pretty word from old books.

But the miracle never came.

Carlo was gone. And a part of her went with him.

Romeo, after briefly hugging both you and her, said he wouldn't be long. At the start of the narrow Path of the Pilgrim, next to the long-broken Stargazer, was a grave. Just a slab, and the rose he brought back regularly. Lea never asked why he did it. Not that she didn't care; she simply already knew the answer without needing to ask. The three of you held onto the memory of Carlo, who had been ripped from you all so brutally.

Lea stared out the window at his retreating figure. The filthy glass blurred the line between where the street ended and the emptiness of Malum began. This district had always given her an odd feeling. Everything here had long since rotted, rusted, cracked, and reeked of damp. Even the people were like ghosts who hid in their houses behind tightly closed doors, hoping that the disease or someone's evil will would pass them by.

The door creaked as you slammed it behind you, shutting out the senseless noise of the streets. Mould on the walls, cracks crawling across the ceiling, and a suspiciously sticky floor—the standard décor of any motel in Malum. In its own way, almost cosy after everything that had happened. Almost like home.

She sat by the window without changing her position, her arms crossed over her chest. Her expression held neither sorrow nor anger, but something between bone-deep exhaustion and an old, stubborn habit: never let yourself relax. Not for a second.

Silently, you pulled off your gloves, tossed them onto the lopsided table, rummaged through your pack, and fished out a can of stew. You popped it open quickly with the knife, wiping the blade on your trousers afterwards. In one of the backpack pockets, you found half a loaf of bread. Stale, but quite edible. Lea caught your gaze, nodded, but for some time she was in no hurry to approach the table.

She just watched as your hands mechanically set out the food, then, with a crooked smile, finally muttered: "Never thought Malum would become a picnic spot one day," she scoffed sourly, finally tearing herself away from the window. The young woman sat down opposite you, shoving aside a couple of empty bottles to clear some space. "Then again, considering the bleeding dumps we usually end up in, this is practically a resort."

Outside the window, something crashed down one of the alleys. Somewhere far away, a bird screamed shrilly—or perhaps that had once been a bird, and was now something grotesque.

"When Romeo gets back, we'll need to check Saint Frangelico Cathedral again in the next few days. People are flocking there now, those hit harder than the rest, left without a roof over their heads, asking Stalkers for escort runs. And of course, some clever arseholes have already started charging for it," her fingers brushed over her face, pushing aside messy strands of auburn hair. "Véronique and Lumacchio are out on missions, Alidoro's gone to see his sister… cannot really blame him for that."