Monsters Syndicate.

For the first time in years, she awoke from a hazy dreamless sleep.

She felt like she was sleeping on clouds.

There was no nightmares, no lurking monsters-only a profound sense of being blessed and content.

But as she yawned and opened her eyes... She felt like she was falling from the sky. Her spirit falling back into her body.

Panic gripped her heart.

The room was dark, icy and unfamiliar.

Fear clawed at her throat, shattering whatever fragile peace she just felt.

"Captain Alaric, it seems like she is about to wake up. The cold bucket of water won't be of any use."

A laid-back voice politely informed.

Huh? Bucket of cold water? What the hell?!

Rubbing the back of her small sticky hands on her eyes, her attention toke note of two shadowy silhouettes infront of her.

"Hamlin... It's quite apparent that you are stating quite the obvious. The things I can literally see."

The polite deep voice supposedly Hamlin's chuckled at the natural arrogance and grim annoyance subtly hidden beneath his companion's voice.

"Switch on the gas lamps."

While Amanise prepared what she would say within herself a bright light illuminating from the gas lamps flooded in.

Momentarily blinding her. Her brows creased a little trying to accommodate to the bright light. Her eyes teared up from the process.

But soon enough later, her eyes caught sight of two men staring dead back at her.

One of them crossed his legs relaxing on a wooden chair infront of her.

He wore a deep blue tunic with a hint of crimson embroidery tracing the neckline that seemed expensive, draping elegantly on his slender but strongly built frame, his sleeves rolled up revealing his muscled arms.

He was subtly fiddling a paint brush in his black paint-stained hands.

He is an artist? Why is he carrying his paint brush around?

Lifting her eyes from his clothes and sexy body hiding beneath.

Her crimson gaze creepily moved up to his face.

He looked like an angel.. ah no a fallen angel would describe him best.

He had long dark hair pulled in a small messy ponytail which softened his chiselled jawline. Under his shapely eye brows were a pair of mismatched eyes veiled in thick long lashes.

Long and thick enough to notice them from afar.

Damn I wished I had one like that..

Amanise inwardly sighed.

Those mismatched eyes quickly brought her back down from her daydream.

His right eye was portal to realms unseen...an endless pool of an abyss.

Devouring and Unforgivingly cold.

Staring at him felt Forbidden...

A memory of the goddess' eyes popped in her head.

His left eye burned like embers of molten hellish flames. The heat suffocated her from the distance.

She felt as though she was burning too.

A lone cross earring dangled from his left ear.

He had an extremely pale skin color of one who never appeared under the sun and there were surprisingly faint dark circles under his mismatched eyes.

He doesn't sleep?

Her sharp gaze caught something unusual and frightening.

It was the artist's shadow.

At first glimpse for a moment she stared at multiple hollow eyes that stared at her with ravenous hunger.

A terrifying hunger that screamed dread to her soul.

When she blinked to confirm it was gone.

That shadow... It reminds me of the one that wanted me dead. Am I daydreaming it up because am probably scarred by it? Or is it real?

And who exactly is he for it to be there?!

These people are Dangerous.

The man standing next to him was immaculately dressed with a well-tailored black vest with a matching suit, trousers that clung tightly to his legs, a halved top hat and carried the air of a mysterious butler.

He peered through his monocle on his left grey eye. His black gloved hand moved into one of his pockets pulling out a golden colored pocket watch apparently checking the time.

Flashing a demure smile she found appalling on his devilish handsome face. His brown hair exceptional styled-not a single ruffle on his bearing.

"Umm...Who are you?"

And how am I still alive?

Was what she wanted to ask too. But that wasn't safe. So she swallowed the question back from the tip of her tongue.

Not ready to risk it... Yet.

The Artist snapped his hands.

The mysterious looking butler beside him moved forward. Towards her, his lips curving up slightly in a polite smile.

Too polite infact. I feel like I am biting into an icing of a poisoned cake.

His movements exuded a certain sharpness she couldn't grasp.

An image of a dagger held by a velvety gloved hand randomly popped into her head.

Though the Artist seemed more dangerous her instincts were tingling.

She couldn't afford to underestimate him either.

"I am Hamlin Drew well the Vice Captain of Monster Syndicate. Nice to meet you...Miss Soren. We are here to interrogate you regarding the death of Princess Erika, the Sixth Princess of Alvaron. And a friendly advice... you must do well to speak the truth or might as well die a miserably painful death lying."

He cleared his throat. His smile stretching to a harmless grin. Putting back his golden pocket watch into his left shirt's pocket.

"So what do you say, Miss Soren?"

Amanise forgot how to breathe for a moment before gasping. Forcing in the air into her lungs.

What's wrong with him?! Am I speaking to a psychopath?! Why is he threatening me yet smiling as if they were speaking of the weather?!

Monster Syndicate? I have never heard of that before. It doesn't seem like a common knowledge. Soren's memories aren't much of a help in these kinds of situations.

"Umm... Kind Sir Hamlin... But I have to trouble you a bit... Well what is the Monster Syndicate?"

Hamlin's brows rose.

The Artist that she couldn't catch his name, clenched his empty hand into a fist. His body tensed before straying to Hamlin who tersely nodded.

Am I missing out on something? Did I slip my big mouth again?!

"What do you remember..Soren?"

The Artist opened his lips for probably the second time. But to her it was the only time she caught what he was saying.

But her supposed name sounded grave on his tongue.

She gulped. Her gaze turning intense.

" I didn't kill the princess. At least without knowledge or reason why. And I can only remember my name."

Amanise knew that lying...One slip up mistake might make her find her neck on guillotine. Considering this was way back in the past.

Their dressing afterall spoke in high volumes.

It was highly likely they would think her hysterical. She probably should have looked for a better way to pursue her claim.

"She is not lying."

Hamlin confirmed with a note of bafflement. Confusion etching his unruffled features.

Amanise felt a familiar emotion arose within her.

If she remembered correctly.

It felt like...Hope.

Was there a way for them to confirm her innocence?

A lone sigh receded in the brightly gas lit room. Disrupting her train of thoughts.

Her gaze rose to meet his.

The Artist's mismatched ones.

He then stood up.

The thought that popped her head was..

He can't be much older than nineteen.

How is he... The Captain?!

Alaric seemed to glide in his steps before her. Towering her.

She heard the sound of a reloaded gun.

Straining her neck up. She froze.

Feeling a cold harsh metal on her forehead.

The so-called Captain who might as well be a con artist was pointing a gun to her forehead. His gaze gleaming with something she couldn't grasp.

"Damn I hate my job."

He muttered under his breath.

Huh?