The Extra's Rise

Windmere looked different in daylight—less ominous, more pathetic. As Cecilia and I walked through the eastern district, I couldn't help noticing the contrast between the townspeople's modest homes and the mayor's ostentatious mansion. Small gardens struggled for sunlight between tightly packed buildings. Children played in narrow alleys, their laughter cutting off abruptly when they spotted us.

"They're scared of strangers," Cecilia observed, her fingers intertwined with mine. Despite the seriousness of our mission, she'd insisted on maintaining our couple facade. Not that I was complaining—her hand felt warm against mine, a reminder that I wasn't facing this alone.

"Not just strangers," I replied, watching a woman hurry inside as we approached, slamming her door shut. "They're scared of everything."

According to our intel, the brothel operated out of a nondescript building near the edge of town. Finding it proved challenging—nobody was willing to give us directions, and the few who acknowledged our questions quickly changed the subject to praise the mayor.

"This is getting us nowhere," Cecilia sighed after yet another unproductive conversation. "Let's try something else."

She released my hand and approached a group of young men loitering near a small convenience store. I watched in amusement as she transformed before my eyes—her posture softening, her expression becoming more vulnerable. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the picture of innocent confusion.

"Excuse me," she called, her voice pitched higher than normal. "My boyfriend and I are a bit lost. We're looking for, um, entertainment?" She blushed prettily. "Something adventurous, you know? For both of us?"

The men exchanged glances. One of them, emboldened by Cecilia's apparent interest, stepped forward.

"Not much entertainment in Windmere," he said cautiously. "But uh, if you're looking for something... private, there's a place past the old factory. Red light above the door."

"Thanks," Cecilia beamed at him. "You're a lifesaver."

She rejoined me, her princess persona snapping back into place like armor. "Men are so predictable," she murmured, taking my hand again. "Always eager to help a damsel in distress, especially when they think it might lead to something interesting."

"You're terrifying, you know that?" I told her admiringly.

"Mhm," she agreed, looking pleased with herself. "That's why you love me."

We found the old factory easily enough—an abandoned building with boarded windows and faded warnings about trespassing. Beyond it stood a row of shabby two-story structures, most appearing vacant except for one with a dim red bulb hanging above its unmarked door.

"That's our place," I said, feeling Luna stir anxiously in my mind.

"What is it?" Cecilia asked, noticing my expression.

I explained. "Something's not right about this place."

She squeezed my hand. "We knew that already. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

I considered our options. "I should go in alone. You'd attract too much attention."

"Not happening," she replied flatly. "We stick together."

"Cecilia," I sighed, "I need you to trust me on this. If I go in as a customer, I can ask questions without raising suspicion. If we go in together, everyone will clam up immediately."

She frowned, clearly unhappy with my logic despite its soundness. "Fine," she finally conceded. "But I'm waiting right outside. If anything feels wrong—anything at all—I'm coming in. And Arthur?" Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare enjoy yourself in there."

I couldn't help laughing. "I'm investigating ritual murders, not looking for a good time."

"Just making sure we're clear," she sniffed, but I caught her slight smile. "Go on then. I'll be watching."

With a quick kiss to reassure her, I approached the brothel alone. The door opened easily, revealing a dimly lit interior that smelled of cheap incense and cheaper liquor. Men sat scattered around small tables, none making eye contact with each other or acknowledging my entrance. A makeshift bar occupied one wall, tended by a middle-aged woman with sharp, watchful eyes.

I made my way to the bar, ordering a whiskey I had no intention of drinking. The bartender poured without comment, but her gaze lingered on me a second too long. She'd seen my type before—not here for the advertised services.

"New in town?" she finally asked, voice pitched low enough that only I could hear.

"Passing through," I replied, sliding payment across the counter. "Heard this place was interesting."

She snorted. "Nothing's interesting in Windmere."

I took a sip of the whiskey, suppressing a grimace at its quality. "That's not what I heard. Heard there have been some... issues lately."

Her expression shuttered. "Don't know what you're talking about."

'She's afraid,' Luna observed in my mind.

'With good reason,' Erebus added. 'Death has touched this place recently.'

I glanced toward the back of the room, where a few women stood in the shadows. One caught my attention—she held herself differently, back straight, eyes alert. While the others seemed to recede into the darkness, something about her presence commanded attention.

Our eyes met across the room. After a moment of silent assessment, she nodded slightly toward a hallway. Taking the invitation, I left my untouched drink and followed her up a narrow staircase that creaked with every step.

The room she led me to was small and sparsely furnished, with a single bed against one wall and a chair in the corner. She closed the door and gestured to the chair, taking a seat herself as far from the bed as possible.

"I didn't come here for what you're thinking," I said, keeping my voice low.

Her mouth quirked up slightly. "Nobody ever says they did." Her voice was steady, with an unexpected depth to it. "So what do you want?"

"Information," I replied, leaning forward. "About this town. About the mayor. About why people keep disappearing."

Her face showed nothing, but I caught the slight tightening of her jaw. "Who are you really?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "You're not from around here, that's obvious."

"My name is Arthur Nightingale. I'm from Mythos Academy."

"An adventurer?" Skepticism colored her voice. "The last one didn't make it out of Windmere."

"I'm aware," I said. "That's partly why I'm here."

She studied me for a long moment. "You don't look like much. But there's something about you..." She leaned forward slightly. "You're not alone, are you? I saw you outside with that girl."

"My girlfriend," I said, which wasn't a lie. "And we have another companion in town."

"Three of you," she mused. "Still won't be enough. Not against him."

"Against the mayor?"

She laughed, a harsh sound with no humor in it. "The mayor is just a man. A cruel, powerful man, but still human. I'm talking about his enforcer. The one who handles problems."

I pulled out a roll of cash and placed it on the small table between us. "I want to know everything. And I pay well for useful information."

She glanced at the money but didn't reach for it. "Why should I risk my life talking to you?"

"Because you want out," I guessed, watching her reaction. "You're trapped here like everyone else, but you haven't given up hope yet."

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, perhaps, that I had read her so well. She looked away, toward the single window with its grimy curtain.

"How long have you been in Windmere?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle.

"Three years," she replied after a moment. "Came here looking for work. Couldn't afford to leave once I realized what kind of place it was." She turned back to me. "They don't tell you the rules when you arrive. You figure them out after it's too late."

"What rules?"

She sighed, seeming to come to a decision. "Fine. But understand this—Windmere has rules. Unspoken ones. Break them, and you don't get a second chance."

I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"The mayor," she began, voice dropping even lower, "has this... arrangement. Every man in town has to offer their wife to him for a night. Once a year. It's his sick way of showing who's really in charge."

I kept my expression neutral despite the anger bubbling up. "And everyone just goes along with this?"

"What choice do they have?" she asked bitterly. "Those who refuse disappear. Their wives become widows overnight, their children fatherless. And everyone knows why."