It was five in the morning. The neatly arranged bedroom had a person lying in bed. He was wearing a brown pajama shirt and matching pajama pants. The man slowly opened his eyes and stretched his body. He got up from the bed and went to the bathroom to wash his face. They saw his reflection in the small mirror in the bathroom; his hair a little messy, his amber-colored stubble had shown signs of growing. His skin was still tanned from all the fieldwork he had done. His sharp eyes, light blue in color, looked cold in the dim bathroom. Staring into them made someone feel like they were staring into an icy lake in cold winter. The man went back to his bedroom and got dressed. He chose to wear his favorite black leather jacket and a pair of black gloves, and a pair of denim pants with leather shoes.

"G, I know you're still sleeping, but I'm going now. I'm taking over today."

He went to his office and before leaving, going behind his desk and opening a drawer. There was a commando knife inside with a black metal alloy handle. The blade had a length of 18 cm while the total length of the knife was 29 cm. On the handle, there was a carving of a name: Val. The knife belonged to him, Valentine Hymes. He sheathed the knife and put it under his jacket. It was not illegal to carry a knife in the republic. Guns, however, were forbidden.

Valentine closed the drawer and went out of his apartment room. He made his way downstairs and out in the street. It was still very early, and in early Autumn like that, the temperature could get low enough to make people shiver. There were not many people in the street, but there were some. It was Thursday, so most of them were people who needed to go to work very early. Lucky for them, public motor carriages started operating as early as four o'clock in the morning. Val stopped a motor carriage that was driving by and got it.

"Oosteinde, the bridge that crossed Amstel River. Hurry!" he said to the driver.

"Okay, s-- wait, aren't you the person from yesterday who tried to haggle? I remember taking you here!" said the driver in surprise as he started driving.

"Less talking, more driving," answered Valentine.

"...!"

"..."

Valentine didn't say anything again, and then muttered to himself, "G, sometimes you're embarrassing."

The trip went in complete silence until they reached their destination: the bridge crossing Amstel River. The driver pulled over on the northern side of the river.

"That will be six pennings, Sir."

Val took three duit coins from his pocket and slid them through the gap in the glass separator without saying anything, not even smiling.

"Thank you." said the driver. After Valentine had gotten out of the carriage, he muttered, "That man must not be a morning person." and drove away.

"G, we're here. So according to you, our guy must be hiding in one of these buildings?"

The bridge was a long one, connecting the two sides that were separated by the big river. The river itself was very dirty, especially around that area, because there was a slum under it, on the tiny pieces of land that it covered. Many people from the slum had woken up and started their activities. Some went fishing in the dirty river, others went scavenging for food nearby. There were a lot of buildings on each side of the rivers; several of them looked old.

"G, I'll wear the ring. It should be alright if I don't wear it too long."

Valentine took out a ring from his pocket and wore it. Suddenly, his body became warm and his mind clear. There was knowledge implanted in his brain, but he didn't pay attention to it. He also noticed that his eyesight had become many times better. He could see a rat coming out of a sewage drain far below, and he could follow the rat's movement perfectly. Valentine welcomed the good change and tried to focus on the image that he had seen the night before through Graham's eyes. No image came to his mind but his guts told him that he would recognize the part of the river and the building that it showed. For now, he chose to trust his instinct. He ran fast to the southern part of the bridge and agilely made his way down from the high bridge.

...

The sun had just started to shine. It was a cold morning. In Oosteinde, inside an abandoned building, a man was lying down in a fetal position. He was shivering from cold and hunger. He had been hiding in that building for two days, not even daring to go out for food. He was lucky to have carried a bottle of water. He was wearing a tucked-in dress shirt, a pair of striped pants. He looked to be in his early twenties, with light, brown eyes, blonde hair, and thin lips.

The abandoned building he was in was a food-processing factory that went bankrupt. It was formerly used mainly to make canned whale meat, but since the rise of animal rights activist movements, the government had been pressured to forbid the consumption of endangered animals. After the bill was passed, fewer and fewer people ate whale meat, and after a while, the company went bankrupt. It was a big, empty factory with a lot of hiding spaces. The man got up and drank his last bit of water from his bottle.

...

In the slum area under the bridge, two men walked into a person fishing in the river. They were both tall and wearing masks and shades. Their faces couldn't be seen under their cover. One man had black hair that was neatly combed to the back and the other had short, curly brown hair. The man with black hair was wearing a white shirt with a pair of black pants, while the other one was wearing a zipped jacket with denim pants. The two men looked muscular, but the curly-haired one was more so. The curly-haired man kept his hands in his jacket's pockets as if he was hiding something.

The black-haired man said to the curly-haired man, "Let me do the talking. Don't cause any trouble. We don't want unwanted attention."

He approached the fishing man and took out something from his pocket,

"Excuse me."

The fishing man ignored them for a while before turning to look at them.

"Have you seen the man in this photo?"

"Depend, who is asking?" said the fishing man indifferently, observing the two masked men before him.

"We're not the Police, if that's what you mean. He is our friend." the man with black hair said, "Here's something for your trouble." He took out one stuiver bill and handed it to the man.

"Thanks!" the man said ecstatically, "I don't know nothin'. You can ask Old Benthe. She knows everythin' that's goin' on here." He pointed at a house at the edge of the slum.

"Thank you," said the black-haired man.

The two men walked away from the fishing man, who immediately packed his fishing equipment and strolled away somewhere. The curly-haired man turned to his companion and said,

"Sixteen pennings only for that information? We could have beaten him and gotten it for free."

The black-haired man ignored his partner's complaint and went to the direction that the fishing man had given them. The house was made of scrap metal put together, and dirty rags to cover any opening. From the 'window', they could see an old woman, probably in her sixties, sitting inside the house.

The black-haired man spoke loudly, "Excuse me, is this Old Benthe's house?"

Old Benthe had long noticed the two men when they were still talking to the fishing man. She went out of the house and greeted them,

"Hello. I'm Benthe. Are you looking for someone?"

"In fact, we are. Have you seen the man in this photo?" the black-haired man showed the photo to her. He didn't lie about being the man in the photo's friend because he could see from her eyes that lying would be useless.

"Five stuivers." she named her price.

"That's crazy! Old hag, are you out of your mind?!" shouted the curly-haired man angrily.

The black-haired man extended his arm in front of the curly-haired man, to stop him from making any move.

"I apologize for my partner's behavior. Here's the money." he handed five stuiver bills to her.

"Apology accepted, along with the money." she smiled mischievously. I saw that man you are looking for the night before last night. He went that way," she pointed north-east towards the buildings on the river bank. "He probably sneaked into one of those old factories."

"Thank you, ma'am." said the black-haired man.

The two men walked north-east towards the buildings that Old Benthe pointed at. The black-haired man said to his partner,

"You should keep your anger in check. We need to find the ring no matter what. We don't want any trouble."

"I'm sorry, okay." the curly-haired man apologized.

...

On the small road by the riverbank, Valentine was still running as fast as he could. Two days had passed since he got the call from Janssen the assistant, so he needed to hurry. Most of the buildings that he passed looked old and abandoned. It would take too much time to go check them one by one. When he was in front of a building with a sign that read 'Whaly in Belly', he suddenly got a splitting headache. The image that Graham had seen before came to his mind: it was the building he had seen.

He took the knife out and readied it. He walked quietly inside the factory and observed his surroundings. The morning sunlight penetrated the darkness in the building. It was a big factory, with equipment still placed inside. He didn't know anything about food-processing so he couldn't make out what was what. He only knew they could be dangerous. The factory had no power; it seemed the electricity company had cut off service to that building.

It was very dusty inside. Valentine checked the floor for footprint, and he could see faint prints left there. Only a set of them could be seen going inside, so he deduced that Fabien hadn't gone out and nobody else had come in. He followed the footprint all the way to the second floor, to an office room. The lock on the door was broken, but it wouldn't budge. It seemed to have been barred from inside. There were windows, but they all had railings, so it would be impossible to break in through them.

Valentine knocked on the door. "Fabien, I know you're inside. Your father sent me."

There was nothing. The man inside didn't seem to trust the stranger knocking at the door.

"My name is Graham Hymes. I'm a private detective. Janssen gave me the call. I have your ring right here." Valentine said, trying to convince Fabien.

He then heard the sound of someone moving and footsteps coming closer. Fabien was weak, but he was still on guard. He said,

"Show me the ring through the window first."

Valentine raised his hand and showed the ring that he was wearing on his right ring finger. He heard a sigh of relief from inside the room and the sound of a barricade being taken apart.

The door was opened, and Valentine could see the man inside. Fabien looked pale, his lips dry. He was shivering from the cold. He opened his mouth and asked in a weak voice,

"Can you fight? There are people chasing me."

"No problem."

"You can just give them that damned ring, maybe they will go away. But maybe not; I've seen their faces." Fabien added, "In any case, let's get out of here.

...

"We've checked three buildings so far, but there was no trace of someone entering." said the curly-haired man.

The black-haired man stopped for a while and observed the pavement.

"There are two sets of footprints. One was older than the other one. This must be the building. Be careful, our target has a helper. There should be two people inside."

"Can we kill them?" asked the curly-haired man.

"Yes. Our target has seen our faces. But the ring is still the most important. I'll set up a ritual to make them fall asleep. We go in after that."

The black-haired man took a strand of grass and a lighter from his pocket. He then started chanting,

"I, in the name of the Deity of Sleep, burn this grass,"

The surrounding area became dim and quiet. The grass caught on fire easily despite being wet from the morning dew.

"I wish upon thee for the people inside this building to be granted peaceful sleep."

The grass burned entirely and the surrounding area returned to normal.

"They should be sleeping now. Let's go." said the black-haired man.

The two men entered the abandoned factory with the sign 'Whaly in Belly'. Inside, it was very quiet except for the sound of their footsteps and a faint snore from upstairs. The two men walked upstairs to find a man lying down on the floor. The curly-haired man was about to approach him when his partner stopped him.

"Don't. There should be two people sleeping here, but there is only one now. His helper somehow got out of my spell. We must be careful, that person must not be a normal one."

"Can you do it again?" asked the curly-haired man.

"I can only do it twice a day. I can do it once more, but I need time."

After he said that, a shadow suddenly jumped at the black-haired man.

"Watch out!" shouted the curly-haired man.

The black-haired man managed to dodge the lethal attack, but he got slashed in his side. However, it was only a flesh wound.

"Shit!" she shouted while stepping back.

"Deal with him! I'll prepare the ritual. Don't use your gun; it will wake them up," he said as he was searching for something to burn.

The curly-haired man took out a knife from under his socks and attacked the shadow. The shadow dodged. He could clearly see the figure now; it was a man in a leather jacket carrying a commando knife. His sharp green eyes showed no fear, but he was very careful. He didn't make any offensive move, just waiting for the curly-haired man to make his move first.

He launched a kick and it hit the leather jacket man. The leather jacket man defended the kick with both arms, but the impact still pushed him back.

"How long?!" he shouted at his partner.

The black-haired man answered, "Keep him busy!"

The leather jacket man tried to slash him with his knife, but his movement was too slow, so the curly-haired man could dodge to the side. He slashed the man back and barely hit him in the left arm. The leather jacket man stepped back and grunted in pain. He seemed to be muttering something under his breath.

The curly-haired man threw another stab, but it seemed like the leather jacket man could follow his every move. He didn't manage to dodge entirely because he was slow, however. His left hand was slashed; his glove torn and blood dripping.

"I, in the name of the Deity of Sleep, burn this paper,"

The surrounding area turned dim.

"I wish upon thee for the man in the leather jacket to be granted peaceful sleep."

The paper that the black-haired man had found burned entirely. The man in the leather jacket suddenly felt drowsy, and shortly after, fell asleep.

Both men observed the leather jacket man to make sure he was asleep.

"He is no amateur." said the curly-haired man while cleaning the dust off his own jacket. Shortly after he did that, the leather jacket man suddenly got up and attacked him.

"My arm!!" the curly-haired man shouted. His right arm was slashed by the man's knife. The wound was deep. A lot of blood was dripping from his slashed flesh. He dropped his own knife as a result.

"Something seems different about him! Shoot him!" said the black-haired man.

The leather jacket man moved with agility and slashed the curly-haired man while he was still trying to take out a pocket gun from his jacket. His right wrist got wounded and he dropped his gun.

"Piece of shitstain!! Argh!!!" screamed the curly-haired man in pain while stepping back. He also noticed that the leather jacket man now had cold, light blue eyes.

"His eye color changed! What the fuck!" he shouted.

The black-haired man took his own knife and attacked the leather jacket man, but he dodged it easily and stabbed the black-haired man in his right shoulder.

"Argghh!" he took a step back and held his shoulder to stop the bleeding.

"This guy is too dangerous! We should make a run for it!" shouted the black-haired man.

The curly-haired man had lost a lot of blood and both his weapons, so he couldn't fight anymore. He agreed with his partner's suggestion and started retreating.

"He's chasing us!" shouted the curly-haired man as he ran, "Do something!"

"I, in the name of the Deity of Sleep, offer you my blood!"

He took the blood from his shoulder on his hand and the blood seemed to boil.

"I wish upon thee to give the man in the leather jacket a horrible nightmare!"

The man in the leather jacket suddenly stopped and held his head. He screamed in agony.

"Hurry! It will only last four seconds!" urged the black-haired man.

"Why didn't you use it during our fight?!" asked the curly-haired man, increasing his pace with difficulty.

"I can only use it once a week, and it takes a lot of blood!"

The two men ran as fast as they could without saying anything anymore. They left the abandoned factory and running until the factory was far behind them. The curly-haired man tried to stop the bleeding from his wrist and arm while running, and the black-haired man kept holding his right shoulder. They went across the bridge to a parked motor carriage beside a closed restaurant. They got into the carriage and drove away.