Zoya stopped and turned around.
Before her stood a man whose appearance struck the eye with tremendous force.
He wore a glaring white long coat over a half-unbuttoned white shirt, standing in sharp contrast to his red skin.
Most eye-catching of all was the pair of dark, backward-curving horns on his forehead—holes had even been pierced through them, with two small golden rings hanging there and jingling with his movements.
Kazimir Nightfire.
A tiefling who drew stares wherever he went.
The two had met because of the fencing commission Zoya had just completed.
At the time, the corrupt warehouse supervisor had hired several gang members to silence them forever.
Kazimir, who had taken the commission alongside Zoya and had been preparing to wheedle information out of people with his silver tongue, had been caught alone by several muscular fighters and dragged to a pile of salted fish.
Just when the cleanliness-obsessed tiefling bard clutched his lute in despair, certain he was about to be chopped into mincemeat, Zoya had struck from the shadows and gotten him out of trouble.
Zoya still remembered the sight of him crawling out of that pile of salted fish. After brushing the fishy scraps off himself, he pressed one hand to his chest. "Oh, shadows above!"
"Miss Zoya, that backstab of yours was brimming with violent beauty, like stirring impassioned notes upon the strings of my heart. It has truly set my blood racing!"
"Kazimir." Zoya gave a slight nod, her tone habitually cold. "What do you want?"
"Of course—a splendid job." Kazimir flicked his slender demonic tail. "I was just thinking how wonderful it would be if I ran into you at the guild. Take a look at this."
As he spoke, he handed over a sheet of parchment.
Zoya took the commission notice,