Tell me, do you think i beautiful?

I barely made it to the library on time, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I pushed through the heavy doors. The morning had been a blur, and I was still grappling with the fear and disorientation from the night before. But the library was a haven, and I was grateful for its orderly silence amidst the chaos of my thoughts.

As I got settled into my second day of work, I was keenly aware of the fleeting nature of time. I tried to focus on the tasks at hand—shelving books, assisting patrons, and managing the reception desk—but my mind kept drifting back to the earlier conversation with the boy at the inn.

The name "Joll's Paradise" kept replaying in my head. It felt like a crucial lead, even though it was tenuous at best. Jasmine's death was clearly tied to something larger and darker, and I needed to follow this lead to uncover the truth. I couldn't shake the feeling that Joll's Paradise might hold the key to unraveling the mystery.

Throughout the day, my thoughts were dominated by the enigmatic Mr. Churchill and the sinister curse he had inflicted on the innkeeper. The connection between Jasmine's death and the eerie occurrences at the inn seemed too significant to ignore. Each creak of the library's wooden floors and every rustle of pages felt like a reminder of the questions that plagued my mind.

As I worked, my mind raced with possibilities and questions. What was Joll's Paradise? Why had the strange man, Mr. Churchill, left such a lasting impact? The fear and curiosity churned inside me, propelling me toward the next step in my investigation.

I knew I couldn't afford to get lost in the library's vast collection or distracted by the daily tasks. Every moment spent here was a moment away from uncovering the truth behind Jasmine's death and the shadows that seemed to follow me. The library offered me a brief respite, but my thoughts were already on what lay beyond its walls.

______________________

After finishing my work at the library around half past five, I found myself standing before Joll's Paradise, staring up at its imposing façade. The building's exterior was a study in opulence, with its gold trimmings and ornate carvings, an alluring façade that masked its true nature. I took a deep breath, bracing myself, and pushed open the heavy doors.

Inside, Joll's Paradise was a world apart from the city's respectable district. The atmosphere was thick with decadence. Lavish chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a seductive glow over the room. Patrons lounged on plush sofas, lost in whispered conversations with elegantly dressed workers. The air was a heady mix of perfume and something darker, more primal.

I approached the bar, where a woman with striking features and an authoritative air was polishing glasses. "I need to speak with the owner," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

The bartender looked me up and down, her expression skeptical. "And why would the owner want to talk to you?"

I hesitated for a moment, then recalled a conversation I'd had with the librarian about Miss Rose. A bold idea formed in my mind. I squared my shoulders and spoke with newfound confidence. "I have came on behalf of Rosaline obel."

At the mention of name obel, the bartender's eyebrows raised in surprise. She nodded and disappeared through a door behind the bar. A few minutes later, she returned and gestured for me to follow her.

We navigated a series of dimly lit corridors, the opulence growing more pronounced with each step. Eventually, we reached a heavy wooden door. The bartender knocked and then opened it, revealing two guards who scrutinized me with suspicion.

"What's your business here?" one of the guards asked, his tone sharp.

"I have important information for your mistress," I said, trying to sound as calm and authoritative as I could.

The guards exchanged glances before one stepped forward to pat me down. My heart raced as the guard's hands reached my left pocket. I clenched my jaw, bracing for whatever might come next.

The guard's fingers brushed my pocket, and I felt a rush of panic. He looked at me with intense suspicion. Just as I was about to speak, he said, "Clear," and stepped back.

I blinked in surprise, feeling a wave of relief. I reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing against the Fool's card. It was still there, warm and reassuring. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

The guards opened the door, and I stepped into a richly furnished office. Lilith, the mistress really ought to trust her guards with more awareness of the supernatural and what sort of things to look for, or maybe my card is one of a kind even among extraordinary.

Focusing on matter at hand again, i looked around-the-clock. The office itself was elegant, very roomy, with the high ceilings and the broad floors that they just don't make anymore. To put it bluntly, It was more like a library, its walls lined with old books in leather bindings, similar to the leather-cushioned chairs around the enormous old dogfoot table in the room's center.

I took a seat and waited. And waited. And waited. More than half an hour went by before the lilith finally arrived.

She came into the room like a candle burning with a cold, clear flame. Her hair was a burnished shade of auburn that was too dark to cast back any ruddy highlights, but did anyway. Her eyes were dark, clear, her complexion flawlessly smooth and elegantly graced with cosmetics. She was not a tall woman, but shapely, wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline and a slash in one side that showed off a generous portion of pale thigh. Black gloves covered her arms to above the elbows, and her ever so costly shoes were a study in high-heeled torture devices. She looked too good to be true.

"Hearsay the bartender neglected to mention how lovely you are," I said, my voice soft and polite. She laughed, her head falling back slightly to reveal a flash of her pale throat. "A gentleman, I see. It is a charmingly passé thing to be a gentleman in this country."

I leaned in, my eyes meeting hers as I extended my hand. She approached with a fluid grace and offered me her own. I took it gently, bowing over her hand and brushing my lips against the back of her glove. "Do you really think I'm beautiful, Mister Jesper?" she asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.

"As lovely as a star, Madame," I replied sincerely.

"Polite and a pretty one, too," she murmured, her gaze flickering over me, avoiding direct eye contact. I wasn't sure if she was trying to prevent any unintended magic from reaching me or if she was wary of me being a threat. She moved gracefully into the room and stopped beside one of the comfortable chairs. Instinctively, I stepped around the table and drew out the chair for her, helping her into it.

She crossed her legs, and even in that dress and those shoes, she made it look effortless. For a brief moment, I was caught off guard, then I took my own seat across from her.

"So, Mister jesper," she began, her smile never wavering. "What brings you to my humble house? Care for an evening of entertainment? I assure you, it will be an experience like no other."

I returned her smile, sliding my hand into my pocket to touch the white handkerchief I kept there. "No, thank you. I came to talk."

Her lips parted in a silent 'ah.' "I see. About what, if I might ask?"

"About Jasmine Roy. And her murder."

Her eyes widened slightly, and her smile faltered just enough to reveal her surprise. "Ah," she murmured, a cold edge in her voice. I felt it was little rushed, so i corrected myself immediately.

"You see, Miss Rose has taken an interest in the Traveller's Inn. She needs information about a woman named Jasmine who used to work here," I said, keeping my tone measured.

Madame Lilith's eyes narrowed slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Jasmine... yes, I remember her. A talented dancer. But why the sudden interest?"

"That's not your concern, Miss Lilith," I replied, my voice steady. "Just tell me everything you know, or else Miss Rose won't be pleased."

Madame Lilith leaned back in her chair, her gaze assessing me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "A confident one, aren't you? I do like that. Let's proceed then."

A slow, predatory smile spread across her face, revealing a hint of sharp teeth. "Jasmine died about twenty years ago. But I suspect you already knew that. Her death was... peculiar."

I chuckled, trying to mask the growing unease in my chest. "Peculiar, you say? How intriguing."

My heart was racing, though I maintained a calm facade. This was no ordinary case after all.

Madame Lilith's eyes seemed to flicker with an unsettling light in the dim room. "Jasmine was special—new to the eldritch world at best, but special nonetheless. But she caught the attention of the wrong people. Her death wasn't an accident, but that's all I can reveal."

My mind raced with more questions, but before I could voice them, I took a gamble. "That's not enough. How about this then: What do you know about Mr. Churchill?"

The moment the words left my mouth, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It grew heavy and oppressive, and I knew instantly I had overstepped.