The Lady of the Camellias!

Luther's eyes flickered as he processed the surreal scene unfolding before him. Emma stood there, her demeanor a mix of haunting allure and unsettling madness. The gelatinous, humanoid creature loomed behind her like a grotesque shadow, its form quivering and shifting with an unnatural fluidity. The air in the room felt heavy, saturated with the metallic tang of decay and the oppressive weight of something far more sinister.

For a moment, Luther didn't respond. He remained crouched by the small corpse, his fingers brushing lightly against the jagged edges of the wound on the boy's head. His thoughts churned, connecting fragments of information, stories, and the peculiar behavior Emma had exhibited from the start.

Finally, he rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, as if testing the stability of the space around him. His sharp eyes met Emma's, and he offered her a faint, enigmatic smile.

"So, the Lady of the Camellias," he said, his tone light but edged with steel. "I've read about you, you know. The tragic seductress who lures men to their doom, wrapped in beauty and deceit. I thought it was just a story to scare young men. But here you are, very real, and very… creative."

Emma tilted her head, her smile widening. "Oh, flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Luther," she purred. "But let's not pretend you're just some innocent wanderer who stumbled upon my little home. You're here for answers, aren't you? And lucky for you, I'm feeling generous tonight."

Her voice dripped with mockery, but there was an undercurrent of genuine curiosity in her tone, as if she were trying to decipher Luther as much as he was trying to understand her.

Luther took a step closer, unfazed by the grotesque creature shifting behind her. "Generosity, is it?" he said, his voice calm. "Because so far, it looks like you've done little more than spin a web of confusion and tragedy. That little boy—" he gestured to the small, lifeless corpse on the floor "—and that woman… both of them look connected to you, whether you want to admit it or not."

Emma's expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of something raw flashing in her eyes before she masked it with a laugh. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. They're just… leftovers from another time. They're irrelevant."

"Leftovers?" Luther repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "That's what you call them?"

Emma's laugh turned brittle, her smile tightening. "Don't act so righteous," she snapped, her tone sharp now. "You think you can walk in here and judge me? You, who came into this city with secrets of your own, looking for trouble and poking your nose where it doesn't belong?"

The tension in the room thickened, the creature behind Emma twitching and rippling as if feeding off her agitation. Luther's stance shifted subtly, his body readying itself for the inevitable clash. But his expression remained composed, even amused.

"Secrets, yes," Luther said, his smile returning. "We all have them, don't we? But the difference is, I don't leave a trail of corpses and crying gelatin behind me."

Emma flinched, her composure cracking again, but she quickly recovered, her seductive smile returning. "You're amusing, Mr. Luther. I can see why they sent you here."

"They?" Luther's eyebrow arched, but his tone remained casual. "Who exactly do you think sent me?"

Emma took a step closer, the creature behind her mimicking her movement in an eerie synchronization. "Oh, you know exactly who. The ones who pull the strings in Grunt Harbor. The ones who want to control everything, even me. They think they can get to me through you, don't they? But you're different. You're… harder to read. I like that."

Luther let her words hang in the air, dissecting every syllable for its meaning. Emma was clearly trying to gain the upper hand, but her erratic behavior and cryptic hints only deepened the mystery surrounding her.

"Well then," Luther said finally, his voice light but firm, "if you're so eager to help me, let's get to it. Tell me everything you know about the people watching my villa, about the Church of the Hidden Deep, and about whatever mess you've gotten yourself tangled in."

Emma's smile turned predatory, and she took another step closer, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and malice. "Oh, I will," she purred. "But you know my price, don't you?"

Luther tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Money?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer wasn't so simple.

"Money is useful," Emma replied, her voice softening. "But there are other ways to pay, Mr. Luther. Ways far more… intimate." She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against his sleeve, her touch cold and unnerving.

Luther didn't flinch, but his smile turned razor-sharp. "Tempting," he said dryly, "but I think I'll stick to shillings, thank you."

Emma's laughter echoed through the small room, high-pitched and almost hysterical. "Suit yourself, Mr. Luther. But don't think for a second that you're in control here. You've stepped into a game far older and far deadlier than you realize."

Luther's eyes flicked to the gelatinous creature behind her, its form shifting again as if reacting to the tension in the room. "Maybe," he said quietly. "But I don't play by anyone else's rules."

For a moment, the room fell silent, the air crackling with unspoken tension. Then Emma's smile returned, softer this time, almost sad. "You're interesting, Luther," she said. "Let's see how long you can keep it up."

She stepped back, the creature dissolving into the shadows behind her. "Fine. I'll tell you what you want to know but i need remuneration. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Luther's expression didn't waver. "I don't need warnings. Just answers."

"Remuneration?"

Luther's voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and sharp. His narrowed eyes studied Emma with an intensity that made her pause. "What kind of reward are you talking about?"

Emma tilted her head, a coy smile playing on her lips. She didn't respond immediately, letting the tension build. Behind her, the strange humanoid creature twisted and morphed, reshaping itself into an elaborate chair that seemed designed for her alone. With a languid grace, Emma sat down, crossing her legs in a calculated display of confidence. Her bare feet, covered by a translucent, black hydrogel, tapped lightly against the air, a rhythmic, hypnotic beat.

"Mr. Luther," she purred, her voice dripping with an unspoken promise, "the question isn't what kind of reward I'm talking about. It's what kind of reward you can afford to give."

Luther's lips curled into a slow, impudent smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. He began to walk toward her, his steps deliberate, each one echoing softly on the wooden floor.

"Oh?" he said, his voice laced with mockery. "And what do *you* think I can afford to pay?"

As he closed the distance between them, Luther leaned down, his face now mere inches from hers. His left hand reached out, fingers brushing against her chin in an almost tender gesture. His eyes narrowed, their sharpness making her feel as though he was looking straight through her.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low, his breath warm against her skin. "Do you think you're worth it?"

Emma's smile widened, her mouth stretching unnaturally. The corners split open, revealing rows of black, jagged teeth glistening with an oily sheen. With a swift motion, she grabbed Luther's arm, her monstrous maw lunging toward his hand as though to swallow it whole.

"Tsk."

Luther's right hand shot out, landing on the top of her head with surprising gentleness. His fingers ruffled her hair, kneading her like one might a mischievous kitten. For a fleeting moment, Emma froze, startled by the unexpected gesture. It triggered a long-buried memory, a fatherly hand tousling her hair in a rare moment of affection, back when she was still human, back when life was simpler.