West Stave Story [Kaz Brekker X Reader]

Gamblers and Galas

~ Y/N Pov ~

There is nothing that screams 'Kerch' quite like the Komedie Brute. I sit in the front row, surrounded by drunkards and excited tourists. This is my fifth show of the week, donned in my Grey fabric and hissing as the Madman steps into view with his oblong mask. Having no way to go on any jobs means I need to entertain myself in other ways. And if outlandlishly violent and grotesque theater performances get the job done, then I will keep attending.

Once Mister Crimson rushes out in his cape, I stand with the rest of the crowd and shout.

"Mother, father, pay the rent!"

The actor yells back: "I can't, my dear, the money's spent!"

In a frenzy, the actor tosses flurries of kruge into the crowd. Being so close to the stage, a lot of it floats around me. The audience surges forward, bending over to nab as much scrub as they can hold. It is only me who stands still, knowing this money is fake and the thin purple bills are worth nothing on the Staves.

A couple of bills get caught on my cloak and I shrug then stuff them into my pocket, sitting back down just in time for the Lost Bride to weep. The plots are brainless, just cheap entertainment that doesn't mean much. Perfect for people who have just spent weeks on a boat, searching for any scrap of excitement. My mind wanders off during a monologue and I think about the Crows.

Obviously, I cannot interrupt Kaz's plans everyday -- he still has paperwork and a gambling hall to manage. Roydan spends his days in the Emerald Palace and I am...jobless. No goal, no target. Being jobless feels like I'm not dangerous. I hate it here.

Once the play concludes and the people from the back of the crowd rush forward to find any spare pieces of kruge, I slip out quickly and enter yet another thick crowd of tourists. Now that spring is in full swing, the tourists are coming in waves. No one wants to visit Ketterdam in its coldest, rainiest months.

I start back home, though my instincts tell me not to, and I enter Dreg territory without a second thought. The Crow Club is certainly busy -- I bet Kaz is enjoying the influx of pigeons. However, I find myself stopped in front of the Slat, the rickety wooden building that houses the Dregs. People thread in and out of the doorway, either heading to the Crow Club for work or calling it quits for the day. Though the building is a bit ramshackle, it does seem warm, dry, and homey.

To my right, I overhear a conversation between two Dregs.

"Did you hear about the bank heist Kaz managed a few days ago?" One asks.

The other one nods. "I hear he escaped thirty stadwatch officers."

"The Wraith probably helped. She is kind of freaky when she pops out of nowhere."

"Hush, she might be listening now."

"Okay, okay. But imagine being in Kaz's inner circle," they say, their voices fading as they get absorbed by the crowd.

I look up through my Grey mask at the rooftops near me. There is no one there. The Wraith may not be listening right now. But I am. The Grey Imp, so sneaky that no one suspects them.

On a whim, I turn on my heel and go back down West Stave, getting as far away from the Den as I can. What other secrets can I hear, what can I learn that will give me some certainty?