BLACK INK SOCIETY {Sci-Fi Thriller} #Wattys2016

Part 3,1: Shattered Glass

September 27th, 2025

One year and one month before the scoop

It had been a splendid year so far, and a profitable one as well. But here and now, in this precise moment, the year had fallen into relapse. And Lupin - as usual - was right in the thick of it. This very morning he had woken up knowing he was unstoppable, and now? Now even his ubiquitous ego had deserted him.

Start from the beginning.

It was supposed to be a routine job, nothing fancy. Some wealthy widow had arranged a charity ball for the famous and the better-off, he expected plenty of loose jewellry and credit cards. Lupin had arranged his employment as a waiter of the Paper Crane exclusively for this evening. Everything was perfectly planned. But fortune had never been overly fond of his plans.

Lupin pushed the tea-cart, smiling, and hummed this one song that had been stuck in his head for a whole week. By hook or crook, he just couldn't remember the title. He didn't even know the rest of the lyrics. An incomplete song in his head was like one of these half-drawn paintings at the National Gallery. Novum Dimidium. He had never identified himself with this new art movement.
 An unfinished picture was supposed to stimulate the imagination, but he could find nothing but emptiness in the dusty bottle that contained his creativity.

Lupin handed out champagne glasses to the guests while he ransacked his memory for the remaining song lyrics. And the guest's pockets for... whatever he could find in them.

The proceeds of the evening auction were intended for a charity foundation, supporting the deserving poor of the South Edge Estates. Well, Lupin thought, I might not be from South Edge, but in a manner of speaking, I am certainly deserving. It all depends on the point of view.

In the meantime, he searched the room for his actual object of desire. The extra income of jewellry and purses was nice, of course, but it wasn't worth all the preparation. He needed something a little more substantial. Like a modern masterpiece of abstract painting, for example.

The Paper Crane was a classy establishment filled with glass chandeliers, candle-light and origami table decoration. In all this opulence there was only one thing missing - the painting, of all things. He presumed that it was still locked in the safe and would be taken out only for the auction. Time to make his arrangements. Lupin drew aside for an elderly guest in a wheelchair and was just about to balance the tray he was carrying - when all of a sudden he crashed into someone.

In the split of a second, the beautifully crafted champagne glasses bursted on the stone floor and sparkling liquid splashed in all directions. Some of the guests started from their luxurious seats, but the lady he had run into barely flinched. She just jiggled her hands slightly, as if the champagne drops were some sort of flies she wanted to chase off. Lupin immediately put down his tray on a nearby table and hurried back to her.

"I am terribly sorry!" Lupin apologized, effusively, "Are you alright? Oh, I am devastated by my own stupidity. If you'll wait just a second, I'll clean that up right away..."

He bent down to pick up the shards.

"Oh, no worries. It wasn't your fault," his counterpart replied and joined him in his effort.

Lupin lifted his head to look at her. "No, it's.... Ouch!"

Madam Duvivier. He couldn't believe it was her. The surprising encounter with the auction curator had distracted him in such extent that he hadn't payed attention to his hands and now the remains of a scattered glass had dug themselves into his skin. The fact that, of all guests, Lupin had collided with her, caused all his plans to take a turn.

"Look at your hand," Madam Duvivier rebuked him, "Now, get out of here and find someone to patch you up. I'll pick up the rest."

"Please, don't put yourself out on my account," Lupin replied, "I will send someone else to do it."

He got up carefully so he wouldn't stain the floor with blood and made his way to the bathroom. The auction curator was very friendly. Most of the so-called "art experts" he had encountered so far didn't give a damn about the staff, Lupin thought while slipping one hand into his pocket.

It really was a pity that she was soon to discover the disappearance of her key.

~ So I usually don't do author's notes because I don't want to spoil the story for you and a note kinda takes out the flow of it :3 But here I am now, because what I want to say is really important. This chapter is dedicated to AuriWithAWarhammer, she's an amazing writer and helped me since the very beginning. I'm very grateful for all of her advice and kind words, so I thought all I can do is letting you guys know about her and... nah, go check out her profile ^^ 

~ Zero over 'n out