Granger sat down by the edge of his bed, holding the kitten in his slender, veined hands as it sits onto its fur. He stares back at the kitten's small, glistening orbs as feline stared back at him in curiosity. He thinks he's not good at bestowing a name, well, he can't even remember the names of other people he had met, not that it matters. He had deemed a lot of things unimportant in one's life, especially one of a lonely demon hunter, skilled in wielding deadly paraphernalia but that's about it. The only sole purpose of being a demon hunter is to-- ofcourse, drive demons out of the Empire, and fight against crime. Unlike ones that are in the Moniyan army, they are unranked and does not get recognition for what they do.

Granger didn't need all the shiny gold in his vest, nor the medal bestowed upon him, he wanted to live life in a low profile. Despite how he seemingly looks poor, he thinks he is gifted-- somehow. If he had to choose between being wealthy, or being vagrant, he'd rather stay in a low profile other than being in large, well-known groups.

And suddenly, he asked himself.

What even is this kitten's gender?

...

Female.

The marksman's eyes darted back up, and the kitten looked back at him.

Lev.

Does it sound feminine? Masculine?

No, it sounds neutral.

"Then let's stick with Lev." He mumbles under his breath, and he places her onto his lap. Lev stood up and rubbed herself upon the slim waist of the marksman and he chuckles softly.

Looks like we are stuck together now, Lev?

He was looking down at the kitten that nuzzled back to him petting her fur, before turning his head towards his nightstand to open the lamp with an arm extending to its switch, just by the intersection of the shade itself and the base. The small room then became more brighter as it got illuminated by the lamp, but it never changed the fact that his life feels dull.

In the marksman's eyes, everything is still in black and white. Monochromatic, lifeless. Is it because he doesn't have much time to clean? It feels like no matter how much scrubbing it took, everything's still dark.

The dark just likes him a lot, maybe.

He felt a streak of sweat trickle down the sides of his face and he sets Lev onto the mattress to stand up and face the window, only to notice a letter stuck onto its corner from the outside.

Finally, after days of training, a new mission had arrived.

He slowly pushed it up, lest the letter would fly off, and he wouldn't want to chase after it. He had it in his grip, a bit creased on the side, but then again, it didn't matter. It had the crest of the demon hunter association on it, and leaving the window open, he sat back onto his bed, opening the folds and pulling out the letter itself from its tight concealment.

The letter spoke of an abandoned area not far from the inn he stays in, speculated to be the den of sticky-fingered thieves.

There have been various reports of goods and gold stolen in succession. A commoner approached, and claimed sight of suspicious activity from an abandoned den. Information has been leaked from our realty source, stating that the land's deed is with the realty office, it unclaimed by the supposed heir, blood-related to the late proprietor.

One of our assets observed and investigated the potentiality of the place being the thieves' den, and is later on confirmed to be their hideout.

Ycmcj Kctcc.

"What date is it today..." The marksman mumbles to himself, taking meticulous strides towards his desk, beside his small bookshelf, displaying a wide collection of books about orchestral music. He reads one once in awhile, when he had nothing better to do.

"The fifth..." He whispered, opening one of his journals, he hurriedly tears up a blank page, placing it beside the letter. He opens the desk to retrieve a quill, after pulling out the small ink jar and closing it up.

The last, unclear part of the letter is a code. A code only members of the association knows how to decipher. The current date is the secret itself, to know how many shifts of letters it had to take to get the appropriate letter.

Lev jumped onto his lap, placed her paws against the edges of the desk, and peeked onto what Granger is working on. Granger was too focused to even notice, and Lev is way too innocent and gentle to be aggressively scratching at the paper.

It took a bit of awhile as he had to write down the replaced letters, one-by-one replacing it with the ciphered text.

Txhxe Fxoxx.

Well... that didn't sound like it's right. Unless...

The Fox.

You get rid of the repeating letters in between.

"The Fox..." It rings a bell at the back of Granger's head. He retraces back his memory of the phrase, only to tip his head back slightly at the sudden spark in his mind.

The pub. The Fox is a pub's name south of the inn he stays in. That must be where the selected members are to meet. Granger placed the papers down and he leans back against the backrest of the chair, sighing to himself.