Fira,
You have been unusually quiet these past few cycles.
Ordinarily, I would commend such discretion—it is a rare and valuable quality within Blackwood Arms. Yet in your case, silence tends to indicate not calm, but consideration. You think when you are quiet. You weigh options. You plan.
This is admirable.
It is also, at present, mildly concerning.
I have noticed the absence of certain documents from my archive. Not stolen—no, you are far too precise for that—but relocated. Examined. Carried, perhaps, in that satchel you insist on keeping close, as though every hallway might suddenly demand a prepared escape.
You need not confirm this. I am not writing to accuse you.
I am writing to ask something of you.
Gently.
And with full awareness that you are under no obligation to comply.
Do not share what you have read with Marin.
Not yet.
You are perceptive enough to understand why.
Information within this building does not behave as it should. It does not simply inform—it alters. It provokes. It accelerates events that are otherwise content to unfold slowly.
Marin exists in a precarious balance, whether she realizes it or not. Each revelation she uncovers reshapes the nature of that balance. Some truths strengthen her. Others… invite attention.
Malverin is not inattentive.
He allows much. Observes more. Intervenes selectively.
But there are thresholds.
And I suspect—though I cannot prove—that certain details within my collection would draw his interest in ways that are… undesirable for all involved.
Particularly for you.
You must understand this clearly, Fira:
Your presence here is not sanctioned.
When I brought you into my care, it was done with intent, yes—but not with permission. You were seen. You were known. And then, quite deliberately, you were… overlooked.
This is not the same as being unseen.
It is a courtesy.
A temporary one.
If Malverin were to take direct notice of you—truly notice, not simply acknowledge your movement through shared space—he would ask questions.
Questions that lead to conclusions.
Conclusions that tend to result in restructuring.
I would prefer you remain… unaltered.
This is not a command.
I do not command you.
I remind you of this now, because I suspect you may have begun to forget.
You do not belong to me.
Your service, while appreciated, is not required.
Your presence, while beneficial, is not enforced.
Your choices remain your own.
If you wished to leave my apartment and never return, you would find no barrier placed in your path.
Only… concern.
That said—since you have chosen, thus far, to remain—I will allow myself a small indulgence in familiarity.
There are tasks I find… comforting.
The tea, for instance.
You have begun preparing it to an acceptable standard. The temperature is correct more often than not, and you have learned—after several corrections—that over-steeping introduces a bitterness I find unnecessary.
If you are inclined, I would appreciate a fresh pot later this evening.
Additionally, the matter of sustenance.
The deliveries from Domino's have become… inconsistent of late. Incorrect toppings. Missing items. An alarming disregard for structural integrity.
Should you find yourself near the storefront, a corrective order would not go unappreciated.
You have demonstrated a surprising aptitude for ensuring accuracy.
You may, of course, decline.
However—
In recognition of your time, your effort, and your continued tolerance of my… particular environment, I am prepared to offer compensation.
I have acquired a modest reserve of Dogecoin.
Do not concern yourself with its origin.
It is valid.
It is transferable.
And, more importantly, it appears to hold value within certain… unconventional exchanges throughout the building.
For each task you choose to complete—whether for myself, or for others within Blackwood Arms whom you deem worthy—I will compensate you accordingly.
Not as payment for servitude.
But as acknowledgment of agency.
If you assist another resident—quietly, carefully, without drawing undue attention—I will consider that effort equally valuable.
Perhaps more so.
You have a tendency, Fira, to view your situation in binary terms: captive or free, servant or fugitive, debt owed or debt escaped.
The truth, as is often the case here, is less accommodating.
You are something else.
You are… positioned.
And positions, unlike chains, can be adjusted.
Which brings me, finally, to my last request.
Do not reveal yourself to Malverin.
Not intentionally.
Not accidentally.
Not out of curiosity, defiance, or misplaced confidence.
He is not what you have seen of him.
Nor is he limited to it.
There are aspects of him that do not frequent the hallways.
Perspectives that do not align with the version that speaks, observes, or even… obsesses.
If those aspects were to turn their attention toward you—
I would be unable to predict the outcome.
And I find that unacceptable.
You are, whether you like it or not, under my protection.
A condition I maintain not through authority, but through… careful positioning of attention.
Help me maintain that.
Keep what you have learned close.
For now.
Observe Marin, if you must. Assist her in small ways, subtle ways—ways that do not accelerate her understanding beyond what she can withstand.
You are good at subtlety.
Better than you realize.
There will come a time when truth must be shared.
I am not asking you to deny it.
Only to delay it.
Patience, in this place, is not inaction.
It is survival.
If you have questions, you may ask them.
I will answer what I can.
What I cannot, I will… attempt to reframe.
If you choose to ignore this letter entirely—
I will not punish you.
But I will worry.
And while that may seem insignificant to you—
It is, I assure you, an inefficient use of my attention.
Do try to avoid it.
Bring tea, if you’re inclined.
And if you pass by the storefront—double-check the order before leaving.
They will forget the dipping sauces otherwise.
— Ithorel Quay