chapter one
the Jade Empress, the Crimson Lotus District
August 26, 3045
10:06 PM
Visions pounded in his head. Colors, eclectic and carefree bounced across his vision, strobe lights casting everything in a relative amalgamation of shadows and light. It stank; reeked, really, of bodies too close together, of breathlessness and sweat, hot and slick bodies pressed against each other.
The Jade Empress was loud, arguably seedy and unreputable club, certainly not where a long-lost prince should be, which made him like it all the more. His kind of venue. His kind of way to spend his Friday nights.
A long acrylic nail tapped his shoulder. He pivoted on foot to turn to see who it was so desperately craved his attention.
She was a huli-jing, he thought. Her features were too angular and slim to be a native of Vietnam, but those slitted, alluring golden eyes, the color of the autumn moon, and her furred ears and tail were unmistakable. She gave him a smile, feral and seductive, her ivory fangs flashing over her lips painted a crimson red. Her russet hair, flowing free over her shoulders and Sung Lam’s hands, clashed with her tight, red qipao.
“What’s your name?” she all but shouted over the loud club music.
“Secret.” He smirked, pulling her closer to him to avoid another dancing couple.
“Ooh, a mystery. That’s fun. Why all the secrecy?” Purple light passed over their heads, casting her features in violet shadow.
“That’s also a secret.” The song changed, but the dancing didn’t. People jumped, danced, and shook where they stood, the energy of the city’s most attractive young people enjoying their youth and beauty in one of the most infamous clubs was infectious.
“Sad.” She pouted, yellow light catching on her glazed red lips. “How about we take this outside, pretty boy?”
“Gladly.” His smile matched hers, equally as feral and challenging.
She guided him, his hand on her waist, through the throng of bodies enthralled with the music and the energy, to a door. The door was little more than a back-alley busboy’s exit to dump whatever waste and refuse there was from the club out into a secluded alley. In the darkness of the club, little more than a sliver of light piercing from the outside betrayed its presence.
Sung Lam hummed appreciatively, feeling the relatively cooler, yet still as humid, air rustle through his hair as they exited the Jade Empress. The alley stank, though Sung Lam was convinced every part of the city stank. It reeked of oil, of human refuse, the sweet stench of garbage and of grease and metal. The huli-jing shut the door behind her, long nails glinting in the dim phosphorescent light, and the sounds of the club faded.
She pulled a cigarette out from her small handbag as well as an enamel lighter. With a well-practiced, surprisingly dexterous flick of her otherwise seemingly encumbered fingers, she lit the butt of the cigarette. The smoke smelled acrid, though not entirely unpleasant to Sung Lam.
“Want one?” She balanced one between her narrow fingers, held out to him.
He smirked, once again. “Sorry, princess. I don’t smoke.”
She shrugged one thin shoulder. “Shame.” She exhaled another puff of smoke. “So what’s a girl got to do to get a name from you?”
“Well, telling me why you picked me, of all people.”
She gave another noncommittal shrug, adjusting the golden chain of her handbag slung over her chest. “You looked kind of interesting. I haven’t seen you around. I come here every week. It’s mostly the same crowd, over and over. Y’know, the scion of those rich fucks who run the city.”
Sung Lam laughed. “Is that it? I piqued your interest.”
“That,” she said with discerning eyes, “and that I feel like you have quite a story to tell. I’ve spent enough nights raving here. Not enough having a legitimate conversation with someone worth talking to. That, and you’re pretty attractive,” she tacked on. “So,” she prompted, “what’s your deal? Bastard son of the Trinhs? You may be surprised how many of them there are.”
“What about yours?” Lam countered, “A huli-jing in the upper echelons of Lac Viet society? A novelty for those ‘rich fucks’ to ogle at, I’m sure.”
“Touche.” She chuckled. She finished her cigarette, letting it fall from her lips to the stained ground. With one heel, she expertly crushed its dregs, ashes clinging to the sole of her foot. “I see we’ve got a lot to talk about. Here’s my holocom number.” She pressed a thin slip of paper into the palm of his hand. “Give me a call if you ever want to chat. It’s a date, if you’re interested.”
With that, she opened the door and slipped back inside like a shadow.
Lam stared at the piece of paper in his hand for a moment, letting his eyes flit over the scrawled number on the thin parchment before letting it fall to the ground. How foolish.
From the back of his jeans pocket, he deftly pulled out his holocom. A small disk fitting into the palm of his hand, and with a single scan of his fingerprint and a swipe, a list of his contacts projected on a thin blue screen flared to life in the air above the disk. Finding the name he was looking for, he punched in the call button on the projected screen, and waited.
“What’s up, Doc?” A girl’s face appeared. She would’ve passed for entirely human and not a Mystic, except for the slight tint of green to her skin and two thin twigs, like antlers, jutting out from the crown of her head. She blinked owlishly at Sung Lam.
“No luck.”
“Really?” She turned away for a moment, exiting the frame for a second before returning with a mug of coffee in hand. “Odd. Intel reports Thuy Tinh is always at the Jade Empress every weekend.”
Lam scowled. “I expected results, Hanh.”
“Don’t look at me like that!”. “Knowing that sordid bastard, he can’t be far. Though I don’t suggest you go looking for him at this hour, Your Highness.”
“Duly noted, Hanh,” Lam commented dryly. “What is my grandfather doing?”
Hanh’s eyes were glued offscreen, presumably to her computer monitor, and Lam heard the dull clicking of her nails against the keyboard. “Still meeting with the investors of Hung Corp. Discussing the dividend cuts, business, all that stuff. If I may, Your Highness, I think it’s best you come home soon before the other household staff notices you’re missing and let’s your grandfather know.”
Sung Lam tilted his head in acquiescence. “I will be back at the compound soon. Await my arrival.” And with that, he ended the call.
The Hung compound was in the Peach Concubine’s district, about two sectors removed from the Crimson Lotus district, where he was at the time. Not ridiculously far, given the impacted infrastructure of Lac Viet City. Had he not been going incognito, he would have scheduled the family’s chauffeur or at the very least, taken some safety measure in the form of some security detail. He knew walking back, without any escort, was very likely his only option. And with his grandfather watching his every step… the less perceptible his movements were, the better.
Though, he wasn’t exactly worried. As he set off on the neon-lit streets he rubbed his shoulder, from where his dragon marks spiraled outwards down his body. One would be stupid to try and attack a Dragon. His mark lurked under his dark long sleeve shirt, his red and black dragon curling over his shoulder and arm, stretching down the length of his back, hidden away. He was more than capable of defending himself from a street thug. Especially in these less reputable parts.
The cobblestones were uneven and broken under his feet, the streets narrow and splashed with rainwater and grease. Neon lights, women and men alike leered at him as he passed their storefronts, lovely establishments such as gambling houses and more clubs of the more… lascivious sort. Few seemed to be of the caliber of theJade Empress, but he supposed not everyone could afford to be the richer citizens’ playground. The air was heavy with smoke and the scent of cologne, and just barely above the tall rickety buildings towering over him could Sung Lam make out the fuzzy imprint of the stars.
It still boggled his mind of the stark difference between the Peach Concubine and the Crimson Lotus, more than just in levels of reputability. The Peach Concubine was where the city’s riches denizens resided, permeated with old money and class. Where neighbors were stiff with expensive pomade and legacies, burdened with wealth and constricted by the rules contrived by polite society.
It had been almost 14 years since he had last set foot in his ancestral home. Even so, his childhood in the city was blissfully restricted to the Peach Concubine and its surrounding ‘socially acceptable’ prefectures. His childhood memories were cast in a warm golden light, cocooned in comfort and unaware of… well, everything else. Until that day, of course. He had no idea other parts of the city were in this level of disarray nor poverty, though he wasn’t surprised in the least. Lac Viet City was known for its dense population and immigration influx, if his grandfather’s stewards’ reports were to be true.
He took a sharp left on the street intersection, dodging a few pre-war vespas, almost in scrap-metal condition. Only a few blocks more before he reached the Moonlit Lantern, the district bridging the worlds of the Peach Concubine and the Crimson Lotus. A few more blocks, then relative safety.
So of course, things had to go terribly wrong one avenue away.
It was one last club, he thought, as he passed it. Exceptionally loud and garish with its neon, fluorescent lights erratically flashing. He didn’t think much of it. Except, he didn’t see a dark figure slip away from the side of the building. He couldn’t hear the soft susurrus of a knife as it slid out of a pocket as the man crept up behind him. He couldn’t see their face in the junction between streetlights, a sort of darkened limbo. He only heard a soft hiss as and felt the kiss of steel against his neck.
“Hello,” Lam said calmly.
“Hello.” The voice was harsh, and his breath stank. “Listen here, pretty boy. You either hand over all the dong you have or you’re going to get it.”
“What makes you think I of all people would have money to spare?”
The voice laughed, like sand grating against stone. “Please. One look and anyone can tell you’re not from the Crimson Lotus. Probably some sad rich boy looking for a girl who’ll spend the night if he pays, right? Thinking he can get away with whatever just cuz his daddy owns a place,” the voice jeered, “so hand me your fucking money or you’re dead.”
Sung Lam felt his power boil beneath his skin. The ink on his arms and shoulders burned, like a trail of fire across his skin, his bones creaking with anticipation. The dragon’s power coiling in his stomach curled around his finger, permeating his veins. And with a clap of thunder, he unleashed it. Lightning coursed down his arm, through his muscles, fortifying his strength and electrocuting the man standing behind him.
With the power of a storm, he rammed his elbow into the stomach of the man behind himThe man careened through the air, skidding on the floor of the darkened alleyway Sung Lam sent him flying into, splashing sewage water over Sung Lam’s shoes. Lam wrinkled his nose.
The man sat up, terror etched onto his face. His eyes were sunken, the whites of his eyes silvery gray. So, a Ghost user, then. He scrambled backwards over the slick stones of the alleyway, his soaked clothes hanging from his emaciated limbs while he flailed away.
“Fuck, man! Okay, I’m sorry, I get it!” His teeth were yellow, his gums receded. The very picture of a wasted husk of a person. “You’ve had a bad day! How about this- you let me fuck off, and I won’t bother you ever again?”
Sung Lam watched reproachfully from a distance while the man picked up his bedraggled person from the floor, clutching his ribs where he was struck Sung Lam didn’t even deign an answer. But that wasn’t his mistake. His mistake was in fact, doing nothing about his attacker at all in the moment.
In the blink of an eye, a smile stretched across the man’s face, uncannily broad, with pink and purple neon lighting his wild eyes aflame. He laughed maniacally, the shreds of his laughter shrilly echoing along the alleyway walls. Staggering to his feet, before Sun Lam could react, he launched himself at the other man. “Eat shit, fucker!”
There was a glint of orange, blinking flintily in the neon lights that coalesced the city like a layer of grime, and Sung Lam grunted, feeling ice slip between his ribs. The man screeched, euphoric and whirling in his own eddies of dopamine, scampered off into the darkness of the alleyway.
Sung Lam breathed. Or, at least, tried to, tasting iron in his mouth and feeling his own blood trickle between his fingers. He saw fire. He breathed in soot. And he felt the silver curl through his veins, sinking its talons into his body, like the inferno that scorched his body many years prior.