The taxi wound its way slowly through the Upper City, where glass towers and hanging castles vanished beneath a fine drizzle. The driver, his face furrowed with fatigue, kept both hands steady on the wheel, stealing sideways glances at the passenger in the back seat.

  Back there sat a tall, blond man whose blue eyes seemed to hold storms. Something unreal clung to the chilly elegance of his features—made sharper still by the red cashmere scarf that clashed with the car's gloom. The dark overcoat hid his frame, but not the burden resting on his shoulders.

  Silence was broken by a deep voice on the radio, lost amid static:

  — 'Yesterday, on the banks of Mirror?Lake, the lifeless body of Anastasia, sister of the famed Cinderella, was found. Authorities keep the case under wraps, but according to court sources the main suspect is Prince Alex—husband of the victim and one of the last charming princes still active. Witnesses report heated arguments between the couple days before the tragedy. The scandal echoes through the halls of the Upper City while the public waits for answers.'

  The driver checked the rear?view mirror, studying the man behind him. No guilt marred that serene face, yet the tense, trembling hands betrayed his nerves. It was Alex.

  The cab left the palatial glow behind, plunging into narrower streets where decrepit buildings and damp alleys replaced shining luxury. The city's scent changed: smoke, potions, shattered dreams.

  At last the car stopped before a bar with a weather?beaten fa?ade, wood darkened by rain and time. A yellowish lamp cast shadows across a sign that read: 'The Glass Slipper.'

  'We're here,' the driver announced without turning his head.

  Alex handed a wad of green notes over the seat. Street?light gleamed on their gilt edges.

  'Keep the change,' he murmured, stepping out into the wet night.

  Rain fell in silver curtains as he walked to the bar. The cabbie pocketed the money, allowed himself a discreet smile and drove off. Alex lingered in the drizzle for a heartbeat, then pushed the heavy door and disappeared inside.

  Within, the atmosphere pulsed with mystery. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, scattering sparks of light over dark?wood furniture and red?velvet sofas. The thick air smelled of tobacco and enchanted blossoms—a fragrance that refused to die.

  At the back, a band played jazz laced with sorcery: a saxophone etched with golden runes, a piano glowing with a soft silvery aura. Humans and fantastical creatures mingled—an elf with luminous eyes leaning against a wall, a flame?haired woman at the bar, shadows that looked torn from an old dream.

  'The Glass Slipper' was more than a bar: it was a stage for unlikely encounters, where jazz danced with witchcraft and every shadow hid a secret.

  Alex tried to cross the room unseen, but the weight of his name preceded him. He walked stiffly, dodging stares while whispers rippled in his wake.

  At the bar a woman caught his eye. Blonde hair in an elegant chignon, a few loose strands softening her face. She wore a dark, lightweight dress with short embroidered sleeves that fell just below the knee. Plain, flat shoes—perfect for someone always in motion.

  Golden eyes glimmered beneath the soft light, radiating a calm authority. She owned the space without needing to say a word.

  As Alex neared, he stumbled over the foot of a nearby woman—short, square?shouldered, black hair cropped close, intense brown eyes. A red hood draped over her broad shoulders, above a fitted shirt and dark trousers. Weathered boots and pistols at her hips left no doubt: she was ready for anything.

  Her gaze was razor?sharp. A sarcastic smile curved her lips as Alex lost his balance. Silence between them crackled with mutual recognition—and tension.

  The woman behind the bar smothered a laugh and shot the dark?haired one a conspiratorial look.

  'Red, let the lad go,' she said firmly. 'That's enough for tonight.'

  Red raised her brows, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

  'Swear it was an accident,' she said, taking a slow sip of whiskey, crooked grin in place.

  Alex, seated now, couldn't hide a wry grimace. 'I see you haven't changed, Red Hood.'

  He stood, brushing off his coat. Red turned to him, eyes flashing. 'And you still begging for a punch,' she shot back—half challenge, half that strange camaraderie.

  Ignoring her, Alex faced the bar. 'Cinderella, fix me a G&T, will you?'

  He sat, staring at the rain?fogged window. 'Feels like this rain'll never stop. Makes you want to drown everything at the bottom of the glass.'

  She answered with a non?committal 'Mm?hmm,' eyes on the drink she mixed.

  Alex softened his tone. 'You always managed to ride out storms, didn't you?'

  Cinderella flicked him a glance but kept silent.

  The hush between them grew dense despite music and chatter around them. At last she lifted her head, voice low and contained: 'What brings you here, Alex?'

  He hesitated, avoiding her gaze as though searching his own thoughts for answers. 'Remember that night? The golden ballroom, the violins, that smell of cheap perfume mixed with champagne...'

  Her brow arched, a sour smile tugging her mouth. 'How could I forget? You spouting speeches to the crowd while she stayed silent, watching the clock like someone waiting for Doomsday.'

  Alex let out a short, joyless laugh. 'She vanished at midnight, like in the tales. They said it was magic, but she never truly belonged in my world.'

  Cinderella braced both hands on the bar, eyes hard though her voice wavered slightly. 'She ran from you, Alex. Not the spell. From your pride, your habit of forcing everything into your story.'

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  He lifted a shoulder, resigned smile bitter. 'I gave her everything. Maybe it was never enough. Or maybe nothing's enough for someone who doesn't want to stay.'

  She set the bottle down with a sharp thud, scrubbing at an invisible spot. 'When you gave up, you turned to the perfect sister. The one who always did everything right, always smiling for the cameras, never saying no.'

  Alex dropped his gaze, voice fading. 'Now she's dead. And I've no idea who I am or where this ends.'

  Cinderella faced him, eyes frosty, yet a hint of compassion touched the gesture. 'So tell me, Alex: what do you want? Redemption, justice... or just to forget?'

  He drew a ragged breath, voice hoarse. 'I need help. I know he's around.'

  Cinderella smiled, but it was a smile that had seen too much. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Alex.'

  He narrowed his eyes, almost challenging. 'Don't play games. Red's here, and when she shows up... it's never long before certain presences appear.'

  Red, listening from afar, smiled toward a shadowy corner. Two red eyes glimmered in the gloom. Alex stiffened.

  From that darkness emerged a figure—a presence that bent the air. Tall and imposing, half man, half beast: arms coated in black fur, lupine features, ears pricked beneath a fedora. Intelligent, feral red eyes. A sparse beard blended with thick jaw fur.

  The dark suit fit flawlessly: white shirt, snug waistcoat, dark tie. An open overcoat revealed a dagger at his belt; a tail swayed discreetly. Claws, hidden under leather gloves, tapped the microphone as he mounted the stage.

  The room fell into hush.

  A murmur rose—excitement and respect mingled. Patrons exchanged knowing looks, straightened in their seats, sensing something rare. A woman in a corner smiled sidelong; a group near the stage raised silent toasts. Electricity charged the air—everyone understood: when the Wolf appeared, nothing stayed the same.

  An expectant silence hovered, as though the entire city awaited the first note.

  The first note stole across the air, light and seductive, making bodies move before they realised. The rhythm wove the elegance of long nights with an unexpected spark, infecting every corner of the bar.

  The Wolf's deep, provocative voice cut through the hush:

  'Well, well, well... A little ol' Cinderella story, huh? You thought it was about a glass slipper? Nah, baby—let me tell ya what really went down...'

  A cocky grin lit his face as he commanded the stage with magnetic presence. Melody toyed with the room's shadows, braiding humour, mystery and a dash of rebellion.

  In the bar the crowd felt the tug to surrender to that off?beat groove of charm and irreverence. Couples traded conspiratorial looks; muffled laughs escaped; all succumbed to the spell.

  Red, at her usual spot, flashed a mischievous smile, eyes bright with amusement and complicity. Cinderella, face closed, hid memories the music dredged up.

  Alex felt the Wolf's voice scrape his skin—each word a cleaver splitting old wounds and veiled taunts. The air vibrated with electric tension, a dance of secrets inside the notes.

  'Oh, shake it, rattle it, spin on the floor! Cindy's got the magic, now they're beggin' for more! Slip, slide, oh, what a show— She left 'em in the dust, but I know where she'll go!'

  Lights flickered, catching the fierce glow of the Wolf's eyes as he ruled the space like a king of shadows and music. The crowd knew the night was only beginning.

  He moved with unsettling ease—each step a claim. Imposing figure, ears slightly forward, tail poised—control, confidence, contained danger. Gloved claws tapped the mic to punctuate each syllable.

  The saxophone slithered between verses like a tempting whisper; rolling drums gave swing; the bass held tension taut. His hand?picked band played with clockwork precision and sinners' soul.

  The patrons couldn't hold back. A couple whirled by the bar, tipsy grace; others clapped or thumped glasses. The whole room breathed to that gravel voice, steeped in perilous charm.

  Cinderella stood immobile behind the bar, eyes glued to the stage—seeking answers in questions never voiced. But her restless fingers betrayed her, twisting a bar?towel in a bid to tame thought.

  Alex felt like an intruder at a dance where everyone knew the steps but him. The song rewrote his known story, twisting it in public to rhythm and rhyme, burying him deeper with each verse. He knew this wasn't just provocation—it was a message.

  Bridge

  'Now Cindy, she's clever, she don't play it straight, She ain't waitin' for no prince—baby, she makes her own fate! That glass shoe? She tossed it, said, "Nah, I'm good," And hopped in my ride—straight outta the woods.'

  The crowd roared—laughter, whistles, clinks of whisky and gin. A woman in back threw her head and cackled; friends at the stage toasted like celebrating an age?old tale never told this way.

  Alex hunched, each word a blow. Breath heavy, eyes locked on the Wolf, dismantled in real-time.

  Final Chorus

  'Oh, shake it, rattle it, spin on the floor! Cindy's got the magic, now they're beggin' for more! Slip, slide, oh, what a show— She left 'em in the dust, but I know where she'll go!'

  A closing solo shook the room. Instruments spiralled like a spell hurled by one who knows exactly where to sting. The Wolf spun, raised the mic and shot Alex a look—half conspirator, half executioner.

  Outro

  'So next time ya hear that Cinderella tale... Just remember, kid— She didn't need no prince... She had me.'

  The room erupted in applause and whistles. The Wolf bowed grandly, hat in hand, eyes on Alex. Then he stepped offstage, strolling with the calm of a ruler.

  On the way he brushed past Red. One glance—unspoken message, old pact.

  At the bar, Cinderella polished a glass already spotless. Alex tried to shrink inside his coat, sweat beading his neck.

  The Wolf leaned on the counter, shadow falling over them.

  'Well, well...' he murmured, voice as thick as smoke. He looked at Cinderella, then Alex, then saluted Red with a raise of his glass. 'Royalty, damsel, huntress. All we're missing is a singing mouse and a pumpkin and the fairy?tale's complete.'

  Loaded silence. Everyone knew what hung in the air.

  Cinderella poured him bourbon—label torn, forest?rain scent. The Wolf drank with pleasure, then turned to Alex.

  'So, Alex... what brings you here?'

  Alex drew a shaky breath. 'Mr?Bad... I swear, it wasn't me. I didn't kill Anastasia!'

  The bar froze, music faltering.

  The Wolf arched a brow, chuckling. 'I know.' He leaned in, sniffing Alex like prey. 'How could someone so... fragile, so desperate, do something that bloody? No.' Another sip. 'You didn't.'

  Alex's chest eased, air returning.

  'So... will you help me?'

  The Wolf leaned back, joints cracking. He licked his teeth in thought. 'Help clear your name?' he echoed, almost disdainful. 'I'm no constable, no priest. And certainly no guardian angel.'

  Alex balled his fists. 'I know you handle the mess no one else touches. If anyone can find who did this—who's behind it—it's you.'

  The silence grew tangible. Cindy wiped a spotless glass; Red swung a leg, pretending boredom while her eyes clung to the Wolf.

  He studied the bottom of his glass, swirled the liquid, then met Alex's gaze, smile thinner. 'You don't want justice, Alex. You want survival. I charge dearly for that.'

  Alex inhaled, voice steadier. 'Don't worry about that.'

  He drew a weather?worn wallet, removed a neat stack of notes and slapped it onto the bar—crisp thud, bills fanned with confidence. 'There's more where that came from... Please. You have to help me.'

  The Wolf lifted a brow, intrigued. His eyes flicked to the money, then back to Alex, as if weighing the soul behind the desperation.

  Without a word he turned slightly, searching for Red—still at her corner, nursing the last of her whiskey. The hood's brim shadowed her gaze, but the grin blooming on her lips left no doubt: she was enjoying the show.

  Seeing the cash, Red raised her glass in a small silent toast and nodded: Count me in.

  That was enough.

  The Wolf let out a sharp, booming laugh, then clapped Alex on the back—so hard the prince lurched forward, gasping.

  'Cinderella!' he barked, still laughing. 'Set up a room for our charming prince... and cancel my gigs for a while.'

  He turned, walking toward Red as he tugged his cuffs like a man preparing for the real stage.

  'We've got a case to solve.'

  Red joined him, predator's gleam in her eyes, and together they strode through the bar's half?light like characters from a story never told to children.

  End of Chapter