Chapitre 2: Playing Victim
The muffled hum of a disreputable tavern reverberated into the crisp night air. Sherry, swathed in a threadbare cloak and battling her anxiety, nudged open the heavy door and stepped into the dim, lantern-lit room. It was teeming with rough-looking patrons engaged in raucous conversation and the clinking of tankards. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she started to navigate her way through the throng towards the bar.
As she pulled her hood closer around her face, a strand of hair slipped loose, catching briefly on a small crystal earring before she tucked it back. "Just be natural..." she murmured to herself. Her bravado from the previous night seemed to have abandoned her. In her plotting, she had underestimated her social awkwardness, a byproduct of years devoted to researching rather than socializing.
However, her strategy was clear in her mind: Shadow Garden were known to capture victims of demonic possession, and she aimed to exploit this. Direct contact would be too conspicuous, so she planned to feign demonic possession and get herself seized by bandits, hoping to attract the attention of Shadow Garden.
Her hand instinctively traced down to the Chameleon pendant around her neck. It was a subtle gesture, almost unnoticeable, as she concentrated her focus on it. A small, discolored growth began to form on her chest, peeking through the gap in her cloak. She winced, discomfort etched onto her face.
Reaching the bar, she subtly signaled the bartender, an imposing figure with a scar crossing his stony face. His scrutinizing gaze met hers.
"What'll it be, lass?" he rasped.
Sherry coughed, attempting to sound frail and weak, "Water, please... I'm not feeling well..."
The bartender's eyes narrowed, sizing up the girl before him. Then with a grunt, he turned around and began to pour a glass of water. Sherry's eyes darted around the room, searching for a way to initiate her plan. Her gaze fell upon a group of shady gentlemen, their faces obscured by hoods, huddled in a corner of the tavern. "They look like they'd abduct someone," she muttered, her prejudice showing.
Purposefully, she let her cloak slip a tad, revealing the abnormal growth above her cleavage. All she has to do now is get captured by those supposed bandits, and Shadow Garden would surely intervene. Her meticulous research corroborated this, indicating recent activity of the organization in this area. She smirked, her confidence returning.
The bartender returned with her water, only to jerk back in alarm, inadvertently spilling a mug.
"Possession!" he bellowed, pointing at her chest. His voice echoed throughout the tavern to warn the others.
Chaos erupted. People, seized by fear, bolted towards the exits. Furniture was capsized and overturned in the frantic stampede. A few even took the drastic route of leaping through windows. From the tumult's epicenter, Sherry's eyes darted around, panic briefly flashing across her face. "No, wait-!" She realized her plan might have spun out of her control.
Abandoned amidst the tavern wreckage, Sherry stepped out into the street. She took a moment, drawing in deep breaths of the cool night air, and recomposed herself.
"Alright... Plan B," she sighed, her voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and determination.
With that, she returned back to her normal form, the growth on her chest disappearing as if it was a mere illusion. She then set off into the night, heading towards the outskirts of the city where rumors whispered of bandit encampments.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone