In Dolos' suburbs,
In a tiny weaving workshop.

The silk-weaving old woman busies herself within,
As her smart child wanders outside on a whim.

The silk pours from the loom,
Some bright as the dawn, some dark as the night.

The woman had lived her whole life in poverty,
Yet through her business, she never deceives.

“Good child, listen to me…
Never lie and speak deceit, people like you only due to honesty.”

The girl smiles and nods,
But her heart is drawn to the boundless desires of the bustling streets.

And the grandmother is unaware,
That her hand-made white dress has been stained by the mud of conceit.

“Madam, what is a bundle of white silk's price?”
“Sir, only 2,000 Balance Coins.”
An honest price tag,
Can only meager profit obtain.

“If we keep selling cloth like this, we'll stay poor for the rest of our lives!”
The girl complains to her grandmother,
While sprouting countless plots and petty tricks.

The woman smiles and does not reply,
Only weaving with night-shade silk,
A suave hooded robe for her little spark.

“Why don't you take some of our goods
And go into the city tomorrow to try out those pranks?”

The mesmerizing moneyed charm of Dolos city
Turns minds and tongues into a whirlwind of confusion.

Even the girl who prided herself on sharp ears and a clever tongue
Could not contend with the myriad shifting face before her.

She returns penniless and furiously seethes —
“I vow to the god of thieves that I will eventually empty those people's pockets!”

Smiling, her grandmother stops her silk work,
And offers some dinner with humble dish.
“Silly child, don't let Titans hear such vows and promises.”

Yet when the moon rises,
A magnificent pin graces the old lady's pale locks.

The girl smiles at the old woman, now stunned in shock —
“I actually did return with some cash.”

The brilliance adorning her white hair drew all eyes,
And its proud original owner arrived to stake their claim.

The bet that the girl won with a brilliant trick
Is described as a thief's loot through lying schemes.

The old woman, in her panic, shouldered the blame,
Confirming a sin that was but a fabrication.
“By Dolos's laws, we must also execute all her family!”

To protect the girl, the old woman reveals the final secret unseen:
“She's not my family, but just an orphan picked from the street on a whim.”

People thought this to be a lie,
But the girl knows her grandmother cannot deceive.
Just like how she always glossed over questions about parents and kin —

“Your parents… went to a city-state far away.”
The girl never bothered to unravel the threadbare lie.

“Stop! Stop right there, you thief!”
“Run. Run as fast as you can… Cifera.”

The lies overthrow the shop,
And tear apart the good woman's good name,
Leaving the girl with guilt and grief.

The hearth of her home was a lie,
Doused by another conceit.
But if her sleight of hand had better skill,
Would it have made that fire burn forever?

The girl pulls down the hood and sinks into the starless dark.
“I vow to the god of thieves…”
And from that day, she never left empty-handed, her words woven with deceit.

However, back then the girl did not realize
That the people did not covet one simple pin,
But the golden blood flowing beneath her skin.