Night had fallen.
Heavy clouds blanketed the sky, choking off even the faintest starlight. The entire city seemed to hold its breath, waiting for some unseen undercurrent to stir quietly into motion.
Beneath a dilapidated eave not far from the castle, Jim stood alone, fingers brushing lightly over a slightly yellowed note.
The ink was still fresh. The handwriting was clean and sharp—yet with the distinct elegance and subtle edge only a woman's hand could produce.
He had discovered it while slowly making his way toward the castle, and it was clear Livia had sent someone to plant it there on purpose. Jim had no doubt there were other such notes scattered along the path—each one serving only one purpose:
To lead him to their meeting place.
—"Midnight tomorrow, at the hunter's cabin. Come alone."
There was no signature.
But he knew—it could only be her.
"Hunter's cabin…" he murmured, folding the note and tucking it away. His gaze was dark and unreadable, deep as the night sky.
Of course he knew the place. As the king of the city's underworld, Jim was intimately familiar with every inch of the defenses encircling the castle.
He'd heard of that area near the back mountain—rugged terrain, hidden traps, a few old hunting cabins half-swallowed by time.
And precisely because of that, it was the perfect place to avoid watchful eyes—especially now, when all the factions within the city were cautiously probing one another, locked in a tense stalemate.
"Clever choice," he muttered with a thin smile.
It was clearly a trap—meticulously planned.
Or at the very least, a carefully laid test.
But none of that deterred him. If anything, the deliberate nature of it all only intrigued him more.
He liked games like this—especially when the opponent was Livia.
But before heading to the hunter's cabin, there was still one final arrangement to be made.
—
The next morning, Jim rose from his seat in the castle's war chamber and said calmly to Will:
"Our surveillance has been too focused around the castle. It's starting to feel counterproductive."
Will raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
Jim walked to the window, his back to Will, and said in an intentionally slow, unhurried tone:
"Last night I spread another layer of that tracking powder around the castle perimeter—same as before, but with wider coverage this time. If Marcellus and the others really plan to act, they won't leave directly from the castle. They'll take a detour. He's still sick anyway—Elias is the one to watch now."
"You want me to redeploy troops to the outskirts?" Will asked, thoughtful.
"Exactly. Place soldiers along the outer roads—especially the ones heading toward the northern suburbs."
Jim tapped lightly on the window frame.
"And as for the castle's immediate surroundings, we can ease up on patrols for now. Save our strength."
Will hesitated. "But Eryx gave strict orders…"
"Eryx isn't here. I'm in charge now."
Jim's voice suddenly turned cold.
"Besides, we still have others watching the inner layers. It'll be fine."
A beat passed.
"Or do you not trust me?"
Will exhaled heavily. He remembered clearly how it was Jim's powder that had worked last time.
Marcellus was indeed still bedridden. The only one left in the castle was Livia—a woman alone.
Eventually, he nodded.
"Alright. You have a point."
And so, patrols around the castle were gradually thinned out.
Wave after wave of soldiers were reassigned—dispatched to the far reaches of the city's edges.
Jim stood alone in the now-empty surveillance command room.
Before him, the map spread wide—its central zone cleanly carved into a blank void by his own hand.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
—Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Meanwhile, his men had quietly increased surveillance on Elias, confirming the man spent his days pacing the northern districts, organizing militias, seemingly tied up with local unrest.
Reports from their contact at the hospital confirmed:
Marcellus remained bedridden—weak, powerless.
Thus, the castle's core had been quietly hollowed out, leaving only a paper-thin ring of security behind.
And that long-forgotten ancient well—hidden in plain sight—now lay just beyond the reach of this fragile line.
Jim glanced again at the note—Livia's handwriting unmistakable.
He knew she was guiding him, manipulating him.
But strangely… that only made him more eager.
"Livia… what are you really after? Are you testing me—or… do you truly want to see me?"
His gaze darkened, his thoughts unreadable.
He folded the note with care, then turned and left the command room.
Night fell once again.
The wind grew sharp and biting.
He set off—quietly, deliberately—toward the hunter's cabin.
Every step he took was steady, precise, like a piece placed on a vast chessboard.
And somewhere out there, his opponent was waiting… ready to make her move.
The trap at the hunter's cabin was set.
The board was in play.
A silent game of wits was about to begin.