Viola smiled brightly at the old lady and began chatting with her.
Their conversation was light and casual. They talked about the weather, about how business had been lately, about how young people nowadays did not know how to properly cook fish anymore. The old woman laughed often, her wrinkles deepening around her eyes. She looked like a sweet grandmother you would trust instantly, the kind who would secretly slip extra food into your bag when no one was looking.
Ezekiel stood slightly behind Viola, silent and observant.
From the outside, everything looked normal.
After a few minutes of friendly chatter, Viola's tone subtly shifted.
"Say, Auntie," she said gently, pointing toward one of the displayed fish. "Do you have a fish like this, but with smaller scales and a smaller mouth?"
The old woman's smile froze for just a second.
It was brief. So brief that an ordinary person might have missed it.
But Ezekiel did not.
The atmosphere changed.
The old lady's eyes sharpened. She glanced at Ezekiel, then back at Viola. The warmth in her expression faded into something more calculating.
She stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then she gave a small nod.
Without another word, she gestured for them to follow her toward the back of the stall.
Behind the fish display was a narrow entrance covered by thick plastic strips hanging from above, similar to the common market partitions used to keep flies out. The strips swayed slightly as she pushed them aside.
"You can check the rest of the fish inside, pretty lady," the old woman said calmly.
Viola smiled as if nothing unusual had happened and stepped through.
Ezekiel followed.
The moment they entered, the lighting dimmed. The lively noise of the marketplace dulled into a muffled background hum. They walked down a narrow, dark hallway that smelled faintly of salt and damp wood.
Ezekiel did not need further explanation.
He had already understood.
And when they reached the end of the hallway, his suspicions were confirmed.
On the other side was a staircase going down. At the bottom, faint lights flickered.
Below them was a hidden marketplace.
To be more precise, a black market.
Black markets were not uncommon in the hunter world. Many hunters preferred selling dungeon resources through these channels to avoid heavy taxes and the tedious licensing process. It was also the best place to get higher prices for rare materials.
Because of that, uncommon and even illegal items could often be found here. Rare artifacts. Unregistered weapons, dungeon relics, restricted potions, and sometimes illegal request can be exchanged here.
Ezekiel knew about such places.
But he had not heard that one existed on this side of the city.
Interesting.
They descended the stairs.
The underground space was far larger than it should have been. Dim lamps hung from the ceiling, casting uneven shadows across the stalls. People moved around quietly, faces half-hidden by hoods or masks. No one asked unnecessary questions.
Viola walked confidently, as if she had been here before.
Ezekiel followed, maintaining a low profile.
They passed several stalls selling rare beast cores, enchanted rings, and even strange preserved monster parts floating in jars. The air felt heavy with secrecy.
Finally, Viola stopped in front of a shop with a wooden sign that read:
Lenkin*
The name was crudely carved, but the stall itself looked more organized than the others.
Viola approached the counter.
"I want a national ID," she said plainly. "And I want to process commission identity documents."
The boy behind the counter looked like a teenager, perhaps seventeen at most. He had messy hair and a mischievous grin that did not match his sharp eyes.
"Oh, welcome, customer!" he said cheerfully. "I see, I see. We can definitely help you with that… as long as you have the coins."
He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his palm.
Viola did not hesitate.
"Money isn't a problem. We want it as soon as possible."
The boy's grin widened.
"I like customers like you."
He straightened up. "Let me just get our expert in that field. Be right back!"
He disappeared through a curtain behind the stall, leaving Viola and Ezekiel alone.
While waiting, Viola's eyes wandered over the displayed items, which, judging by their appearance, seemed to be artifacts and potions.
There were also forged documents stacked neatly in folders. Identification cards with holographic seals. Passport templates. Hunter licenses.
Everything looked disturbingly real.
But something else caught her attention.
On a small velvet tray near the corner of the counter lay a single silver earring.
It was minimalist. Just a small circular hoop. Simple but elegant.
For some reason, it drew her gaze.
Maybe because it looked out of place among all the suspicious documents and random dungeon things.
Or maybe because it reminded her of someone.
She reached out but did not touch it.
Before she could think further, the curtain rustled again.
The boy returned, this time accompanied by a man.
He had green hair neatly styled back and sharp black eyes. He wore a simple polo shirt, but there was an unmistakable authority in his posture. Unlike the boy, he did not smile widely.
He assessed them calmly.
"So," the man began, voice smooth but firm, "you want to process a fake identity."
It was not a question.
"I can help you with that," he continued. "I guarantee a clean and effective one. It won't be easily detected as fake. But this won't come cheap."
His gaze shifted briefly toward Ezekiel.
Even with the wig and glasses, there was something about him that radiated danger.
Viola stepped slightly forward.
"Money isn't a problem," she repeated. "We need it as soon as possible."
After hearing that, the man finally smiled.
A thin, satisfied smile.
"In that case," he said, "please follow me. We should discuss this further in our working room."
He gestured toward the back.
Ezekiel's instincts sharpened.
This was the point of no return.
They followed him through the curtain and into a separate room hidden behind the stall. The door closed softly behind them, sealing out the noise of the underground market.
Inside, the lighting was brighter.
There were computers, printing machines, stacks of blank cards, and various official seals arranged neatly on metal shelves. It looked like a professional office, not an illegal operation.
The green-haired man sat down and folded his hands on the desk.
"Let's begin," he said.
Ezekiel remained silent.
But behind the thick glasses and white wig, his eyes were sharp.
Everything from this moment onward would determine whether he could truly disappear from the world .
And whether he could return to it… under a different name.