The Underground City is where criminals hide. A place where dark transactions are carried out, weapons, drugs, and even humans.
The halls were narrow, stuffy, the smell of earth and metal mixed with the dampness that lingered on the stone walls. The sound of footsteps, sly whispers, and the clinking of coins are often heard even though no faces are clearly visible.
For many people, this place is the end.
For some, this is the starting point for big plans.
In the deepest corner, in a dimly lit room with a small lantern hanging precariously from the wooden ceiling, several men were talking in low voices. In front of them were documents and a list of names.
The door opened slowly, the sound of its hinges rubbing loudly breaking the silence of the room. A man stepped in, flanked by two bodyguards following half a step behind him.
His attire was striking, a long dark coat with gold embroidery on the shoulders and chest, a high shirt, and sparkling rings on several fingers. His steps were calm, yet confident, like someone who was used to being respected without needing to say much.
From the way he looked and sat without asking permission, there was no doubt that he came from the upper class.
The man threw a roll of paper onto the table, when he opened it, it turned out to be a sketch of a face,
"Northern Rose Wall. Waitress from the Three Roses Tavern. Beautiful. Snow-white skin. Sky blue eyes as clear as ice."
His hand placed a bag full of coins on the table. He grinned slightly, his gaze reflecting off the lantern light.
"This is the starting price. Bring her alive."
There are two groups moving in the shadows.
The first is the Bounty Hunter. They don't work for anyone, but are paid by everyone. They are well-trained, organized. Some carry rifles with special bullets. Some people prefer sharp weapons that are easy to hide. Some even carried unique weapons that ordinary soldiers would never recognize. They are used to chasing escaped prisoners, high-level criminals.
The second is that Human Traffickers are not soldiers, not hunters. They were collectors. They used simple tools: axes, rope, and old swords. They didn't care about precision; the important thing was that the victim was alive. Usually they target orphans, women, or wealthy elderly.
The two groups usually never intersect. But this time, the target was just one girl and the pay was too high to ignore.
"A girl huh... this is our share," the old man muttered as he grabbed the paper so quickly that it was crumpled.
But when he was about to turn around to leave, his arm was grabbed by a strong, veiny hand.
"Let go of that paper old man, things will go faster if I handle it."
Tension hung in the air, then broken by a loud laugh from the upper-class man who had been sitting gracefully.
He clapped his hands, as if enjoying the little spectacle.
"You guys are so funny," he said, grinning widely.
"You better not think this is easy, I will give you a hint as a reward for your enthusiasm."
He reached for his wine glass, took a small sip before setting it back down with a soft thud on the dark wood table.
"I already have an informant myself, it's not an ordinary place. The tavern is owned by a former soldier. He knows how to protect something he deems valuable."
"Every day there are more than ten men who secretly watch the place. Sometimes they disguise themselves as customers, sometimes they just sit in the corner playing cards or reading the newspaper ."
He leaned his body back, then leaned his face slightly forward, his voice dropping colder.
"And one more thing... Watch out for that burly guy, he's everywhere and always seems to be close to that girl. He is not a soldier, but is very well trained. I'm not sure even three armed soldiers could take him down."
For a moment, the room fell silent. Even the young man who had shouted earlier couldn't hide the slight change in his face.
"If you take the girl by force, I'm not sure you'll get out of there alive. So... Take the girl if you dare, of course after writing a will."
After the offer was circulated, they didn't act rashly. Instead, they spread information, trying to find even the slightest loophole . They worked twice as hard as usual because this time the target was very different—not the waiter, but the hidden layers of security.
Disguising yourself there is not easy.
They somehow always know which customers are there to eat, which are there just to see the waiter, and which have other intentions.
Whenever there was a new face that was too unfamiliar, the burly man was always inside. He 'd pace behind the counter or near the kitchen, occasionally making silly jokes that would lighten the mood. But if you looked even slightly awkward, he 'd ask in a casual tone:
"Is this your first time here? Where are you from, uncle?"
It sounds very friendly. But if you're nervous about answering it, you 'll be marked.
And what if you try sitting outside, just watching without going in?
Don't expect to be able to avoid it.
There is always a figure who suddenly appears from an unexpected direction. Whether from a street corner, a second floor window, or the seemingly empty alley across the street. Their spies don't wear uniforms. They could be a young man playing pranks, an old man on the verge of falling asleep, or a little boy selling bread.
You only have one chance to steal information, yes only one.
With costs continuing to balloon and results minimal, they were on the verge of giving up. But on the final try, luck was on their side.
An intruder, posing as a regular customer, happens to sit at a table behind Reinhard. Unwittingly, he overhears an important conversation: the planned invitation of a waitress named Violet to an official event at the Vessler family palace.
The intruder soon returned with golden news.
The two previously competing groups now choose to work together to plan in silence.
That night, a mailman walked through a narrow alleyway, carrying a heavy bag filled with letters. His shoulders slanted, his pace quick, eager to finish and go home.
But his steps stopped.
A man stood in the middle of the road, blocking it. His face was hidden by the shadow of his hood.
"Can you move aside, sir? "I'm tired of coming home late at night," the sender grumbled, trying to play it cool.
Without a word, the man raised his hand and handed over a thick envelope.
mailman was surprised, then slowly opened the envelope .
His eyes widened and it turned out to be a wad of cash.
"Is this... for me?" he asked nervously.
"Yes," he answered coldly. "After you comply with my request."
.
.
.
Violet stood beside Annie, who was staring intently into the distance beyond the trees. Her gaze was unmoving, as if reading something that no one else could see.
Suddenly, a faint shadow flashed through the tree trunks.
"Excuse me, Miss Soldier... I think I saw something," Violet said quietly, but clearly enough.
Annie hissed softly without turning her head, her voice flat but firm,
"Call me Annie."
She then turned around in a quick but controlled motion, staring at Violet with slightly furrowed brows.
"I checked it earlier."
"Are you sure you saw something? Or... are you just daydreaming?"
Suddenly, from the side, there was the loud sound of creaking wooden wheels mixed with the fast pounding of horse hooves on dry ground.
Annie immediately turned her head.
A cart was speeding towards them, pulled by a horse that was being driven at high speed. A burly man was holding a gun that was already pointed at him.
Without thinking, Annie jumped to the side.
A shot rang out.
The bullet missed, hitting the ground just inches from where she was standing.
Without waiting, with a long- barreled rifle Annie shot back while kneeling.
But the driver moved faster. With an unnatural movement, he dropped his body, so low it almost touched the ground. His body swung sideways beside the horse, but his feet remained firmly planted on the saddle. It was clear from the way he moved that he was no ordinary person.
Violet was already beside the road.
The attacker didn't seem to be targeting Violet, he kept the gun at his waist, the cart continued to move covered with the tattered cloth hanging tightly on the sides.
But as the cart approached and almost passed it, the cloth covering it suddenly parted.
Two men appeared with quick, coordinated movements.
One of them immediately pulled Violet's back hard , pulling her body towards the cart, as her body got closer another one helped lift her up.
It all happened in an instant.
Violet didn't even have time to make a sound, she didn't have a chance to grab anything.
There was no time to fight back. Annie couldn't do much, just watched as the cart turned onto the narrow path.
"Troublesome." Cold tone.
Annie turned quickly towards the main road where the sound of crashing and screaming could be heard faintly in the distance. She caught a glimpse of Luther and Marlo, both surrounded by five men carrying sharp objects.
Shots were heard.
One of the attackers staggered and fell, but there were still too many of them.
Annie narrowed her eyes. She knew they were fighting for their lives but time was too short to divide their focus.
Without hesitation, she turned and ran to his horse. She glanced at the coachman, who remained motionless, his face pale with tension.
"Stay here. If they die, take this carriage to the palace or to the safest place you can find."
Then she got into the saddle and galloped his horse towards Violet without looking back.
Annie followed the ruts that had been left behind. The direction took him to a small village that looked almost abandoned.
Old houses stand fragile on the side of the road. Wild plants grow tall in the unkempt yard, and some of the roofs have holes left open.
Upon reaching the village's main road, the tracks turned into a narrow alley. Annie quickened her pace, her eyes constantly scanning her surroundings warily.
At the end of the alley, she found an old barn. A familiar wagon was parked in the front yard, along with a horse still tied.
But before she could get any closer, her gaze caught something.
One of the kidnappers lay not far from the cart, he was gasping for breath, his body writhing weakly on the ground.
On the wet ground, the dragging tracks were clearly visible. long and rough, as if his body had been thrown or dragged after being hit by something very hard.
As soon as Annie stepped inside, she was immediately greeted by a sight she did not expect.
One of the kidnappers lay unconscious on a pile of crushed wooden boxes. Pieces of wood scattered around him indicated the severity of the impact .
Annie narrowed her eyes, then slowly shifted her gaze to the other side of the room.
There , Violet stood quietly, her hands gracefully patting the bottom of her dress that was dirty with dust and dirt.
In front of him, one last kidnapper lay on the floor, groaning softly as he held his stomach, his breath coming in short gasps.
Annie stood frozen in the doorway, her gaze fixed on Violet who was still busy patting the dust off her dress, as if what had just happened was just a minor incident that didn't need to be discussed.
Annie's eyebrows raised slightly. Her eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion but in understanding.
There was a moment of silence.
Annie was measuring something, her eyes sweeping across the room without rushing to analyze every detail.
The kidnapper found outside was clearly injured by a powerful kick, but something was odd; the impact wouldn't have been that far, perhaps he was still on the cart when the impact occurred. The person lying on the wooden box seemed to have been crushed by something, Annie noticed as she looked up at the top shelf. And another, the man in front of Violet, lay with a bruised face and a rough cut on his arm, as if he had been knocked down using a martial arts technique. Then beside Violet there was a cut rope, it was possible she fought them while her hands were tied.
Annie narrowed her eyes.
Clean movement. Efficient. And very tactical.
She is not... an ordinary girl .
Annie's face remained cold, but there was a slight frown on her forehead. She stepped in slowly, his gaze shifting from the unconscious man, to the groaning body on the floor, then back to Violet.
"...Are you okay?" she asked flatly, but there was a faint hint of doubt in her voice as if she was reprocessing who the girl standing before him really was.
"I'm fine, Annie-san."
Annie immediately turned around without saying anything else. Violet was silent for a second, then walked after her. Violet didn't find it strange and walked on as if nothing had happened.
"Is it okay to leave them like that?" Violet asked
"Not at all, I'm sure they won't be careless..."
Annie glanced at him for a moment, then in a low voice she added,
"...after knowing what they were facing."
Violet chose to remain silent even though she knew what he meant.
When they returned to the main road and found no other threats , they decided to get back on horseback.
But when Annie was about to get on the saddle-
Suddenly...
Silhouettes appeared from all directions. Five... seven... eight... ten people, surrounding with sharp weapons in their hands.
From a distance, shouts could be heard, both harsh and full of lust,
"The blonde one! Take the blonde one!"
"Which one, you idiot!? Both of them are blonde!"
Violet and Annie's backs were touching, their bodies were at attention, but the expressions on their faces were different. Violet looked calm but anxious, Annie as usual her eyes were sharp and focused.
"Do I need to lend you my dagger?" Annie asked flatly.
"I'm sorry," Violet replied quietly, "but I won't do it."
Annie glanced at him briefly,
"Interesting... so you prefer the primitive way ."
She put his dagger back away and then raised both of her hands, forming her signature stance.
"Then don't be a burden."
Violet took a slow breath, her hands ready, her shoulders slightly lowered as if trying to release the pressure.
"I will do my best... Annie-san."
No shouting, no threats.
Only two figures stood quietly...
Waiting for the storm.
Or maybe... become the storm itself.