A deep breath tore itself from my chest as I stared into the distance where Reinhard had vanished.
That safety net, so reassuring just moments ago, was gone.
What once seemed simple now felt infinitely harder. On my own, I had no presence. No authority. I wasn't a walking deterrent. I wasn't the Sword Saint.
And for a brief moment, I just wanted to turn around and leave.
Sure, I'd told Reinhard we could handle it. But could we?
That was the human in me talking. The uncertain voice. The one that crept in when the fire of the Authority wasn't burning at full blast.
I shook myself from the spiral and turned to look at Emilia.
She wasn't looking at me.
Her eyes were already fixed ahead, on the area we'd marked as the likely location of the fence.
And what I saw on her face caught me off guard.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Determination.
Sharp. Steady. Fierce.
Even without Reinhard, she looked more than ready to walk into hell and take back what was hers.
Her gaze finally landed on me. There was kindness in those amethyst eyes of hers,
but also something else.
Something tired. Understanding.
A quiet sadness that said she knew exactly what it meant to be alone in a fight.
"Sir Ethan," she said gently, "thank you for all your help. But I can handle the rest. This was supposed to be my problem from the beginning. I didn't mean to drag you or Sir Reinhard into my mess."
She was giving me an out.
A clean one.
No judgment. No pressure.
She was telling me I didn't have to follow her into what might very well be a den of criminals and killers.
'But how could I turn back now?'
Most of the day was already gone, burned chasing this trail.
If the fool I was meant to save looped in the evening like last time, then I had maybe a few hours left. At best.
So really… what else was I gonna do?
'Might as well see this through.'
Besides—
Mama didn't raise no bitch.
I stepped toward her, confidence growing as I gave her a grin, one that hopefully hid the fact that, deep down, I still felt a little unsure.
My hand landed gently on her shoulder, a firm pat meant to reassure both of us, before I strode a few steps past her, toward the alley in the direction our destination.
"Nonsense, Emilia," I said over my shoulder. "Reinhard and I accompanied you this far, and while my friend may not be here to see this through to the end, I'd be damned by all the gods above if I were to just abandon you here."
The sky had shifted to a deeper gold. Shadows were lengthening across the street, and by my guess, we were creeping up on four in the afternoon.
I glanced back at her.
She hadn't followed.
Emilia stood still, arms at her sides, the wind catching the edge of her robe. She looked at me for a long moment. Her expression was composed, but there was something brewing behind her eyes. Something uncertain. Like a question she was still building the courage to ask.
Then she said it, softly:
"You don't have to pretend you want to help me."
Her fingers rose, deliberate but instinctive, and brushed against the tip of one pointed ear.
The confusion was hitting me like a truck.
"Who said anything about pretending?" I replied. "I'm invested now. Getting your mystery item back is a win for both of us at this point."
She blinked, visibly confused.
"But… I'm a half-elf."
She said it like that alone should explain everything. Like the rest of the world had already trained her to expect the worst.
I raised an eyebrow and gave her a deliberate once-over, pausing comically on her ears.
"Indeed you are," I said. "And I don't mind."
Her lips parted slightly. She seemed to flinch, just barely, as if that wasn't what she expected… or even knew how to process.
"But I saw how you looked at me when we first met," she said, voice quieter now. "It's okay if you don't want to help me. I won't mind."
But there was sorrow in her eyes, a kind of quiet pain that told me she would mind.
More than she wanted to admit.
I let out a quiet breath and rubbed the back of my neck.
"But I do want to help you," I said, tone leveling. "The reason I acted so… rude when we first met was because you reminded me of someone. Someone who'd hurt me. Recently."
"It wasn't fair of me to pin that on you. You didn't do anything wrong."
I looked at her again, and this time I let her see it, the truth in my eyes.
"You're actually… pretty nice." I finished with embarrassment tinging my voice.
Her eyes widened, face tinting just slightly pink.
Though maybe that was the sun dipping lower.
"Thank you," she whispered.
And then something small, fast, and fuzzy punched me in the face.
The hit barely registered, but before I could even react, tiny paws were patting my cheeks like dough.
"Hmmmm," came the smug little menace. "Maybe I had you read wrong?"
Puck hovered in front of me, tail flicking lazily, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp.
"I like that you're making my daughter happy, Ethan," he said, paws tapping idly against my jawline.
"But—" his voice shifted, silk turning to ice—
"If you ever have thoughts like the ones you had when you first laid eyes on her again…"
His tiny pupils thinned and faintly glowed. Magic shimmered faintly around him like heat off a forge. The temperature felt like it plummeted into the negatives for just a second.
"I'll make sure you never have to think again."
The chill that ran down my spine was immediate.
All I could do was nod, slowly, as his paws continued to tap against my cheek.
"Crystal clear," I muttered.
Puck hovered a moment longer, staring into my soul, then finally turned with a lazy spin and floated over to Emilia. He perched neatly on her shoulder, as if he hadn't just threatened me with annihilation.
Emilia was still avoiding my gaze. Her arms had folded slightly, hands hidden in her sleeves, and she was facing the street now, expression unreadable.
Emotional talks were never my thing, and this was getting far too uncomfortable for me.
'Enough of this shit, let's get moving already.'
I coughed, loudly and awkwardly, to reset the atmosphere, then offered a short nod in the direction of the alley.
"We should probably get moving. We're burning daylight, and I don't think I want to be out here when it gets dark."
"Ah, that's a good point," Puck chimed, tail swishing with faux cheer. "He's right, Lia. We got down here fast, and I've still got a little time left… but I'd rather not push it."
"Oh, you're right." Emilia glanced my way, then offered a small smile. "Well then. Shall we, Sir Ethan?"
I cringed a little but didn't let it show.
The title hadn't stung before, and I'd never corrected her on it.
It had been useful, giving me some borrowed weight while Reinhard was around.
But now, after everything we'd just shared?
It didn't feel right.
"You don't have to call me 'Sir,' you know? I'm not a knight. Or nobility. I'm just… me."
Emilia blinked, a bit surprised.
"Oh… really? I just assumed…"
She trailed off, expression turning thoughtful before her smile grew stronger.
"Well then. Shall we, Ethan?"
I gave her a faint hum of assent, and together with a floating cat, we set off into the growing shadows of the slums.
Getting closer to the towering crenellated wall that wrapped around seemingly the entire capital, I could see a building that looked taller and more isolated from the rest of the ramshackle buildings out this way.
The street here was quieter than the rest.
No starving kids eyeing us from alleyways.
No addicts passed out on broken furniture or strung out in doorways.
Just half-collapsed houses, wind-whistled silence, and the stink of rot beneath dust.
I slowed my pace a little, letting Emilia fall in beside me.
"How do you want to play this?" I asked.
"What do you mean? Don't we just knock on the door and see if the thief is there?"
An eyebrow threatened to twitch at that answer, but I suppressed it with effort.
"There's no guarantee the girl who stole your item stuck around," I said, voice even. "And if someone's hiding this far out from order, odds are they're not advocates for peaceful exchanges."
Emilia hummed in thought.
"I'd rather not cause damage or harm… but if they attack us, I won't hold back."
She put a finger to her chin, glancing my way again, as if something had just occurred to her.
"It's an insignia, by the way. A small black triangular one, with a red gem in the center."
...And there it was.
"I… argh, why tell me now? I was kinda hoping to solve that mystery myself."
Emilia gave me a bashful look, fiddling with a strand of her hair.
"It was really important to keep it secret. And then I had it stolen the same day it was given to me."
I wanted to ask more, but we were already wasting daylight.
"Right. Well. Mistakes aside, we still need to figure out how to approach this. If it's even the right place at all."
We kicked around a few ideas, and one leapt out at me as the most practical: anonymity.
"What if I give you my cloak? Pull the hood up, hide your face. We knock, pretend we're looking to buy, say, an insignia that just happened to pass through their hands. If they let us in, we search. If not… we break the door down."
Emilia nodded slowly, going over the plan in her head. Eventually, she gave her full agreement.
I took off my black cloak, reluctantly, if I'm honest, and handed it over.
But then I caught sight of something that gave me pause.
My jacket sleeve.
Specifically, the Astrea crest sewn into it.
Faint, but visible enough that anyone with half a brain and a passing familiarity with history would clock it instantly.
The Astrea name carried weight. That crest was practically a glowing beacon.
"Shit," I muttered.
I explained the issue to Emilia, and together we spent a few minutes poking through the decayed houses nearby, looking for a decent hiding spot. Eventually, Emilia found an old fireplace, stonework cracked and blackened with ancient soot, clearly unused in decades.
She managed to rig a plank inside the chimney where my jacket could hang safely out of sight.
Hopefully, no desperate urchin with long arms and a sharp eye felt like looting old chimneys today.
Now I was left with just my black long-sleeve undershirt and gloves.
No jacket. No cloak.
I felt naked.
Emilia pulled my cloak over her shoulders, and together Puck and I adjusted the hood just right, low enough to cast her features in shadow without looking suspiciously forced. She fidgeted with it briefly, tugging it down a little farther.
Now dressed in a way that didn't scream "magic user and noble escort," we approached the building.
"I'm gonna refer to you as my 'partner' in there," I said. "No need to drop names. Yeah?"
Emilia tilted her head.
"Do we really need to be so cautious, Ethan?"
"Eh. Better safe than sorry." I shrugged.
As we got closer, I raised a hand to knock—
And then we both froze.
"Hang on, Felt, that's a dangerous way to think!" a voice shouted from inside. "I mean, why not take the metia? I've got a really bad feeling about this thing. Just think about it! You might even find some collector who'll pay more than twenty holy coins!"
The voice was male. A bit frantic. Rambling.
I gave Emilia a sideways glance. She looked just as confused as I felt.
Before I could react further, another voice, high-pitched, irritated, cut through the muffled walls.
"Why do you sound so damn desperate, huh!? I already got word from my client that they'll pay ten holy coins for it! I wanna see if they'll cough up more, so just wait your damn turn, and if you win the bid, you can have it."
This was the place.
There was no way in hell a conversation like that wasn't the type to happen in a place of stolen goods being shifted around.
"I'd say we found our spot, Lia."
I smirked and caught the flicker of surprise on her face.
"Shall we get your insignia back, partner?"
She blinked, stunned for a second, before giving a quiet nod.
Puck gave me a strange little look, half amused, half wary, before tucking himself inside the cloak and disappearing from sight.
My heart gave one solid thump. I stepped forward.
And I triggered Reason and Judgement.
The world froze.
Then I let it go, and time slipped forward once more.
My nerves settled. My posture straightened.
Clarity bloomed.
Confidence. Precision. Control.
I stepped up to the weather-beaten door and knocked three times, sharp and deliberate.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The voices inside cut off immediately.
Then the girl's voice, Felt's, returned:
"That must be my client. I'll get it; they don't know the password."
I felt Emilia tense beside me.
My eyes narrowed.
Footsteps approached.
And then—
The door creaked open.
A sharp, narrow face peeked out. Ruby eyes. Golden hair.
The same thief who'd stolen Emilia's insignia earlier today.
She stared right at me.
"Eh? Who the hell are you?"
I clocked her general appearance in a glance, but what really caught my eye was the large dagger strapped to her lower back.
A weapon.
I didn't let it shake me.
"This is a place where goods are purchased, no?" I said smoothly. "My partner and I are in the market for something we've heard would be here today."
She looked confused for a second—
Then her eyes lit up with a flicker of realization.
"So you're also interested in it, huh? Come on in."
But just before turning, she gave me a hard stare, one hand resting on the dagger hilt as she opened the door a little wider.
"Don't even think about pulling a fast one. I'm not alone."
She wasn't.
Through the doorway, I spotted what could only be described as a giant looming behind a half-rotted bar.
If I had to bet… that mountain of a man with the club the size of a tree trunk is Old Man Rom.
I lifted my hands slightly in a placating gesture.
"I've come to bargain. Not spill blood. There's a reason my bosses gave me funds for this job."
A lie. I had zero intention of paying these people, and didn't have the money in the first place.
But the idea of money served its purpose.
At the mention of "funds," her eyes sparkled. A grin began to curl at the edges of her mouth.
Without another word, she turned away and skipped over to the giant behind the bar.
Preparing to pass the threshold of the door and follow the thief in, my hand was suddenly grabbed by Emilia. She lifted her head just enough for me to see her eyes under the hood. There was a silent question in her gaze.
I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before leaning in to whisper, "Let's confirm your insignia is actually here. Plus, I'm curious who these clients are that are so interested in your item."
She gave a single nod, squeezed my hand once, then let go.
Together, we stepped into the lion's den.
I kept my eyes on the giant behind the bar, feigning focus. But the moment I had a clean view of the entire room—
I pulled the trigger.
Reason and Judgment.
Click.
Time fractured.
The air stilled.
Sound dissolved.
And the world turned to glass.
Three occupants.
Their positions, postures, weapons, all laid bare.
Felt. The thief. Young. Fast. Agile. Capable of rooftop traversal and confident enough to broadcast it. Dagger tucked at the small of her back. Unknown level of training, but dangerous regardless.
Rom. Giant. Elderly, but thick with preserved muscle. The veins in his arms bulged, not with age, but with use.
Scars layered his arms and shoulders. Long. Jagged. Not the kind picked up in tavern scraps, no, these were carved in battle.
Gladiator pits? Mercenary work? War?
I couldn't say.
What I could say is that his club looked heavy enough to break my spine in a single swing.
'As if I'd allow him the chance.'
Then—
Him.
A third figure, sitting stiff. Teenage. Maybe two years younger than me. Youthful face. Sharp eyes. Tension rolling off him in waves. He was sweating. Just a little. Hands clenched tight. Breathing shallow, but controlled.
Black hair.
A rarity. Or perhaps not even in existence in this world. Reason and Judgement confirmed I'd not seen a single person in the capital with black hair.
His clothes were stranger.
A tracksuit. Synthetic fiber. Zippered top. Sneakers.
Not just foreign, familiar.
From Earth.
'No doubt. This boy isn't from here.'
His gaze flicked between me and Emilia. Trying, and failing, to pierce her disguise. He had no idea what he was looking at.
He didn't belong in a place like this.
'So why is he here?' I asked no one.
'Unknown. Speculation is wasted breath. Keep the boy in mind. Finish the scan. Then act.'
I agreed with myself and moved on.
I broke the room down section by section. Anything that could help me in an upcoming fight, I would look for.
Wooden floorboards. Aged, but not rotted. It would take some damage for a person to get their foot to fall through those.
The bar dominates the room like a spine of authority. Behind it, shelves crammed with mismatched wares, ceramics, bottles, and half-rusted tools. Worthless trash to some. Treasure to desperate men.
To the right: crates and storage boxes, stacked without care. Stools scattered haphazardly around squat tables, functional, not aesthetic. Poorly arranged. Suggests the space was never meant to entertain more than a handful.
To the left: dusty shelves, glass bottles, candle stubs.
Potion work? No, alchemy ingredients, perhaps. Or just set dressing to make this look like a proper black-market outfit.
Weapons and armor on wall racks, most ornamental. Dull blades. Decorative halberds. One decent helmet. One short sword near the bar caught my eye. Modest. Unpolished. But solid.
My conclusion? This place is a hideaway for contraband, information, and "neutral" negotiation. Not secure. Not defensible. But transient. Disposable.
I ran my mission checklist.
Confirm the insignia. Secure it. Interrogate the boy later.
The world cracked back into motion. I kept walking, eyes unreadable.
Rom watched me and Emilia with silent weight. Judging. Measuring.
But I gave him nothing.
I turned to the boy.
"Who's the fine gentleman?" I asked, gesturing casually with a gloved hand.
Felt, smug little gremlin, answered like she was hosting an auction.
"This guy's one of your rivals. But the original client's still on their way. When they get here, you can all bid it out. Highest offer wins."
I hummed in mock interest as I approached the sword being displayed on the bar. Let my finger brush its edge.
Curved. Still sharp. Not the prettiest, but function matters more than fashion.
Then I turned back to the real question.
"And this item. The one that has people of our particular profession so interested."
My voice dropped just slightly. A coaxing sort of low.
"Do you have it on you?"
My eyes slid to Felt's face.
Click.
Reason and Judgement again. Confidence booster.
Her stare clashed with mine, fierce, but unrefined.
A bluff.
"If you don't have the insignia," I said, letting the words flow cool and slow,
"Then my partner and I have no business here."
Felt scoffed and sighed, putting on a show of reluctance. But her hand dipped into her jacket and pulled it free.
It was a tiny thing. A black insignia. Triangular. Gold trim in the shape of a dragon. A red gem at its heart.
Just as described.
But I didn't react, not truthfully.
Instead, I played dumb.
Tilted my head. Let my expression narrow into faux confusion.
"Hmm. Never been one for memory."
I turned to Emilia. Reached out and took her hand from under the cloak like it was normal.
"My dear partner, you've always had the better head for details. Is that what the bosses wanted?"
I leaned close, voice light. "I didn't really pay attention to the description. You know how those pastries are in their office."
Emilia gave my hand three rapid squeezes. Good enough for me.
Turning back to Felt and preparing to do a little shock and awe. I was rudely interrupted by sudden, sharp knocks to the front door.
The thief hopped up from the stool she'd been sitting on and ambled over to the door before opening it.
While she let in who I hoped was the original client, I shifted closer to Emilia, drawing her subtly to my side so we could cover each other.
While me and her were pretending to be members of some shadowy organization who wanted to buy an insignia, this original client actually was.
Then:
"Oh my."
Came a voice from just out of sight.
Silk over poison. A purr threaded with the promise of death.
The woman who stepped through the door was tall, stunning, and barely dressed. A slit-curved widowmaker from head to toe.
"There seem to be quite a few strangers here," she said, feigning pleasant surprise. "It seems this little job will be far more entertaining than expected."
Her eyes swept the room like searchlights.
"Let's see… I know the old man. But who are these three?"
Her finger traced through the air like a dagger's tip.
"A little lady hiding behind a hood… a handsome boy in very strange clothing… and you."
Her gaze locked on me.
"No, wait. I do know who you are."
The way she said it, syrupy and sweet, would've sounded flirtatious to anyone else.
But all I could hear was a threat.
"I hope you've only heard good things." I shot back.
Click.
The temptress froze midstep, but that soulless stare she was giving me almost made it seem like she was still eyeing me even in my frozen moment.
I stared the woman up and down. She wore almost nothing.
But her most concealing piece of clothing, an odd feathered cloak, was also the most frightening.
Because I could see it.
Almost like she'd allowed them to peek through just the tiniest bit.
Steel.
Curved daggers hidden behind her back.
A body that hid how toned it was in the perfection it did reveal.
I understood then and there that this was going to end in bloodshed. This woman was the type to leave no witnesses to her "jobs," and any unfortunate bystanders would become victims.
She might have been able to fool less perceptive individuals.
…Until they lay drowning in a pool of their own blood.
But not me.
This meant I had a decent chance of catching her off guard.
There would be no mercy; she deserved no mercy.
I wasn't sure why I was so set on the idea that she was an individual worthy of death. It felt like my Authority was screaming that she was a sinner.
Demanding that I bestow righteous justice upon her.
I let time slip from my grasp.
My face hadn't changed. Still neutral. Still calm. Still very much in control.
This would start with a dance of words, but I knew it would end in blood.