That night, dressed in fitted black clothes and a hood that cast her face in shadow, Veronica slipped silently through the back door of the manor. The guards were patrolling the front as usual, clueless. Her steps were swift and practiced— like this wasn't her first time sneaking out.
"It's quite dangerous for you to be wandering in the middle of the night," System 5060 complained in her mind, its voice dripping with worry.
Out there, the darkness wasn't empty. It was alive, filled with starving creatures that craved blood. For a powerless human like Veronica, crossing paths with one meant only one thing: becoming their next midnight snack.
But Veronica didn't even blink at the warning. She kept walking, her expression unreadable.
"Are you still mad at me for… ghosting you that time?" the system asked, its tone almost sheepish.
Silence.
Seriously, what kind of useless system had she been bound to? Was it even possible to apply for a replacement?
"Host, please don't be angry. I swear, from now on, I will be as helpful as I can!" The system's voice turned desperate. "It's just… with your current level, I'm almost as powerless as you. I really can't do much yet. Please forgive me…"
The more it spoke, the more pathetic it sounded. And though Veronica didn't say it out loud, she knew—the system was terrified. If she ever succeeded in swapping it for a new one, who knew what fate awaited it?
Most systems that had too many replacement requests during missions… simply vanished. Deleted, deactivated, or quietly erased from the mainframe. No announcements. No warnings. Just gone. System 5060 had no intention of becoming one of those ghost files.
It wanted to live. Well—function. Exist. Whatever.
Veronica let out a soft huff, her breath fogging in the cold night air. She wasn't angry anymore—not really. As annoying as 5060 could be, there was something oddly endearing about its desperate little voice. Like a puppy trying to act tough in front of a wolf.
She tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The wind was biting, and despite the adrenaline, she was starting to feel the chill. A sudden sneeze escaped before she could stop it.
"Ugh," she muttered, rubbing her nose and picking up her pace. Her boots tapped lightly against the cobbled road—each step echoing in the empty street. There was no one else around, just her and the darkness.
Where was she going?
To a place where shadows whispered secrets and money could buy almost anything. The black market.
How did she even know this place existed?
It wasn't something a noble lady like Veronica should've known—not the "before" version of her, anyway. The original Veronica had no reason to step foot in the slums, much less a place like this.
But the answer lay buried in the source material—the original Webtoon.
In one short scene, barely a mention in the dialogue, this hidden black market appeared. The former Veronica had come here once, cloaked and alone, to buy contraband magical items. Cheap tricks. Just enough to help her fake her way through the academy's entrance trials.
The comic never showed her visit here. Just a brief flashback panel. A few words: "She bought her way in."
Funny, really.
The original Veronica had been painted as arrogant and cruel. But beneath all that—maybe she'd just been scared. Desperate. Willing to do anything to avoid being left behind in a world that only respected power.
After nearly half an hour of ducking through narrow backstreets and weaving past half-drunk guards, Veronica finally reached the forgotten district. This part of the city didn't have names on its streets anymore. Just rot, rust, and the stench of things no one dared clean up.
Between two crumbling warehouses was a narrow alley that sloped into darkness. No magic protected it. No guards patrolled near it. The kind of place people pretended didn't exist.
She stepped into the alley, keeping her head low. The further she walked, the quieter the world became until the distant hum of market noise bled into her ears, like whispers crawling through the cracks.
A heavy metal door sat at the end of the alley, stained and dented, lit only by a single flickering bulb above it. Veronica knocked once. Then twice. A pause. Then a hoarse male voice bellowed, "Password!"
"Ashes remember the flame." She responded.
How did the former Veronica even know the password to this place?
To be honest, Veronica had no idea.
There were no scenes in the webtoon explaining it—no flashbacks, no hints. Just the fact that she knew. Somehow. That alone spoke volumes about the kind of person the original Veronica had been.
A shady noble with a pretty face and a reputation she couldn't shake. Dark alleys, illegal markets, forbidden items… it wasn't just a coincidence.
Maybe she had contacts. Maybe she paid someone to find out. Or maybe she simply spent enough time among the wrong people to pick up the right words.
Whatever the reason, it didn't matter now.
After a heavy pause, the iron door creaked open on rusted hinges. A tall man, practically a giant—stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his barrel chest. His face was mostly hidden by shadows, but one thick brow lifted as his gaze dropped to Veronica's smaller frame.
For a moment, he seemed confused. Maybe he thought she was just a lost noble girl playing dress-up. A child wandering where she didn't belong.
But he didn't ask questions.
He stepped aside without a word, letting her pass.
Veronica gave a small nod and slipped through the gap.
The air changed instantly.
The black market didn't smell of life—it smelled of survival.
Sweat, burnt oil, smoke, and something sour that clung to the back of her throat. A sharp contrast to the perfumed halls of the estate. This place was dirty, raw, and real.
There were no clean lines here. Just mismatched stalls made from old crates and tarp, the aisles cramped, twisted, and far too easy to get lost in. A child darted past her holding a bloody coin purse. No one stopped him.
Well, this is the black market for you.