They continued chasing Iago across the dark, narrow alley. The atmosphere became increasingly suffocating as night descended. Iago turned right and successfully emerged onto a very busy street.
"Damn it! Where did he go?" shouted one of the four men.
They looked furious at losing Iago's trail in the midst of the crowd. The streets were filled with people busy shopping for various goods. As it was not yet too late, food stalls and other shops were still bustling.
"It is decided, my men. I am Eldric Malrik, and I never let a target get away! I swear, I will get that man!"
Eldric Malrik was a burly man with brown hair and a thick mustache. His sharp eyes and grim face made him look intimidating.
"That's right."
"You are certainly worthy of filling the vacant leader's seat, Boss!"
Several meters behind them, a tavern had tables set up outside. A young man sat calmly at one of the tables, his back to them, his face unseen…
"Your coffee, Sir." The waiter placed the cup in front of him.
"Thank you," the youth replied curtly.
The waiter left, busy attending to other customers.
"Tomorrow, we must visit The Black Horse Tavern again!"
"Yes, Boss!" his three subordinates answered in unison.
Afterward, the four of them departed, Eldric walking ahead, followed by his men. Slowly, the youth sipping his coffee turned his head back. A faint smile curved on his lips. It was Iago.
"So, they plan to return there…" he muttered.
He raised his right hand, signaling. A waiter quickly approached.
"Is there anything else you require, Sir?"
"What is the cheapest item on the menu here?"
"Hmm… that would be the Peasant's Broth. It has a rich gravy, with venison, potatoes, and carrots. Only 7 Ravenn."
Peasant's Broth? The name was slightly offensive.
"I'll have one."
"Very well, your order will be ready shortly."
After finishing his meal, Iago paid and walked straight toward a rubbish bin near the tavern. He reached out and pulled out his shabby cloak. He had quietly disposed of the cloak earlier, knowing it would be a clear clue.
Iago then strolled casually back to his lodging, holding the cloak in his hand instead of wearing it. Despite having just been chased by four burly men, he appeared calm, as if he was accustomed to such situations.
Upon arriving at the inn, he climbed the stairs and entered his room. Sitting on the bed, he muttered to himself.
Phew… I made it back safely. I almost forgot my initial purpose in this city. I need to find a job soon. My pocket money won't last much longer.
Iago stood up, opened his bag, and took out his toiletries. He had to go downstairs to ask the attendant to prepare hot water for a bath in exchange for one copper coin. Unfortunately, he had to queue behind an old merchant.
After a moment of waiting, Iago entered the fairly clean bathroom. Sitting in the hot tub, he sank into thought.
Why were those four men chasing me? It makes no sense, he thought. The cold apple cider at The Black Horse Tavern was quite good, though. Too bad they'll be going back there tomorrow.
After bathing, he stepped out. Suddenly, a woman's scream was heard from outside the inn.
"Arghhh… that damn thief!"
People ran out, panicked, looking for the source of the noise.
"What was that?"
"Could it be The Shadow, that cunning thief, is already at work?"
"Damn! We have to help the victim!"
Iago merely gave an indifferent glance, heading back up to his room. But before opening the door, he remembered Princess Stella, who was hunting the thief.
Could Stella be there? Did she catch the thief? Curiosity drew Iago back downstairs.
By then, the place was deserted. The innkeeper sat smoking.
"Where did everyone go?" Iago asked.
"Humans are curious creatures… they all went looking for the source of that scream."
"Oh, I see…"
"Are you going to join the search too, lad?"
"No. I just want to get some fresh air tonight."
"I don't know whether you're lying or not. But… be careful, lad! Rumor has it that thief has killed before, though not many."
"Really? I haven't heard that."
"You look calm. Aren't you scared?"
"I don't know… I'm just curious. Besides, that scream might not have been the work of that cunning thief."
"Hmm… I know. You are indeed curious."
Iago gave a quiet laugh. "I confess, sir. Haha…"
The innkeeper took another puff of his pipe. Iago stepped outside, searching for the source of the scream. The streets were quiet; people had gone somewhere. Stella was nowhere in sight.
Before long, he found a bloodstain leading to a narrow alley.
Tch… a narrow alley again, huh…
He followed the trail, and the blood grew thicker. At the dead end, his eyes widened, and a profound tremor ran through his body.
There, a mysterious figure stood over a pile of corpses. The bodies belonged to the people from the inn earlier. The figure wore a cloak, with a hood covering their head. The voice that emerged was that of a woman.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord. It's been far too long."
"What the hell…"
Iago was slightly taken aback by the sight before him. The mysterious woman walked toward him and pulled back her hood.
"Do you still remember me, Lord?"
The woman had long black hair, red eyes, and wore a mischievous smile. Her figure was graceful and slender. Iago clutched his head with both hands. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape as if about to scream. However, this was not just shock—there was something deeper, something that had been locked away for a long time, now being violently forced open…
"Lord? What is it?"
"A-Arghh…"
His face was pale. His hands trembled violently. His breath caught in his throat. His body shivered, as if enveloped by a cold aura from nowhere. His heart pounded irregularly. His vision blurred.
Suddenly, the woman's voice disappeared. Replaced by screams, horrifying laughter, and whispers without a source.
"Lord?"
"ARGGHHHH…!!"
Iago screamed loudly. Fragments of memory exploded in his brain, like shattering glass shards. Horrific shadows invaded his mind. He saw himself walking across an ocean of blood. Endless cries for help echoed. Darkness surrounded him, only red puddles and the suffocating smell of death filling his chest.
Suddenly, dozens of eyes appeared from the darkness. Staring. Judging. Sneering. Some were crying. Some were cursing. Then, from the surface of the blood, his own face appeared. His smile was horrifying. His eyes filled with hatred.
I am you… and you are me.
"W-What is the meaning of this?!"
I am you… and you are me.
"Stop! What are you talking about?! Why is my face like that?!"
Iago seemed to be arguing with himself.
Iago let out a sharp cry. The narrow alley echoed with his voice.
"Lord!" the mysterious woman shouted.
Iago's legs gave way. He fell to his knees, panting, his face pale, sweat pouring down. The woman rushed toward him, worried.
"Lord! Is this the effect of your memory retrieval?"
Iago was startled. "W-who are you? How do you know that?"
"What are you talking about, Lord? I am Eliana, your Left Hand in the IV organization."
"Eliana…?"
Left Hand? In the IV Organization?
Iago processed the fragments of his memory.
In the year 1497, Iago and a girl walked along a steep path, hoods covering their heads. They found an old sorcerer sitting against a stone. Her hair and mustache were white, her staff lay beside her.
"What is it, lad?" the sorcerer asked.
"I have a request."
"Are you sure, Lord?" the girl beside Iago asked.
Iago turned to her. "Yes. Don't worry, Eliana." Then he looked back at the witch. "I want you to… erase my memory."
"Erase your memory? Are you certain, lad?"
"Yes."
"Do you know the consequences?"
"I don't. What are they?"
"Your brain will feel unbearable pain when this spell is cast and when you recover fragments of your memory."
The memory then faded. Returning to the present, he stared at the woman in front of him.
"So… you are Eliana."
"Yes, Lord. I am your Left Hand."
Iago fell silent, making Eliana even more worried. Thirty seconds passed, then a smile lifted on Iago's lips.
"Well done, Eliana."
The sudden change in him was startling. But Eliana quickly normalized her expression.
"Yes, Lord. I am glad to see you have returned," she said.
"Now, we shouldn't linger here."
"Very well, Lord. I have the perfect place to hide. I shall lead the way."
Though confused, Eliana was excited. To her, the old Iago had returned. She was about to lead, but—
"No."
Eliana was surprised. "What is it, Lord?"
"I will return to my inn."
"But why? Shouldn't we gather with our old comrades immediately?"
"Comrades?"
"Yes, Lord, you said so yourself."
However, Iago's memory only returned up to the Witch's Mountain. He did not recall ever saying such a thing.
"I have other matters to attend to for now. You may go ahead, Eliana."
"I see… very well. Until we meet again, Lord."
Iago merely smiled. Eliana left, leaving him alone in the dark alley amidst the pile of corpses.
Iago walked out, heading toward the inn. His left hand was in his pocket, clutching the stolen money from the corpses—about three Flor.
So I was the founder of that famously ruthless IV organization, huh… I can't believe it. But why did I ask a witch to erase my memory?
The night grew deeper. The streets were deserted. After a while, Iago arrived at the inn.
The innkeeper was still awake. "So… how did it go, lad?"
"Nothing at all, sir. Just a waste of time." Iago chuckled softly. "Have any of the others returned?"
"Huh? So you didn't see them either?"
Iago feigned ignorance. "No, I didn't find them. I thought they had arrived here."
The innkeeper's face went pale. Beads of cold sweat ran down his temples, and his hands trembled. Iago merely smiled at him.
The innkeeper stood up. "L-Lad… I'm going out for a moment. You should go back to your room and sleep. It's already past midnight."
He walked toward the door. As he passed Iago, he slowly turned his head, looking for bloodstains, searching for the truth.
Behind him, Iago raised a pistol. His smile was as cold as newly forged steel.
"It's good that this inn is so quiet." He pulled the trigger. "Sleep tight, old man."