The days blurred into a tense, meticulously orchestrated waiting game.
My trap in the alleyway had been perfectly set.
The artifact I had slipped into the unconscious noble's coat was a dormant time bomb, quietly resting in Marcus's possession.
And according to Mira's daily reports through the communication crystal, the Valen family's foundation was already crumbling. The severed trade route had triggered a massive financial cascade.
Creditors were laying claim to their provincial manor, and underground guild enforcers were conducting aggressive, unsanctioned raids on their remaining assets.
The plan was working.
Then, the Spring Festival finally arrived.
The Royal Academy transformed overnight. The strict, quiet academic atmosphere was completely swept away, replaced by vibrant banners of gold and blue snapping in the wind.
