"Arrangements can certainly be made. It's just..."
The portly man looked troubled. What kind of people attended the Underground Market?
Murderers, bandits, brigands, thieves—anyone of questionable origins could enter. If Brother Napoleon accidentally got into conflict with someone and was injured, that would be truly unfortunate.
"I should just keep a low profile, right?" Napoleon smiled, understanding his friend's concerns.
He didn't just represent himself, but also the Bonaparte family within Oxenfurt. If anything happened to him, the Bonaparte estate would definitely settle accounts with Marcus Goldwin.
"Good that you understand, Brother Napoleon. Your status is different. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't worry so much..." Marcus sighed.
"I understand. Just arrange it for me—I must obtain that item." Napoleon brooked no argument.
"Sigh..." Marcus reluctantly agreed.
Napoleon carefully confirmed the Underground Market's starting time with Marcus, then waited for Marcus to have someone deliver a distinguished guest invitation.
Taking the invitation, he finally left the tavern.
"Finest rouge and powder here! Young ladies, come have a look!"
"Premium goods, just arrived from Purple Flower City—Central Kingdom merchandise!"
"Violet-scented blush, exclusive to our shop alone!"
Outside the tavern on the street, various vendors pushed wooden carts selling cosmetics, slowly moving along the roadside.
Napoleon glanced around—this street specialized in selling rouge and powder.
Many noble ladies and their attendants enjoyed shopping here.
The sun was setting in the west, and a light drizzle had just fallen on the street, leaving the ground wet and reflective, tinted with pale red.
Napoleon exhaled, his breath immediately turning white and slowly dispersing.
He looked back at the tavern. The Golden Carp Tavern cast an enormous shadow in the sunlight.
This largest tavern in Oxenfurt was at its busiest time, with customers constantly coming and going to dine. The noise was extraordinarily chaotic.
Napoleon stood in the tavern's shadow, looking left and right.
Everywhere except the tavern entrance seemed rather deserted.
The vendors pushed their cosmetic carts slowly along, continuously moving through the shadows.
As Napoleon watched, he thought about buying some small gifts for his stepmother and Isabelle. These cosmetics weren't expensive, and occasionally one could find quality items—they made decent little presents.
He walked a few steps along the street, wanting to see which vendor might be better.
In the afternoon hours, the street grew increasingly deserted, with many shops closing their doors.
There weren't many pedestrians on either side of the street—only a few could be seen occasionally.
What seemed strange was that despite clearly seeing no one around, these cosmetic vendors still smiled energetically while hawking their wares.
Their calls rose and fell, echoing through the empty street.
Napoleon squinted but didn't find it particularly odd, thinking perhaps this was some unique custom of this world.
Looking left and right, he selected a vendor whose cart was painted pale red. The vendor's cart had a small banner reading: "Central Kingdom Radiance Cosmetics."
The vendor slowly pushed his cart along, smiling broadly, wearing gray cloth clothing and a gray-white cap.
"I remember Radiance Cosmetics is a fairly reputable old merchant house from the Central Kingdoms."
Napoleon recalled from memory, then slowly walked toward the vendor's cart, planning to select some quality cosmetics for his stepmother and Isabelle.
The vendor slowly walked forward, with several playing children nearby chasing each other in games.
The cart slowly passed the children, then turned toward a small alley in the shadows by the street.
Napoleon figured he was about to pack up for the day, so he prepared to quicken his pace to catch up.
"Hey! Brother Napoleon!"
Suddenly a voice called out from behind him.
The voice sounded quite familiar, as if from someone he knew.
Napoleon turned around to see a dark-skinned, sturdy young scholar striding toward him quickly.
"Lysander?"
He hesitated, then recognized the person's identity.
Lysander Brightwell was also a standard wealthy young master in Oxenfurt, but unlike the others, this fellow had credentials. He had recently earned his scholar's degree and was said to have considerable literary talent.
Lysander actually had only an ordinary relationship with Napoleon, but because his scholarly achievements reminded Napoleon of certain classical figures, Napoleon remembered his name after hearing it just once.
"Brother Napoleon, a friend in need! A friend in need!" Lysander approached two steps closer with a flushed face.
Napoleon immediately understood what this fellow wanted. Though a wealthy young master, this character was extremely fond of gambling and often found himself short of funds, borrowing money everywhere.
He was probably out of gambling money again.
Napoleon smiled and produced ten silver crowns from his money pouch, handing them over.
"How's your luck today?"
"Not bad, not bad, ha ha ha! Brother Napoleon, you're truly loyal!"
Lysander took the silver and hurried away.
Napoleon shook his head. Money was a small matter—the Brightwell family was wealthy and prominent, and someone would bring repayment later.
He turned back to look for that cosmetic vendor.
The vendor's cart had already entered the alley, with only a small portion still visible outside.
Taking two steps at once, he quickly walked over.
Following the cart, he turned into the small alley.
"Eh??"
Napoleon's steps suddenly stopped dead.
This alley was actually a dead end!
Inside was completely empty—no cart, not even a human shadow.
His eyes narrowed and his body tensed slightly in wariness.
From top to bottom, left to right, he carefully examined this entire dead-end alley.
This alley of only a dozen meters had gray-black walls of houses on both sides, and the end was blocked by a black wall that looked somewhat aged, with several official seals posted on it.
The white paper with red characters seemed ominous in the setting sun's light, with corners curling up as if the adhesive had lost its stickiness.
"No hidden doors in the walls, so where did that cart go...?"
Napoleon repeatedly recalled—he clearly and distinctly remembered that small cart entering this alley.
He backed out and saw several children still chasing and playing by the roadside.
These children were dressed quite simply, appearing to be from ordinary families.
Napoleon put on a friendly expression, took out a few copper coins from his pocket, and stopped a little girl who was being chased.
"Little miss, may I ask you something?"
"What do you want to ask, sir?"
The little girl had two braids tied like sheep horns. At about ten years of age, her face was rosy, and having often played in the streets, she wasn't afraid of strangers and answered generously.
"I want to ask—did you see that Radiance Cosmetics cart pass by here just now? Did it go into this little alley?"
Napoleon pressed two copper coins into the little girl's palm.
The child immediately beamed with joy.
"I didn't see any cosmetic cart! We play here every day. Cosmetic carts usually come in the morning to sell things. In the afternoon they go to Antique Street."
"You didn't see it?"
Napoleon was stunned, thinking the child was deliberately lying.
Seeing his expression, the little girl widened her eyes and replied earnestly:
"I'm telling the truth! There haven't been any carts on the street today. If you don't believe me, ask the others—the street is completely empty with nothing on it."
At this point, several other children ran over to chime in.
"Yes, yes! My mama was planning to come buy some things, but those carts weren't anywhere to be found. It's really strange!"
"This gentleman says he just saw a Radiance Cosmetics shop." The little girl pointed at Napoleon.
"Where? Where?"
"I didn't see anything—this street is only so big."
"The gentleman must have seen it in a dream! Hee hee hee..."
The group of children began laughing and playing again as they talked.
The smile gradually disappeared from Napoleon's face.
He turned to look at the Golden Carp Tavern.
The tavern in the shadows bustled with people coming and going, business thriving.
The liveliness there formed a stark contrast with the desolation of this side of the street.
"Then have you seen..."
Napoleon turned back around, his voice cutting off abruptly.
The several children beside him had somehow all disappeared without his knowing when.
Looking around the street, it appeared cold and deserted, empty and vacant, with nothing at all.
There weren't even any pedestrians.
The children's playful sounds vanished instantly. Logically speaking, children of this age couldn't possibly be so coordinated as to all disappear silently at once.
Napoleon was confident that having practiced the Kaer Morhen techniques, with his ability to discern direction by sound that could even detect prowling tigers, he should have heard the sound of several children leaving.
Looking at the desolate, death-still street, he suddenly shivered and quickly walked toward the Golden Carp Tavern.
Tap tap tap tap...
His footsteps were unusually clear. The closer he got to the tavern, the more he felt a warm sensation throughout his body.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, as if breaking through the water's surface from underwater, Napoleon felt everything around him become vivid and full of life.
Warm-bodied customers passed by him, and someone who accidentally bumped into him immediately apologized.
Noble ladies descended from carriages, walking into the tavern with smiles, welcomed in by servants.
Standing in front of the tavern, Napoleon looked back at that cosmetic street, which now somehow had some pedestrians walking about.
It was completely different from the previous desolation.
Napoleon drew in a sharp breath and quickly hailed a carriage.
"To Bonaparte Manor."
"Right away, sir! Please be seated!"
The coachman cracked his whip, and the thin old horse immediately began slowly moving its hooves.
Sitting in the carriage, Napoleon spent the entire journey recalling the events he had just experienced.
That vendor, that group of children—all very abnormal.
Thinking back now, that vendor's smile seemed motionless, giving off an extremely false impression.
Connecting this to the Thornton family massacre, he suddenly had a feeling that a storm was brewing.
"This city is becoming more and more dangerous..." he murmured.
The carriage soon arrived at Bonaparte Manor's main gate.
The gatekeeper saw Napoleon sitting in the carriage and hurried over to greet him.
"Young master, you've returned?"
The gatekeeper was surnamed Watson, ranked eighth in his family, so everyone usually called him Little Eight. He was quite clever, only seventeen this year, and had inherited his father's job, also working as a gatekeeper for the Bonaparte family.
Little Eight was quite familiar with Napoleon and often told Napoleon interesting stories and strange tales from inside and outside the city.
This was something Napoleon enjoyed hearing.
"Is father home?"
Napoleon got out of the carriage, paid the fare, and asked casually.
"The master went to the government offices again. The magistrate summoned him—seems they're looking for something."
Little Eight smiled.
"Looking for something?"
Napoleon had been busy with his own affairs these past few days and hadn't paid attention to manor affairs.
"What are they looking for?"