The guild door closed behind me with a short creak, like hinges straining to hold back words that never found their way out.
Above the doorway, the clock's hand stood upright at eight. Its faint chime had just faded, leaving behind the quiet of early morning.
The noise from inside the guild still clung to my ears, fragmented voices, overlapping but every word felt as though it struck directly against my chest.
Cold still lingered at my fingertips from the mission board. The paper I had nearly taken earlier now hung back in its place, swaying gently, as if mocking my hesitation.
Perhaps within the guild, only Mira did not push me aside.
Morning light struck my face the moment I descended the guild's steps.
In Hochburg, the sun knew nothing of mercy.
No dew ever lingered in a great city like this, only heat rebounding off brick walls, the acrid smell of kitchen smoke, burnt grease, and the sweat of people packed tightly together, all rushing to survive their own lives.
Sounds piled atop one another.
Merchants' shouts swallowed each other whole. Cart wheels ground against stone. Footsteps struck without rhythm.
Together, they formed a wall of noise pressing against my head, making the air feel thick as if something blocked it, less crowded than the area near the main fortress gate, yet still relentless.
At the edge of the light, farther down the alley I was heading toward, a hooded figure stood fused with the shadows. The folds of the robe were identical to the one I had seen yesterday at Alex's statue, as though time had merely looped back on itself, never truly moving forward.
I shifted aside, my shoulder brushing the cold wall, then turned into a narrow, dark gap between buildings, ignoring the indistinct hooded figure.
The alley was narrow, swallowing light like a mouth unwilling to spit anything back out.
Each step shattered splinters of wood and brittle scraps of paper, their sound crisp and dry beneath my boots.
A foul stench struck suddenly a mixture of sour liquor, urine, and garbage left to rot in piled corners.
The air there did not move. Dampness hung heavy, clinging to the skin, weighing down the back of my neck.
Only a sliver of light filtered in, cut apart by low roofs, dividing the passage into dull shades of gray.
I kept walking.
Every shadow seemed to stretch and sharpen, as if the alley itself had eyes, watching anyone who dared venture too far inside.
"Finally, you've come, Raul."
The voice came not from ahead, but low to the ground, hoarse, half-drowned in sleep.
At the far end of the alley, a vagrant lay sprawled face-down, half his body dusted with the city's grime.
His tattered clothes clumped together like fabric long abandoned by its owner. His hair was tangled, hanging loose and obscuring part of his face.
His breathing was heavy, carrying the stench of cheap alcohol and the streets.
I stepped closer and bent one knee, letting the dark hem of my clothes brush the damp stone floor.
From my traveler's bag, I pulled out a small pouch and gave it a light shake near his ear.
The faint clink of coins cut through the alley's stillness.
His eyelids twitched.
For a moment, the world around us stopped at the sound of metal touching metal inside the pouch.
"I've been waiting for you over a week, Raul."
A grin split his face, more like an open wound than a smile. He reached for the pouch without really looking at me and dumped its contents onto the ground. Coins rolled across the stone, reflecting dull light.
"Hah. Only ten silver?!"
"That's enough to buy bread once a day for several months."
"Oh, come on, bastard… you know I'm a drunk."
"And you know," I said quietly,. "You complain too much for someone who can't even kill a single goblin."
He clicked his tongue, but his hands never stopped gathering the coins.
"You know it's this weak vagrant you need. I've never disappointed you."
I stared at him for a long moment.
The dust on his cheek. The tremor in his fingers. Eyes far too accustomed to looking downward.
"Alright, you're noisy as ever, Ramos." I reached into my bag again and spilled an equal number of silver coins before him. "Now give me what I want."
"Hahahaha… you really are the best, Raul."
He grabbed the coins, then leaned closer, his voice dropping into a heavy whisper.
"After you left… a lot happened."
He chuckled weakly, coughed, then spat to the side.
The spit carried a faint trace of blood.
"Alex left the Hero party."
He didn't need to finish the thought.
In my mind, the image was already clear, hero banners taken down in haste, threads still half-unraveled; their statues in the square shrouded in dark cloth; Alex's name spoken only in whispers, teeth clenched tight.
Children stopped pretending to be heroes. They played at war instead, never naming who they fought for.
Ramos continued, his voice like rusted iron scraping against stone.
People now bowed to the King without daring to look toward the palace balcony.
Prayers were still offered, but hands clenched harder than before, as if afraid something might fall if released.
In taverns, songs praising the King never reached their final verse, one voice always choked before the closing line.
He drew a short breath.
On the roads outside the city, villages that once had wooden fences now added new barriers, broken spears and overturned carts.
Homes burned down to their frames, not by human war, but by something that left claw marks deeper than a blacksmith's blade.
People no longer spoke the word Demon aloud. They pointed toward the forest instead, then covered their own mouths.
Ramos shifted slightly, his back scraping against the damp wall.
Noble carriages now traveled without crests, their paint scraped away until only pale wood remained.
Their windows stayed tightly shut, yet shadows moved within them like hands counting something unseen.
Palace envoys appeared less and less. In their place, couriers without uniforms came and went at night, carrying scrolls that were burned even before dawn touched the rooftops.
He smiled faintly.
"No one admits to doing anything… but everyone's busy doing something."
The last coin came to a stop at the tip of my boot.
The alley seemed to close in, its walls pressing nearer, as if eager to listen more closely.
Then, from outside, the sound of metal scraping against metal crept inward.
"Hey! What are you doing here?!"
I turned toward the voice just as Ramos's expression shifted, his shoulders sagged, eyes widened, mouth puckered like a child caught stealing.
"I'm giving alms. Is it wrong to feed the hungry, you bastard guard?"
"Ah… so you're that demon hunter. So you're Raul."
I stood and walked past him, allowing the guard's gaze to slide briefly over my face before I turned away.
Behind me, Ramos spat words sharper than his frail body.
"Government dogs… suspicious over a few coins. The public stares at you, yet you hide behind orders!"
"S-sorry," the guard's voice cracked slightly. "I'm just doing my duty."
I walked slowly toward the alley's exit, the sound of coins clattering loudly behind my back.
"Sorry for the disturbance, sir. Here, take some of my coins. I didn't know anyone lived in such a narrow alley."
I'd only been gone a little over a week… yet everything already felt far removed from what I remembered.
It would be a shame if my conversations were interrupted by guards at every corner of this city.
I would have to speak to that boy directly.
Perhaps then, I would finally find some answers.