Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 85: Whispers in the Alley

Inside the inn, the air was warm and faintly scented with aged wood and cheap alcohol.

A single oil lamp burned on the table between them, its flame flickering softly.

Thoren sat across from Rowena, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable.

Rowena clasped her hands tightly in her lap as she recounted everything that had happened.

From the moment they entered the Federation Police Building, to the suffocating undead energy, to the desperate chase through the streets.

Her voice wavered at times, but she forced herself to continue, unwilling to omit even the smallest detail.

Throughout her narration, Thoren did not react.

No surprise.

No anger.

No concern.

It was as if she were describing an uneventful afternoon rather than a brush with death.

"If you had not stepped out..." Her voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

The implication hung heavily in the air.

She would have been captured.

Or worse.

"I detected your presence the moment you entered the street," Thoren said calmly. "At first, I had no intention of coming out. But when I sensed the undead energy following behind you, I knew something was wrong."

Rowena nodded slowly.

She wasn’t surprised that he could detect her holy energy. During the chase, she had never tried desperately to suppress it.

Someone like Thoren, someone who existed on an entirely different level would have noticed her the moment she stepped into range.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

Urgency crept into her voice despite her effort to remain composed.

Minerva was still out there.

Alone.

Who knew whether the necromancer would turn his attention to her after failing to capture her?

The thought twisted her stomach painfully.

"Nothing," Thoren replied flatly.

He rose to his feet as if the matter had already been settled.

Rowena’s eyes widened.

"What?" she blurted out. "What do you mean, nothing?"

Her disbelief quickly turned into anger.

"We followed your instructions," she snapped. "We looked into the Slave Trade Guild. We risked our lives digging into the Federation’s mess. And now you’re acting like it has nothing to do with you?"

"Of course it has nothing to do with me," Thoren said indifferently, shrugging. "I asked your ignorant friend to investigate because I wanted her to see for herself how foolish and naive her actions were."

Rowena stiffened.

"And," he continued, his tone unchanging, "I believe my decision was correct. Now, we can confirm that the Federation is thoroughly rotten."

He paused and looked directly at her.

The calmness in his gaze was far more unsettling than rage.

"However..." His voice dropped, dangerously low. "Just because I saved you does not mean I intend to become your knight in shining armor."

Rowena felt her breath hitch.

"Don’t misunderstand," he went on. "Your life is spared by my mercy alone. Do not mistake that mercy for obligation or kindness."

The words struck like cold steel.

Rowena shuddered involuntarily.

Her muscles tensed, and she swallowed hard.

She had almost forgotten how terrifying the boy before her truly was.

Not because he was cruel.

But because he was utterly detached.

She should have been grateful for his intervention and careful not to provoke him.

Instead, her fear for Minerva had clouded her judgment, pushing her to cross a line she should never have approached.

Without another word, Thoren turned and headed for the stairs.

"I’m sorry."

The apology escaped her lips before she could stop herself.

His steps paused for a brief moment at the base of the stairs. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t respond.

After a heartbeat, he continued upward, his footsteps fading into silence.

Left alone at the table, Rowena exhaled shakily.

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart.

’I almost angered the Grim Reaper himself,’ she thought bitterly.

’He owes us nothing.’

This was Minerva’s mess. What did Thoren have to do with it?

’Why did I even expect him to save us again?’ she wondered. ’He doesn’t belong to the Federation. He never claimed to be on our side.’

The more she thought about it, the more foolish she felt.

’Tomorrow, I’ll apologize properly,’ she resolved.

Without Thoren’s intervention, she and Minerva would still be living under the illusion that the Federation Police fought solely for justice and the protection of awakeners.

But now...

She knew better.

Creak. Creak.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention.

She lifted her head to see Ophelia standing a few feet away, smiling warmly as always.

"You must be exhausted," Ophelia said. "We still have rooms available."

"Ah—thank you," Rowena replied, nodding gratefully.

"It’s nothing," Ophelia said cheerfully. "That will be fifteen copper coins."

She rubbed her palms together expectantly.

Rowena stared at her.

Her jaw dropped.

She had just narrowly escaped a necromancer, nearly died, and was still shaken to her core and this woman was charging her for a room without a shred of hesitation.

"If you’re worried about the room," Ophelia added smoothly, ignoring Rowena’s stunned expression, "there’s no need. Everything is perfectly taken care of."

This was business.

And Ophelia clearly did not mix business with sympathy.

Rowena sighed.

She reached into her inventory and retrieved fifteen copper coins, handing them over.

As Ophelia accepted the payment, her smile widened visibly.

"Would you care for meals as well?" she asked. "This is one of the best inns in town. Only ten copper coins per meal."

"...Can you please take me to my room?" Rowena asked weakly.

"Of course," Ophelia said brightly. "Please follow me."

...

...

In a narrow alley across town, Minerva held her breath.

Her heart pounded violently against her chest as she pressed herself against the cold stone wall, her gaze fixed on the figure walking ahead of her.

Several times, she had nearly been discovered.

The man was cautious, frequently glancing over his shoulder to ensure he wasn’t being followed.

Finally, he stopped near the darkest section of the alley, close to its narrow end.

The area was eerily quiet.

Only a faint breeze stirred the air.

To Minerva, that gentle breeze felt like a blade scraping across her skin.

She frowned, her body tensing as the figure came to a complete halt.

For a long moment, he neither moved nor spoke.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly.

Anyone without patience would have panicked but Minerva waited.

Sweat beaded on her forehead.

Then, from the shadows, another silhouette emerged.

The newcomer stopped a few feet away from the first man.

"We can’t delay any longer," the newcomer said in a low, gruff voice. "We need to deal with him immediately."

"I agree," the first man replied with a nod. "His presence in this town disrupts all our hard-earned work."

"Tomorrow, I’ll gather all our men to apply pressure," the newcomer continued. "I expect your people to cooperate."

The other nodded. "I’ve already sent word to the leaders. As long as we keep him occupied for a day or two, that will be enough."

"Don’t worry," the first man said confidently. "Even though some are questioning the Federation’s decisions, my words still carry weight."

Minerva’s breath caught.

She recognized that voice.

Her blood ran cold.

Captain Elric.

"Who’s there?!" one of them demanded suddenly, his tone sharp and menacing.

I’ve been discovered.

Minerva didn’t hesitate.

She turned and fled.

"Don’t let her escape!" someone shouted.

Instantly, the two men gave chase, their killing intent erupting as they sprinted after her.