"All right, it’s about time. I can’t afford to drag this out any longer."

After bestowing a blessing on the lost lamb before him in the Holy Lord’s name, Dennis glanced at the sky and murmured under his breath.

Deep in the city, the hands of the great clocktower were inching steadily downward. Dawn was still some time away, but he knew perfectly well that the time left to him was far from abundant.

Half the ducal estate had been flattened. In any era, that was enough to shake the entire Empire. This was no longer just a question of how great the losses on the estate’s side were. It was also a matter of the dignity of both the Empire and Duke Campbell himself. Given the reaction speed the Empire had shown so far, all of Belrand would inevitably be placed under full lockdown before daybreak.

And once that happened, getting away would become truly difficult.

Fortunately... the fact that the Salvation Society could still go on thriving under the joint suppression of the Church and every other major power naturally meant they had deep enough roots in this world not merely to survive, but to grow.

Those roots were hidden in darkness, buried in the deepest places, made up of countless people like Old Zorde—people whose miserable fates had left them utterly despairing of the world. Not even the brightest light could shine into such concealed places.

No matter how quickly those bureaucratic hounds reacted, how could they ever stretch their reach into places they could never truly reach?

Watching them rushing back and forth, busy to no effect, Dennis felt as though he were watching a rather entertaining monkey show.

"It’s just a shame. I never expected Lord Arthur to fall in a place like this."

Dennis thought again of his former superior Arthur and could not help sighing.

With someone as outstanding as Lord Arthur, there had been every chance that in the future he would take over one of the vacant seats in the Salvation Society. Unfortunately, in the end, he had still fallen just one step short.

But for Dennis, this was both a blow and an opportunity.

Lord Arthur was dead. So long as he could successfully get out of Belrand alive, then aside from himself, who else could possibly take Arthur’s place?

No one, of course. After all, even the few people qualified to compete with him for it were already dead.

"I don’t know how Lord Arthur managed to crash and burn, but I absolutely won’t follow in his footsteps."

The corners of Dennis’s mouth curved upward. He quickly ran through the withdrawal plan in his mind once more. After confirming there were no mistakes, he took out a voice-transmission stone and tuned it to a particular frequency.

The stone connected almost at once, but no voice came through.

Dennis waited patiently for about ten seconds before faint, rhythmically timed sounds began to come from the transmission stone.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep-beep.

Dennis tapped his fingertip in time with the crisp sounds, matching them to the coded phrases in his memory.

"Good."

After fully decoding the message sent from the other side, Dennis cut the connection and immediately crushed the entire transmission stone in his hand, leaving behind no trace that could be followed back to him.

"So the others have managed to protect themselves for the time being as well. No one’s been caught."

From the information available so far, Lord Arthur’s side had certainly crashed and burned, but they had left no survivors behind. Meanwhile, the Salvation Society’s hidden lines still operating inside Belrand had not yet been unearthed by the authorities preparing for lockdown, and he himself had easily slipped through one round of inspection.

At first glance, he seemed to be trapped in an extremely urgent and dangerous crisis. But if he calmed down and looked at it carefully, things were not actually that bad.

One could even say the situation looked excellent.

The advantage was his.

After summing things up from every angle, Dennis’s confidence in his own escape rose even higher.

"I’m leaving. If those security force people come back for another look, you know what can be said and what cannot, don’t you?"

Dennis stared into Old Zorde’s eyes.

"I... I understand..."

Old Zorde bent down and knelt once more before Dennis.

"Rest assured, Holy Envoy. Even if they really do seize me, I absolutely won’t reveal a single word about you."

Looking at Old Zorde sprawled on the ground like some ridiculous toad, a cold light flickered faintly in Dennis’s eyes.

But after a brief moment of thought, he gave up on the idea of killing him.

Even if the security force did return and notice something was wrong, they would never get anything useful out of Old Zorde right away. But if he killed the man outright, even a fool would know this place had a problem.

He could not afford to stir up any more trouble.

"Take your wife and son to the Church for cremation immediately. Their sins have already been cleansed. There’s no need to leave their filthy flesh in this world any longer."

Dennis paused, then added,

"Go now."

"Yes."

Although the Church would almost certainly be closed at this hour, Old Zorde—hoping with all his heart that his wife and son would reach the new world safely—still lowered his head and agreed. He had no idea that this so-called Holy Envoy had once again turned him into bait to draw away attention...

...

...

From a distant street came the urgent thunder of hoofbeats.

That was the royal knights from the palace, galloping along the main avenue. The attack on the ducal estate had, in the end, alarmed even this vital force tasked with guarding the royal palace. And not only them—even the Royal Mage Corps had entered a state of alert. Talented mages had already slipped into Belrand’s night, their magically enhanced eyes watching every place where something abnormal might happen.

Dennis wore old clothes dug out from Old Zorde’s home. By deliberately misaligning his bones, he had forced his back and waist into a stooped posture, making himself look like some pitiful man heading out to work at night. The faint smell clinging to the clothes displeased him, but he understood that it was details like this that often decided success or failure at the critical moment.

Lord Arthur’s downfall must have come from not handling the details well enough. Otherwise, how could such a flawless plan possibly have failed?

And he, Dennis the Cat Lover, whose senses were as sharp as a cat’s, cared about details above all else.

Details determined success or failure, and since he had mastered every detail, he had naturally already won most of this game of hide-and-seek.

Behind him, a dim light flickered to life. Old Zorde had lit the oil lamp he would normally never dream of using and was laboriously moving the bodies of his family.

Deeper in the alley, the pounding on doors continued, but after echoing through layers of twisting passageways, it had already become distant and indistinct.

Dennis glanced behind him once, confirmed that everything here was still in order, and then quickly disappeared into the night.

He turned left and right through the streets and soon arrived at a tavern.

At a time when the atmosphere across the city was growing increasingly tense, the fact that a tavern was still open was, no matter how one looked at it, highly abnormal.

But Dennis understood very well that a tavern was not necessarily a tavern.

Everything here looked like a tavern. It even had the official license hanging in the most conspicuous place. And yet he knew exactly what was hidden beneath that surface.

With the help of the Salvation Society’s hidden lines and the support of the roots buried in the dark, he could easily reach the filthiest, most chaotic, and darkest corners of the city.

"A glass of Kapors."

Dennis sat down at the bar and casually laid out a few wrinkled bills.

"Kapors?"

The attendant polishing a glass did not even look up.

"That drink is strong. Are you sure you can handle it? We don’t provide lodging for people who drink themselves senseless."

"How can anyone know until they’ve had a drink?"

Dennis pulled his tattered coat tighter around himself.

"I’m very sensitive to heat, so I like to cool off with strong liquor."

"..."

The attendant’s movements came to an abrupt halt. He raised his head and ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) gave Dennis a long, meaningful look.

"Just one glass?"

"One to start with, to line my stomach."

Dennis smiled.

"After that, it depends on how good the liquor is."

"Understood. We certainly won’t disappoint our guest."

The attendant gave a slight nod and quickly disappeared behind the bar. Dennis used the opportunity to swiftly survey his surroundings.

Inside the dim little tavern, a few scattered groups of customers sat here and there. Most of them looked like perfectly ordinary residents of the Lower District—just like him at the moment.

But Dennis understood that very few of the people drinking and chatting here were truly ordinary.

"Hm?"

As that thought crossed his mind, Dennis suddenly noticed with sharp sensitivity that someone seemed to be watching him. Turning toward the gaze, he found that at the same bar, only a few seats away, an old man was idly swirling his drink and silently studying him.

Even after being caught, the old man did not avert his eyes. Instead, he familiarly struck up a conversation.

"From the north? A Divik?"

"Ah... mm."

Dennis instinctively touched the face he had disguised so carefully and answered with an easy smile,

"A Divik, yes."

"That’s rare. I haven’t seen a Divik face around here in a very long time."

The old man’s tone was flat.

But Dennis’s heart gave a jolt.

Because with that one remark from the old man, Dennis could distinctly feel the entire atmosphere in the tavern grow heavier.

One gaze after another fell onto him, and more than one of them carried unmistakable hostility. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

What was going on?

Dennis’s thoughts spun frantically.

Why were these people showing hostility?

Had there been some flaw in his disguise? Had they seen through the lie?

No. That wasn’t it.

His disguise was perfect. Every last detail had been carved and refined with painstaking care. There could not possibly be any flaw.

Then what was it—

"Those damned Divik gangs!"

Just as Dennis felt his brain was about to explode from overthinking it, the old man suddenly slammed his glass onto the bar and snarled,

"We drove them off three whole times, and they’re still eyeing our goods. This time we’re not letting them off so easily!"

"..."

So that was what this was about?

Dennis let out a quiet breath of relief, then forced a slightly ingratiating smile onto his face.

"I’m not one of the Divik gangs."

"I know."

The old man shrugged.

"Those cowards won’t even go out unless they’re in a group. How could they possibly come alone onto enemy turf? That’s why I said it’s rare to see a face like yours. Diviks don’t like moving alone."

"There are always exceptions..."

Dennis thought for a moment.

"Ones that aren’t quite so timid?"

"Haha, exactly! There are always exceptions!"

The old man laughed heartily and threw back the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"You’ve got guts, kid. I like that."

"..."

Being praised by some mere gangster did not give Dennis the slightest sense of pride. He discreetly scanned the room again and found that all the hostility had melted away as though it had only been his imagination.

Of course. A man like him, whose every detail was flawless, could not possibly have left even the slightest crack in his disguise.

"Sir."

At that moment the attendant had already returned.

"Your Kapors is ready. Please follow me."

"Thank you."

Dennis rose and followed the attendant through a hidden door behind the bar. After many turns through twisting passageways, the man finally led him to an extremely dim room.

"Please."

Once he had brought him there, the attendant silently withdrew on his own, leaving Dennis to move forward alone by the weak light.

At last, after lifting a black curtain, Dennis saw the man seated on a broad sofa.

He was an extremely large man, thickly built. Even sprawled deep into the cushions, his presence was oppressive, like that of a great bear.

"So you’re the one who ordered Kapors?"

The big man played lazily with a dagger as he spoke.

"Yes."

"Credentials?"

"Here."

Dennis took a gold coin from inside his coat and tossed it to him. The man examined it carefully in the candlelight overhead, then suddenly let out a sound of surprise.

"A Serpent Head coin?"

On the coin was carved the vivid image of a serpent’s head. Under the sunlight of Belrand, perhaps few had ever heard the name. But only here, in the underground darkness where sunlight never reached, could one understand how much weight that serpent’s head carried.

Legend had it that Serpent Head was one of the most trusted right hands of the Rat King himself—a figure so important that if he merely stamped his foot, the entire dark world would shudder.

The man finally looked at Dennis properly.

"So you’ve got Serpent Head’s recommendation. Fine, tell me. What do you need?"

"I need to leave Belrand."

"When?"

"Now."

"Now?"

The man raised a brow, smiling without smiling.

"Do you know what time this is? Do you know what happened in Belrand? The whole city is about to go under lockdown, and you want me to get you out now? Do you have any idea how much risk that takes?"

"I do."

Dennis answered calmly.

"That’s exactly why I came to you. In a Belrand this vast, only dark rats like you can get me out at a time like this."

"Rats?"

The man sized Dennis up from head to toe and gave a short laugh.

"So you’re no ordinary piece of work yourself."

"Can it be done?"

"Of course. Since you’ve come this far, don’t ask such stupid questions, all right? It makes me look unprofessional."

The man, who called himself Old Bear, thumped his chest and spread out a map. He tapped one point on it.

"Here. A concealed channel off the lower reaches of the Glein River. A shipment happens to be going out tonight. You can leave with them from there."

"Safe?"

"Completely safe."

Old Bear bared his teeth.

"To tell you the truth, there’s no one in this Belrand that I, Old Bear, am afraid of, and there’s nothing I, Old Bear, can’t get done. Smuggling out one little person like you? It couldn’t be easier."

"Good. Then it’s settled. Tonight I’ll go out with—"

Dennis had just begun to go over the details when—

Knock knock.

A knock suddenly sounded at the door.

From the other side of the curtain came the attendant’s lowered voice.

"Lord Kez, there’s a message for you."

"Who the hell is it at a time like this? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of business with a client?"

Old Bear sounded displeased.

"I don’t know, but it seems they want you to take it personally."

"Fuck. Once I find out who it is, I’m going to twist that bastard’s head off!"

Old Bear motioned for Dennis to wait and went out grumbling curses under his breath.

...

He did not take long to return.

But whether it was only Dennis’s imagination or not, he felt that after coming back, Old Bear’s entire bearing had changed. None of the swagger and dominance from before remained. Under the candlelight, a fine sheen of sweat could even be seen on his bald forehead.

"Now, where were we?"

"You said I’d follow your shipment out through the concealed waterway."

"Oh, right, the concealed waterway, the concealed waterway..."

Old Bear suddenly took out a pen and drew an X over the spot he had pointed to earlier.

"Can’t go that way."

"Why not?"

Dennis froze.

"I just got word that royal knights are already guarding that route. Too dangerous."

Old Bear’s hand slid across the map from one side to the other.

"So we go here."

He lifted his thumb, stared straight into Dennis’s eyes, and said with complete seriousness,

"There are no royal knights here. This route is safe."