Eastern coast of the main island of Pritt, Tivian.
At night, in a narrow alley near the border of Tivian’s southern and eastern districts, the area was bustling with lights and crowds.
It was a rather unsanitary alleyway, with potholes covering the ground. Countless pedestrians in varying attire walked shoulder to shoulder. Various makeshift gas lamps hung along the sides of the street, flickering with uneven brightness. In inconspicuous corners, many ragged vagrants huddled—some staring indifferently at the passing crowds, others placing hats upside down on the ground, their faces full of pleading.
On both sides of the alley stood many heavily made-up, gaudily dressed women. They varied in age, though most were young. Each of them held a fresh flower in hand, making flirtatious expressions as they showcased their charm to passersby. If someone in the crowd exchanged glances with one of them, they would approach to ask about the price of the flower, and if the two came to an agreement, they would enter one of the buildings behind them.
The buildings on either side of the alley were almost all inns, with a few bars and restaurants in between. Inside one slightly upscale bar, a man sat by the window, drinking wine while reading a newspaper.
This man appeared to be around 27 or 28 years old, dressed in a distinguished suit with a dark red tie. A top hat rested on the table beside him. He had short brown hair and a refined face that radiated gentlemanly elegance. His overall appearance marked him as someone of status—someone clearly out of place in such a chaotic alley.
The man sipped red wine leisurely as he skimmed the newspaper, wearing an utterly content expression. Standing in the aisle next to him was an elderly woman, slightly hunched with age.
"Mr. Warren… please hear me out. That girl, Fia, she’s a pitiful child. Her father died at the factory, caught in the machinery. Her mother got her leg crippled trying to seek compensation. So young, she’s had to take care of an adult and two younger brothers. She had no choice but to enter this line of work, using her meager charm just to keep the family afloat. Among all the girls we have, she’s one of the unluckiest..."
The old woman spoke in a pleading tone, bowing slightly as she did. But the man referred to as Warren didn’t so much as glance at her. He simply took another sip of wine and replied casually.
He spoke indifferently, his tone entirely unaffected. The old woman, momentarily stunned by his reaction, pressed on.
"Mr. Warren… since you understand how hard things are for Fia, shouldn’t you..."
“Should what, Madam Mell?” Warren said, casting a cold sideways glance at her.
That glance alone seemed to instill fear, causing her to instinctively take a step back. After steadying herself, she continued.
“Well… shouldn’t you at least help with her medical expenses? After your night with her last time, she almost died. Her blood covered the bed, she was barely hanging on. We worked so hard just to keep her alive. She’s still lying in the hospital now—can’t even get out of bed. Her daily treatments cost a fortune...
“She’s long since run out of money. We’ve been covering the bills, but we’re a business, we can’t keep doing this forever. Mr. Warren, you’re a man of means... perhaps you could help her out, just a little?”
The old woman’s voice was heartfelt. Warren remained expressionless as he responded softly.
“Fia’s situation—what’s it got to do with me? I paid her what we agreed. I’ve got no ties to her now. Her being in a hospital… not my concern.”
“But—but it was because of you that Fia—”
“Because of me? Everyone in your line of work knows the risks. If she can’t even handle a bit of rough play, then maybe she’s better off not living at all. Living with such a weak body is suffering in itself. Sooner she realizes that, the better…”
Warren spoke as he gave the old woman another dangerous glare. She had been about to retort in anger, but that look left her speechless once more.
“This… Mr. Warren… sigh…”
Just as the old woman turned to leave, sighing in disappointment, Warren’s gaze suddenly softened. After another sip of wine, he said:
“Although Fia couldn’t even handle that much, making her death insignificant… I do recall that she wasn’t half bad when I had her. She did please me.
“I’m not one to help others without cause, but since I’m in a good mood today… I’ll be merciful.”
With that, Warren pulled out a wallet from his coat, opened it, and handed over two pounds in cash. The old woman froze when she saw the money, then stood stunned for a moment before murmuring in disbelief.
“Ah… this… this much?! Mr. Warren! Thank you! Thank you so much for your generosity!”
Clearly, even she hadn’t expected Warren’s change in attitude.
“Take it while I’m still in a good mood… Oh, and take this too. Give it to the girl—it might help her recover a bit.”
As the old woman, hands trembling, accepted the money, Warren took out another item: a small piece of jerky. Though the old woman seemed puzzled by it, she still took it.
“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Warren. May the Holy Mother bless you… Fia will surely get better soon, with Her grace…”
After accepting the meat and offering a few more words of praise, the old woman finally took her leave. Only Warren remained at the table, leisurely sipping his wine.
Having given out a reward, Warren remained in high spirits. He continued drinking while scanning the bar’s interior. When his gaze fell upon several hostesses pointing at him from afar, they immediately scattered in fear, avoiding his gaze and fleeing to other parts of the bar.
Warren wasn’t angered by the scene. He was in a good mood tonight and didn’t bother picking a fight. Instead, he simply continued savoring his wine at a slow pace.
A while later, a figure quickly approached along the aisle and stopped by his table.
“Excuse me, sir. May I share this table for a bit?”
A voice came from beside him. Warren turned his face toward the source and saw a man in a trench coat, with a gaunt face, deep-set eyes, a hooked nose, and a short-brimmed hat. The man stood waiting for a reply.
Warren glanced around and confirmed that, indeed, there were no free seats left in the packed bar.
Under normal circumstances, Warren would have flatly rejected such a request. He had no reason to sit in close proximity with a complete stranger. However, tonight Warren was in a very good mood, and he didn’t mind.
“Alright, sure. Go ahead and sit.”
“Thank you, sir. May the Holy Mother bless you.”
Hearing Warren’s reply, the man promptly sat across from him. After ordering a drink, he waited quietly, occasionally glancing at Warren as the latter sipped wine and read his newspaper. Then, as if making casual conversation out of boredom, he spoke.
“Sir, meeting like this must be a bit of fate. May I ask your name?”
“Warren Hunt,” Warren replied plainly, eyes still on the paper.
The man across from him mulled over the name for a moment before continuing.
“Warren Hunt... That doesn’t sound like a real name.”
“Indeed, it’s not. My real name is Bill Max. Under normal circumstances, I don’t give it out casually. So don’t go telling anyone, alright?”
Warren said offhandedly. Hearing this, the man introduced himself as well.
“Oh, so it’s Mr. Max... But typically, one shouldn’t reveal their true name so easily. Are you sure it’s okay to tell me just like that?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I’m in a good mood today. I’ll say what I want—who’s going to stop me?”
Warren spoke with a dismissive tone. After listening, the man gave a slight nod and introduced himself.
“My name’s Ed. Pleased to meet you.”
As he spoke, Ed extended his hand forward. Warren paused for a moment, then also reached out and shook hands with him.
“My real name is for your ears only. Don’t call me that in public—just stick to Warren.”
After withdrawing his hand, Warren spoke in a mildly stern tone. Ed immediately replied.
“Got it, got it—Mr. Warren. Then may I ask, what’s the reason for using a false name? Are you on the run from some enemy?”
“Of course not. If I had an enemy, they’d already be in my stomach. The reason I use a false name is to hide better here in Tivian. I was dispatched by my organization to go undercover, so naturally, I needed to disguise myself a bit.”
Warren answered leisurely while sipping wine. Ed followed up curiously.
“Your organization, Mr. Warren—is it the company you work for?”
“Company? What a mundane concept. My organization is a society—a major, well-known one in the mystical world. The Wolfblood Society! Don’t lump it in with ordinary stuff.”
Warren said with deliberate seriousness. Upon hearing this, Ed couldn’t help but murmur with admiration.
“The Wolfblood Society… I’ve heard of them. One of the three major cults of the Chalice Faith, worshippers of the Gluttonous Wolf. I didn’t expect you to be a member, Mr. Warren. Truly unexpected… Wait, are you actually a Beyonder of the Wolfblood Society?”
“Of course I am. And a White Ash-rank Werewolf at that,” Warren said, sounding rather proud.
Ed responded with increased admiration.
“White Ash-rank… That’s quite impressive. Members at that rank are usually mid-to-high ranking officers in their societies. Are you one of them?”
“Certainly. I used to command a pretty sizable unit. But for this infiltration mission, to avoid alerting the Church or the Serenity Bureau, I came alone—no subordinates, no entourage. It’s annoying, really. So many trivial tasks I’ve got to handle myself now…”
Warren complained, rubbing his wrist. Ed followed up.
“So if the Wolfblood Society sent a White Ash-rank like you, then whoever gave the order must be of even higher rank.”
“Exactly. The one who sent me is Elder Duval, one of our society’s Seven Elders. He’s a Crimson-rank ‘Dread Devourer Direwolf.’ All of the Wolfblood operations in Tivian fall under his control. I’m one of his trusted agents—that’s why I was sent for this mission.”
Warren said, still calm. Ed nodded slightly, then asked.
“To send someone as important as you on a solo infiltration… Elder Duval must be planning something major. Do you know the details of his plan? Or where he is now?”
“Elder Duval is currently on the outskirts of Tivian, but the exact location changes frequently. As for what he’s planning… I only know he wants to seize a mystical text from the Church in Tivian. As for why he wants it or how he plans to get it—I don’t know. He placed me inside Tivian just to liaise with a contact within the Church. The full scope of the plan is probably known only to Elder Duval himself. He never explains too much when giving us orders.”
As he drank more wine, Warren continued, and Ed furrowed his brow slightly before asking again.
“So... you know nothing of Elder Duval’s plan, then?”
“Well, not exactly nothing. Based on some of the orders he’s given, I can vaguely guess at a few things. For example, with that mystical text, it’s clear he intends to seize it by force rather than steal it quietly. But as for the exact method—only he knows. Also, I do know the operation will happen within the next few days. Once the time is finalized, I’ll be notified, since I’ll be participating.
“I imagine Elder Duval is still waiting for more intel on the Hymn Cathedral. The insider I have there will soon send over such intelligence, which I’ll then pass on to Elder Duval. Once he combines it with other information he’s gathered, he’ll likely make a final judgment and take immediate action. At that point, I may get more detailed instructions…”
Warren said casually, leaning back in his chair. Ed, listening closely, began to ponder. Then, with a smile, he asked.
“I see… Thank you for sharing such valuable intelligence. But, just to ask—don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous to leak so many secrets to a complete stranger?”
“Secrets? You call this stuff secret? It’s nothing. I just felt like talking today. You looked pleasant enough, so I shared. No big deal.”
Warren shrugged, looking utterly unconcerned. Seeing this, Ed smiled again and asked.
“Well then, Mr. Warren, I’d like to ask you one more question—what did you have for dinner tonight?”
As Ed finished asking, Warren’s brows rose sharply, and his expression instantly grew solemn. He tensed up, glaring at Ed with a sharp tone of alertness.
“Mr. Ed, don’t you think you’re crossing a line? Asking me something like that… Isn’t that a bit rude? So all those trivial questions earlier—they were just bait, weren’t they? And what you really cared about… was what I ate for dinner…
“Sorry, but that’s one secret I’ll never divulge—not even a hint. That’s my bottom line.”
Staring at Ed, Warren declared firmly, determined to keep that information a secret at all costs.
And somewhere far away, where she was testing a new ability, Dorothy couldn’t help but feel both amused and exasperated.