Zaefal looked straight at Illya and Rasie. "I just received word from Dark Town."
He paused for a moment, his breath still ragged from running up the stairs.
"Kail... the leader of the Iron Fangs Gang... he’s dead. Murdered in his office."
Illya’s eyes widened. "What? Murdered? Who?"
Zaefal looked directly into Illya’s eyes. His expression was grim. "The killer’s description: wearing black clothes, wearing a simple mask, and also has purple hair."
Illya’s pupils contracted drastically. Her breath caught in her throat. The paper in her hand, filled with strategy notes, slipped from her grasp, floated softly, and landed silently on the marble floor.
"W-what...?"
"the fuck??, that description... that’s the purple-haired!" Rasie flinched in shock. Her grip on sword hilt tightened. "What did that idiot do?! Didn’t he promise not to do anything that stupid?! What happened?!"
"They’ve put a five-hundred-gold-coin bounty on his head," Zaefal continued, his voice flat. "The entire Iron Fangs Gang, all the rival gangs, and every bounty hunter in Dark Town... they are all hunting him."
Illya covered her mouth with both hands. Her body began to tremble violently. "Oh, no... no... no..."
Rasie clenched her fists tightly. "Confirm it, Zaefal! Was it really him?! What do we do now?!"
"I don’t know!" Zaefal snapped, his frustration now clear. "My contact said the situation is chaotic. If it really is Fyar... then he’s now trapped inside Dark Town, alone, and the entire criminal underworld wants his head."
Illya bit her lip so hard it almost bled. Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her chest felt tight with worry and the fear of loss.
"We have to help him... we have to help him right now," Illya whispered, her voice trembling. She then turned and hurried toward her room. "I’m going to change. I’m going to Dark Town!"
Zaefal moved quickly and blocked her path, standing in the doorway of Illya’s room. "I will not let you do that."
Illya narrowed her eyes, her face now visibly upset and flushed. "Don’t force me to use magic to make you move!"
She tried to push past, but Zaefal stood firm, blocking her way.
"I SAID MOVE!"
"Calm down, Illya! Calm yourself!" Zaefal gripped both of Illya’s shoulders, his hold firm.
"Calm down?! What are you talking about?! Our friends is on the brink, and you want me to be calm?! What’s wrong with you, Zaefal?!" Illya shouted, her tone high-pitched and panicked.
Rasie stood silently behind them. This was the first time she had seen the girl this panicked and angry.
Zaefal let out a long breath, trying to suppress his own panic. He looked intently into her eyes. "Listen to me, Illya. If you go, the situation will only get worse. Your life might be threatened. Martis will know you’re allied with a criminal. Your family’s reputation will be destroyed. All our plans will fail. We might die!"
"It might not even be Fyar! And if it is him... then he must have a plan!"
SLAP!
A hard slap landed on Zaefal’s cheek.
"Don’t call him a criminal!" Illya snapped.
Zaefal took the slap without moving, his eyes still focused on Illya. "Sorry, I meant—"
"This mission was suicide from the start!" Illya cut Zaefal off. "I’m sure the Kingdom wants us dead! They intentionally gave us this mission so we would die!"
Tears now began to stream down her cheeks. "I-I’m sure of it! Besides... what is this... I’m sure... it was the Royal Guardians who framed Fyar! I’m sure of it!"
Illya paused, her breathing hitched by sobs. She looked at Zaefal with a desperate gaze. "I-i-if the Kingdom wants us dead that badly... then I would rather die by his side!"
Illya then shoved Zaefal’s body aside roughly and hurried into her room, slamming the door shut.
Zaefal stood silently, his cheek still hot. He didn’t know what to do.
It’s true... the reason the Prince gave us this mission is still a mystery. Even the Guardians don’t know. Damn it... I have to do something. The most important thing is to calm Illya down first.
Zaefal then turned to Rasie. "Rasie."
Rasie, still in shock, flinched slightly. "Y-yes?"
"Please calm Illya down," Zaefal said. His voice sounded tired. "I will think of a plan."
Rasie raised her eyebrows. "Huh?! How? I don’t know how!"
"Rasie...."
Seeing Zaefal’s pale and desperate expression, Rasie let out a long sigh and nodded. "Alright." she walked to Illya’s room to calm the girl down.
Zaefal sat on the sofa, massaging his temples.
"What did you do, Fyar..." he muttered.
No... maybe it wasn’t Fyar. But the killer’s description is clearly Fyar. Fyar wouldn’t do something that stupid. Think... think... think. Imagine I am Fyar in the same situation.
After thinking through various wild theories in his head, Zaefal finally reached a logical conclusion. Fyar wasn’t the killer. Fyar was framed by someone.
But by that same logic... then Fyar’s position has been exposed? Or was it purely because someone lost a bet?.
If I use the theory that Fyar has been exposed, that’s more plausible. But who... Martis? Could it be him? If he already knows... then our position has also been exposed! But he hasn’t done anything yet... other than disrupting our alliance’s reputation...
Zaefal thought again. If I were Fyar... and I was in the same situation... made a wanted man... what would I do?
I would change my appearance.
Zaefal’s pupils widened. He had reached a conclusion.
He let out a light, bitter laugh. "I was too panicked to even think of that."
Zaefal stood up from the sofa and immediately went to Illya’s room.
Dark Town.
The tavern was crowded, as usual. The air inside was stuffy, carrying the smell of sweat, smoke, and a musty odor. The room was lit by cheap candles and dim orange crystals. Its dirt floor was packed hard and sticky from years of spilled ale.
At one of the tables in a busy corner, a group of thugs and bounty hunters was laughing loudly, their wooden mugs clashing together.
"You hear? The Iron Fangs are now led by Lieutenant Vargo!"
"Yeah, but I hear he’s desperately looking for that ’Starfall’ guy."
"Hah! Who isn’t? Five hundred gold coins! The Wild Dogs gang is hunting him too."
"that Motherfucker are crazy! After making it to the top eight, he kills his own boss!"
"You’re right, so crazy. This might be the most chaotic situation in Dark Town since that incident."
At the long, scratched bar counter, a man sat alone. His long red hair was combed neatly back, his bangs falling straight to cover part of his forehead. He wore a clean, dark traveling cloak. He just sat silently, staring at the glass of water in front of him. His red eyes reflected the dim light from the oil lantern above the bar.
The man seemed to be listening intently to the thugs’ conversation about Starfall.
He lifted his head slowly. He stood from his stool, placed a few copper coins on the counter, and then walked toward the noisiest group’s table.
Their conversation stopped immediately as he approached. The thugs looked at him suspiciously.
"May I join you sir?" the red-haired man asked. His voice was smooth and calm.
One of the thugs snorted. "No more seats."
The man smiled faintly. "I just overheard you discussing something interesting. About... Starfall. Is it true he has a bounty of five hundred gold coins?"
"What, kid?! You want to hunt him too? Ha, you should know, everyone who’s hunted that guy has reportedly wound up dead!" said another thug.
The red-haired man turned his head toward the dirty bounty board on the wall behind them. "Which poster is it?"
The thug pointed lazily. "The one in the middle. White mask and purple hair. You seem serious about hunting him, Brave-man."
The red-haired man walked to the bounty board. He observed the crude sketch of the white mask and the description of Fyar’s purple hair.
He read the description: "Kail’s Killer. Extremely dangerous. Dead or Alive. 500 Gold Coins."
He nodded slowly to himself. He forcibly pulled the bounty poster off the nail stuck in the wood.
He turned to face the entire bar.
Click!
Instantly, the shadows beneath the thugs at the table changed. The shadows sharpened. Dozens of pitch-black blades erupted from the dirt floor, piercing the wooden table and the bodies around it.
Screams of pain filled the room. The thugs were stabbed from below, pierced through their chests, necks, and stomachs. Blood sprayed onto the walls. At another table, a gambler who was about to stand up was also stabbed. The bartender behind the bar stared wide-eyed in horror before an identical shadow dagger erupted from his own shadow, stabbing him from behind.
In five seconds, everyone in the bar lay dead on the floor.
The only sound in the bar was the slow dripping of blood from the impaled bodies.
The red-haired man stood in the middle of the room.
A drop of blood had splashed onto his pale cheek. He took a clean white handkerchief from his cloak pocket. He calmly wiped the bloodstain away.
He folded Fyar’s bounty poster neatly and put it in his cloak pocket.
He walked calmly out of the bar, passing the piles of corpses and pools of blood.
"How lucky..," he muttered.